 
WYCHETTS

AND THE

MOON OF MAGISTER

The seventh and final book in the Wychetts series

By William Holley

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2020 William Holley

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

PART ONE

Prologue

Chapter 1- I Hope it Isn't Contagious

Chapter 2- Imperative to the Success of Our Commercial Venture

Chapter 3- Bryony's World Gets Even Weirder

Chapter 4- The Old Place at Dusk

Chapter 5- This is Home

Chapter 6- What Are You Doing Here?

Chapter 7- Don't Call Me Poppet

Chapter 8- A Guided Tour

Chapter 9- Nothing Like Mossy Glade Close

Chapter 10- My Time is Ended

Chapter 11- Not One of My Greatest Triumphs

Chapter 12- Top Gear

Chapter 13- I Prefer Working Solo

Chapter 14- At Your Service

Chapter 15- Practically Multi-tasking

Chapter 16- Junk Food

Chapter 17- Welcome Home, Poppet

Chapter 18- A Nice Sisterly Chat

Chapter 19- Bye Bye, Sis

PART TWO

NEWSFLASH!

Chapter 1- Target Sighted

Chapter 2- All My Fault

Chapter 3- A Grave Situation

Chapter 4- I Guess That's Up to Me

Chapter 5- Cheesy Super Villain

Chapter 6- Grown Ups Are Useless

Chapter 7- You Couldn't Handle Being Me

Chapter 8- All Systems Ready

Chapter 9- Incoming!

Chapter 10- I See Lunch

Chapter 11- You're My Poppet Now!

Chapter 12- I Shall Finish What I Began

Chapter 13- Master of Magic

Chapter 14- I Play to Win

Chapter 15- Meant for This

Chapter 16- As It Should Be

Epilogue

PART ONE
Prologue

"I see the moon and the moon sees me,

Shining through the boughs of the old dead tree.

Oh let the light that shines on me

Shine on the one I love."

He sang softly as he walked, his hooded head bowed, gaze lowered to the ground. The grass was bathed in a silvery hue, the blades shimmering in the breeze that wafted over the open countryside. He could not feel the gusting air against his cheek, but he could sense the power radiating from the night-darkened sky.

"Over the mountains, over the sea,

Back where my heart is longing to be.

Oh let the light that shines on me

Shine on the one I love."

He trudged on up the hillside, his long fingers wrapped around the spade balanced on his left shoulder, his long robe billowing behind him. It had been ten years since he'd last made this journey. Ten years since he'd buried her.

"I see the moon and the moon sees me

Shining through the boughs of the old dead tree..."

Still he sang, yet dared not raise his face to the heavens. Not until this night's work was done.

"When she returns then I shall be

Back with the one I love."

He reached the ring of trees crowning the hill. They had been in good health when last he'd seen them, but now their trunks were gnarled and cracked, their bare branches twisted in some silent agony. For a moment he shared their pain, for he knew he was the cause; but he also knew that to create life, you had to take life, and that more would be taken this night.

With that grim thought in mind, he passed through the dead trees and into the clearing beyond where a figure stood waiting. She was short and stocky, wearing a tattered dark dress. Her tousled grey hair hung in limp ringlets across her humped shoulders. Her face was round and flabby, her features squished into folds of flesh. She might have been smiling at him, but it was impossible to tell.

"Greetings, Midwife." He halted in front of her, raising the spade in a gesture of salute.

The Midwife answered his greeting with a derisive snort.

"You turned up after all." Her voice was gravelly, thick with phlegm and disdain. "Thought I'd never see you again. Men tend to lose interest when it comes to this part of proceedings."

"I am fatherly by nature." His smile was forced. He felt ashamed to seek the help of such a loathsome creature, but the Midwife was renowned for her skills in these matters. "I trust there have been no... complications?"

"All is as it should be," replied the Midwife. "She has been feeding well, growing stronger by the day."

His gaze followed the sweep of her flabby arm, and he saw the bare earth around them was littered with bones of small birds and animals.

"She has quite an appetite." He nodded approvingly. "And in your opinion, is the time right for delivery?"

The Midwife pursed her lips, which seemed to make her entire face cave in. "There will be no better time until the next Quarter Day. The sun and the moon are in balance. The aligned elemental forces are at their most powerful."

"Then let us proceed." He raised his spade, but the Midwife waddled up to block his path.

"There is the small matter of my fee," she growled.

He smiled another false smile. "You will be paid on delivery, as we agreed. Or do you doubt my honesty?"

"I doubt more whether you'll be in any fit state to make payment after delivery. You do know how dangerous this is? My price is a pittance compared to what she will demand of you."

His smile faded. "I know the procedure. And I would not have ventured down this path if there was another way."

"And where shall this path take you?" The Midwife's tiny black eyes glinted from between folds of bloated flesh. "What would drive anyone to such desperate actions?"

"That is my concern and my concern alone," he replied tersely. "I made that clear from the start."

"You profane the very laws of nature." The Midwife exhaled a rattling snarl. "I have put my reputation at risk by helping you, and it's only fair you recognise this by means of an appropriate financial settlement."

"You can have the spade when I've finished." He hefted the implement from his shoulder so the Midwife could inspect it. "A fine piece of craftsmanship. Forged by the metal smiths of ancient gods."

The Midwife jabbed a podgy finger at the spade's handle. "That sticker says 'Budget Gardening Supplies'."

"You may have the sticker as well."

"Done." The Midwife nodded her flabby head. "Now to your task. She is waiting for you."

With no further delay he set off across the clearing. He could feel her power now, sense her hunger leeching up through the soil. She was strong, even stronger than he'd hoped. But his sense of anticipation was tinged with fear, because he knew the Midwife was right: he had embarked upon a dangerous undertaking. He was not afraid for himself, for he was nothing. Yet so many others could fall, just like before. The Eternal Balance of Nature could be destroyed forever, the forces of magic rent asunder. It could be the end of everything.

And yet, as he crunched his way across the carpet of small bones, he felt a stirring from the earth, as though she was responding to his presence. And he knew there was no turning back.

At last he reached the centre of the clearing. And there he saw her, caught in a beam of moonlight.

When he had put her there, so many years before, he had left nothing except a wooden stave in a patch of freshly dug soil. The stave had disappeared now, smothered by the tendrils of a creeping plant.

He moved closer to examine the plant. Its leaves had five angular lobes, covered in short prickly hairs. Its flowers were small and white, bunched in groups of three, exuding an unpleasant acrid scent. To many it would have appeared an unremarkable specimen, a mere weed to be hacked away.

But he knew the power this plant possessed.

"It is midnight," announced the Midwife, saggy face tilted to the sky as she waddled to his side. "If you remain set on this deed, you'd best do it now."

He lowered the spade. The doubts returned for a moment, but again he felt her reaching for him, eager to taste life beyond the womb of the earth.

He thrust the tip of the spade into the ground at the base of the plant, forcing it down with his foot. He heard a sharp hiss, and feared he had wounded her. But then he noticed the breeze had strengthened, and the sound was only the wind in the branches of the encircling trees.

He pressed his foot down, sinking the spade deeper into the soil. Then he eased it forwards, loosening the earth around the plant.

"Careful," growled the Midwife. "You'll damage it."

He wasn't sure if she meant the plant or the spade.

"You could give me a hand," he suggested. "You are supposed to be the expert."

"Not this time." The Midwife took a shuffled step backwards. "I shall play no further part in this."

He drew the spade from the soil and dug again. He sensed her responding to the movements of the earth, a vigorous swell of power that tingled up the spade and into his hands.

He slid the spade deeper under the plant's roots. Then, after a deep breath, he pushed down on the handle, levering the plant from the soil.

She wanted to come, he could sense it. But the earth clung to her, resisting his efforts to prise her free. He pushed harder, sweat beading on his brow. He grabbed the stem of the plant and pulled...

There was an eruption of soil as she broke free. He staggered backwards, hoisting her from the ground.

He held her before him, still gripping the stalks that sprouted from her head. Although he couldn't be sure it was her head.

She was vaguely human in shape, a bulbous pale lump trailing limb-like, spindly shoots. She was silent, motionless. He feared the worst, but then a shoot twitched.

"She wakes!" exclaimed the Midwife with a gurgled scream. "The poppet awakes!"

The spindly legs writhed, clods of mud falling away from the bulging head to reveal a shrivelled little face. A toothless mouth gaped, and two tiny eyes began to open.

The Midwife laughed gratingly. "And now she will extract her own price: the soul of the first living thing she beholds!"

"That's unfortunate," he said, staring into the poppet's eyes. "At least for you, good Midwife."

"I do not see how," cackled the Midwife. "For you are the first living thing she has seen. And it is your soul she shall take."

"And there you have made a fatal assumption." He held the poppet out, turning its wizened little face towards the Midwife. "Because I have no soul."

At that moment a gust of wind whipped the hood from his head, revealing his face for the first time.

"Not you!" The dumpy dwarf staggered back, her face puckering into a horrified mash of flesh. "It cannot be..."

Her voice was drowned by a whooshing noise, then her empty clothes fell to the ground in a heap of ragged cloth.

The poppet's mouth gaped wider, devouring the Midwife's soul with relish. Her spindly limbs writhed, growing into human arms and legs. He hoisted her above his head, and only then did he look to the sky.

"I deliver you life," he breathed, his eyes flashing silver in the light of the moon. "I deliver you power. I deliver you justice!"

And then the poppet cried, a terrible cry that rent the night air...
Chapter 1- I Hope It Isn't Contagious

My name is Bryony Platt. I live with my parents in a beautiful three bedroom detached house in Mossy Glade Close. We have our own private drive and integral garage, a bespoke fitted kitchen, and a lovely custom built conservatory. Dad has a high-profile executive job, and earns so much money that Mum doesn't have to work. Which is so cool, because I get to do lots of fun stuff with her. Like shopping, going to the movies, and more shopping. Mum is so caring, and is always there for me.

I am so very lucky. My life is perfect.

Except for the dreams I have every night.

The same dreams.

The same weird, spooky dreams.

There's a skinny boy with ginger hair, and a woman I think is his mother. Somehow I'm his sister. That's weird and spooky enough, but there are also the monsters: fish people, fire breathing flying snakes, and animals that turn into people. There's danger and magic. Lots of magic. And there's a house. A cottage. It's hundreds of years old, with wooden beams and wonky floors and a massive fireplace with a carved wooden face.

The face looks a bit scary, like some strange animal, but it's really friendly. I know this because it talks to me. It talks to me about the ancient power, about Wise Ones and wizards and things that can't be real.

I know they can't be real, because I live with Mum and Dad in a beautiful three bedroom detached house in Mossy Glade Close. And that is real.

It has to be.

"Interesting." Doctor Masters lowered the crumpled sheet of paper, angling his gaze towards the girl sat quietly on the other side of his desk. "Most interesting indeed."

Bryony shifted uncomfortably in the plush leather seat. Having to write it all down had been difficult enough, but waiting for the verdict was proving even harder to bear.

"So?" asked Bryony's father Bill, who was sitting next to her. "I need a quick decision here."

Doctor Masters opened his mouth to reply, but Bill spoke again.

"I need to get this sorted before midday. I have important clients visiting."

Doctor Masters frowned, but Bryony knew Dad wasn't talking to him.

"I don't want excuses," snapped Bill. "I want it sorted. Within half an hour. No, make that fifteen minutes. Time is money." He tapped the small Bluetooth headset hooked around his right ear. "Sorry about that." He was talking to Doctor Masters now. "Work stuff. Trying to tie up a big business deal."

"I can see you're a very busy man," said Doctor Masters. "But I'm sure your daughter's health is more important to you than business matters."

"Sure it is, Doc." Bill nodded. "Which is why I brought her to you. So tell me straight. Is she a fruit loop?"

"Dad!" Bryony scowled at her father.

"Sorry, Sweetpea." Bill raised his hands. "I know that's not the correct medical term, but I didn't want to use the word 'bonkers' in case it upset you."

"Thanks," said Bryony. "I think."

"Well?" Bill switched his attention back to Doctor Masters. "I'm a busy man. Plus I guess I'm paying you by the hour, so..."

"Are you still having these dreams?" Doctor Masters laid the paper on his desk, returning his gaze to Bryony. His eyes were pale silver, and seemed to peer right through her. "And if so, how often?"

"Every night." Bryony felt awkward having to talk about it, but she guessed there was no point hiding anything now. "They're not always the same. There's different monsters and stuff. Last night it was walking zombie scarecrows." She shuddered at the memory. "But the skinny ginger boy is always there. And the old cottage, and that weird wooden face."

Doctor Masters nodded, his expression stern. "And these dreams scare you?"

"Some bits are scary," confessed Bryony. "But the scariest bit is that it feels like..." She struggled for the right words. "Like the old cottage is my home. My real home, I mean. And that ginger boy is my real brother. It's like... another life."

Doctor Masters clasped his hands together, his long fingers intertwining as he studied Bryony intently. He'd been the family doctor for years, so Mum said, but Bryony couldn't remember visiting his clinic before. Having said that, there was something about his gaunt face, hawk nose and silvery eyes that she found oddly familiar.

But there was no reason to doubt his credentials. Mum said Doctor Masters was a genius, a leading light in his profession, and he seemed to exude an aura of success. He wore a spotless white suit, which matched the gleaming walls of his office. The clinic itself was evidence of his achievements, a large modern building of glass and polished wooden floors, not a speck of dust in sight.

But more than that, Mum trusted Doctor Masters. So Bryony did as well.

"It's just dreams." Doctor Masters' face softened into a smile. "One shouldn't read too much into them, especially at your age. All children have an active imagination."

Bryony baulked. "I am not a child. I've just turned twelve."

"Of course." Doctor Masters dipped his grey head in apology. "I only meant that you shouldn't worry about dreams. Dreams are not real."

"But these seem real," countered Bryony. "Sometimes I think they are real, and that everything else is just a dream."

Doctor Masters' face hardened, his thick grey eyebrows knotting into a frown. Bryony felt immediately foolish. Now she did sound like a child.

But all of a sudden she was somewhere else. Not in a spotless surgery, but a darkened medieval hall. Doctor Masters was there, except he was dressed in a long white cloak. And he wasn't Doctor Masters. He was...

"Magister!" Bryony blurted the word. As soon as she said it, she was back in Doctor Masters' shining office. And Doctor Masters was staring at her with a look of horror.

"You're Magister," she gasped, pointing across the desk. "I met you in the Dungeon of Dreams."

"Of course." Doctor Masters smiled again. "And that's what it was. Just a dream. But don't worry, I have something to help." He produced a bottle of dark yellow liquid from behind his desk.

"Medicine?" Bill shook his head. "I'd rather you didn't put her on drugs."

"I understand your concern, Mr Platt. But you can rest assured this is a perfectly natural remedy. A herbal concoction passed through my family for generations."

Bill inspected the bottle. "It certainly looks like it."

Doctor Masters scowled at Bill, before treating Bryony to another smile. "A spoonful of this every day for one week will put a stop to those unpleasant dreams. No more zombie scarecrows, animal people or talking skulls."

"Talking skulls?" Bryony was confused. "I didn't say anything about talking skulls."

"Ah." Doctor Masters bit his lip. "That must have been in my dream. Oh dear." He chuckled. "I hope it isn't contagious."

Bill laughed too, but Bryony didn't see the funny side.

"Magister." She spoke the word again, softly this time, more slowly. Another memory was stirring, another part of her dreams.

Something to do with Magister...

"Must get on." Bill snatched the bottle and stood up, fumbling in his jacket pocket. "So you'll be wanting my debit card details now?"

"Have this one on the house." Doctor Masters kept those silver eyes locked on Bryony as he spoke. "Your daughter's wellbeing is my only concern."

"That's nice to know." Bill's relief was obvious. "And if there's no improvement in a week?"

"There will be," promised Doctor Masters. "Provided Bryony takes the recommended dose. As her father, I'm sure you can see to that?"

"I'll be at work, but my wife will take care of it." Bill was already making for the door. "Come along, Sweetpea. I've got to get back to the office."

Bryony remained seated, still puzzling over the riddle of Magister. She knew there was something, some memory hidden deep inside her mind. But was it a real memory, or the memory of a dream?

"You mustn't worry, my dear." Doctor Masters leaned forwards, his voice softly reassuring. "There's nothing physically or mentally wrong with you."

"You're sure? You don't think I'm a fruit loop?"

"You're a perfectly normal child, with a wonderful life and two very loving parents. But..." Doctor Masters lowered his voice to a whisper. "If you think too much about your dreams, they can become real. And you wouldn't want that, would you?"

"Not really," Bryony agreed. "Only..."

"So take your medicine." Doctor Masters sat back in his chair. "And forget about old cottages and magic. You're twelve years old. It's time to grow up and stop believing in nonsense like that."

Bryony guessed Doctor Masters was right. After all, he was a qualified medical expert. But there was one thing still bugging her. And she just had to ask.

"So you've never heard of Magister?"

Doctor Masters said nothing, his face set like stone.

"Hurry up, Bryony." Bill stood at the door, beckoning furiously. "Time is money. Money is time."

"You'd better go," Doctor Masters told her. "And give my regards to your dear mother."

"Sure." Bryony stood up. "So how come you two know each other?"

"We go back a long way," said Doctor Masters. "To the very night you were born. That's why I care so much about your welfare."

"That's nice to know," said Bryony. But for some reason she didn't feel reassured.

Chapter 2- Imperative To The Success of Our Commercial Venture

"That's not good enough." Bill barked loudly as he hurried through the sliding glass doors of Doctor Masters' clinic. "I said fifteen minutes. We need to move quickly or we'll lose the contract."

Bryony followed him across the gravelled forecourt to where his posh company car was parked. It was huge and silver, with large chunky wheels, one of the top models available. Bryony thought it an ugly machine, but Mum said it looked perfect on their private drive, and showed the world how rich and successful Dad had become.

"I don't want excuses," snarled Bill, waving his key fob to unlock the car doors. "I want results. That's what you're paid for."

Bryony was glad that no one was around to see them, because they would have thought her father was shouting at her. Or that he was stark raving mad.

Bill was still barking as he slid into the driver's seat, slotting the bottle of yellow medicine into the moulded cup holder in the dashboard.

"What, you haven't been paid this month? That's not my fault. Huh? I forgot to authorise your timesheet? Never mind about that right now. Just get on and sort this mess out before I get back to the office. What, you're taking the afternoon off? Who gave you permission to have leave? Oh. I did, did I? OK, so get Samantha to deal with it."

Clambering onto the rear seat, Bryony winced as she listened to her father. She didn't understand half the stuff he was talking about, but could tell he was getting stressed. He'd been like that on the way to the clinic, shouting at thin air until his face had resembled a shiny red beetroot. It was turning that colour again, or at least the back of his neck was.

She seldom saw him get angry, and Bryony found herself wondering if the ranting man in the drivers' seat was actually her father.

"Samantha's on sick leave?" Bill slammed the door shut and started the car. "With a head cold? That's no reason to take a day off. I'd come into work even if my head fell off. And I'll tell you what, it wouldn't affect my performance one bit."

Bill steered his car onto the long straight driveway that bisected the spacious grounds of the clinic. It was a hot summer's morning, and Bryony found it stuffy inside the car. She was going to ask Bill to turn on the air-con, but thought better of interrupting him when he was talking business, so decided to open the nearest rear window instead. The glass slid down with an expensive sounding hum. Bryony thrust her head out to get some air, and spied a small red car coming down the driveway from the opposite direction.

"I'll have to sort this mess out myself," Bill grumbled. "Should have known better than to leave key tasks to incompetent underlings. So put me through to the manager of the department responsible."

Neither car was slowing down, but Bryony could see the drive was only wide enough for one vehicle to pass.

"Dad." She withdrew her head from the window. "There's a car..."

"Not now, babe. I'm dealing with some very important business and I need to concentrate. There's a lot riding on this."

"But Dad..."

"Hello." Bill touched his headpiece. "Is that the manager? Bill Platt here. My company is staging a meeting today with some very important clients. It's crucial we get a deal signed today, so we can't leave anything to chance. It is imperative to the success of this commercial venture that..."

"Dad." Bryony tapped his shoulder. "There's a car com..."

Bill swatted her hand away. "What's that?" He touched his headset again, steering the car one handed. "Yes, I know you're busy. I'm busy too. Yes, I'll get on with it." He took a deep breath. "So could we have three rounds of cheese and pickle sandwiches, half a dozen chicken and bacon baguettes..."

"Dad!" Bryony shouted as loud as she could. "There's a car coming right at us."

"Four egg mayonnaise rolls." Bill still hadn't noticed the approaching car. "That's for the veggies. Bound to be a couple of them."

The cars were closing fast on each other.

"Dad!" Bryony yelled in her father's ear. "The car..."

"And can we have those cocktail sticks with cheese and pineapple. Oh, and some serviettes please. Nothing ruins a business deal like egg mayonnaise down an executive silk tie."

"Look out, Dad!" In desperation, Bryony wrenched the headset from Bill's ear. "Stop!"

At last Bill registered the oncoming vehicle. He slammed on the brakes, forcing his posh company car into a skidding halt. Bryony was thrown forwards. The seat belt saved her from injury, but Bill's headset went flying from her hand through the opened window.

The other car swerved at the last moment, avoiding a collision by a hair's breath.

"Are you OK?" Bryony peered round the driver's seat to see her father bent forwards. She feared the worst, until he sat up and started shouting.

"The idiot! Have you ever seen such dangerous driving?"

"Um..." Bryony wasn't sure how to answer that. "But you were the one who..."

"I'll sue them." Seething, Bill switched off the engine and unfastened his seat belt. "If they've so much as scratched my paintwork, I'll take them for every penny they've got."

Bryony looked behind, and saw that the small red car had stopped, its hazard lights blinking.

"You can't sue them," she pointed out. "You weren't paying attention, and..."

But Bill was already gone, his face an ever deepening shade of beetroot as he marched towards the little red car. Bryony was about to head out after him, but her father was back before she had unfastened her seat belt.

"Dad?" Bryony wondered why he'd returned so quickly. "What happened?"

Bill slumped back into the driver's seat without replying, so she leaned forwards to get a look at his face. His cheeks had drained of colour. He stared into space with a dazed expression, his mouth silently opening and closing.

He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Are you OK?" Bryony wondered what had caused her father's rage to evaporate so quickly. "Dad..."

"I'm fine." Snapping out of his trance like state, Bill slammed the car door shut and started the car. "Let's get you home."

There was a screech of tyres as he pulled away. Bewildered, Bryony looked out of the rear window. The other car was still stationery, its driver standing beside it. It was a woman. A woman wearing a cardigan, a flowery dress and sandals. She stared back at Bryony, her curly ginger hair billowing in the gentle summer breeze.

"That lady." Bryony blinked, and then shrieked as the realisation hit home. "She's the lady in my dreams!"

Bill made a dismissive grunting noise.

"Stop the car," pleaded Bryony.

"I'm not stopping," said Bill. "Got to get you home."

"But she's the lady in my dreams. I want to speak to her."

Bill slowed the car, and Bryony hoped he'd had second thoughts. But then she looked forwards and saw they were nearing the tall iron gates at the end of the clinic driveway, which swung open automatically to let him through.

She waited until they were back on the main road before speaking again.

"I've seen her before, Dad. I know it." And she knew something else, the reason for her father's sudden change in demeanour. "So have you."

"I've never seen that woman in my life," growled Bill.

The vehemence of her father's response made Bryony suspicious, and a sudden thought struck her.

"Are you having an affair?"

"Of course not!" Bill sounded horrified at the suggestion. "I'm a respectable married man with a high profile executive job. I wouldn't have time for an affair."

"I suppose not." Bryony couldn't argue with her father's logic. "But from the look on her face I reckon she knows you."

"She'll know me soon enough," said Bill. "When I take her to court." The beetroot shade returned to his neck. "I'm going to make sure she doesn't get away with it. I'll have my lawyers on the case right away. She won't escape justice."

"So you took her name?" wondered Bryony.

"Um..." Bill pursed his lips.

"Or address?"

"Er..."

"Telephone number? Car number plate?"

"Well..." Bill grimaced. "Maybe I'll let her off this time. But if I ever bump into that woman again, I swear I'll make her life a misery."

Chapter 3- Bryony's World Gets Even Weirder

The journey continued in uncomfortable silence, and Bryony was relieved when they finally pulled up on the immaculate drive of their beautiful detached three-bedroom house in Mossy Glade Close.

It was like she'd been away for years, but they'd only departed for the clinic less than an hour ago.

She was out of the car before Bill had switched off the engine, and was halfway to the front door when she heard a raucous croak from above.

Looking up, she spied a black bird perched on the roof of her house. It was an ugly creature, with tatty feathers and a balding head. It stared at her with tiny grey eyes, its sharp beak opening to emit another grating cry.

She waved an arm to shoo the monstrosity from her home. The bird took to the air with an offended croak, shedding a flurry of tatty black feathers onto the pristine roof tiles.

Bryony had little interest in wildlife, and couldn't tell one kind of bird from another. But she knew she'd seen this particular tatty specimen before.

Or maybe she'd dreamed it.

The bird circled overhead, its grey eyes returning Bryony's hostile gaze before it disappeared behind a neighbouring rooftop.

Then Bryony realised that she had dreamed it. That ugly bald bird was part of her dreams, along with that ginger haired lady!

She felt oddly unsettled by the morning's events. Having those weird dreams had been spooky enough, but now they were becoming real, just as Doctor Masters had warned her.

The bird had gone, but Bryony was still gazing upwards. It was a cloudless morning, and she could see the white moon stark against the clear blue sky. It was strange, but Bryony could feel some kind of force radiating from the distant silvery disc, a power that made her body tingle and her stomach churn.

She felt a sudden urge to run to her mother, an urge fuelled by the delicious smell of baking that came wafting from the house. She hurried to the perfect front door, which had been left ajar in readiness for her return.

"Mum!" Bryony called out as she ran down the gleaming oak-floored hallway. "We're back!"

"Hi there, Poppet." Mum came running from the opposite direction to greet her daughter. "How did you get on? Is everything OK?"

Bryony couldn't answer. All she wanted to do was hug her mother, but she knew that wasn't allowed because it would crease Mum's dress.

"Everything's fine." Bill came striding through the front door, brandishing the bottle of yellow medicine. "Doctor Masters says a spoonful of this every day for a week will stop her dreams."

Mum took the bottle from her husband. "I knew clever Doctor Masters would have the answer. You see, Poppet? You're going to be all right."

Bryony wasn't so sure about that. "But the dreams are getting real," she murmured. "I just saw the tatty bald bird. And we nearly crashed into the ginger lady."

"Crashed?" Mum gasped in horror. "When was this? What happened?"

Bryony looked at her father, waiting for him to explain.

But Bill seemed puzzled. "I don't remember any ginger lady."

Bryony couldn't believe her father had forgotten already.

"You were furious," she reminded him. "You said you'd sue her."

"I don't think so, Sweetpea. Maybe you dozed off and had another dream."

"It wasn't a dream, Dad. You would have hit the ginger lady's car if she hadn't swerved at the last second." Then Bryony remembered something that would clinch it. "And that headset thingy of yours went flying through the window when you slammed on the brakes."

"It did?" Bill frowned. "Then how come I'm still wearing it?"

Bryony gawped when she noticed the small device attached to her father's right ear.

"So it must have been a dream," said Mum.

"But I was awake," insisted Bryony. "We were both awake and we both saw her. The lady from my dreams. She's real."

"Dreams aren't real," Mum told Bryony. "Isn't that what Doctor Masters told you?"

"But he said they could become real." Bryony looked up at her mother. "Maybe that's what's happening?"

A troubled look crossed Mum's beautiful features.

"Bryony, how many times have I said I'd prefer it if you called me 'Mother' instead of 'Mum'? It sounds much more refined."

"Yes, Mum. I mean Mother. But the dreams..."

Mother smiled. "Let's discuss this over food." She ushered Bryony into the bespoke handcrafted kitchen. "Thought it would be nice to rustle up a little treat for when you got back. Ta dah!"

Bryony had been wondering where that delicious aroma was coming from, and gasped when saw the plate of perfect, iced cupcakes on the solid oak table.

"Wow! You made them yourself?"

"Of course." Mother smiled modestly. "My own recipe. But you can't have too many. It'll spoil dinner. I'm doing your favourite. Boeuf bourguignon. Plus homemade ice cream for dessert. Mint choc chip, of course."

"But Mum. I mean Mother..." A sudden thought struck Bryony. "You can't cook."

"Of course I can cook." Mother's smile vanished. "What sort of mother would I be if I couldn't cook?"

Bryony shook her head. "But you never cook. Except microwave meals. And you can't even do that without setting off the smoke alarm."

"I'm the best cook in town," contested Mother. "Your father always says so. Don't you, darling?"

Bill had already crammed a whole cupcake into his mouth, so his response was limited to a nod and an appreciative murmur.

"But Dad always complains about your food." Bryony looked at her mother again. "It's one of the reasons you argue."

"Argue?" Mother put a hand to her throat, rattling the pearls of her expensive necklace. "We never argue."

"Never," agreed Bill, helping himself to another cupcake.

"But you do." Bryony's astonished gaze flicked from parent to parent. "You argue about everything. All the time."

"These are terrific." Bill smiled after demolishing his second cupcake. "I'm lucky to have such a beautiful and talented wife."

"Thank you." Mother beamed at Bill. "And I'm lucky to have such a strong and capable husband."

"He's got crumbs on his chin." Bryony pointed out to her mother. "Haven't you noticed? You always complain that he's a messy..."

The words died in Bryony's throat as she watched Mother lovingly wipe Bill's chin with a paper towel, before leaning forwards as if to kiss him.

But just as their lips were about to touch, there was a bleep from Bill's Bluetooth headset.

"Bill Platt, Head of Executive High Level Solutions." Bill became the model of professionalism as he pressed a finger to his headset. "What's that? Oh no. Disaster." His face flushed a threatening shade of beetroot. "What's wrong with people? Don't they realise I'm trying to run a professional business? OK. I'll be there in half an hour to sort out this mess."

"What's wrong?" asked Mother gravely.

"Crisis at the office," explained Bill. "We've got a crucial client meeting in an hour, and there are no egg mayonnaise rolls."

"Oh no." More pearl rattling from Mother. "You'd better go. But don't be late home or you'll miss dinner."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Bill clasped Mother's hand before turning to Bryony. "Now you take your medicine like Doctor Masters said." He stooped and kissed the top of her head. "And when I get home we can have a nice family meal. Like we always do. Every night."

But Bryony couldn't remember the last time they'd had a nice family meal. Normally she'd end up chewing a frazzled microwaved lasagne on her own while her parents yelled at each other from opposite ends of the house.

And then another thought hit her as she watched Bill march off down the hallway...

"He's got a job." She turned to stare at her mother in bewilderment. "How come Dad's got a job?"

"He's always had a job," said Mother, fiddling with one of her expensive earrings.

"I mean a proper job. One that lasts more than week."

"Your father's had a proper job for years. That's why we can afford such a lovely house."

"That isn't true. Dad's always out of work. We only got this house when Gran died and left us all her money."

Mother pursed her glossy red lips. "I think you need to take your medicine. The sooner your treatment starts, the better." She retrieved a spoon from a handcrafted kitchen drawer. "It will make those nasty dreams go away."

"Do I have to?" Bryony eyed the bottle suspiciously as her mother unscrewed the top. "Doctor Masters said there's nothing wrong with me."

"It will help you sleep better. You won't feel so confused anymore." Mother tipped the bottle, glugging murky yellow liquid into the spoon. "Drink up. Then you can have a cupcake."

The thought of a cupcake was quite an incentive, but Bryony hesitated. She wanted the dreams to stop, to make the world seem right again. Only she was finding it more and more difficult to tell the difference between dreams and reality. And for some reason she couldn't bring herself to trust Doctor Masters like her mother seemed to.

"Please, Poppet." Mother's blue eyes widened imploringly. "I want you to get better. Your father does too. We want things to be as they should be."

As they should be. Bryony wasn't sure what that meant anymore. But Mum was looking stressed, and Bryony didn't want to upset her.

"OK. But I'm not a toddler anymore. I can take my own medicine." She prised the spoon from Mother's perfectly manicured hand.

"Of course, Poppet. So go on." Mother nodded encouragingly as Bryony raised the spoon to her mouth.

Just then Bryony caught a flash of movement at the kitchen window. Mother saw it too, exhaling an irritated hiss.

"There it is again!" Mother ran to the window. "Shoo!" She tapped the glass with her forefinger. "Get away! Scat!"

Bryony had no idea what had gotten into her mother, but she seized the chance and tipped the spoonful of medicine into the pristine butler sink.

"Go away!" Mother snarled, angrily drumming the window pane. "Get out of my garden and don't come back, you horrible cat!"

Bryony knew that Mother had never liked cats. They were pests, she said. Dug up the flower beds and messed on the lawn. But for some reason she seemed even more agitated than normal about this one.

"It's gone now. Good riddance." Mother turned back to Bryony. Her cheeks were flushed, and it took a few seconds to recover her composure. "You've taken your medicine?"

Bryony held the empty spoon up for inspection.

"Good girl," beamed Mother. "Now you can have a cupcake."

Bryony helped herself, and was surprised how good it was compared to her mother's usual cooking. The cupcake was light and fluffy on her tongue, the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted.

In two mouthfuls the cake was gone.

"There. Wasn't difficult, was it?" Mother smoothed her hand over Bryony's head in a rare display of physical affection. "Just a few more doses and you'll be completely cured."

"Cured of what?" said Bryony.

"The bad dreams."

"What bad dreams?"

Mother grinned. "See? Doctor Master's medicine is working already."

Bryony smiled back. Of course she still remembered the dreams, but it seemed kinder that Mother thought she was on the mend.

"So let's celebrate by going shopping." Mother clapped her hands like an excited child. "That will be nice, won't it?"

Bryony was surprised by Mother's suggestion. "But I thought you were going to cook dinner?"

"I'll do that when we get back. There'll be plenty of time."

Bryony couldn't see how, but that wasn't the reason she declined the offer. "Sorry, but I'm not in the mood for shopping. I'm feeling a bit rough."

Mother looked worried. "It might be the medicine. I'll call Doctor Masters."

"I'm fine." Bryony attempted a reassuring smile. "Just tired, I guess."

"Then we'll grab a coffee on the way. You'll feel much better when we get to the shops. I'll buy you that snazzy dress you've had your eye on. Then we'll go to the cinema and watch a chick flick together."

"And there'll still be time to cook dinner?"

"Why sure." Mother shrugged. "We've got all the time in the world."

"But..."

"But what, Poppet?" The worried look returned to Mother's face.

"I..." Bryony couldn't explain. "It's just... something isn't right."

"Is it my hair?" Mother patted her long golden locks. "Or the dress? Does it clash with my shoes?"

"I didn't mean about you." As usual, Bryony found her mother's appearance impossible to fault. "It's just... everything else."

"Huh?" Mother's attention switched to their surroundings. "But I cleaned the house from top to bottom this morning. Like I do every morning."

Bryony couldn't remember her mother ever being one for housework. Usually she'd paid a cleaner to do all the chores. But the state of the kitchen wasn't the problem.

"It's not the house," she sighed. "Maybe I need to lie down for a bit."

With obvious reluctance, Mother agreed to abandon the shopping expedition. "You go upstairs and get some sleep," she told Bryony. "But if you don't feel better in one hour, I'm calling Doctor Masters."

Bryony hurried from the kitchen. It wasn't a lie that she felt a little washed out, but her mind was buzzing way too much for sleep.

Everything was the same, but somehow different. Dreams had become real, the line between fantasy and reality was blurring. The world had gone weird, and she needed some space to get her head round it.

She rushed up the gleaming hardwood stairs and onto the landing, but halted when she reached her bedroom door.

There was writing on the door, scrawled in thick red felt tip. Five words...

But the words vanished before Bryony could read them.

Puzzled, she switched on the landing light to make sure. The glossy white door was spotless, no graffiti in sight.

Bryony guessed she was more tired than she'd thought. She pushed the door open, breathing a sigh of relief as she entered the sanctuary of her bedroom.

At least everything seemed normal here. The same tasteful wallpaper, the same chic furniture, the same lush carpet underfoot. And there, sitting on her pillow, was the same old Mr Cuddles.

Bryony fell onto the bed and gave her favourite soft toy a hug. Mum had made Mr Cuddles for her when she was just a baby. He had an odd shaped head, with a facial expression that made it look like he wanted to go to toilet, but Mr Cuddles had been with her as long as she could remember, an ever present companion through good times and bad.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" Bryony whispered to Mr Cuddles. "Why are my dreams becoming real? Why do I feel like a stranger in my own home?"

Mr Cuddles just stared back at her with his wonky glass eyes. What else should she have expected? He wasn't alive, after all.

With reverential care Bryony put Mr Cuddles back on her pillow, then stood up and walked to her dressing table to study her reflection in the mirror. She didn't look ill. In fact she had rarely, if ever, looked so good. Her dark eyes were clear, and her flawless skin seemed to glow in the sunlight that streamed through the opened window. But there was something about her reflection that didn't seem right; something that should have been obvious, but for some reason eluded her.

Bryony licked her right forefinger and smoothed it across her eyebrows. Then she licked a tiny smudge of cupcake icing from her top lip.

No, that wasn't it. There was still something wrong.

Maybe some jewellery would help.

She opened her trinket box and dipped her fingers inside, hooking out a delicate chain with a silver pendant attached.

She frowned as she studied the curiously shaped pendant. It looked like a cross between a heart and a leaf. She couldn't remember buying it, and it wasn't the sort of jewellery that Mum, sorry Mother, would have given her as a present. She sat there staring at the pendant, forehead furrowed with ever deepening confusion.

Then Bryony heard a raucous croak that made her jump.

The culprit was perched on her windowsill: a tatty, bald headed black bird. The same tatty, bald headed black bird Bryony had spotted on arriving home from the clinic. The same tatty bald bird in her dreams...

Bryony feared the scruffy bird might fly into the room through the opened window. She sprang from the dressing table, waving her arms and hissing at the intruder.

The bird didn't move, except to cock its head and glare at her with a tiny grey eye. This show of audacity only made Bryony madder. She picked up one of her slippers, and was about to hurl it at the window when the bird fluttered off in a blizzard of tatty black feathers.

Bryony dropped her slipper and hurried to the window, irritably sweeping feathers from the sill with the back of her hand. Then she saw something lying on the carpet at her feet.

An envelope. With writing on it.

She stooped and picked up the envelope. It was addressed to her, although she didn't recognise the spidery black handwriting.

Intrigued, she tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter tucked inside.

It wasn't really a letter, just a scrap of paper with a few words in the same squiggly writing that made no sense whatsoever.

"The Old Place. Dusk."

Bryony's eyebrows knotted. Then she turned the paper and saw more scribbles on the back. At first she thought it was just doodles, but as she studied the jumble of lines she began to make out tiny details that only deepened her bewilderment.

And then she realised what the tiny details meant.

And Bryony's world got even weirder.
Chapter 4- The Old Place at Dusk

The sky was melting. Streaks of red, amber and gold oozed across the horizon, a dazzling contrast to the expanse of darkening blue above. The full moon shone brightly, framed by a halo of pale light that made it look somehow larger than normal.

"Which way now?" Bill slowed his posh company car as they neared another road junction.

Ensconced on the back seat, Bryony studied the paper in her hand. "Turn left, Dad."

"That will take us further into the countryside." Bill aimed a doubting glance at her via the rear view mirror. "No town or village for miles. Are you sure you know where we're going?"

Bryony wasn't sure at all. It was hard work deciphering the squiggly lines on the paper, and she was largely relying on guesswork. Or maybe something else...

She peered out of the car window. There was nothing to see except empty fields. Yet despite the lack of landmarks, Bryony found the scenery familiar. She couldn't help but feel she'd been this way before. Just when, and who with, she couldn't be sure. But the lack of shops meant it wouldn't have been with Mum.

Mum. Thinking of her now made Bryony's stomach churn with guilt. Despite what Bryony had told her father, Mum thought Bryony was still in her bedroom. She'd come up to check several times that afternoon, but Bryony had told her that she just needed a few hours rest, and that she'd be right as rain for their family dinner. At which point Mum had seemed to get the message and retreated to the kitchen to prepare the lavish feast.

Bryony wasn't sure why she'd kept the letter a secret from Mum. She told herself it was because she didn't want Mum to worry, but deep down she knew there was more to it than that. If Mum knew about the letter, there was no way she'd have let Bryony set one foot outside the house, let alone embark on some magical mystery tour. If Mum knew about the letter, she'd have locked the bedroom door and called the police.

No, maybe not the police. What would the neighbours think if the police turned up at the door?

But Bryony knew whom Mum would have called...

Doctor Masters.

Again Bryony saw a flickering vision of a man with a hawkish face dressed in a long white cloak, with eyes glowing bright silver.

Magister, that was his name, another face from her dreams becoming real.

Bryony didn't know if this Magister was good or evil. Like everything else in her dreams, she just couldn't make sense of it.

But she sensed the letter was the key to unlocking the mystery.

Wherever it had come from, the purpose of the mysterious message was now obvious. The scribbles on the back had turned out to be some sort of map. A very crude map, but with just enough information to guide her on the ten mile journey. She could tell they'd travelled ten miles from the dashboard milometer. Ten miles wasn't that far, but it seemed a million times that distance from Mossy Glade Close.

"We should turn back," Bill suggested, stopping the car at the junction. "It's getting late and I need to catch up on my emails. Plus your mother's cooking us a lovely family dinner."

"She's never cooked anything lovely," Bryony reminded him.

"Don't criticise your mother," Bill snapped. "She'd do anything for you. You're the most precious thing in her entire world. You know that, don't you?"

"Sure. Sorry." Another pang of guilt stabbed Bryony's insides. She didn't want to annoy her father, not after a stressful working day. "But it's not much further," she told him, struggling to interpret the squiggly lines on the paper. "Turn left here, then another right turn and we're there."

Wherever 'there' might turn out to be.

"OK. Left it is." Bill pulled out of the junction as directed.

Bryony leaned forwards, spotting a right hand turn ahead. "There!" She tapped her father's shoulder and pointed. "There it is, look."

"Are you sure? Looks more like a track than a road."

"I'm sure," said Bryony, even though she wasn't. "Turn right here."

Bill steered the car into a narrow, high-banked lane. Long tufts of grass sprouted in the middle of the road, and tall ferns swished against the car's doors as they passed.

"Don't reckon anyone's been this way for years," Bill muttered. "Are you sure your friend lives down here?"

Bryony pretended she hadn't heard the question. She'd told Dad that she had to return some books she'd borrowed, and urgently because her friend was going on a three week holiday first thing the next morning. Bryony knew it was a pretty feeble story, so she'd been surprised when Dad had said 'yes', especially as he'd only just got home from work, and was still getting out of the car when she'd pounced on him.

But he had obviously come to regret that decision.

"I'd never have agreed to take you if I'd known it was this far," he grumbled. "I hope your friend is grateful when she gets her precious books back. How much further?"

"We must be close now," said Bryony, although she couldn't read the map anymore. It had grown suddenly darker, the high banks and hedges blocking the sun's fading rays. She was about to suggest that Dad should switch on his headlights, when her attention was drawn to a ragged dark shape flitting across the road. It was only a bird, but it looked suspiciously like the bird that had appeared at her bedroom window, the same one from her dreams. The ragged shape melted into shadow before she could get a closer look, but she felt a rising surge of unease.

"It's getting colder." Bill tapped the thermometer on the dashboard. "Down to six degrees. And it's supposed to be summer."

Bryony thought she saw flecks of falling snow outside. Then she caught another flash of white, as a long slender tail disappeared behind a dead tree at the side of the lane. It was a weird looking tree, its gnarled trunk resembling an ugly old man's face, with hollow eyes that seemed to leer at her as the car went past.

It was probably just a trick of the light. Shadows, that's all. Nothing to worry about. But by now Bryony couldn't stop worrying, because she realised she'd seen that ugly old tree before...

She fought the urge to ask Dad to take her home. She'd come too far. She was almost there, she could feel it.

Bill slowed the car to a standstill before hitching the handbrake. "Here we are, then."

Bryony frowned at her father's reflection in the rear view mirror. "Why have you stopped?"

"Isn't this the place, Sweetpea?"

Bryony consulted the map. It was hard to tell in the fading light, but she guessed they must have reached the end of the squiggly route.

"Yeah. But how did you know?"

"Suppose I must have brought you here before."

Bryony was about to say she had never been here before, but she couldn't be sure that was true. It looked pitch dark outside the car, no streetlights to banish the gathering gloom, yet she felt a peculiar sense of familiarity with her surroundings.

A shrill bleep sounded. Bill tapped his Bluetooth headpiece. "Bill Platt. Hello Mr Yakamoto. Yes, it was great to meet you this afternoon. I hope you've had time to consider our business offer. Hello? Mr Yakamoto?" Bill jiggled the headpiece, then groaned. "Cut off. Must be dodgy reception out here. You OK if I drive off to find a better signal whilst you pop in to see your friend?"

Bryony was far from OK with that. She didn't know what she was heading into, and wanted Dad nearby.

"Can't you wait here? I'll only be a few minutes."

"After coming all this way?" Bill shook his head. "No, you make the trip worthwhile. I'll be back in half an hour."

"You'll get lost," warned Bryony. "Better if you stayed here."

"But I need to speak to the client. We have to get the deal signed and sealed by midnight."

"OK." Bryony opened the car door, grimacing as cold air wafted in from outside. "You'll definitely be back in half an hour?"

Bill promised he would. Bryony picked up her satchel and clambered out of the car, and had barely shut the door before Bill pressed his foot on the accelerator pedal. The large silver car sped off down the lane, leaving Bryony all alone.

Silence fell, and the chill darkness seemed to close around her. She shivered, regretting that she hadn't worn warmer clothing. Then again, it had been a fine summers' evening when they'd left home.

She glimpsed another falling snowflake, and began to wonder if she might end up getting stranded in the middle of some freak arctic storm. Maybe she should have packed a sleeping bag and a flask of hot drink. But her dinky satchel was designed more for style than practical use, and there had only been room for one vital item.

And that was Mr Cuddles, of course. He went everywhere Bryony went, and she'd felt compelled to bring him with her, just like she'd felt compelled to follow that crudely drawn map.

But the map offered no further clues to her destination. She peered around her, and spied a gap in the hedge right in front of her. It was then she knew that she'd reached her destination.

The Old Place. Dusk.

There was no point hanging around. Bryony looped the satchel strap over her right shoulder, tucked the reassuring bulge of Mr Cuddles under her arm, and then stepped through the gap in the hedge.

She'd only taken a couple of strides when her right foot struck something. There was a clattering sound, and then a loud crunch as something snapped beneath the weight of her left foot.

Bryony stopped, crouching to discover shards of shattered wood strewn on the ground. Most probably the remains of an old garden gate. Nothing of interest, she thought, until she noticed markings on some of the wood fragments; it was hard to be sure in the dimming light, but they looked like letters. There was a C, a couple of T's, a Y and an H. And was that an E? And over there a W?

She knew the letters formed a word, and that word was probably important. But Bryony wasn't in the mood for jigsaw puzzles.

She stood up, deciding to press on. But another couple of steps brought her to a jungle of overgrown weeds. It looked an impenetrable barrier, until she saw a narrow trail had been hacked through the vegetation.

Someone had been here before her; how recently was tricky to tell, but Bryony's twitching nostrils detected the scent of wood smoke wafting from nearby.

Bryony guessed that whoever sent that scrawled invitation was probably here already, waiting for her. She had no idea what they might want, but she sensed they held the answer to the riddle of her dreams.

The shadows deepened as Bryony stepped gingerly through the hacked down weeds. It seemed the trail was going nowhere, but then she spied a clear patch of dusky sky up ahead. She hurried forwards, exhaling a sigh of relief when she cleared the jungle.

A sigh that became a gasp when she saw what stood before her.

It was a house. Or rather, all that was left of a house. It was more like a skeleton now, a shell of broken beams and sagging rafters that looked like it might collapse any moment. The remains of a brick chimney tottered precariously at the far end, and Bryony saw wisps of pale smoke wafting from the lopsided stack.

Someone was at home.

Bryony crept towards the ruined building, trying to locate the front door. Then she realised there was little point, so simply stepped through a gap in the crumbled wall. She noticed the remains of the house were coated in thick black dust, like ash from a fire.

At that very moment she saw flames flickering amongst the wreckage. Not an uncontrollable inferno, more like a small camp fire.

The air was growing ever colder, and larger flecks of snow tumbled soundlessly around her. Bryony shuddered, her skin puckering when a falling flake of ice brushed her bare arm.

Lured by the prospect of warmth, but keeping her wits about her, she cautiously approached the campfire. She passed through what might once have been a doorway, and found herself standing in front of a structure that reminded her of a wide, brick built barbecue.

She guessed it was the remains of a fireplace. The brickwork was laced with cracks, and it looked like part of the chimney breast had fallen away. Indeed, she wondered how it was still standing.

The small fire crackled welcomingly in the hearth. Bryony hurried forwards, thrusting her hands towards the warming flames.

The sense of familiarity returned. She'd been here before, there was no doubt about it. Stood on this very spot, warming herself in just this way. Except something was missing.

Bryony was trying to work out what that something was, when a hand grabbed her right shoulder...
Chapter 5- This is Home

Bryony wheeled round, lashing out with her right arm. There was a satisfying smack as her knuckles struck her assailant's face, followed by a shrill yelp of pain. She raised her fists to strike again, but lowered them when she saw her attacker revealed in the flickering firelight.

It was only a boy. A skinny little boy with a mop of curly hair.

"That hurt," the boy whimpered, rubbing his nose with his bandaged right hand.

"I'm sorry," said Bryony, despite not feeling sorry at all. "But what do you expect if you go around grabbing strangers?"

"I'm not a stranger," said the boy. "It's me."

Bryony was none the wiser. "Who?"

The boy lowered his hand, the firelight illuminating his freckle spattered face.

An oddly familiar freckle spattered face.

And then Bryony saw that his curly hair was a vivid shade of ginger.

She gawped at the boy. "I've seen you before..." Then she realised where, and gave out a shocked shriek. "You're the boy in my nightmares!"

"Nice to know you've got such fond memories of me." Grinning, the boy took a step towards Bryony. "Anyway, I'm glad you came. I knew you'd turn up in the end."

"Get away from me!" Bryony retreated from the boy's outstretched hand. "Get back into my dreams where you belong."

"What's wrong?" The ginger boy spread his arms wide. "You're acting like you don't know who I am."

"I don't," said Bryony. "Except that you're a weirdo with weird coloured hair."

"You can talk." The boy pointed at Bryony's head. "Are you wearing a wig, or did you have an accident with a bucket of paint?"

"I'm not wearing a wig," snapped Bryony, outraged by the boy's unfounded accusation. "Who are you, and what do you want with me?"

"You really don't remember me?" The boy's mottled forehead furrowed into a disappointed frown. "Stubby was right. He said you might be affected by magic."

"Stubby? Magic? What are you on about?" Bryony's confusion deepened. "Tell me who you are and what you want with me."

"OK. Let's start with the basics. I'm Ed-win." The boy spoke slowly, like a schoolteacher speaking to a young pupil. "Ed-win."

"Ed-win?" Bryony recognised the name from somewhere. "Edwin."

Edwin nodded. "My mum is called Jane. She has hair like me, only longer and curlier. She wears woolly cardigans, flowery dresses and..."

"Sandals." Bryony remembered the woman she'd seen earlier that day on the driveway of Doctor Masters' clinic. "I knew I'd seen her before. But how do you know me?"

Edwin smiled. "I'm your stepbrother."

Bryony snorted with disgust. "I don't have a stepbrother."

"Yes you do." Edwin pointed at Bryony's neck. "Who do you think gave you that on your birthday?"

Bryony put a hand to her throat, her fingers closing around the silver leaf pendant. She had decided to wear it, but couldn't explain why.

"It's a bryony leaf," explained the boy called Edwin. "A black bryony leaf, which is a different to white bryony. Good job you're wearing it, otherwise I would have thought you were her."

Bryony's confusion deepened. "Who's her?"

"She's..." Edwin bit his lip, as if he wasn't sure how to answer. "Can't you remember anything that happened here a week ago?"

Bryony shrugged. "I don't even know where here is."

"This is home," said Edwin.

"This isn't my home." Bryony was incensed at the suggestion. "I live in a three bedroom detached house in Mossy Glade Close. Not a ruined old hovel like this."

"You used to live in Mossy Glade Close. Before you and your dad moved here with me and my mum, about eighteen months ago."

"We moved in with your mum?" Bryony couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What happened to my mum?"

"She..." Edwin cleared his throat. "She ran off with the cleaner."

"The cleaner?" Bryony almost choked. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous," insisted Edwin. "It happened. Try and remember."

"Nothing happened," snarled Bryony. "There's nothing to remember."

"Nothing, eh? Then how about the Shadow Clan, for starters? And then there's the Thunderstone. And the Tome Terriblis."

"Tummy what?"

"And what about Barrenbrake Farm? You got turned into a pig. It was hilarious."

"Stop it! I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about us." Edwin took another step closer to Bryony. "About the magic. About Wychetts."

Wychetts.

The letters on the smashed-up gate flashed through her mind.

W-Y-C-H-E-T-T-S

"Why-ketts?" She heard her own voice, echoing from a long time ago.

"It's pronounced 'Witchitts'," replied her father. "W-Y-C-H-E-T-T-S. Witch-itts."

Wychetts.

There was an explosion inside Bryony's head. It felt like a dam had burst, a tidal wave of impossible thoughts smashing through to flood her mind. Her legs buckled, and she would have fallen over if Edwin hadn't taken hold of her arm.

Wychetts.

Now Bryony knew why this place felt so familiar.

Edwin was right. This was the old place. She was home.

Or what was left of it.

"But what happened?" Bryony peered at Edwin's face through a haze of tears. "The cottage. Why is it like this? Please tell me."

"I don't need to." Edwin let go of Bryony, and then carefully peeled the bandages from his right hand. "There's still some magic left." He nodded at the remains of the fireplace. "Even though he's gone."

Only now did Bryony realise what was missing from the crumbled hearth: the carved wooden features of their mentor, the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom.

"Inglenook! What happened to him?"

"Grab hold." Edwin reached out his injured hand. "All your memories will return. And there's stuff you know that I don't. Stuff that happened that day."

"What day?"

"Your birthday. We had a party, remember?"

"Of course I remember my birthday, it was only a week ago. I had a brilliant party. Mum hired a posh reception hall. We had five star catering, a live band, and loads of guests and..." The memories of that happy day were so vivid, but now she realised they couldn't be true. "It wasn't like that, was it?"

"No it wasn't. But your mum was there all right. In fact, it all started when she turned up."

Bryony was going to ask what he meant, but her hand was already reaching out for his. And before she could snatch it back, Edwin had locked fingers with her.

Lights flashed when their palms pressed together, and Bryony felt a tingle shooting up her arm.

"We'd just escaped from the Dungeon of Dreams." Edwin led her through the ruined cottage, his voice echoing strangely inside her head. "We were all in the dining room. Right here. Do you remember?"

Bryony couldn't answer. The tingling in her arm had spread right through her body, and the world around her was blurring.

Not so much blurring, as changing. Walls sprung up, filling the gaps between the blackened timbers of the ruined cottage. A window appeared, with diamond leaded panes through which rays of bright sunshine streamed into the room. Coloured bunting hung from the low, beamed ceiling, and there was a banner on the wall above a food-laden table.

Memories came rushing back to Bryony as she read the words on the banner.

This was her birthday. This was her party. There was no lavish do at a posh reception hall. It was just her, Edwin, Dad and Jane together in the cottage. This is what really happened.

"The party was about to start, when there was a knock at the front door." Edwin squeezed Bryony's hand so hard that it hurt. "We had a surprise guest."

Bryony saw a figure striding into the dining room. A woman. Tall, slender, long blonde hair. Wearing a smart designer suit.

The woman was smiling. Smiling at Bryony.

Bryony stared back, unable to move a muscle in her face.

"Hi," said the woman. "Sorry I'm a little bit late. Delays at the airport. But never mind, I'm here now."

The woman stood in front of Bryony, and spread her arms wide.

Bryony just stood there, although it took a considerable effort to do that. Her head was reeling, and her legs had turned to jelly.

"Oh come along, Poppet," said the woman. "This is no way to greet your mother."

Chapter 6- What Are You Doing Here?

"What..." Bryony's voice was a dry croak, and she had to swallow several times before she could get the words out. "What are you doing here?"

Mum looked hurt. "What kind of mother would I be if I didn't visit my daughter on her birthday?" Then she smiled again and threw her arms around Bryony. "Happy birthday, my darling!"

Bryony's arms seemed locked straight, unable to return the embrace. Mum had never been one for hugs, which only made Bryony more suspicious.

"Is it you?" she whispered. "Really you?"

"Of course it's really me," said Mum.

"You're not an illusion?" Bryony sniffed the woman's blonde hair. "Or a shape-shifting fish monster?"

"A what?" Mum drew back, frowning as she studied Bryony's face. "What's wrong? Aren't you pleased to see me?"

"I expect it's the shock," ventured Bill. "It might have been better if you'd let us know you were coming."

"And ruin the surprise?" Mum shook her head. "I wanted this to be a birthday Bryony will never forget."

"I'm sure she won't," reflected Bill.

Bryony stared at the blonde haired woman. It looked like her mum, it talked like her mum, but she still couldn't believe it actually was her mum.

"Hi." Jane smiled warmly at the visitor. "We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Jane."

"I gathered," said Mum, without returning the smile. "Don't let me keep you."

"Keep me from what?" asked Jane.

"Getting ready for the party." Mum looked Jane up and down. "I expect you'd like to put on some decent clothes and do your make up."

Jane's smile faltered. "These are my decent clothes. And I spent fifteen minutes this morning putting on my make up."

"Then obviously that wasn't long enough." Mum turned her attention to Edwin. "And this must be your son. Egbert, isn't it?"

"It's Edwin," said Edwin, who wasn't taking to Bryony's mother.

"How quaint," said Mum. "I like old fashioned names. And you certainly take after your mother. But I suppose there's not much you can do about that. Except hair dye."

Edwin gawped at Jane. Jane gawped at Edwin. Still in a state of shock, Bryony was still gawping at the blonde haired lady that looked and sounded exactly like her mum. That now, she realised, could only be her mum.

Bill stepped between Bryony's mum and the rest of the family. "It's great you're here, Diana. But you might have given us a bit of notice. We haven't prepared the spare room."

"There would have been no need." Mum's blue eyes scanned her surroundings. "We won't be spending the night here. You know I've always been allergic to dust. No offence intended." She glanced at Jane. "An old house like this must be hard to keep clean, so I'm not surprised you don't bother."

Jane's auburn eyebrows knotted. "I do bother. I cleaned the entire house only this morning."

"I see." Mum nodded knowingly. "That will explain why you didn't have time to put on some decent clothes and do your make up."

Jane gawped again. Edwin's face continued to mirror his mother's. Bill fiddled with his shirt collar, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.

Luckily it was at that precise moment Bryony recovered the power of speech.

"We?" She stared questioningly at her mother. "You said 'we won't be staying'. Is there someone with you?"

"Yes, of course. There's someone I'd like you all to meet." Mum turned and beckoned towards the door. "You can come in now. Don't be shy."

Bryony steeled herself. There could only be one person waiting beyond the door. There was no way Mum would have left her behind.

They had met before, though only briefly. Bryony had been standing at the door of her mother's home in America, watching her infant half-sister tottering around the hallway. She could never forget that moment, when she realised her life would never be the same again.

Bryony had come to terms with that, but the prospect of meeting the child again made her insides knot. She knew she should love the girl, but there was a part of Bryony that still resented having to share her mother's affections with anyone else.

And there was another part of Bryony that still didn't believe it could be true, that refused to believe that her infant half-sister even existed.

"Come along," urged Mum. "Everybody's waiting, Poppet."

Bryony gritted her teeth. Poppet was Mum's pet name for her, and she couldn't stand hearing it used for anyone else.

She heard footsteps approaching from the hallway.

Bryony had rehearsed this moment in her mind, over and over again, knowing that one day she'd have to come face to face with the little blonde haired toddler. But no amount of rehearsal would have prepared her for what followed...

A girl walked into the room, but she was no toddler. She was as tall as Bryony. In fact, she looked a bit like Bryony.

A bit like? Who was Bryony kidding. She was the spitting image!

Except she was wearing nicer clothes, a lovely silk dress and scrummy shoes, and her long silky hair was a striking pale blonde. But her face...

Bryony felt like she was gazing at a reflection. No, not a reflection. More like a dream. A dream of what she'd always wanted to be.

Edwin gasped. Bill made a strange noise in his throat. Jane just stared.

"Meet Albany," beamed Mum, wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulders. "My younger daughter."

"It can't be." Bryony pointed a trembling finger at her fair-haired twin. "She must be only two years old."

"Two and three quarters," Mum corrected her.

"But she looks as old as I am."

Mum nodded. "Kids grow up so quickly these days."

"But not that quick," said Edwin, as confused as his stepsister.

"I should explain." Mum lowered her voice. "Poor Albany has a rare genetic condition that accelerates her growth rate."

"That must be very difficult for her," said Jane, pursing her lips sympathetically. "Is there no cure?"

"The best medical mind in the world is working on it. But otherwise, dearest Albany is a perfectly healthy young lady." Mum turned back to the fair-haired girl. "Say hello to everyone, Poppet."

"Hello everyone." Albany spoke without smiling. To Bryony it felt like she was hearing her own voice, or rather a weird echo of it. She tried to respond, but just couldn't force any words out.

But she wasn't the only one, and an awkward silence quickly fell.

"Oh dear," sighed Mum. "I'm afraid we've ruined the party."

"Not at all." Jane's smile looked a little forced. "I'm sorry we haven't been very welcoming. Would you like something to eat?"

"Help yourselves." Bill gestured to the table. "We've got plenty to go round. Try a savoury pastry."

He lifted a plate towards Bryony's mother.

"My, these look nice." Mum licked her lips as she studied the offering. "Are they homemade?"

"They are," said Jane, patting Edwin's shoulder. "By my very own son."

"Really?" Mum fingers froze over a sausage roll. "I assume he washed his hands first?"

"He did," replied Jane. Then she glanced doubtfully at Edwin. "Didn't you?"

Edwin told her he had. Definitely. A couple of weeks back.

"On second thoughts," said Mum, waving away the pastries, "I'll wait until we get back to our hotel."

"Oh no," said Bill. "I'm sure Jane can rustle something up for you. She's a very good cook."

"I wouldn't go that far," said Jane modestly. "But I can do the basics."

"Better than me," Mum admitted. "I can't even do a microwave meal without setting off the smoke alarm. Then again, I never was the domesticated type."

Jane smiled another forced smile. "What do you mean by 'domesticated'?"

"I don't mean it as a bad thing," explained Mum. "Some women are happy to stay at home chained to the kitchen sink. Others, like myself, need more purpose to our lives. That's why I have a full time job."

"I do have a job," said Jane. "I'm a teacher."

"I see." Mum wore an almost pitying expression. "But it's not a full time job. After all, you do get a lot of holidays."

Jane relapsed into gawping mode.

"Teaching is a very important role in society," said Bill in defence of his wife. "Although I agree she does get a lot of holidays."

Jane turned to Bill. "You're the one who takes a lot of time off."

"Not true," Bill contested. "You can only take time off if you have a job. And I hardly ever have a job, so technically I can't take any time off."

"Still not found work, Bill?" Mum shook her head sadly. "Don't worry, I'm sure something will turn up. There's always a need for road sweepers."

"I'm aiming for something a little higher," said Bill.

"A roof sweeper?" Mum nodded. "Yes, I suppose that's about as high as you can go with your qualifications and experience."

"I'll find a job soon," Bill insisted.

"You've been saying that for months," sighed Jane. "In fact ever since we met."

"And how did you meet?" asked Mum. "Was it love at first sight?"

"It was an accident," revealed Bill, grinning.

"That's not what the insurance company decided," Jane reminded him. "You were speeding at dusk without your headlights on."

"Ah, but then we would never have met." Bill put his arm around Jane. "And imagine how different our lives would be."

"I do," admitted Jane. "Often."

"Well I hope you find a decent job soon." Mum's nose wrinkled as her gaze swept the room again. "Then you could afford to move somewhere nicer."

"This is nice," said Bill.

"We like it here," added Jane.

"I agree it's very sweet," conceded Mum. "Reminds me of a dolls house I had when I was a child. I got my father to extend it."

"We don't need to extend Wychetts," said Bill. "Any modern additions would only spoil its character."

Mum nodded. "I suppose the place does have a lot of character. Are the walls supposed to be crooked?"

Bryony wasn't listening to the conversation, all her attention focused on her half-sister Albany. She couldn't believe this was the same little girl she'd seen only eighteen months before. Children couldn't grow up that quickly, even with a genetic defect, whatever that might be. It was wrong.

Albany was wrong.

Albany's black liquid eyes locked on to Bryony. The girls stared at each other. Bryony was determined not to blink first.

"Don't we, Bryony?"

The question jarred Bryony's attention back to the grown-ups' conversation.

"Huh?" Bryony turned to her father, taking a few overdue blinks in the process.

"I said we all like it here." Bill patted the nearest wall. "It may not be perfect, but Wychetts is our home."

"I'm sure it suits your current needs perfectly," Mum acknowledged. "But you might need something more spacious in the future. Or don't you plan to have any more children?"

"No," said Bill.

"Yes," said Jane, at exactly the same time as Bill.

"Oh." Mum bit her bottom lip. "It seems you both have different plans."

"It seems we do," agreed Jane, shooting Bill a glare.

"We've discussed this before," said Bill. "And we agreed we can't afford another mouth to feed."

"But it will be different if you found a job," Jane argued. "And you keep saying you will."

"But that could take a while," Bill told Jane. "And let's face it, time's not on your side."

Jane exhaled an outraged gasp. "And neither are you, by the sounds of it. Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with you."

"It was fate," said Bill. "We were destined to be together."

"It was an accident," groaned Jane, tears welling in her eyes. "And one I've come to regret."

"Honey?" Bill stared after Jane as she hurried from the room. "What's wrong?"

The only response was the sound of stomping footsteps on the stairs. Bill made a hasty apology before dashing off in pursuit of his wife.

"Oh dear," Mum tutted. "Do they always argue like that?"

"Hardly ever," said Bryony. "They'll be fine in a minute."

There was the sound of a door slamming, and then shouting voices from upstairs.

Bryony thought she'd better adjust her estimate. "Maybe give them five minutes."

More shouting. Then a crash.

Bryony shrugged. "Perhaps in the morning they'll have calmed down. Or early next week."

Another crash, louder than before.

Bryony winced. "Let's say a week on Friday to be on the safe side."

"Could I be excused as well?" Edwin was making for the door. "I've got some homework to catch up on."

Bryony had known her stepbrother long enough to suss when he was fibbing. But she guessed the situation must have been awkward for him, so she couldn't blame Edwin for wanting to be somewhere else.

"On one condition," said Mum. "Albany would love a tour of the house. She adores old buildings, don't you Poppet?"

That word again. Bryony's gut twisted as she heard Albany respond.

"Very much, Mother."

"OK." Edwin did a bad job of hiding his reluctance. "But we'll give upstairs a miss for the moment."

There was another crash from above, and Bryony caught the words 'useless' and 'good for nothing' being shrieked by Jane.

"That would be very kind of you." Mum patted Edwin's shoulder. "You're a good boy, Edmund."

"It's Edwin," muttered Edwin. Albany gave Bryony one last stare before following him from the room.

Mum waited until the door had closed before speaking to Bryony.

"That leaves us alone to have a little chat. I expect there's plenty to catch up on."

"You're telling me," said Bryony.

Chapter 7- Don't Call Me Poppet

"What a charming view." Bryony's mother gazed across the rolling fields surrounding the cottage. "I can almost see why your father decided to move here."

They had retreated to the garden, as much to escape the noise from upstairs as for some much needed privacy. Even then they could still hear muffled shouts from inside the cottage. But even if Bryony could have blocked out those sounds, she could do nothing to quieten the frantic drumming of her heart as she built up the courage to speak.

"Location is an important factor to consider when buying a property." Mum chatted away on one of her favourite subjects. "But whilst a pretty view is all very nice, one should also take into account proximity to local amenities such as schools, hospitals, public transport links, and..."

"Why did you leave me?"

Bryony hadn't intended to speak so loudly, but it had been such a struggle to force the words out that she had ended up shouting them, and they seemed to resonate like thunder in the quiet summer air.

"I didn't leave you." Mum looked away from Bryony as she spoke. "I left your father. Things hadn't been right between us for a long time."

"I get that bit," said Bryony. "I had to listen to you arguing all day long, every day of the week."

"So you should feel at home here." Mum angled her head towards the house. "They're still at it. That's ten minutes and counting."

"They were fine until you turned up." Bryony glowered at Mum. "And stop trying to change the subject. I want to know why you walked out on me. And why you never wrote a single letter afterwards."

Mum adjusted her blonde fringe. "I wanted to write to you. But Doctor Masters said it was best to leave it, given the circumstances."

Bryony wrinkled her nose. "Who's Doctor Masters?"

"A very clever man." Mum's blue eyes sparkled as she spoke. "He was a specialist at the hospital where you were born. Helped out a lot when you were a baby, especially with your problem."

"Problem?" This was news to Bryony. "What sort of problem?"

"Nothing life threatening. You just had trouble sleeping. Some hang up about the..." Mum bit her glossy red lip. "It doesn't matter. Anyway, I hadn't heard from Doctor Masters for years. Until the day I walked out on..." She paused again. "I mean, the day I left your father. Doctor Masters has been so good to me. I couldn't have made it through without him."

"So what about Bob?" wondered Bryony.

"Bob?" Mum looked genuinely puzzled.

"The Hygienic Cleansing Executive." Bryony was surprised she had to spell it out. "The guy you ran off with."

"Oh, that Bob." Mum chuckled. "I didn't run off with Bob. Just stayed over at his place the night I left. I haven't spoken to him since. Shame really. He was a very nice man. Lovely taste in soft furnishings."

"Oh." Bryony frowned. "So who did you run off with?"

"No one," Mum said firmly. "I didn't leave your father for another man. I left because..." She sighed and shook her head. "What does it matter now?"

"It matters to me," said Bryony. "I need to know. I've spent the last three years needing to know."

"OK. I understand." Mum raised her hands apologetically. "I meant to come back the day after, and talk things through with you. In fact I was on my way back when I got the offer."

"Offer?"

"The job offer from Doctor Masters in America. He asked me to work for him on a special medical project. It was starting the next day, plus the money was too good to turn down."

"I see." Bryony nodded slowly. "The money was more important than me, huh?"

"Of course not. But I only had a couple of hours to catch the flight. And I intended to come back and see you as soon as I could. But then Albany came along, and everything changed."

"So..." Bryony knew there was no delicate way of asking, but she gave it her best stab. "What's her dad like?"

"I've no idea," admitted Mum. "Don't even know his name."

Bryony's jaw fell open. "Mum!"

"Albany just arrived one day, out of the blue. Doctor Masters asked me to look after her, to raise her like my very own daughter."

"Like your own daughter? You mean... she isn't... actually..."

"Oh no. Heavens no!" Mum put a hand to her throat, rattling the pearls on her necklace. "I'm sorry, did you think... oh dear. Perhaps I never explained properly to your father."

"Explained what?" Bryony growled impatiently. "Explain to me now, please."

Mum nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Albany isn't my child. I'm her foster mother."

"She's not your daughter." Bryony felt a strange surge of relief and bewilderment. "But she looks... just like me."

"Uncanny, isn't it. Even when she was a baby I noticed it. Suppose that's what made me agree to take her in. That and her unfortunate illness. You see poor little Albany was abandoned as a baby, and Doctor Masters asked me to look after her whilst he developed a cure."

Bryony had no reason to doubt Mum's story. But there was still one thing that didn't make sense. "So how come she looks like me?"

"Just coincidence, I suppose. Doctor Masters says everyone has a doppelganger somewhere in the world."

"A doppel-what?"

"A lookalike, a double. Anyway, she's not exactly the same as you. She has different colour hair. And is slightly prettier."

"Thanks," huffed Bryony, who had always wanted to be blonde like her mother. "So that's why you love her more than me?"

"I never said that, Poppet."

"Don't call me Poppet," snarled Bryony. "Albany is your Poppet now."

"That's just a pet name. And I don't love her more than you. I just meant that Albany is... well..."

"A better daughter than me?" Bryony glared at her mother. "Is that what she is to you?"

"Oh dear." Mum shook her head. "I do have a habit of putting my foot in it, don't I?"

"Your foot's never out of it. It's just like you to turn up today, of all days. Just when I thought I'd never see you again."

"I came because it's your birthday." Mum reached for Bryony's arm. "And I've got a very special surprise for you."

Bryony shrank away from her mother's hand. "Thanks, but I've had enough surprises for one day."

"Oh." Mum flinched as though slapped in the face. "I'm sorry. Perhaps you don't want me around?"

"It's not that," said Bryony, feeling suddenly guilty for any hurt she might have caused. "It's just, I haven't seen you for so long. Then you come waltzing in here with no warning."

"I should have phoned ahead, I get that." Mum smiled apologetically. "But I'm here now, and I want to hear how you're getting on with your new life, and what you've been up to in Wychetts."

Bryony didn't know where to begin.

Chapter 8- A Guided Tour

"Wychetts is a fine example of a medieval hall house." Edwin had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the shouts and crashes from upstairs. "The original building would have consisted of a large central room open to the roof, with two-storey portions at either end."

Edwin had gained most of his knowledge about the cottage from Inglenook, but he'd read a lot of books on period architecture as well.

"And this is the kitchen." He ushered Albany into the room at the end of the hallway. "A late seventeenth century addition to the original structure."

Edwin had always fancied himself as a historic tour guide, often practising in private when the other family members were out of earshot. He'd prefer to show people round a grand castle, but everyone had to start somewhere. Under normal circumstances he would have welcomed the chance to demonstrate his architectural knowledge, but there something about the sole member of his tour party that made him feel uneasy.

Whilst he'd shared Bryony's surprise at the arrival of her mother, Edwin found the woman to be just what he'd expected, albeit even more snobbish and catty. But Bryony's half-sister was something else altogether.

First, there was the age thing. To think Albany was really less than three years old, but a full inch taller than he was. At this rate, he worked out, Albany would look as old as her mother before she was seven, unless someone came up with a cure for her 'condition'.

Then there was the fact that she looked so much like Bryony. He'd only just got used to having one of them around the house, and the prospect of having to contend with a double dose of pouty put-downs and random mood swings didn't bear thinking about.

But there was something else. Something odd about her he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Maybe it was her blonde hair, the exact opposite of Bryony's black locks. Except it was more white than blonde, and contrasted starkly with her jet black eyes, giving her an unnatural, doll-like appearance.

Maybe that's what he found so unsettling about the girl: she just didn't seem real.

Albany caught him staring at her, raising a pale eyebrow as if to ask 'what are you looking at?'

"Um..." Edwin felt suddenly flustered. Then he noticed something around her neck. "I like your pendant. Looks like the one I bought Bryony for her birthday."

Albany scooped up the leaf shaped pendant in her right hand, allowing Edwin a closer look.

"Except now I can see it's slightly different," he observed. "What kind of plant is it?"

"It's bryony," said Albany.

"No it's not," said Edwin. "Bryony has a heart shaped leaf. Your leaf is more spiky."

"There are two plants known as bryony," said Albany. "Black bryony and white bryony. Black bryony has a heart shaped leaf. My pendant is white bryony."

Edwin was a little miffed that he hadn't known that, although he agreed it seemed quite fitting. He asked Albany why she chose to wear a white bryony leaf, but she ignored the question and just stared at him with her large black eyes.

Edwin looked away hurriedly and continued the tour.

"I'd like to draw your attention to the window." He gestured grandly to the end wall of the kitchen. "This particular type is termed 'a double hung sash'. You'll note the iron fittings which are characteristic of the mid to late Georgian period."

"You're boring the poor girl to death," squeaked a voice from his shirt pocket. "You should let an expert take over. That's me, in case you were wondering."

Stubby had been silent ever since Bryony's mum had arrived, and Edwin had almost forgotten he was there.

"No way," he hissed at the mouse. "You'd only freak her out. And you're hardly an expert."

"I know more about this building than you do," trilled Stubby. "There isn't a nook or cranny I haven't explored."

"I know." Edwin spoke through gritted teeth. "I have to keep clearing up your little black do-dos everywhere. Now belt up and let me get on with the tour."

Stubby fell mercifully silent. Edwin smiled at Albany.

The white haired girl said nothing, her dark eyes darting all around her. It was hard to gauge her level of interest, but Edwin didn't want to dumb down his commentary for the sake of it. He coughed to clear his throat before continuing.

"If you turn your attention to the west wall, you'll note the distinctive pattern of brick work so typical of the late sixteen hundreds."

"A brick wall. Wow. Things are really livening up." Stubby squeaked again, but Edwin ignored the interruption and continued with his speech.

"Of course, this interior wall would have been originally painted."

"Shame it hasn't just been given a fresh coat," said Stubby. "It would liven up the tour if we got to watch it drying."

Edwin placed a hand over his pocket.

"Any questions so far?" he prompted Albany. "I can make it less technical if you're struggling to keep up."

Much to his surprise, Albany raised her right hand.

"May I see the cellar?" she asked.

Her voice was masked by another peal of yelling from upstairs, so Edwin wasn't sure if he'd heard her right.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'd like to see the cellar."

"There isn't a cellar," advised Edwin. "Wychetts has never had a cellar. In olden days, all provisions were stored in service rooms located in the western end of the building."

"There is a cellar." Albany stared at Edwin whilst running her perfectly manicured fingers along an ancient wall-beam. "I know there is."

Edwin shook his head. "I'm afraid you're wrong."

"You are wrong." Albany turned and strode from the kitchen. "I must see the cellar."

"We don't have a cellar." Edwin jogged after Albany down the narrow hallway. "But we've got a fireplace. A really nice fireplace. You'll love it."

"Sure." Albany stopped at the living room door. "He'll know about the cellar."

"He?" Whilst Edwin stood frowning, Albany had already entered the living room. "Hey, wait up..."

He followed his guest to the large fireplace that spanned the end wall. Albany stood gazing at the bestial face carved in the hefty wooden beam above the hearth.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" Edwin reached her side. "My mum reckons he's early medieval, but I believe he's much..."

"Older." Albany completed the sentence for her tour guide. "He's much older. Do you think he'll speak to me?"

"Huh?" Again Edwin wondered if he'd misheard Albany.

"I want to speak to him." Albany pointed at the carved wooden face. "I must speak to him."

Edwin was shocked. Not because Albany might think a carving could speak, but that she seemed to know.

He laughed, a very unconvincing laugh. "He can't speak. His brain's made of wood."

"That doesn't stop you," said Stubby. "More's the pity."

"Inglenook speaks to you." Albany touched her forehead. "I hear him. Always I hear him. He says such wise things, his words laden with power."

"He doesn't speak," lied Edwin. "He's made of woo..."

But Inglenook's eyes were opening, his carved features creasing into a smile.

"Young Mistress." The familiar deep voice resonated through every brick and timber of the building. "What may I do for you?"

"You've got it wrong," Edwin hissed at Inglenook. "This isn't Bryony. It's Albany, her half-sister."

"I recognise the Young Mistress when she speaks," said Inglenook. "And as Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom, I am bound to do her bidding."

"I hate to agree with the boy," said Stubby. "But he's right. That isn't Bryony. Surely the hair's a giveaway?"

"I see no colours," said Inglenook. "No features, no physical form. I only sense the essence of spirit. And I sense the Young Mistress standing before me."

"You're wrong." Edwin couldn't believe that wise old Inglenook could be so mistaken. "Bryony is outside with her mum."

"The cellar." Albany stood on tiptoes, leaning forwards so her face was only inches from Inglenook's wooden nose. "I want to go down to the cellar."

"I am sorry, but I cannot grant that request," said Inglenook.

"Told you." Edwin sneered at Albany. "Wychetts doesn't have a cellar."

Albany ignored him, her attention focused on Inglenook. "You must grant my request. I am a Guardian of Wychetts, a descendant of the Wise Ones, and I demand access to the cellar."

"The cellar is locked to all," replied Inglenook. "Even you may not enter, Young Mistress."

"Huh?" Edwin was surprised to hear Inglenook mention the cellar. "But there isn't..."

"A single Guardian may not enter." Albany grabbed hold of Edwin's hand. "But two cannot be denied."

"Hey, what are you doing?" Edwin tried to pull his arm away, but Albany was surprisingly strong. She raised his hand in her own, holding it up to Inglenook's face.

"We want to go into the cellar." Albany's voice was stern and commanding. "You will grant our request."

"Do both Guardians make such a request?" asked Inglenook.

Edwin was going to say they didn't, but Albany crushed his hand so hard that all he could do was yelp.

"They do," she answered. "So you must grant us access."

Inglenook said nothing, and Edwin assumed the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom had refused Albany's demand. But Albany was smirking as she stepped back from the fireplace, pulling Edwin with her.

"Listen," he growled, still trying to tear his hand from hers. "I don't know what you're playing at, but..."

Edwin's voice trailed off when he saw a square wooden hatch had appeared in the floor in front of the hearth.

"How did that get there?" Edwin had never seen the hatch before. "Inglenook?"

There was a squeal of rusty hinges as the hatch sprung open.

"Perhaps we should let the girl take over the tour," suggested Stubby. "She obviously knows more about the house than both of us put together."

Edwin couldn't answer. Stubby was right; it was clear Albany knew far more about Wychetts than he did. But how?

"You may enter," announced Inglenook.

Albany lowered herself through the opened hatch, dragging Edwin with her.

"I don't think we should be doing this," he protested. "There must be a good reason the cellar was kept secret."

"There is," said Albany. "Only the Wisest of the Wise Ones knew it was here."

Edwin was through the hatch and heading down a steep stone staircase before he knew it, partly because Albany wouldn't let go of his hand, and partly because he was curious to explore Wychetts' secret basement.

He'd only been into one cellar before, at his gran's old house, a cramped musty space stuffed with household junk. He recalled there were loads of cardboard boxes, an old coal scuttle, and a very rusty tumble drier.

When they reached the bottom of the steps Edwin saw that Wychetts' cellar was very different to his gran's.

The room was vast, at least twice the length of the cottage, with two lines of hefty stone pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling. Rows of wall mounted candles produced a soft flickering light, and it seemed more like a temple than a place for storing household clutter. There were no cardboard boxes or storage crates in sight. And certainly no tumble drier.

"This is the oldest part of the house." Albany spoke softly as she led Edwin across the bare stone floor. "As old as Inglenook himself."

"Now I'm enjoying the tour," said Stubby. "This is much more interesting than Georgian windows."

Edwin had to agree, but his wonder was mixed with a growing sense of trepidation.

"We shouldn't be here," he told Albany. "We should go back upstairs."

"We've been granted access." Albany resisted Edwin's attempts to haul her back to the steps. "By the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom himself."

"You tricked him." Edwin gritted his teeth, pulling as hard as he could. "You're not a Guardian. You're not Bryony."

"I am not." Albany wore that smirk again. "I'm more than her. More than she'll ever be."

Before Edwin could ask what she meant, Albany had yanked him round a pillar and into a circular space in the middle of the cellar.

He protested again, but his angry voice melted to a whimper when he saw the strange structure before him.

It was a stone pedestal resembling a church font, its hollowed, bowl shaped top decorated with intricate carved symbols. He wondered if the font was used to store water, but as Albany led him closer he saw a white glow pulsing from inside.

"We've found it," breathed Albany. "The Siphon."

"The what?" Edwin's eyes widened with wonder.

"The Siphon is a magic spring. The source of Wychetts' power."

Edwin knew that Wychetts had been built to store the magic power of the Wise Ones, but had never stopped to think where that power was actually kept.

"It's beautiful," he whispered, unable to take his eyes from the throbbing glow. "But how come you know about this? And why are we here?"

He looked enquiringly at Albany. He thought her eyes had changed colour, but it could just have been the reflection of the magic white light.

"Thanks for the tour, young lady." Stubby squeaked from Edwin's top pocket. "All of which I found most enlightening. But I think it would be safer all round if we returned to the living room."

"You are free to go." Albany released Edwin's hand, then reached out for the Siphon. "But I must stay to fulfil my destiny."

Edwin frowned. "What destiny?"

"The reason I'm here." Albany's smirk twisted into a sinister grin. "The reason I was created."

Edwin's frown deepened. "What do you mean 'created'? And I don't think you should be doing that..."

Albany had dipped her hand into the Siphon. Edwin grabbed her shoulder to pull her back, but let go when he felt a stabbing shock.

"Ow!"

As Edwin blew on his stinging fingers, he saw a white glow spreading up Albany's right arm.

"You should take your hand out of there," he warned. "I'm not sure if magic works the same as electricity, but I know it's not safe to stick your fingers in a live socket."

"It's not safe for humans," whispered Albany. "But I am not human."

She closed her eyes, her whole body now enveloped in pulsating white light.

"I'm no expert," said Stubby, "but I suspect she hasn't come here simply to read our magic meter. I don't like the look of this."

"Your mouse friend is right to be concerned," hissed Albany. "You should leave here. Before..."

"Before what?" Edwin was more frightened than he'd been in his life, but he didn't know why.

"Before the end." Albany's eyes flickered open. Only they weren't eyes any more, but orbs of dazzling white light.

A violent tremor sent Edwin staggering to his knees. Looking up, he saw cracks snaking up the walls of the cellar.

"Albany!" He cried out, but the white haired girl had vanished in a haze of magic light.

The nearest pillar crumbled as the cellar shook again. Chunks of stone fell from the ceiling, smashing into pieces all around him.

"I think we can assume the tour has concluded," squealed Stubby. "Would you like to peruse the gift shop on the way out, or become a permanent architectural feature buried under several tons of fallen masonry?"

"We can't leave Albany," yelled Edwin, shielding his eyes from the blinding glare.

"Neither can we do anything to help her if we're squashed flat as a pancake. We need Inglenook!"

Edwin didn't want to abandon Albany, but knew he could do nothing to save her on his own. He struggled to his feet, dodging another collapsing pillar as he lurched across the trembling floor. The whole cellar was now flooded with searing light, and he had to fumble his way around the walls until he found the stairs.

Edwin clambered up the steps, which cracked and heaved beneath him. He made it to the top just in time, hauling himself through the opened hatch as the steps turned to dust beneath his trailing foot.

"Inglenook!" Panting, he ran up to the fireplace. "The cellar is collapsing, and I can't get Albany out!"

The carved wooden face was contorted in an agonised expression. When Inglenook spoke, his voice was slurred and rasping.

"I have been deceived. The girl is not the Young Mistress."

"That's what I was trying to tell you." Edwin whined with exasperation. "She put her hand in the Siphon, and now she's... sort of glowing."

"But not in a good way," added Stubby. "You've got to do something."

There was a booming crash from below. The whole cottage shook. Flakes of plaster fell from the ceiling, and the ancient timbers groaned as though in pain.

"There is... nothing... we can do," slurred Inglenook. "Wychetts' power... is being... drained."

"It's her!" Edwin realised what Albany was up to. "She's absorbing the power from the Siphon. So let's stop her."

"It is already... too late." As Inglenook spoke, the building shook from floor to roof. The wall timbers sagged, and cracks appeared in the brick fireplace. "You must... escape... with your parents. Go..."

Edwin knew Inglenook was right. He had to get the others out of the cottage. Then he'd try and help Inglenook.

He dashed from the living room and raced up the hallway, where he saw his mother marching towards him from the stairs.

"We've got to get out," he told her.

"That's just what I was coming to tell you." Jane's cheeks were bright red, and there were tears in her eyes. "We're going to stay with your Auntie Kath."

Edwin was surprised to see his mother was carrying a suitcase.

"You packed quickly. But what about Bill and Bryony? Auntie Kath's house has only got two bedrooms."

"They can stay here," snarled Jane. "I've had enough of Bill Platt."

Bill came running down the stairs. "Please don't go, bubby babes. We can talk this through."

"I'm not saying another word to you." Jane turned her head away from Bill. "Except in writing via my solicitor. Now run upstairs and pack, Edwin."

"We don't have time for that." Edwin realised that the grown ups seemed oblivious to the danger they were in. "The house is falling down."

"I couldn't care less," sniffed Jane. "To be honest, I'm amazed it hasn't collapsed already. Everything else that man touches turns into a disaster."

"You mean me?" Bill looked genuinely amazed. "But I haven't done anything to the house lately. Except put up some shelves in the kitchen."

There was a loud crash from somewhere. Edwin clung to his mother's arm as the floor heaved beneath them.

"Ahem." Bill looked sheepishly around him. "Maybe I might have hammered the odd screw a bit too hard."

"It's nothing to do with shelves or screws." Edwin pulled Jane towards the front door. "You've got to get out."

"Where's Bryony?" Bill ducked as a sizeable chunk of ceiling plaster fell close to his head.

"She's in the garden with her mum," explained Edwin. "But Albany is still in the cellar."

"Cellar?" Bill shook his head. "We don't have a..."

A loud boom echoed down the hallway, followed by an explosion of dust and wood fragments.

Edwin left the grown-ups and sprinted back to the living room door. Except there wasn't a door any more, just shards of splintered wood hanging from the wonky frame. Black smoke wafted from inside, and Edwin spluttered a terrified cry as he staggered into the room.

"Inglenook!"

Chapter 9- Nothing Like Mossy Glade Close

Bryony and her mother had walked to the end of the garden, but even there they could still hear noises from the cottage, which actually seemed to be getting louder. It wasn't just angry shouts and crashes, but Bryony thought she could hear muffled booms as well. Mum had dismissed the sounds as distant thunder. Bryony had pointed out that there wasn't a cloud in the sky, so then Mum suggested the noises must be heavy traffic. Bryony had explained that the cottage was at least half a mile from the main road, but Mum said there were more important things to talk about.

"So tell me." Mum gazed expectantly at Bryony. "I'm dying to know what you've been up to in your new home."

"It isn't new," said Bryony. "Wychetts is hundreds of years old."

Mum wrinkled her nose. "It can't be very comfortable to live in. Not like Mossy Glade Close."

"No it isn't," agreed Bryony. "It's nothing like Mossy Glade Close."

"So you must miss the old days."

It sounded more like a statement than a question. Bryony hesitated before replying.

"It's much better now than when we moved in. Half the roof was missing, and the whole place stank of mouldy mushrooms. But now it's real cosy, and I've got used to the wonky floors and winding stairs."

"So your father did the renovation work himself?" Mum looked incredulous. "Then his DIY skills must have improved. I used to call for an ambulance every time I saw him go anywhere near a screwdriver."

"It wasn't Dad. It was..." Bryony decided not to mention talking fireplaces and Wise Ones, at least for the moment. "Local builders."

"That must have been expensive," Mum pondered. "I wonder how your father could afford it, what with him still being out of work."

Bryony felt a stab of irritation. "Why don't you lay off Dad? He does his best."

"Sorry. I was only wondering how he could pay for such a big renovation project."

"Maybe he robbed a bank." Bryony shrugged. "Or maybe he magicked the cash out of thin air."

She'd said it without thinking, but noticed a curious look on Mum's face when she heard the word 'magic'.

"Of course," Mum nodded. "I'm sure it was something like that."

Bryony sensed Mum knew more than she was letting on about the house. But surely she couldn't know about Wychetts' magic?

But then again, perhaps Mum did know. Perhaps she was involved somehow. Since the very beginning. How else could she have written that message stuffed inside Mr Cuddles?

Beware the Moon of Magister.

Those words had been haunting Bryony for what seemed a lifetime. But now she had the chance to ask about them, a sudden fear clamped her throat like a vice, and it was all she could do just to breathe.

Mum changed the subject.

"And your new family? How are you getting on with them?"

"They're cool," Bryony answered after several deep breaths. "I mean, it took me ages to get used to Edwin. He's still a berk at times, but now I think of him as the brother I never had. And Jane..."

Bryony caught herself before she said it. But she could tell from her mother's reaction that it was already too late.

"You think of Jane as your mother." Mum's pearl white smile flickered like a faulty light bulb. "The mother you never had."

"I'm not saying that. But..." Bryony chose her next words carefully. "But Jane's been good to me. Even though I was horrid to her when we first met."

"Doesn't look like she takes you shopping." Mum looked Bryony up and down. "Your jeans have seen better days. And as for that jumper..."

"Jane knitted it," explained Bryony. "It's a good fit, huh?"

"It's turquoise, darling. You never wear anything turquoise."

"I guess I do now."

"Never mind." Mum smiled. "Things are going to be different from now on."

"Like how?" wondered Bryony.

"I'm back," Mum grinned, spreading her arms. "And I'm going to be your mother again."

Bryony stood there frowning. "How's that going to work? I don't think Dad or Jane would be too happy if you just moved in. We don't have enough bedrooms, anyhow. And we've only got one bathroom. Luckily Edwin never goes anywhere near it, but..."

"Forget about the cottage." Mum placed a hand on Bryony's shoulder. "Forget about Wychetts. I'm going to take you home."

"But Wychetts is my home."

"Not for much longer."

Bryony scowled. "What are you talking about?"

"Your special birthday surprise." Mum leaned closer to Bryony. "You're coming back home with me. To Mossy Glade Close."

"What?" Bryony's jaw fell open. "I'm not leaving. You can't just turn up after three years and whisk me away. There's laws against that."

"Everything's been arranged." Mum's voice was calm, almost distant. "There's nothing you can do about it."

It had been a day of shocks for Bryony, but this was the biggest yet.

"Dad wouldn't agree to this." She swatted Mum's hand from her shoulder. "Jane neither. They wouldn't..."

"Your father and Jane want what I want. We all want the same thing. You too."

"No." Bryony backed away from Mum. "I want to stay here. You can't take me away. I'm not leaving Wychetts."

"I'm sorry." Mum's jaw stiffened. "But you don't have a choice in the matter."

"We'll see about that!" Bryony turned on her heel and ran back up the garden.

"Darling!" Mum gave chase. "Come back here!"

Bryony ignored her mother's pleas, knowing there was no way Dad would have agreed to this.

"Daaaad!" She yelled as she neared the cottage. "Mum wants to take me away. Don't let her take me. Daaa..."

She was only two strides from the front door when it happened...

There was a muffled boom from inside the cottage. The windows shattered, spewing shards of glass and plumes of bright orange flame. The blast hurled Bryony back across the lawn. She hit the ground with a jolt, lying stunned as more booms rumbled from the house.

"Oh my God!" Mum sprinted to Bryony's side. "Are you hurt?"

"Never mind me." Bryony scrambled to her feet, pushing her mother away. She stared in disbelief at the cottage. The front door had been blown off its hinges, and thick black smoke poured from the hallway. She took a step forwards, but Mum grabbed her arm.

"Don't you dare, it's too dangerous."

"But Dad's inside," protested Bryony. "Jane and Edwin too. And Albany..."

As Bryony spoke she saw her white haired double standing beside her mother.

"I'm here, Mother." Albany's voice was calm, as though nothing untoward had happened. "Was someone asking about me?"

"Where are the others?" demanded Bryony.

Albany said nothing, her lips set in a smirk as she met Bryony's gaze. And that told Bryony all she needed to know.

"They're still inside!" Bryony twisted her arm from Mum's grip. She took a deep breath, clamped a hand across her mouth, and then plunged into the smoking cottage doorway...

Chapter 10- My Time is Ended

"Inglenook!" Edwin stumbled blindly through swirling clouds of smoke. "Can you hear me?"

"You must leave," came the slurred reply. "Go now, Young Master."

"I'm not going anywhere." Edwin reached the fireplace, fanning his hands to clear the smoke from Inglenook's face. "Not without you."

"I am bound to this place," croaked Inglenook, his wooden features cracked and blistered. "Wychetts... sustains me. Without it... I am mere scrap wood... fit for burning."

"I won't let you burn," vowed Edwin. "There must be something I can do to save you. To save Wychetts."

"Not today, Young Master. For now... you must save... yourself."

A violent tremor shook the cottage. The black smog thickened. Edwin's eyes stung, and it grew harder to breathe.

"For once, listen to old wooden chops." Stubby shrieked from Edwin's top pocket. "This building will collapse any second, and there's nothing you can do to save him."

"But I'm a Guardian," spluttered Edwin. "I can't abandon Wychetts."

Edwin heard a shout from behind him. A girl's voice, all but drowned by another crash.

"You must go," Inglenook ordered. "My time... is ended."

"You can't end," wailed Edwin, his eyes streaming tears. "You are the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom. You live forever. The magic lives forever. You are the magic!"

The stone floor lurched, cracking like dried mud beneath Edwin's feet.

"You are wrong," rasped Inglenook. "I am not... the magic. Wychetts is not... the magic."

There was a deep rumble, and this time Edwin feared the whole building would surely come crashing down. The fireplace shuddered, and then a ball of flame exploded from the hearth.

Edwin dropped to the floor, covering his head with his arms as a blast of searing heat blew over him. He heard a loud clang, and looked up to see something had landed on the floor in front of the fireplace.

It was a lollipop-shaped object made of metal, with a weird half human, half animal face etched in the circular end. Edwin knew the face was a miniature representation of Inglenook, and the object was the Wychetts Key!

The Key was glowing red, but Edwin instinctively grabbed it. The hot metal seared his palm. With a yelp of pain he dropped the Key, which disappeared with a clatter down a widening crack in the floor.

"This is hopeless," squealed Stubby. "We must leave now!"

But Edwin couldn't stand. His hand throbbed with pain, and he felt suddenly light headed. The air had become too hot to breathe, and black smog closed around him like a suffocating shroud.

Then someone took hold of his arm, lifting him from the floor. He was carried down the hallway through a blizzard of glowing cinders. And suddenly he was outside, coughing as fresh air purged the smoke from his lungs. He saw his mother running towards him, heard her relieved sobs as she took him in her arms. He saw Bryony's mum standing there, her distraught face lit by flames. She screamed something, but her cry was drowned by another boom from the cottage. Cradling his wounded hand, Edwin forced himself to look at the house.

Wychetts was ablaze. The thatched roof had already burned away, consumed by the ravenous flames. The blistering walls were peeling back to reveal a skeleton of charred timbers beneath. But worst of all was the noise, a cacophony of clattering bricks and splitting timbers accompanied by a terrible roaring, hissing sound that made the fire itself seem somehow alive.

Then Edwin heard another noise, a soft whimpering from his mother. He tried to hug her, but his hand hurt too much.

A cloud of dark smoke wafted wraith-like across the garden. Through a veil of smog and tears Edwin saw Bill staggering back towards the cottage. And that's when he realised.

"Bryony!" Edwin tried to shout, but all he could manage was a faint croak. "Where's Bryony?"

He looked around in panic, and saw a pair of dark eyes staring back at him. But his relief vanished when he noticed the girl's billowing white hair.

Albany's lips twisted into a smirk. And that was the last thing Edwin saw before the black smoke turned everything into night.

Then the black smoke turned white. Edwin's eyes stopped watering, and he realised it wasn't a wall of smoke he was staring at, but a spotless white ceiling.

"It's all right," a familiar voice crooned. "Everything's all right now."

A hand pressed on his shoulder. Edwin's eyes flickered right to see his mother's face smiling down at him.

"You're going to be fine, darling."

Edwin realised he was lying in a bed. But not his own bed. It was a metal-framed bed with a rock hard mattress, and starchy white sheets that reeked of disinfectant.

He sat up and peered groggily about him. The walls of the room were as white as the ceiling. There were no wooden beams in sight, whilst the floor looked curiously level.

But of course, it couldn't be Wychetts. Not after what had happened to the house. There couldn't be much left of the ancient cottage.

"I'm in hospital?" He looked at his mother again.

"A private clinic," explained Jane. "The best in the country. You'll stay here until your hand gets better."

Edwin realised his right palm was throbbing, and he noticed his hand was swathed in bandages.

"Is it paining you?" asked Jane. "The doctor said it might hurt for a day or two."

"What..." Edwin's throat still tasted of smoke, and it hurt when he spoke. "What happened?"

"You burned your hand," said Jane. "Don't you remember?"

Of course Edwin remembered. "No, I meant what happened to Bryony?"

"Bryony?" Jane looked confused.

"Did she make it out of the house?" Edwin grabbed his mother's arm with his good hand. "Tell me. Even if it's bad news." His stomach lurched at the thought, but he had to know. "What happened to Bryony?"

"I've never heard of Bryony." Jane spoke softly, with a pitying look in her eyes. "And I don't know what house you mean."

"Our house." Edwin was surprised he had to explain. "Wychetts."

"Wychetts?" Jane shook her head. "I'm sorry darling, but we don't have a house called Wychetts. We live in a flat by the railway line. Have done for the past five years since your father..." She lowered her head. "Since your father passed away."

Edwin gawped at his mother. "But we moved from there about eighteen months ago. To live in Wychetts with Bryony and Bill."

Jane continued to shake her head. "I don't know anyone called Bill."

"He's Bryony's dad. You married him, and we all went to live in an old cottage called Wychetts." Edwin's voice became hoarse as he tried to explain. "The house caught fire. We got out, but I didn't see what happened to..."

He started coughing. Jane handed him a glass of water from the bedside cabinet.

"You've been dreaming." She pressed the glass to his lips. "The doctor said that might happen. It's to be expected after such a traumatic experience."

Edwin took a couple of sips, then pushed the glass away.

"It's not me that's been dreaming, Mum. Where have you been the past eighteen months? Don't you remember anything about Bill, Bryony or Wychetts?"

Jane paused, as though trying to recall some long buried memory. Then she shook her head.

"There is no Wychetts. There never has been."

"OK." Edwin held up his bandaged hand. "If there's never been a Wychetts, how did I do this?"

"You burned your hand on the gas cooker." Jane sighed regretfully. "It's my fault. I should never have let you help out with dinner."

"The gas cooker?" Edwin lowered his hand. "But what about the fire?"

"Luckily there wasn't a fire. Your shirt sleeve was a bit singed, but I got you to the sink before you set anything else alight."

"No." Edwin shook his head. "It wasn't like that. I didn't burn my hand on the cooker. I burned it when I touched the Key."

"Key?"

"The Key to Magic." Edwin forgot that his mother knew nothing about his life as a Guardian of Wychetts. But maybe now it was time to reveal all.

"Wychetts is a magic cottage, built by the Wise Ones hundreds of years ago as a repository for their power. Bryony and I, we can use that power. The Wychetts Key is..."

"A dream."

The voice made Edwin look round to see a tall man in a white suit entering the room. He had wiry grey hair, a hawk like nose, and a pair of silvery eyes.

"Just a dream." The man halted, his long fingers wrapping around the metal frame at the end of the bed. "A hallucination triggered by traumatic stress."

"You." Edwin had seen the man before in the Dungeon of Dreams. "What are you doing here?"

"This is Doctor Masters." Jane nodded respectfully at the white suited man. "This is his clinic."

"That's not his name." Edwin shrank back in the bed. "He's Magister, a renegade warlock. And he's evil."

"Edwin." Jane scowled at her son. "That's not a very nice way to speak about someone who's done so much to help you."

"No offence taken." Doctor Masters smiled sweetly at Jane. "Your son is still in shock, he doesn't know what he's saying."

"I want to go home." Edwin tried to get out of the bed. "We've got to get out of here."

"You're going nowhere." Jane seized Edwin's shoulders and pressed him back onto the pillow. "Not until you've made a full recovery."

"There's nothing wrong with me," protested Edwin. "But he's done something to you. He's made you forget about Wychetts. About Bill and Bryony."

"There is no Bill or Bryony. No Wychetts." Doctor Masters' eyes seemed to flash as he spoke. "It's all in your imagination, boy."

"Then what about this?" Edwin put a hand to his top pyjama pocket, but found that it was empty. "Where's Stubby?"

"His pet mouse," explained Jane, in response to a curious look from Doctor Masters. "I'm sorry Edwin, but I released it back into the wild."

"He won't last five minutes outside," gasped Edwin. "He can't even crack an acorn."

"It's for the best," insisted Jane. "I'm sure Doctor Masters wouldn't have wanted a mouse in his clinic."

"Most unhygienic," agreed Doctor Masters. "A medical establishment is no place for vermin."

"He's not vermin," snarled Edwin. "He's my friend!"

Jane turned to Doctor Masters. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise the accident would affect him like this."

"Please don't worry." Doctor Masters assured her. "I'll take care of your son. By the time he's finished my course of treatment, you'll never hear of Wychetts again."

Chapter 11- Not One of My Greatest Triumphs

The weather was turning. It was supposed to be summer, but the sky was unseasonably pale, and a chill breeze gusted through the opened window. Edwin leaned on the sill, shivering as he gazed up at the moon. He'd never seen it so bright before, even during the day. And never this large. It seemed like it was growing even as he watched it, but that could just be his imagination.

Like the dreams he used to have.

He could barely remember them now. He must have been at the clinic for the best part of a week, although it was hard to keep track of time stuck in his room. Mum came to visit three times a day, but otherwise he'd had no contact with the outside world.

Edwin lowered his gaze to the clinic grounds below. He'd worked out that his room was on the third floor of what must have been a large building. With no books or TV, he'd spent many hours studying the scenery, but still couldn't work out whether he was in town or a remote part of the countryside. The clinic was surrounded by an expanse of flat lawn edged by high trees that screened the world beyond. There was a long straight driveway leading to a pair of high metal gates that opened automatically to admit visitors, but he had no idea what lay beyond them.

Despite Edwin's sense of loneliness, Doctor Masters said he was making satisfactory progress. He'd taken his medicine every day, just as instructed. And it didn't taste too bad, sweet like honey. His dreams had stopped, and his burned hand didn't hurt quite so bad, but it was still heavily bandaged. Edwin had been told not to tamper with the dressing in case the wound became infected.

And if he continued to get better, he could go home in another couple of days. Edwin supposed he should be glad of that, except he wasn't sure where home was. Mum spoke about their flat in town, but in Edwin's mind home was somewhere else.

He found himself thinking of an old crooked cottage. It had a fireplace, or so he imagined, with a carved wooden face above the hearth. And the face would speak to him...

Shaking his head to dislodge such thoughts, Edwin turned from the window. He didn't want the dreams to come back. He wanted to get better. Not just for himself, but for Mum. It upset her to see him unwell, Doctor Masters said, so Edwin had to take his medicine and get better for her.

Edwin guessed he must be due another dose soon, before Mum visited again. Lunch had just arrived on a wheeled trolley, but he'd lost his appetite so hadn't bothered to check what delights were on offer beneath the plastic tray lid. Still, Mum always said he shouldn't take medicine on an empty stomach, so Edwin knew he should try and force down a few mouthfuls before his next dose.

He sat on the bed, pulling the food trolley closer before lifting the plastic tray lid to inspect what lay beneath.

It was bread roll and soup. Again.

With a resigned sigh, Edwin picked up the bread roll, and was about to dunk it in the soup when something poked out the top of it.

"Hello," said a shrill little voice.

Edwin dropped the bread roll, which landed with a plop in the soup.

There was a bubbling noise from the soup. Edwin leaned over the bowl, watching a small head emerge from the greasy broth. A small head with round ears and a pointed snout.

"A mouse!" Edwin recoiled in disgust, reaching for the emergency cord hanging by the bed. "That's disgusting! I'm going to complain to Doctor Masters about this."

"If anyone's got a right to complain it should be me," said the mouse. "I risk life and limb smuggling myself in here, and in return I get dunked in a bowl of lukewarm soup. Are you going to sit there gawping all day, or will you lend me a hand?"

Edwin's hand gripped the emergency cord, but he was too shocked to actually pull it.

"So you're just going to gawp?" The mouse clambered out of the bowl, shaking lumpy soup from its whiskers. "Well why not, I suppose you're a natural."

Edwin closed his mouth. Suddenly, for some reason, the idea of a talking mouse didn't seem so bizarre.

"Do I know you?" he asked, noticing that half the mouse's tail was missing.

"Not only do you gawp like a goldfish, but you have a similar memory span." The mouse stared at Edwin with shiny black button eyes. "Of course you know me. I'm Stubby."

"Stub-by?" Edwin repeated the word slowly, struggling to recall where he'd heard it before. And then it came back to him. "I used to have a pet called Stubby."

"I am not, and never have been, your pet." Stubby huffed indignantly. "I may have inhabited your shirt pocket and ate your leftover sandwiches, but that was in return for my services as a high level advisor and life coach."

Edwin wrinkled his nose. "You were my life coach?"

"Admittedly not one of my greatest triumphs. I would have had more success teaching a brick to swim backstroke. But never let it be said that I don't take responsibility for my professional failures. Which is why I'm here."

"So why are you here?" Edwin scowled at the mouse. "And what do you want with me?"

"I've come to help you escape. You are imprisoned by a powerful wizard, and require my assistance to break free from his spell."

"I'm not in prison," said Edwin. "This is a clinic. And Doctor Masters isn't a wizard. And there's no such thing as magic, everybody knows that."

"Remove the bandage from your hand," instructed Stubby.

"No. Doctor Masters said I shouldn't tamper with the dressing until it's healed."

Stubby twitched his whiskers. "Does it still hurt?"

"No. Not really." The sensation in Edwin's hand wasn't pain, more an odd tingling. "But Doctor Masters said..."

"Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way." Stubby sprang from the tray and landed on Edwin's bandaged hand. Before Edwin could do anything about it, Stubby was gnawing through the dressing.

"Hey. Stop that." Edwin jerked his hand to send Stubby flying across the bed. Clamped in the mouse's tiny jaws, the bandage unfurled like a streamer behind him.

Stubby landed softly on the pillow, whilst an annoyed Edwin tried to gather up the trailing bandage.

"Look what you've done," he grumbled. "It'll take ages to wrap it up again."

"No you look," said Stubby, jumping up and down on the pillow. "Look at your hand. Look at what Doctor Masters didn't want you to see."

Edwin turned his hand over to examine his palm. There were marks on his flesh, scabby bits that hadn't yet healed.

"It's just burned skin," he observed with a shrug. "From when I singed my hand on the gas cooker."

"It wasn't a gas cooker you burned your hand on," said Stubby. "Look closer, boy. What do you see?"

Edwin's hand was tingling uncomfortably, and he feared it might be infected like Doctor Masters had warned. He knew he should wrap it again quickly, but at the same time he was curious about the cause of the injury, especially as he had no memory of having gone anywhere near a gas cooker.

So Edwin looked again at his injured hand. It was weird, but the more he studied the burn marks, the more they came to resemble a face. A strange, half-human, half-animal face.

"That's him." Stubby flicked his stunted little tail. "It's Inglenook's face, burned onto your skin when you grabbed the Wychetts Key."

"Inglenook?" Whilst Edwin stared at the face on his palm, that tingling sensation grew stronger. It coursed up his arm and through his body, and when it reached his head he feared his skull would explode.

And then everything came rushing back. Everything he had been forced to forget.

"Wychetts! The Key to Magic! Inglenook!" Edwin blinked. "I remember now. I'm a Guardian of Wychetts, a descendant of the Wise Ones!"

"And he's back in the room," sighed Stubby.

"There was a fire." Edwin's stomach lurched as more memories returned. "That girl Albany drained the magic from the Siphon. The cottage burned down. I escaped with Mum. But... what happened to Bryony?"

"I believe the girl is unharmed," advised Stubby. "Though she remains in the power of Doctor Masters."

"He isn't Doctor Masters." Edwin clenched his burned hand. "He's Magister. An evil warlock and traitor to the Wise Ones."

Stubby nodded. "And somehow he's behind what happened to Wychetts."

"If only I had the Wychetts Key. I could talk to Inglenook and warn him. Then we could find Bryony and put a stop to whatever Magister is up to."

Stubby bowed his little head. "I'm afraid Inglenook is gone."

"Gone?" Edwin thought that unlikely. "Inglenook can't go anywhere. He hasn't got any legs, to start with."

"I don't mean he's packed up and left for a long weekend in Bognor. I mean he's gone. He's ashes, along with the rest of Wychetts. There's nothing left of the place but a burned out ruin."

Edwin's heart sank as he absorbed the news. He couldn't believe that Inglenook, Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom, was no more.

"Then it's hopeless." He slumped onto the bed, his shoulders sagging dejectedly. "There's nothing we can do without magic."

Stubby leaped onto Edwin's right leg. "Wychetts may be gone, but some magic remains. Can't you feel it?"

Edwin lifted his hand, which tingled again as he examined the branded image of Inglenook's face. "I must have picked up some power from the Key when I touched it."

"That's why Doctor Masters is keeping you here," said Stubby. "He's been trying to brainwash you, to make you forget about Wychetts. He fears you, boy. He fears your magic."

"Then we need to escape." Edwin picked up Stubby. "I'll zap us somewhere safe."

"Not advisable. We can't be sure how much magic you've got left. We must use it sparingly, and only when there is no alternative."

"I had a feeling you'd say that," groaned Edwin. "So how are we going to get out of here? The door's locked from the outside, and even if we found a way of opening it, I doubt if Magister, or Doctor Masters or whoever he is, would just let me walk out."

Stubby sighed impatiently. "I would have thought the means of our escape was obvious, even to a dullard like you. The door might be locked, but the window isn't."

Edwin dismissed the idea with a snort. "We're three floors up. Who's the dullard now?"

"Then we need to facilitate a means of climbing down. I suspect there isn't a ladder lying under the bed, so we'll have to use the bed sheets instead."

"Oh yeah." Edwin nodded. "You mean as a parachute?"

"That might work in theory. But as the finest solicitors in the world have yet to find a legal loophole in the law of gravity, I believe it would be safer to tie the sheets together and use them as a rope."

"Good idea."

Edwin placed Stubby on the bedside table, then stripped the sheets from the bed before knotting them together. He worked quickly, mindful that Doctor Masters might call in any moment. And it wouldn't be long before Mum came visiting again.

"Mum." Edwin stopped knotting. "I can't run off without letting her know."

"Your mother is under Doctor Master's influence," warned Stubby. "There's no telling what Doctor Masters might do if he suspects she knows the truth. And if it turns out he's really Magister, then we're all in trouble."

Edwin looked fearfully at Stubby. "Is Magister that evil? Even worse than the Shadow Clan?"

"The legends say he started a magic world war, and brought the very planet to the brink of destruction. Not sure if that makes him technically 'evil', but we can assume it puts him on the wrong side of 'tetchy'. Are you done yet?"

"Almost." Edwin finished knotting the bed sheets together. "Now we need to anchor one end by tying it to something. How about the end of the bed?"

"It's our only choice," agreed Stubby. "Make sure it's securely fastened."

Edwin dropped to his knees, just as the sound of approaching footsteps came echoing from the corridor outside.

"Someone's coming," he hissed.

"Then get a move on," urged Stubby.

One eye on the door, Edwin hurriedly tied the end of the sheet rope around what he thought was a leg of the metal-framed bed.

"That's done." He sprang to his feet. "But I need to get dressed before we go."

"And I suspect you haven't brushed your hair or plucked your nostrils lately, but we don't have time to worry about your personal appearance. If that were the case, I would have brought a paper bag to put over your head. To the window, quickly."

As the footsteps grew louder, Edwin hurriedly fed the knotted sheet through the opened window.

The footsteps came up to the door. Edwin scooped Stubby from the table and slipped him into his top pyjama pocket, before clambering onto the window ledge just as the door handle turned.

"What are you waiting for?" squealed Stubby. "We need to get out of here."

Edwin peered down through the opened window. The knotted sheet rope didn't quite reach the ground, and three floors suddenly seemed a very long way up.

"Hello darling." A flustered looking Jane burst into the room. "You won't believe what just happened. Some maniac in a big car nearly ran me off the clinic driveway. Then he started yelling at me and..."

Jane looked even more flustered when she saw Edwin perched on the window ledge.

"Hi Mum." Edwin didn't know what else to say. "I'm just, er... popping out for some fresh air."

Jane blinked as though she couldn't believe her eyes. "But you're not dressed properly. And you haven't brushed your hair."

But by the time she finished the sentence, Edwin had left through the window. Jane rushed forwards, but froze when the food trolley went hurtling across the room...

Chapter 12- Top Gear

Edwin was sure he'd tied the sheet securely to the bed, but he seemed to be plummeting at an alarming rate.

Then there was a jolt, and the sheet rope slipped from his hands. Luckily, by then he was only a few inches above the ground. Unluckily, he couldn't avoid the bowl of soup that flew through the window to land upside down on his head.

"Ugh!" Edwin removed the bowl, grimacing when he felt lukewarm soup trickling down the back of his neck.

"You tied the rope to the trolley instead of the bed." Stubby's head emerged from Edwin's top pocket. "You're lucky its only farmhouse soup that's splattered on the ground, and not the insides of your head. Although I'm sure both would contain equal quantities of turnip."

"Edwin! Edwin!" Jane's anxious cries rang from the opened window above. "Doctor Masters! Edwin has jumped out of the window!"

"We've got to get moving," said Stubby. "He'll have the sentries dispatched to stop us."

"Sentries? What sentries?" Even as he spoke, Edwin heard a peal of deep, angry barks.

Three large dogs came charging round the corner of the clinic building. Edwin had never seen such a breed. They were large and wolf-like, their thick muscles rippling beneath coats of shimmering grey fur. Foam dripped from their gaping jaws, and their silver eyes shone with an intense unnatural light.

"I can't outrun those." Edwin gawped at the approaching beasts, his body frozen in terror.

"You'll stand more chance of running anywhere before they've chewed your legs off. Head left to the front of the building. Quickly!"

Stubby's words forced Edwin's limbs into action. He got to his feet and set off in a sprint around the clinic. It wasn't easy going, he'd forgotten to don his slippers, and the lawn felt ice cold against his bare feet.

"They're gaining on us." Edwin dare not look round, but he could hear the barks and snarls coming closer.

"We're halfway there," said Stubby. "You must keep going."

Edwin did his best, but as he reached the corner of the building his right foot slipped on the grass. In a heartbeat he was lying on his back, unhurt but winded by his fall.

"Nice dive," said Stubby, still ensconced in Edwin's pyjama pocket. "Might have won you an Olympic gold medal. If there was an event called 'stupidly falling over before getting chewed to ribbons by a pack of ferocious wolf-dogs."

The dogs charged closer, their barks rising excitedly when they spied their quarry's plight. Edwin knew it was too late. Even if he got to his feet there was no way he could outrun them. The slavering brutes would be on him in a matter of seconds.

Then he heard a cry.

"Tally ho!"

Something dashed past him, a streak of amber with a bushy tail that hared across the path of the approaching dogs. The beasts staggered to a confused halt, before peeling away from Edwin in pursuit of the bushy tailed blur.

"It worked," trilled Stubby. "That will keep those brutes busy for a while. Now back on your feet. Our getaway vehicle awaits."

"Getaway vehicle?" Edwin got up and followed Stubby's directions. "So this is all planned?"

"I wouldn't have come here without backup," said Stubby. "And luckily I was able to call on some old friends to lend a hand. And a paw."

"Captain Rathbone!" Edwin realised who that bushy tailed blur was. "So who else have you recruited?"

They rounded the building, and Edwin saw a little old lady wearing tortoise shell spectacles waiting in the car park in front of the clinic.

"Coo-ee!" The old lady waved her walking stick at Edwin.

"Val?" Although he was pleased to see her, Edwin had been hoping someone else might have come to his rescue. "What about the Nyx Queen? Surely she'd be more use with her shape shifting abilities and fighting skills?"

"Most probably," agreed Stubby. "But the Nyx Queen doesn't have a valid driving licence and thirty-six years no claim bonus."

Val smiled at Edwin as he approached her. "Won't be a moment, lad. I'm all revved up and ready to go."

She hobbled out of sight behind a large grey car, and Edwin's hopes picked up at the sight of their getaway vehicle. Then Val trundled into view astride a contraption that looked like a cross between a moped and a four-wheeled chair.

"My mobility scooter." Val stopped her strange looking vehicle in front of Edwin. "Neat, eh?"

Edwin struggled to hide his dismay, but Stubby made no attempt whatsoever.

"When I asked you to provide wheels, the least I expected was a car to go with them."

Val looked offended. "This is a top of the range model. It has a faux leather seat with adjustable head rest, and capacity to store up to three medium bags of groceries. Or one passenger if they're under six stone. So hop on the back, lad. Quick as you can."

Edwin clambered reluctantly onto the rear of the scooter. There wasn't much room behind the driver's chair, but he managed to fit on.

"I suggest you hold tight." Val donned a pink motorcyclist's helmet. "I'm in the mood to burn rubber!"

Edwin gripped the back of Val's seat as the scooter set off. Slowly at first. Very slowly. He clung on, expecting the scooter to pick up speed. But still it went slowly. Very, very slowly.

"I can walk faster than this," he groaned.

"Well I can't," retorted Val. "Which is the point of a mobility scooter."

"This is an interesting definition of 'mobility'," pondered Stubby. "I assume the machine's speed is measured in hours per mile?"

The scooter trundled along the driveway in an agonising crawl. Looking ahead, Edwin saw the tall iron gates in the distance. He reckoned it would take thirty seconds at most to reach them in a car, but on the scooter it would be more like thirty minutes.

But it could be worse, he decided. At least those horrible dogs weren't chasing him.

At that same moment he heard another peal of deep angry barking. Looking round, he saw the three wolf-dogs chasing the fox across the clinic grounds. Then the leading dog caught sight of him. For a second it hesitated, then veered away from the fox to come charging straight at the scooter, with the other dogs following close behind it.

"They've seen us," wailed Edwin. "We need more speed!"

"We're flat out as it is," said Val. "There's no way we can go any faster."

"Not unless the wind changes direction," squeaked Stubby. "Or we get the chance to ride in the slipstream of a passing snail."

"Are we in top gear?" Edwin peered at the scooter's steering controls.

"There's only two gears," said Val. "Forward and reverse."

"Then try reverse," suggested Stubby. "Can't be slower than going forwards."

The pursuing wolf dogs closed in on the scooter, their broad paws pounding the driveway. In desperation, Edwin was debating whether to jump off the scooter and take a chance on foot, when Stubby made another suggestion.

"Remember we still have some of Wychetts' magic?"

Edwin glanced at his hand. "But you said not to use it unless there's no alternative."

Stubby nodded. "The only alternative way out of this one is via a dog's digestive system, in bite sized chunks."

"I get your point." Edwin held up his right hand, studying the burned image of Inglenook's face. The tingling intensified, as though the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom knew what was needed.

There was a snarl close behind. Edwin dared not look round, but he knew the leading dog was within lunging distance. He tensed, expecting to feel its sharp teeth biting into his legs.

The snarling was drowned by a loud whooshing sound. Edwin's stomach heaved, the startled cry snatched from his lips by a blast of air. At last he looked round to see the baying dogs shrinking into the distance.

Edwin blinked. In fact it took several blinks before he realised what had happened.

The scooter was now travelling along the driveway at an astonishing speed, so fast that everything around them was a blur.

"Yippeeee!" cried Val. "Told you this beast could go!"

He clung to the back of Val's seat as the scooter went even faster, leaving strips of burning tarmac in its wake.

"We've made it." Val cheered as they neared the tall metal gates at the end of the driveway. Edwin hoped they might swing open automatically, but the gates remained closed to block their escape.

"Slow down," he told Val. "Or we'll crash into the gates."

"Val isn't controlling this thing anymore," Stubby reminded him. "We're on magic auto-pilot."

And then Edwin realised it was too late. Too late to stop their momentum, too late to avoid slamming into the gates. They were now travelling faster than a racing car. Edwin looked down at the driveway and noticed it seemed to be receding. If he didn't know any better, he'd think they were flying.

Then, with astonishment, he realised they were doing just that. The scooter was lifting off the ground, higher and higher...

They made it by the smallest of margins, the scooter wheels bumping the top of the gates as they shot over.

Looking down, Edwin saw the pack of wolf dogs bounding up to the gates. Then the dogs changed shape, merging together and warping into the figure of a hawk nosed man in a white suit, who stared up at him with intense silvery eyes.

Doctor Masters. Magister!

The scooter climbed higher, and Edwin lost sight of Magister as they entered a patch of low cloud. Then they were out into clear blue sky.

He shivered, both from the chillness of the air and the leering face he thought he glimpsed in the giant moon that loomed above them...

Chapter 13- I Prefer Working Solo

Bryony yanked her hand from Edwin's grip. Immediately the tingling in her arm faded, and the images vanished from her mind.

She was standing in front of a ruined fireplace in the remains of a burned out cottage. The sky was now dark, and wisps of snow were falling silently around her.

"You remember now?" whispered Edwin, his anxious face illuminated by the firelight. "What happened that day, and everything since, is all down to Magister. He used Albany to steal Wychetts power, and..."

"No." Bryony shook her head. "It wasn't like that."

"But you just saw it. Those were our memories channelled through Wychetts' magic." Edwin raised his hand so Bryony could see the marks on his palm. "The Key to Magic was red hot when I touched it, and some of its power burned into me. That's what Inglenook wanted to happen. He saved some magic from Albany. He's given us a lifeline, a chance to bring Wychetts back. To bring our lives back."

"But I have a life," said Bryony. "With my parents in Mossy Glade Close."

"But that isn't your real life. It's an illusion created by Magister. You sensed that all along. That's why you came here."

Bryony turned away from Edwin. She knew he was right, that the visions they'd shared were true, that her dreams about the crooked old cottage were not dreams at all, but memories. Real memories. And yet somehow she couldn't bring herself to accept it.

"I don't know how all this happened," admitted Edwin, "or what Magister is up to. But whatever it is, we've got to stop him. And we can only do that together."

"So that's why you lured me here." Bryony turned back to face him. "You want to drag me away from Mum again."

"Your mum left you. That was nothing to do with Wychetts. And..." Edwin stopped talking and stared at her. "What do you mean, I lured you here?"

"You sent the invitation." Bryony fished the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. "With the map."

Edwin's eyes widened as he studied the letter. "I didn't send that. I thought you came here because you wanted to find me."

"But if you didn't send this letter..." Bryony shook her head in bewilderment. "Who did?"

There was movement behind Edwin, and Bryony saw a four-legged shadow slinking through the remains of the cottage. She tried to warn her stepbrother, but before she could speak the shadow had changed into the shape of a man.

He was striking in appearance, with a prominent chin and elongated nose, large auburn sideburns and an old-fashioned handlebar moustache. He wore a brown tweed jacket, and a pair of voluminous trousers tucked neatly into shiny black riding boots.

Bryony recognised the strange looking man. "Captain Rathbone!"

"Miss Bryony." The Captain returned her greeting with a nod before addressing Edwin. "It appears Doctor Masters has been alerted. My lookouts have spotted his agents approaching our position."

"And there's this." Edwin snatched the letter from Bryony and showed it to the Captain. "That's why she came here."

Captain Rathbone leaned forwards, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the letter. "I smell a trap. We must leave immediately or risk capture."

Edwin looked at Bryony. "Let's go."

Bryony hesitated. "Go where?"

"I have numerous hideaways at our disposal," said the Captain. "There is a handy fox hole two miles north of here in which we may conceal ourselves overnight."

Bryony didn't like the idea of spending a night in a hole in the ground, not when she could return to her nice detached house in Mossy Glade Close.

"Look, Bryony." Edwin reached out to her with his injured hand. "I know you're thinking of going back to your mum. But you can't. She's part of this."

Bryony shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

"Your mother is implicated in the plot to steal Wychetts' power," explained Captain Rathbone. "We cannot be certain as to the extent of her collusion, but the evidence would suggest..."

"Mum's not involved," snapped Bryony. "How could she be? You're talking rubbish."

"You know it's true," said Edwin. "She brought Albany to the cottage. She raised the girl as a baby. She even told you that you'd be going back to live with her. Your Mum's involved, whether you like it or not."

Of course Bryony knew her mother was involved. She'd known that for ages, ever since she'd discovered that note in Mr Cuddles. But Bryony was sure that Mum would never do anything evil, and that if she was somehow working for Magister there would be a totally good reason. And whatever that reason, Bryony needed to hear it from Mum herself, not Edwin or Captain Rathbone.

Just then she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle from the lane.

"That'll be Dad come to take me home."

"This is you home!" Edwin gestured around him. "This is our home."

"But look at it," gasped Bryony. "There's nothing left. Nothing of that life we had."

"There's the magic." Edwin raised his hand again. "Wychetts' magic."

"There's no magic now. Wychetts is finished. We should forget about it."

Edwin looked at her, his wet eyes glistening in the firelight. "And about each other?"

Bryony felt her own eyes moistening again. She grabbed the pendant at her throat. She yanked it hard, wincing as the chain dug into the back of her neck before snapping. Then, as Edwin cried in protest, she hurled the chain and pendant away.

She wheeled round and ran. Ran through the ruined shell of her life, through the jungle of weeds as tangled and knotted as her thoughts.

She heard Edwin calling after her, but Bryony wouldn't look back to see if anyone was following. She would never look back. Never...

Her right hand was tingling. She guessed it must have been because Edwin had held it so tight when they'd shared their memories. She gripped the strap of her satchel, hoping the tingle would go away soon. She needed to forget about him, forget about Wychetts.

She cleared the weedy jungle and slipped through the gap in the hedge. The lane was lit by a harsh white glare, reflecting off the tumbling snow that was now laying on the road. She had forgotten how cold it was, and was eager to reach the warmth of her father's car. She hurried towards the vehicle parked in the lane.

A figure emerged from the car, silhouetted against the harsh electric light.

Bryony ran to her father. But as she drew closer she saw it wasn't her father's posh company car. And it wasn't her father standing in the lane.

"Who's that?" asked the figure, her voice shrill with concern. "Is that you, Edwin?"

Bryony skidded to a halt in front of Jane.

Jane stared at her, lips parted and forehead creased with confusion.

Bryony didn't know what to say. She couldn't be sure if Jane even recognised her.

Then Jane's expression changed from confusion to panic.

"Get off the road," she screamed at Bryony.

Bryony heard the growl of an approaching car from behind. She turned round, but couldn't see any headlights. Then she discerned a dark shape speeding up the lane towards her.

She dived out of the way just in time. She heard squealing brakes, and then a loud thud as the speeding vehicle rammed into the front of Jane's parked car, knocking out the headlights and plunging the lane into darkness.

Then there was silence.

For a terrible moment Bryony feared the worst, but then she heard Jane's screaming voice from the other side of the lane.

"You stupid idiot! Didn't you see my headlights?"

The driver of the speeding car clambered out of his vehicle. Bryony couldn't see if he was hurt, but he sounded just as angry as Jane.

"I didn't realise you were parked in the middle of the lane," he growled. "You should have had your hazard lights on."

The man's voice sounded familiar to Bryony.

"You're the hazard," shrieked Jane, charging towards the man. "You didn't have any lights on at all."

"Don't try and blame this on me," said the man. "We'll let the courts decide who's at fault. Oh yes, I'm going to sue you for every penny you've got."

And that's when Bryony's suspicions were confirmed.

"Dad?"

"I'm a powerful man," Bill continued his rant at Jane. "And I'm going to get my top solicitors on the case. I'll have you dragged through the highest courts in the land. I'll..." His voice faltered, and he peered closer at Jane. "Do I know you?"

Bryony's heart skipped a beat. This couldn't be happening. Dad and Jane couldn't recognise each other. Not now. It would ruin everything!

"I know you," said Jane, but her tone was far from friendly. "You're that maniac who nearly ran into me this morning at the clinic."

"You were the one who nearly ran into me," seethed Bill. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were stalking me."

"Why on earth would I want to stalk you?" shrieked Jane. "You're the one who's clearly insane."

"So why are you here?" demanded Bill.

"That's none of your business," spat Jane. Then she seemed to have second thoughts. "But if you must know, I am looking for my son. You might have seen him?"

Bryony thought she should break up the argument, but didn't want to risk Jane recognising her. As she stood in the lane debating what to do, she saw a flashing blue light behind Jane's car.

"Here come the police," said Bill, pointing to the approaching light. "They'll sort this out. I hope you've got a good lawyer."

"That looks more like an ambulance," said Jane. "Oh dear. I hope it's nothing to do with Edwin."

"Edwin?" There was a hint of recognition in Bill's voice.

"My son," wailed Jane, hurrying off towards the flashing blue lights.

"Hey wait!" Bill charged after her. "Did you say Edwin?"

Oh no, thought Bryony. She followed her father up the lane, fallen snow and shattered windscreen crunching beneath her feet. She couldn't have imagined anything might have happened to Edwin in the short time she'd left him in the ruined cottage. She was more concerned that Dad might remember her stepbrother.

But if the ambulance wasn't for Edwin, what was it doing here?

"My son!" Jane shrieked as she neared the parked emergency vehicle. "Have you found my Edwin?"

A side door opened, and a slender blonde haired woman stepped out. At first Bryony thought she was mistaken, her vision fooled by the pulsing lights. But then Bill spoke, and she knew her eyes were not deceiving her.

"Diana! What are you doing here?"

Bryony pushed past her father and sprinted to the ambulance. Mum smiled, spreading her arms in readiness to receive her daughter. But as Bryony came to within hugging distance she saw a second figure alighting from the ambulance. It was a tall man, with a hawk nose and wiry grey hair, clad in a spotless white suit.

"Bryony." Doctor Masters' silver eyes fixed on her, his thin lips curling into a smile. "Thank heavens you're safe."

Bryony staggered to a standstill.

"Come here, Poppet." Mum beckoned to her. "We're going to take you home."

Bryony hesitated. She wanted more than anything to feel her mother's warm embrace. Yet she knew the man standing behind her was not Doctor Masters, but an evil wizard called Magister who had stolen Wychetts' magic.

"But what about my son?" Jane strode up to Doctor Masters. "Have you found Edwin?"

"We're very close," said Doctor Masters. "You needn't worry. He'll soon be back in my care."

"Oh thank you," Jane gasped her gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Doctor Masters."

"He's not really Doctor Masters." Bryony couldn't stop herself saying it. And as she spoke, the tingling in her right hand intensified. "And he's not your friend. He's wicked and..."

"Bryony stop," said Mum, her voice becoming stern. "Get in the ambulance now."

Bryony looked at her father. Bill was staring at Doctor Masters as though hypnotised.

"Do as your mother says." Doctor Masters edged past Mum, his right hand reaching out to Bryony. "You need to take your medicine."

"Doctor Masters knows what's best for you," insisted Mum. "What's best for all of us."

Suddenly Bryony didn't feel in control of her body. Her legs started moving, carrying her slowly towards the ambulance. She raised her right arm, the tingling fading as her fingers reached for Doctor Masters. Then, for some reason, she glanced up at the sky. The air was now thick with snowflakes, but she could still see the moon peering out from behind the rolling dark clouds.

Then a ragged dark shape flitted across the vast silver orb. She heard a harsh croak, and then a small pop, as though a tiny balloon had burst right above her. Tiny droplets of liquid peppered her face, and she instinctively licked her lips. She caught a fleeting taste of sweetness, and then her legs turned to jelly.

There was a whooshing noise as she fell. Except she couldn't be falling, because her feet never left the ground. It just felt like she was falling. Falling very fast.

A wave of giddiness swept over her. She closed her eyes, hearing her mother's anxious cries that seemed to boom like thunder.

"Bryony! Where are you?"

Then something slammed into her from behind. She was knocked off her feet, but never hit the ground.

She opened her eyes and saw that she was moving, but her legs were dangling limply beneath her.

"Bryony! Where are you?"

Mum's thunderous cries faded. Bryony closed her eyes again, feeling she might retch. When she opened them she found she was motionless, lying on her back in some dense dark wood.

"Bryony!" Mum's voice boomed again, but more distant now.

Bryony opened her lips to answer, but something furry clamped across her mouth.

"I'd keep quiet," hissed a rough edged voice in her ear. "She can't hear you, but others might."

Bryony recognised the voice. She pulled the paw from her mouth, and gasped when she turned to see the animal crouching beside her.

It was large, taller than she was, with a long slender body and reddish brown fur. A weasel. A talking weasel!

Bryony remembered meeting a talking weasel before. It had been on the Isle of Lost Souls, an animal prison where Edwin and herself had got caught up in a bitter feud between gangs of rats and spiders.

But it was only when the weasel tilted its head that she could be certain. It was wearing an eye patch. And that could only mean...

"Slinker!"

"Your Ladyship." The weasel smiled, displaying two rows of dagger sharp teeth. "Nice to make your acquaintance again. I have such fond recollections of our previous encounter."

"What's happened to you?" Bryony looked the weasel up and down. "You've grown."

"Or maybe you've shrunk," suggested Slinker. "Now what d'you think more likely?"

Bryony had been shrunk before, and remembered the same sense of wobbly dizziness it had caused. So she guessed Slinker was right. She'd been shrunk, and the wood around them probably wasn't a wood at all, just a hedgerow or a patch of weeds.

"But how did it happen?" she asked.

"My guess is some kind of magic bomb," said Slinker. "A crude but effective way of dropping magic potions on unsuspecting victims."

Bryony recalled that popping sound, and the sweet tasting liquid on her lips. "But who wants me shrunk?"

"Who's to say? You're a Guardian of Wychetts. You must have almost as many enemies as I do."

"You've got to help me." Bryony squeezed Slinker's paw. "Please."

Slinker nodded. "That's precisely why I'm here, Your Ladyship."

"Sure." Bryony now realised. "You're working for Edwin and Captain Rathbone?"

There was a snapping sound from the right. Slinker stiffened, his single eye swivelling in the direction of the noise.

Bryony shuffled closer to the weasel, nervously glancing around her. "What was that?"

There was another snap, this time from the left. And then the sound of heavy, rhythmic sniffing.

"He's dispatched his trackers," said Slinker. "But don't worry, I've got a plan. It ain't the most sophisticated of plans. Mainly involves running."

"And what else?" wondered Bryony, as more snaps and sniffs sounded from the shadows.

"And not getting caught. That's sort of the main bit really."

"I see." Bryony gulped as the sounds came closer. "No point making things complicated, eh?"

"My view on life," agreed Slinker. "Though I don't seem very good at it, judging by how often I need to come up with uncomplicated plans that involve running and not getting caught. Are you ready?"

Bryony nodded. "Ready when you are."

"Then follow me."

"Will do." Bryony looked round, but Slinker had already disappeared. "Hey, where have you..."

Something huge came crashing through the undergrowth. To Bryony it was the size of an elephant, but covered in silver grey fur. She saw flashing fangs, and two beady eyes glinting evilly as it bounded towards her.

"This way!" Slinker's voice called out to Bryony. "What are you waiting for?"

Bryony ran in the direction of the voice. It was getting darker by the second, and she struggled to see more than a stride in front of her. Another shape loomed from the shadows, but luckily it was Slinker.

"What took you so long, Your Ladyship? I thought you said you were ready?"

"I said I was ready when you were," panted Bryony. "I just didn't know that you were ready when I said it."

"So I was supposed to tell you I was ready?"

"It would have helped."

"I see. So even though you told me you were ready when I was ready, I'd still have to tell you I was ready so you'd know when you were ready. Is that it?"

"Um... yeah."

"Thanks for clearing that up. And for reminding me why I prefer working solo."

There was a deep growl from behind, and Bryony heard more sniffing noises from the right. And then the left, too.

"He's trying to surround us. We've got to keep moving." Slinker set off again. "Try to keep up this time. Might help if you ditch the hand luggage."

No way, thought Bryony, hugging her satchel tightly as she followed the weasel closely through the forest of weeds. The growling and sniffing noises faded, but Slinker warned against complacency.

"We've got to keep moving. He won't give up the search until he's found you. But don't worry, we're nearing the stone wall."

"How is a wall going to help?"

"There's a gap at the bottom, large enough for a weasel and a miniaturised human girl, but too small for fat headed hell hounds."

Spurred on by his revelation, Bryony pursued Slinker through a copse of thick-stemmed nettles until they came to the base of the wall. It looked like a massive stone monument to Bryony, though she knew it was probably only a few feet high.

"There it is." Slinker ushered Bryony towards a gap in the brickwork. "Our escape route."

She peered cautiously into the opening, wondering where it might lead. Then she felt a paw pressing on her back. There was a gentle shove that made her stumble, and suddenly she was pitching forwards into the hole.

She expected to hit the ground sooner rather than later. Except there didn't seem to be any ground. She cried out, hoping Slinker might grab her in time. But when no grasping paw came to the rescue, Bryony realised she'd been tricked, and cursed the double crossing weasel as she plummeted into darkness...

Chapter 14- At Your Service

A terrible scream cut through the murk. Not a cry of pain, but a raucous, nerve shredding cackle. Then came more sounds: a chorus of grunts, honks, and hoots that echoed from the surrounding shadows.

Bryony couldn't tell if she'd stopped falling. She couldn't feel ground beneath her feet, it felt as though she was hanging in the air. Her body seemed paralysed, her arms and legs frozen. But the satchel still hung on her shoulder, the reassuring bulge of Mr Cuddles nestling against her ribs.

The weird noises grew louder, and Bryony caught an unpleasant stench. It reminded her of something. Drains, mostly. With a hint of rotting cabbage. But something else, too. Another time, another place.

Then a chill ran down her spine when she remembered what the smell was.

The stench of evil!

Then there was light. A soft greenish glow diluted the gloom, revealing a rocky ceiling high above her. The light grew steadily brighter to reveal the cause of the stink and all those weird noises.

There were thousands of them crammed onto a vast sloping terrace in front of her, a huge crowd of ugly creatures, many too ugly to even look at. Some appeared vaguely human, others more like animals, many a hideous combination of both. Some had fur, some had scales, some had skin. Some had no skin at all.

But they were all looking at Bryony. Looking and laughing.

They were the Shadow Clan.

She tried moving her arms and legs, but they wouldn't respond, and she realised she was hanging in a sticky spider's web, like a fly waiting to be eaten.

A black shape swooped down, a tatty bald bird landing in front of her. Suddenly it was a man, as bald and tatty as the bird he had transformed from.

Bryony recognised the beaky nosed man, and felt a renewed pang of fear as his tiny grey eyes bored into her.

"Welcome," croaked Mr Dawes. "We are honoured by your visit. It's seldom we have the pleasure of receiving a Guardian of Wychetts in the Lair of the Shadow Clan."

There was another burst of mocking hoots and hisses, but they were masked by that terrible screeching cackle. It came from an ugly crone in the front row, with the skin of a toad and a golf ball sized wart on the end of her nose.

"I didn't come here from choice," complained Bryony. "I was kidnapped."

"I'd prefer to say you were escorted," purred a voice. "You would never have escaped Doctor Masters without our help."

A cat trotted into view. It was a beautiful specimen, with a silky cream coat, chocolate brown paws and a diamond-studded collar. In a flash it morphed into an equally beautiful blonde haired woman, with dazzling green eyes, wearing a stylish suit and chic leather boots.

Katya Pauncefoot smiled at Bryony. "But of course, we have to thank Mr Slinker for his role in proceedings." She gestured with a gloved hand to the front row of the terrace, where the one eyed weasel sat next to the warty crone.

Bryony wasn't as shocked as she might have been.

"You said you'd come to help me." She glared at Slinker. "I thought I could trust you."

"You still can, Your Ladyship." Slinker grinned as though there was nothing wrong with the world. "You know I'd never put you in harm's way."

Bryony was about to tell Slinker what she thought about that, but she was interrupted by a groaning voice from the terrace.

"Oh, you've started. Couldn't wait a few seconds longer for me, eh?"

A dead looking tree had appeared in the crowd. Its gnarled trunk resembled an ugly old man's face, with knotholes for eyes and a jagged crack for a mouth.

"Oh look," Dawes croaked sarcastically. "The kindling has arrived."

"Sorry I'm late," wheezed Twisted Bough. "But I wasn't notified about the gathering."

"The invitations were all sent out," said Katya. "Mr Dawes saw to it personally."

"Indeed I did," confirmed Dawes. "Except I didn't have Twisted Bough's contact details, so simply addressed it to 'The Ugliest Moaniest Most Boring Old Geezer in Town' in the hope that it would reach him eventually."

"That's typical," moaned Twisted Bough. "There's no respect for the elderly."

"That's enough, boys." Katya glared at her arguing associates. "Not in front of our guest."

"So I'm a guest, am I?" Bryony seriously doubted that.

Dawes nodded. "You received our invitation, did you not?"

"You sent the map!" Now Bryony knew who had lured her to the ruined cottage. "So it was a trick all along. But I don't get it. Why lure me all the way to Wychetts before kidnapping me?"

"We needed you to meet the boy," explained Katya. "So you'd remember everything that happened. You'd be no use to us otherwise."

Bryony frowned. "So what are you going to use me for?"

"Perhaps we should put it to the vote?" Dawes turned his beak nosed face to the massed ranks of monsters. "I'm sure the brethren could think of something suitable."

"We should grind her up," screeched the warty crone. "Mash her into pulp, spread her on toast and eat her for supper."

The suggestion was met with a babble of enthusiastic hoots and hisses.

"That's a waste," squeaked a creature with the head of a bat and the body of a lizard. "I say we peel all her skin off, boil her in treacle for a fortnight, then make a nice chutney from the leftovers. Should be enough for a couple of barrels."

An even more enthusiastic response greeted the second proposal. But Bryony was horrified.

"A couple of barrels! Are you saying I'm fat?"

"I'd prefer a nice curry," said a bald monkey with tusks. "We haven't had curry for ages."

"I can't eat curry," said Twisted Bough. "Goes straight through me."

"Everything does," sneered Dawes. "You've got more holes than a colander."

"That's not my fault," retorted the tree. "At my age I'm prone to wood boring beetle."

Dawes pointed at the ugly tree. "There's only one bit of boring wood around here, and that's you."

Whilst the Shadow Clan continued to discuss the fate of their prisoner, Bryony stared defiantly at Katya.

"I'm not scared," she declared. "If you were going to harm me, you would have done it by now."

"And we would have," agreed Katya, "If such a decision was ours to make. But you are a Guardian of Wychetts, a descendent of the Wise Ones. Your destiny can only be decided by our most senior brethren. The evilly esteemed members of the Shadow Cabinet."

At those words the Shadow Clan fell silent. There was a low rumbling noise, and Bryony saw a tall black cabinet rising from the rocky ground in front of her.

The top drawer of the cabinet opened with a creak, emitting a dark mist that formed the shape of a sinister figure clad in voluminous black robes. A pointed hood hid its face from view; or rather where its face should have been, because Bryony knew the Dark One had no face.

The room remained silent, every member of the Shadow Clan bowing low before the hooded spectre.

"Greetings Brethren." The Dark One addressed the congregation in a deep, whispery voice. "Who summons the Shadow Cabinet?"

"We do," said Dawes, kneeling before his master. "As your worthless minions, we humbly request your attention in respect of a most important matter."

"Don't tell me you want another increase in the stationery budget?" The Dark One wagged a skeletal finger. "How many times have I told you? Use both sides of the paper and keep your biros in a desk tidy so you won't lose them."

"It is not stationery, Your Malignancy." Katya lifted her blonde head to address the floating apparition. "We have secured the Guardian."

"Please, call me Colin. You know I don't go much on... what?" The Dark One's hooded head twitched in Bryony's direction. "You have the child! This is most excellent news. Perhaps I will grant a few extra biros after all."

There was an appreciative burst of honking from the crowd.

"But not the green ones," said a two-headed pig. "No one ever uses the green ones."

"I do," said the warty nosed crone. "The ink gives my skin a nice healthy sheen."

"Silence!" ordered the Dark One. "This is an important and solemn occasion. The Shadow Cabinet will assemble to pronounce the fate of the Guardian."

The remaining cabinet drawers creaked open one by one, emitting tendrils of dark mist that formed a line of floating figures.

"Brethren," the Dark One addressed the watching crowd. "I present to you, in descending order of darkness, the merciless members of the Shadow Cabinet: The Dingy One, the Dirty One, the Drab One..."

As their master spoke, each figure bowed its hooded head.

"And not forgetting our most junior Sinister Minister, the Dim One."

All eyes turned to the bottom drawer of the cabinet, which remained shut despite a furtive tapping from inside.

"For the last time," hissed the Dark One. "Push to open."

The bottom drawer finally opened, and another hooded figure emerged in a wisp of smoke.

"Sorry," said the Dim One. "I was pulling."

"Dim by name and dim by nature," sighed the Dark One. "Now let us consider the question before us." He waved his bony hand at Bryony. "The Guardian child."

Bryony's defiance wavered under the scrutiny of the black robed phantom. Standing up to the likes of Katya and Dawes was one thing, but there was something about the faceless Dark One that seemed to drain her courage. One of him would have been bad enough, but having to confront the entire Shadow Cabinet was almost too much to bear.

She fought back the urge to cry, clenching her teeth and hoping no one would notice how much she trembled.

"You are our sworn enemy," said the Dark One, his clawed fingers clenching into skeletal fists. "Your mere existence a profanity in our eyes. Every fibre of our being is devoted to plotting your destruction. Without the Guardians of Wychetts, the path would be clear for the Shadow Clan to fulfil its destiny of world domination."

"And we'd have a nice curry," said the bald monkey with tusks.

"Silence!" The Dark One wheeled round, dispatching a bolt of black magic from his pointed finger. There was a scream as the bald monkey dissolved in a haze of cinders.

"Guess that means curry's off," said the warty crone.

Bryony felt a lump rising in her throat, and found it increasingly difficult to breathe as the Dark One's hooded head swung back to her.

"You have beaten us many times, Guardian. Left us humbled and weakened. But now the tables are turned. Now you are weak. Your mentor is destroyed along with the source of your power, and you face an enemy over which you cannot hope to prevail. You are bereft of hope, facing nothing but obliteration. That is why we brought you here. That is why... we wish to help you."

It took a few seconds for the Dark One's words to sink in. Even then, Bryony wasn't sure she'd heard him right.

"You... want... to help me?"

"That is correct." The Dark One nodded. "That is what the Shadow Cabinet has decreed."

Cheers rang through the chamber. Bryony gazed about her, still unable to believe what she'd heard. She met Slinker's one-eyed gaze. The weasel grinned at her, as though he'd known all along.

Bryony thought it must have been a trick. But then the web strands binding her arms and legs melted away, and she floated down to stand in front of the Shadow Cabinet.

She realised that she was back to normal size. Even then she still feared an attack, but the hooded figures bowed to her as one.

"Our powers are yours to command," said the Dark One. "The Shadow Clan is at your service."

Chapter 15- Practically Multi-tasking

"You're serious?" Bryony's bewildered gaze swept the massed ranks of the Shadow Clan. "You really want to help me?"

"There are of course one or two conditions relating to our terms of employment," clarified the Dark One. "We won't work beyond eight hours a day except by prior written agreement, and we like to finish early on Wednesdays. But apart from that, we're all yours."

"I don't get it." Bryony shook her head doubtfully. "Why would the Shadow Clan want to help a Guardian of Wychetts?"

"She doesn't understand," croaked Dawes. "The child is still ignorant of the danger she faces. The danger we all face."

"Then we should enlighten her," purred Katya. "It is time she learned about the Moon of Magister."

The Moon of Magister.

Bryony jumped when she heard those words, and at the same time the Shadow Clan fell silent. Except there wasn't silence. A low rumble echoed through the lair, punctuated by a series of distant crashes.

"What's that noise?" The Dark One's hooded head twitched round. "Don't tell me the plumbing's playing up again. Running a secret evil lair is one hassle after another. I've only just finished paying for the stalactite artexing."

"That's not faulty pipes," Katya informed her leader. "I fear the enemy has launched an attack!"

"An attack on the lair of the Shadow Clan?" The Dark One waved a dismissive claw. "He'd never dare. And besides, he doesn't know the location of our hideaway."

"Unless..." Katya's eyes narrowed into tiny green slits. "Someone has divulged such information."

Suddenly everyone was looking at Slinker.

"Who me?" The weasel squirmed under the Shadow Clan's scrutiny. "Why would I do that? And even if I wanted to, how could I..."

"Sshh!" Katya raised a gloved hand, and the lair fell silent again. There were still those worrying rumbling and crashing noises. But there was another sound too. Faint, but getting gradually louder.

A shrill, pulsing bleep.

"A magic beacon!" Dawes squawked with alarm. "Someone has a magic beacon!"

"We have been deceived," rasped the Dark One. "There is a traitor in our midst!"

As the Dark One spoke, cracks appeared in the rocky wall above him. The rock glowed red as the cracks widened, before the wall shattered in an explosion that hurled rubble fragments across the cavern.

The Shadow Clan screamed in unified terror.

"Our defences are breached!" cried Katya, ducking to avoid a flying chunk of glowing rock. "The enemy has penetrated the lair!"

"Muster the Shadow Guard," ordered the Dark One. "There must be no surrender!"

But already the Shadow Clan were fleeing, climbing over each other in a panicked mass.

"Come back," the Dark One snarled. "Stay and defend your leader, you miserable cowards! Have you no honour?"

"We're the Shadow Clan," Katya reminded him. "Honour has never been in our list of corporate values."

There was another explosion of rock as something vast and monstrous burst through the cavern wall.

It was a giant snake, with shiny black scales and a pair of massive leathery wings. Its head was topped with a crown of vicious spikes, and its eyes burned fiery red as they scanned the fleeing crowd.

The Shadow Clan screamed its name, but Bryony already knew it, because she had seen this monster before.

"The Terrible Fang!"

She had assumed the beast was dead, poisoned by the bite of a venomous spider on the Isle of Lost Souls. But it was here now, larger and even more terrifying than before.

"I bring death," hissed the Terrible Fang. "Death to the enemies of Magister!"

Flames leaped from the serpent's mouth, scattering the fleeing members of the Shadow Clan.

"Retreat!" The Dark One gestured furtively at his cabinet members. "To the bunker, my Sinister Ministers!"

The Dark One returned to the top drawer of the cabinet in a wisp of dark smoke. His spectral underlings followed suit, except the Dim One who seemed to be having trouble opening his drawer.

"Pull, you idiot!" The Dark One's voice rasped from inside the cabinet.

"Sorry," said the Dim One. "I was pushing."

The Dim One didn't make it before the cabinet was engulfed in flame. Bryony staggered back, stunned by the blast of intense heat. When the flames cleared there was nothing left of the Shadow Cabinet but a mound of melted metal.

The Terrible Fang swooped low, spraying flames across the cavern. Bryony knew she had to get out of the lair, and fast. She decided her best bet was to follow the fleeing crowd, but that was easier said than done. There were creatures running everywhere, the cavern ringing with their panicked screams and hoots. She pushed and shoved, but couldn't fight her way through the crazed throng. She collided with the wart-faced crone, after which Bryony found the golf ball sized wart had somehow ended up on her own nose instead.

Arcs of liquid flame swept the crowd, turning swathes of the Shadow Clan to cinders. It was a horrible spectacle, but Bryony tried to focus on finding her way out of the lair.

"On me, Your Ladyship!" A voice called out to her. "I know the emergency exit!"

The crowd thinned, and Bryony glimpsed Slinker waving at her from the other side of the cavern. Despite her inclination to ignore the treacherous weasel, she found herself running towards him.

"Fancied the scenic route, eh?" Slinker grinned at Bryony as she approached. "Nice wart, by the way. Really suits you."

Bryony pulled the wart from her nose and threw it away. "So how do we get out of this place?"

"Just here." Slinker gestured to the cavern wall behind him. "There's a secret passage that will take us out of the mountain."

Bryony remained suspicious of Slinker's intentions. "And straight into some other trap, huh?"

"On my honour, Your Ladyship, this is no trap." Slinker placed a paw on his heart. "You can ask our guide."

A beautiful, cream coloured cat came bounding up to them.

"We must make haste," meowed Katya Pauncefoot. "The Terrible Fang is swift with her work."

The cat raised a front paw. A small section of wall slid aside to reveal a passage, just large enough for Bryony to crawl through.

"Quickly, Guardian." Katya's slender tail curled in a beckoning gesture. "It is you the serpent seeks."

Crawling into a cramped passage with Slinker and Katya was the last thing Bryony wanted to do, but she guessed it was better than being cremated by a giant fire-breathing snake. She hurried forwards and dropped to her knees, but her doubts returned when she realised how small the passage was.

"You'll pass through if you remove the bag from your shoulder," Katya told her.

Bryony shook her head. "No way."

"I've told you to ditch the hand luggage," grumbled Slinker. "This ain't a pleasure trip, in case you hadn't noticed."

Before Bryony could respond, a throaty voice rasped across the cavern.

"Oi! You can't run off without me!"

Bryony looked round in the direction of the voice. Most of the Shadow Clan had been turned to cinders. Twisted Bough stood alone whilst the Terrible Fang chased a handful of survivors across the other side of the cavern.

"Take me with you," pleaded the ugly tree. "Don't leave me here to burn."

"We're travelling light," croaked Dawes, swooping down to land next to Katya. "No room for dead wood."

"There's no respect for the elderly," groaned Twisted Bough. "Ruddy hooligans, the lot of you!"

"Into the passage," urged Katya. "Hurry, Guardian. The serpent has spied us!"

Bryony heard a loud hiss from above, and looked up to see the Terrible Fang flying towards her.

She tried wriggling through the hole, but it was already too late.

A plume of flame spouted from the serpent's mouth. Katya and Slinker leaped aside, and Dawes took to the air just in time. But Bryony was stuck half way through the hole...

There was an intense blast of heat. The cavern floor crumbled, and Bryony went tumbling into a yawning chasm that opened beneath her.

She heard a groaning noise close by, and saw the ugly tree falling with her. She managed to grab one of its twisted branches. Seconds later there was a splash, and Bryony felt droplets of icy spray peppering her face. Her fingers almost slipped from the branch, but she managed to keep hold and drag herself onto the tree trunk as it heaved and bobbed in the water.

Suddenly the tree trunk dipped sharply, as though they were falling again. There was another splash, more cold spray, and then the thunderous roar of fast flowing water.

"Hold on, Your Ladyship." Slinker's voice sounded close to her right ear. "This might be a rough ride."

Bryony looked around, but it was too dark to see the weasel, even though he was probably only a few inches away from her.

Then she heard another voice close by.

"I'm not enjoying this," mewed Katya. "I've never been keen on boating."

"I am not a boat," groaned Twisted Bough.

"You're making a very good boat at the moment." The croaky voice of Mr Dawes sounded from somewhere above them. "Indeed, it's the nearest you've come to being actually useful."

"I'm not designed for water," grumbled the ugly tree. "I could end up with barnacles."

"Don't worry," said Dawes. "They'd soon drop off you from boredom."

It was impossible to tell in the dark, but Bryony guessed they were floating down some underground river.

"Is this the way out?" she asked no one in particular. The lack of a reply suggested no one in particular knew the answer.

Finally Slinker spoke. "It must come out somewhere."

"How can you be sure?" asked Bryony.

"He can't," mewed Katya. "We could just as easily end up drowned in a bottomless pot hole within the next thirty seconds."

"If we're lucky," said Slinker. "After thirty seconds of travelling with you, I'd consider that a favourable outcome."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't eat you now," Katya purred threateningly.

There was a pause before Slinker replied. "You're more likely to float with an empty stomach?"

A sharp hiss echoed down the tunnel from behind them, audible even above the roar of rushing water.

"It's the snake!" cawed Dawes. "The Terrible Fang is on our tail!"

A spear of flame shot down the tunnel, singeing the tips of Twisted Bough's branches.

"Oi," groaned the ugly tree. "Mind the bonce!"

"She's gaining on us," shouted Slinker. "We need to go faster."

"I'm going as fast as I can," argued Twisted Bough. "It's not like I'm fitted with an outboard motor."

Just then there was a sudden surge in the river's current. The tree trunk rocked sharply from side to side, almost tossing Bryony into the raging torrent.

"Steady on," Slinker told Twisted Bough. "Now you're going too fast."

Dawes croaked a snigger. "That's the first time anyone's said that to him."

But Bryony could still hear hissing from behind them, and the swish of leathery wings growing gradually louder. Then a second jet of fire flared from the darkness. At the same moment the tree trunk pitched forwards, avoiding the flames by a hair's breadth.

"Hold on," croaked Dawes. "I think we're nearing the end of the tunnel!"

Bryony's relief lasted barely a heartbeat, until another burst of fire illuminated a wall of rock rushing towards them.

"Grab hold of something," warned Slinker. "And whatever happens, don't let go."

Bryony gripped the nearest branch, seconds before Twisted Bough's speeding trunk rammed the rock wall...

She closed her eyes at the moment of impact. There was a brutal, bone jarring jolt, a deafening crashing noise, and then a whoosh of cold air on her face.

She opened her eyes, then closed them again because everything was now white. Dazzlingly white.

"We made it!" Slinker's voice cut above the whooshing sound. "The wall was ice, not rock!"

Bryony opened her eyes again, slowly this time. She was still clinging to Twisted Bough's trunk along with Slinker and Katya. They were still travelling fast, even faster than before, but now they were sliding down a steep, snow-covered mountain.

"Oh no!" The ugly tree continued to bemoan his lot in life. "This is even worse than white water rafting."

"Frankly I'm impressed," said Dawes, still flying above them. "From boat to bobsleigh. That's practically multi-tasking."

"We've done it," meowed Katya. "We've escaped the Terrible Fang!"

Bryony looked back and saw the jagged hole they'd torn in the mountainside. It was dawn, the icy rock glowing orange in the light of the rising sun.

But then Bryony noticed the sun was hidden behind a blanket of grey cloud. So what could be causing that orange glow?

The answer came in an explosion of fire and rock as a giant black serpent burst from the mountain. The Terrible Fang spread her vast leathery wings, red eyes blazing malice as they spied her quarry on the snowy slopes below.

"The monster still gives chase!" Dawes croaked despairingly. "But how is she keeping track of us?"

Bryony noticed that Katya and Slinker were staring at her. And that she could now hear that bleeping noise again.

"The magic beacon." Slinker's single eye bored accusingly into Bryony. "She has the magic beacon."

"I don't have a magic beacon," protested Bryony. "I don't even know what..."

"Her bag." Dawes swooped low over Bryony's head. "It must be in there."

Bryony had all but forgotten about the satchel slung over her shoulder. "I don't have anything in my bag." She opened the satchel to prove it. "Except Mr Cuddles."

"That's it!" Slinker pointed to the wonky faced toy. "The beacon!"

"Don't be dumb," scowled Bryony. "Mr Cuddles isn't... hey!"

Katya had seized Mr Cuddles' left leg in her jaws, and was trying to pull him from the satchel. Bryony grabbed Mr Cuddles and pulled back.

"Leave Mr Cuddles alone," she growled at Katya. "He's my toy!"

"That ain't no toy," said Slinker. "It's a magic beacon. It's luring the snake to us. You need to ditch him, Your Ladyship."

The Terrible Fang swooped closer, her wing tips scraping slivers of ice from the mountainside. But Bryony clung on to Mr Cuddles as though her life depended on it.

"He isn't a magic beacon," she protested. "Mum made him for me."

"Precisely," said Dawes. "And we all know whose side she's on."

The words stunned Bryony, but there was no time to respond before an arc of flame seared the air above her head. Dawes squawked angrily as his tail feathers smouldered, but somehow the jackdaw avoided getting roasted alive.

"I'm beginning to enjoy this," said Twisted Bough, blissfully unaware of the impending danger. "It's actually quite relaxing."

"Let go of the toy." Slinker shouted at Bryony. "Before it's too late!"

The Terrible Fang was now almost upon them, her hot breath turning the snow all around into slush.

"I might take up skiing as a hobby." Twisted Bough spoke absently, like old trees tend to do. "At my age, mind, I can't do anything spectacular. No flashy turns or crazy jumps. Just a bit of gently downhill cruising."

Katya twisted her neck, straining to pull Mr Cuddles from Bryony's hands. There was a ripping noise as some stitches broke, and Bryony shrieked when she saw Mr Cuddles' left leg coming away from his body.

"Yes, just a gentle downhill cruise," continued Twisted Bough. "No crazy jumps. I don't think I could cope with that. By the way, is anyone steering?"

"Of course no one's steering," replied Dawes, his singed tail trailing black smoke. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I said I don't want to do any crazy jumps," said Twisted Bough. "And we're about to hit a ruddy big rock."

Bryony was too absorbed in her tug of war with Katya to notice the jagged grey hulk looming from the snow in front of them. She barely registered the fierce jolt of impact, or the fact that she was suddenly flying through the air.

Katya went with her, with Mr Cuddles' left leg still clenched in her jaws. Together they went spiralling upwards, until the last stitch finally snapped and the toy's furry limb tore away, taking Katya with it. The cream coloured cat vanished from sight, lost against an expanse of stark white sky.

Then Bryony realised it wasn't sky, but the snowy mountainside. And that she was upside down in mid-air.

But not for long.

If it weren't for the deep snow, she would surely have been dashed to bits when she landed. Instead it felt like she had fallen onto the softest feather bed. For a moment she just lay there, hugging Mr Cuddles to her chest and gazing at the sky above. But then the sky darkened, and a giant snake's head hovered over her.

"I have found you, Guardian." The Terrible Fang's red eyes smouldered as they fixed on their helpless victim. "I should have slain you when we first met. But your survival has only made me stronger."

The snake opened its huge jaws, and Bryony felt its hot breath upon her face. Then she heard a groaning noise from above, growing steadily louder...

The falling tree trunk struck the Terrible Fang's head. The serpent exhaled a hiss of pain, its red eyes rolling in their sockets, leathery wings folding as its coiling body slid limply down the mountainside.

Bryony struggled to her feet, peering down the mountain slope to watch the Terrible Fang tumbling into a deep ravine far below. The serpent's lashing tail struck a rocky outcrop, triggering an avalanche that buried the monster in a tomb of ice and snow.

"I did not enjoy that one bit," grumbled Twisted Bough, who had landed upside down next to Bryony. "I told you, I'm too old for crazy jumps."

"Oh stop whingeing." The tatty bald jackdaw settled on one of the tree's upturned roots. "You saved the day. Which means I owe you an apology. Looks like we did need some dead wood after all."

Bryony stared down into the snowy chasm, fearful those glowing red eyes might reappear.

"Relax, Your Ladyship." Slinker's head emerged from the snow beside her. "The Terrible Fang is cold blooded, needs the sun to wake her up. Under all that ice she could be snoozing for the next thousand years."

But Bryony didn't feel like celebrating.

She lifted Mr Cuddles, studying his wonky face, and listening to the bleeping from inside her battered old toy.

"Now you hear it." A cream coloured cat minced across the snow towards Bryony. "Now you understand?"

Bryony understood, all right. Mr Cuddles was the magic beacon all along.

Which meant Katya and Dawes were right. And not just about Mr Cuddles...

Bryony gritted her teeth, drew back her arm, and hurled Mr Cuddles over the side of the mountain.

Her right hand was tingling again, the same hand that had held on to Edwin as they'd shared memories at the ruined cottage. And now she knew what the tingling meant.

"You'll tell me everything." She glared at the cat. "About the Moon of Magister. And how my mum is involved."

Katya glanced at Dawes, and then nodded her feline head. "It is time you knew, Guardian. But be warned. You will not like what you hear."

Chapter 16- Junk Food

"Long ago, the Wise Ones held benevolent rule over the Realm of Magic by maintaining the Eternal Balance of Nature. Governed by the Council of the Wisest, they were forbidden from using their magic to gain personal wealth and power. They treated the sick, helped the poor and needy. Always they put the welfare of others before their own needs.

Then, about eight hundred years ago, a terrible plague scourged the land. Naturally the Wise Ones used their powers to drive the pestilence from these shores, which they succeeded in doing, but only after a terrible toll was paid in lives. Many Wise Ones were lost to the disease, including two senior members of the Council of the Wisest, husband and wife, who sacrificed themselves to save a poor family from the deadly infection.

They left an orphaned son, who was raised by the Council of the Wisest who taught him the arts of magic, at which he displayed a rare talent. He became a Guardian of Wychetts at a very young age, and in adult life rose to a high position as both a magic tutor and leading member of the Council, for which he was awarded the title of Grand Magister.

But one day everything changed. The Tome Terriblis was stolen from the library of the Wise Ones. The Grand Magister volunteered to recover it, which he did soon enough. But instead of returning the Tome to the library, he used its power for himself to strike at the Shadow Clan whom he blamed for the plague that had claimed the lives of his parents. Using the Tome in this manner went against the creed of the Wise Ones, and a delegation was sent to bring Magister to justice. But then Magister turned on the Wise Ones, too. He thought them as guilty as the Shadow Clan, that they should have saved his parents instead of allowing their sacrifice. And so Great War of Magic began."

Captain Rathbone paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"This magical conflict lasted for almost a hundred years, though most mortal humans were unaware of the conflict raging around them. Magister was a powerful enemy. He raised an army, hewn from the dregs of creation, creatures that never were and never should have been. And with that army he sought to destroy the Eternal Balance of Nature that the Wise Ones had sworn to protect."

Edwin sat in silence, hanging on every word the Captain said.

Following the ill-fated rendezvous with Bryony at the ruined cottage, the Captain had taken Edwin to one of his numerous bolt holes, this one situated beneath a rubbish tip on the outskirts of town. It was a homely den, despite the dubious smell, and was furnished with a collection of items discarded by local townspeople. The Captain sat in a large leather armchair, whilst Edwin was ensconced on a flowery sofa; it was quite comfortable, and in good condition except for a few holes and the odd suspicious stain. An old log-burning stove provided some much needed warmth, whilst a patchwork of moth eaten rugs covered the bare earth floor.

Edwin had changed from his pyjamas into more suitable clothes provided by their host, which like the sofa had seen better days. The woolly jumper had more holes than wool, and the trousers had patched up knees and a couple of missing fly buttons. He'd tried not to study the socks too much whilst he'd slipped them on, but the shoes were a good fit and didn't smell too bad considering.

Captain Rathbone had paused again, but this time longer than it took to draw breath. It seemed as though he was debating whether to continue his story.

"And?" Edwin broke his silence, eager to hear more about the Great War of Magic.

After a moment's hesitation, the Captain obliged.

"After countless clashes, the rival forces met in a massive confrontation that would become known as the Battle of Nova Luna. It was during this epic clash that Magister was finally defeated, and the Great War of Magic was brought to an end."

"But Magister got away?" Edwin was literally on the edge of his seat. "Escaped somehow?"

"Not as such." The Captain sat stroking his handlebar moustache. "The Grand Magister was badly injured, drained of all his power."

"But I've seen him," said Edwin. "Doctor Masters is Magister. You agreed it's the same man. So he must have survived."

"Impossible," the Captain mused warily. "Unless..."

"Supper's ready!" Val hobbled in from an adjoining passage, carrying a tray with a teal towel draped over it. "Sorry it isn't much, but it's all I could find in the larder."

"It is I who must apologise," said Captain Rathbone. "I should keep my supplies topped up for emergencies."

"And your kitchen could do with a tidy up," chided the old lady. "If I didn't know better, I'd say someone was bringing in rubbish sacks and throwing the contents all over the place."

"Ahem." Captain Rathbone looked a little embarrassed. "I am part fox, after all."

"Oh well, I suppose everyone needs a hobby." Val placed the tray on a battered old coffee table between the armchair and sofa, before whipping off the tea towel with a flourish. "Don't stand on ceremony. Tuck in."

Captain Rathbone obliged, but Edwin stayed his hand.

"Aren't you hungry?" asked Val, scowling at him through her glasses.

"I was." Edwin could have eaten a horse until a few seconds beforehand. "It's just... um..." He did his best to be diplomatic. "What is it?"

"It's food," replied Val, lowering herself onto the sofa beside him.

Edwin wasn't so sure about that. He'd never seen food like this before, at least outside of a dustbin.

"That's dried banana skin." Val pointed at the contents of the tray with her walking stick. "That's a slice of mouldy bacon. That's a half-eaten beef burger, and those are chocolate fingers."

Edwin grimaced. "They look more like dead slugs to me."

"He's right," said the Captain, who was already chewing one of the thin brown morsels. "Definitely slug."

Val sampled one herself. "So they are." She nodded approvingly. "Ready salted, too."

Edwin couldn't hide his disgust. "I'm not eating this junk," he muttered. "Couldn't you pop to the shops to get some real food?"

"They're all shut because of the weather," explained Val. "There's six foot deep snow drifts out there. So eat what you're given. Or find yer own food."

"I would recommend the furniture." A mouse head popped out of a hole in the arm of the sofa. "Best fire retardant foam I've tasted in years."

"Actually lad, you might be in luck." Val picked up her handbag from the floor and rummaged around inside it. "Think I packed some grub before I left the house. Aha. Here we are!"

Edwin's expectations faded when he saw what the old lady thrust towards him.

"One of my home made scones," Val grinned. "Go on, get stuck in."

Edwin had sampled Val's home baking before, and remembered that getting 'stuck in' had resulted in several visits to the dentist.

He declined the offer with a polite smile. "Thinking about it, I'm not that hungry. Don't feel like eating without news of Bryony."

"I understand," said Val with a nod. "But don't worry, I'm sure the Captain's scouts will bring good news shortly."

Edwin wished he could share the old lady's optimism. But as he replayed events in his mind, his concern for his stepsister only deepened.

He'd pursued Bryony from the cottage in an attempt to make her see reason, but then he'd caught sight of his mother in the lane. Mindful that she might be under Doctor Master's influence, Edwin had retreated to watch events unfold from the shadows alongside Captain Rathbone. He'd seen Bill crash his car into Mum's, and then watched in horror as Doctor Masters and Bryony's mother had arrived in the ambulance.

He wasn't sure what had happened next, except that Bryony had vanished before his eyes. At first he thought it was some trick of Doctor Masters, but the hawk-nosed man's furious reaction had suggested otherwise. He'd roared with rage, transforming into three wolf-like hounds that split up to sniff around the lane.

Although naturally concerned for Bryony, at that point Edwin had no choice but to agree with the Captain's suggestion of a tactical withdrawal. Luckily they had fled the scene before the dogs could pick up their scent, but Edwin had listened anxiously for the sound of barking as they'd traversed the snow swept countryside on their way to the rendezvous point with Val and Stubby.

The mission had failed. It had been a long shot after all, hoping that Bryony would turn up out of the blue at the ruined cottage. But turn up she did, albeit at the invitation of an unknown party. Edwin had asked Captain Rathbone who might have sent her that scrawled map, but had been told it would be unwise to speculate without further evidence. He suspected that meant the Captain didn't know. Or that he knew, but for some reason wouldn't say. All of which had done little to allay Edwin's concern for Bryony.

But he knew there was nothing he could do except wait. The Captain had scouts posted all over the countryside, it was only a matter of time before news, good or bad, came through.

So Edwin tried to ignore the anxious ache in his gut, and instead returned his attention to the Captain's brief on their enemy. He'd known that Magister, with the unwitting help of Malady Maddergrub, had stolen the Tome Terriblis from the Library of the Wise Ones. But up till now he'd never heard about the Great War of Magic, let alone this battle of 'Nova Luna'. He wondered if the strange words meant anything specific, and waited until the Captain had polished off another dried slug before asking that very question.

"That's old language." It was Val who answered, chewing noisily on the blackened banana skin. "Means 'New Moon'."

"The Battle of the New Moon." Edwin wrinkled his nose. "Why was it called that?"

"Presumably because of when it took place," said Stubby, flicking crumbs of furniture foam from his whiskers. "The point in the lunar cycle."

"That is what most people believe," said Val. "But some say there is another reason for the name. A reason kept secret by the Wise Ones ever since that fateful day, along with all those who witnessed the terrible event."

"Mere speculation," snapped Captain Rathbone. "No one can know what happened unless they were there."

Edwin saw a haunted look in the Captain's amber eyes, and he knew what it meant.

"You were there, weren't you? You saw what happened."

Captain Rathbone looked away, his jaw clenched tight.

"I'm right." Edwin was sure of it. "When we first met, you told me you'd served in all three world wars. Now I know what you meant. You fought in World War One and Two, and the Great War of Magic."

"As did many." The Captain still evaded Edwin's gaze. "There was no choice. The Eternal Balance of Nature was at risk. The Realm of Magic faced total destruction."

Edwin didn't feel the Captain had to justify his involvement in the War, but there was one thing he wanted to know.

"So why was it called the Battle of the New Moon? What's the big secret? Tell me, Captain."

"He can't," squeaked Stubby. "It wouldn't be a secret if he went around telling every Tom Dick and Harry."

"I'm not a Tom or a Dick or a Harry," argued Edwin. "I'm a Guardian of Wychetts, a descendant of the Wise Ones. I've got a right to know."

"The secret was to be shared with no one," snarled the Captain. "Not even the descendants of the Wise Ones. For to reveal it would be to call into question everything they stood for."

Edwin shrank back, shocked by the ferocity of the Captain's response. But Val looked up, tipped her spectacles forward, and stared challengingly at their host. "Surely the time has come to tell the boy? It's too late for secrets now."

Captain Rathbone lowered his head, deep in thought. Silence fell, and Edwin shifted uncomfortably on the sofa for what seemed a lifetime before the Captain looked up to face him.

He may have been about to speak, but a high-pitched whistle diverted everyone's attention.

"The telephone." Captain Rathbone sprang from his armchair and bounded across the room. "My scouts must have news of Miss Bryony."

Heart in mouth, Edwin watched as the Captain drew one end of a podgy earthworm from a hole in the wall.

"That's how he gets his news," Stubby told a puzzled looking Val. "The earthworms form an underground communications network."

"He must get a lot of news," pondered Val. "It's a very fat worm."

Stubby nodded. "That'll be broadband."

Captain Rathbone raised a hand for silence, holding the tip of the worm to his ear. His expression was grave as he listened. Then he drew the worm from his ear and spoke into its tip. "Keep me posted on any developments. Over and out."

"Well?" Edwin held his breath as the Captain stuffed the worm back into the wall. "Any news about Bryony?"

"I am afraid not." The Captain walked glumly back to his armchair. "The worsening weather conditions are hampering my scouts' operations."

"Do you think that's something to do with Doctor Masters as well?" wondered Edwin. "Part of his plan?"

Captain Rathbone stroked his chin whilst pondering the question. "The bad weather itself may not be Doctor Masters' plan, but his plan might be causing it. Remember the Wise Ones used their magic to maintain the Eternal Balance of Nature, therefore..."

"When Albany stole Wychetts' magic, that could have destroyed the Balance." Edwin nodded. Things were starting to add up. "And that's what's caused the bad weather."

"I fear the effects may be more far reaching than that," said Stubby. "Remember what happened with the Tome Terriblis?"

"And the Thunderstone," added Val. "The whole world was nearly flooded."

"Hey." A sudden thought struck Edwin. "Did anyone notice the moon today? It looked different to normal. Bigger. Maybe..."

His sentence was cut off by another burst of shrill whistling.

This time Edwin was the first to react. He scrambled over the back of the sofa, and had yanked the fat worm from its hole in the wall before the Captain had risen from his armchair.

"Captain Rathbone's office," he said to the tip of the worm. "Do you have anything to report?"

He slid the tip of the worm into his ear, ignoring the cold and slimy sensation as he waited for news of Bryony.

There was a pause before a female voice answered.

"This isn't the good Captain. To whom am I speaking?"

The line was crackly, but Edwin thought he recognised the lady's purring tones.

Captain Rathbone was at Edwin's side, gesturing for the worm. But Edwin wanted to hear the message himself, so he drew the worm from his ear and pressed the tip to his mouth again.

"I'm Edwin, friend and ally of Captain Rathbone."

"Oh yes," said the female voice. "Thought I recognised you. The girl's stepbrother."

The girl. That could only be...

"Bryony!" Edwin almost bit the worm in his excitement. "Do you know where she is?"

"I can provide you with her exact location," purred the voice. "But only on one condition."

That surprised Edwin. He'd assumed the caller was one of the Captain's agents. But now he was beginning to suspect otherwise.

And then Edwin remembered where he'd heard the purring voice before.

"Katya Pauncefoot!" He almost dropped the worm from shock. "What have you done with Bryony? Tell me, you evil..."

"On one condition," Katya repeated firmly.

Captain Rathbone reached out, but Edwin turned away, shielding the worm as he spoke.

"I'm not making bargains." He'd heard people say similar things on TV cop shows when negotiating hostage releases, only they were speaking into telephones, not worms. "Just tell me where she is."

There was a meowed chuckle in response. "You are in no position to make demands, Guardian. Not when your stepsister's life is at stake."

Edwin gulped. He glanced sideways, meeting Captain Rathbone's amber gaze.

The Captain nodded slowly.

"So what's your condition?" Edwin slid the worm into his ear again, holding his breath as he waited for an answer.

He'd no idea what Katya Pauncefoot might demand from him, but her response was the last thing he'd expected...

"You help us rescue her."

Chapter 17- Welcome Home, Poppet

It was snowing even harder now, a blizzard of fluffy goose feathers that swirled in the chill gusting breeze. The ground was smothered in a white blanket, ankle deep and thickening by the second, turning what should have been familiar into a vague, indistinct world.

Bryony wiped the frosted snow from a road sign to check she was in the right place. But even though the sign confirmed her location, she struggled to recognise the house in front of her. But this had to be it, there was no way she could have made a mistake. Not when using magic.

She felt another tingle in her right hand. She didn't know if the magic had been there all along, or whether Edwin had somehow passed it to her when they'd joined hands at the ruined cottage. But it was there now, the same soft prickling she used to feel when holding the Wychetts Key. If only she'd realised earlier, she could have escaped from the Shadow Clan before the Terrible Fang had attacked the lair. Katya and Dawes had known all along, but they hadn't told her for fear she'd use the magic against them.

But right now Bryony couldn't care less about the Shadow Clan or Wychetts, or even the fate of the whole wide world. There was only one thing on her mind, one thing that had brought her back to Mossy Glade Close. One thing she needed to know more than anything else.

Her home, or rather the house that had once been her home, looked like it hadn't been occupied for months, years even. The windows, or at least those without sheets of chipboard nailed over them, were cracked and grimy. The once pristine walls were daubed with graffiti, whilst the front garden was a bed of weeds that protruded from the snow like coils of barbed wire. She couldn't believe this was the beautiful house she'd left only the day before.

The wind strengthened, sending the falling snowflakes into a frenzied flurry. Bryony had magicked a change of clothes to match the worsening weather: a thick padded coat, a woolly hat with matching scarf and gloves, and a pair of snug, fur-lined snow boots. But she felt a terrible chill inside, a clammy coldness that even the warmest of winter outfits couldn't keep at bay.

Because now she knew for sure. The evidence was right in front of her.

It had all been an illusion, a magic spell concocted by Doctor Masters to fool her. Bryony's perfect life in her perfect home with her perfect parents wasn't real. This ruined shell of a house was the reality.

But it seemed her magic journey had been wasted. It was obvious Mum wasn't at home. No one could be living in a wreck like that.

Then she caught movement in an upstairs window, a glimpse of blonde hair through a cracked pane of glass.

Bryony's heartbeat quickened. Part of her didn't want to go through with this. It would be painful, she knew. But she wanted answers, and there was only one way to get them.

She padded across the snow-covered drive to reach the front door. The letterbox was stuffed with junk mail, and there was a jagged hole where the lock had been. Bryony reached for the doorbell, only to find a torn sprig of wire instead of a polished brass button. She tried knocking instead.

There was no response. Bryony was certain she'd glimpsed Mum upstairs, so knocked harder. The door moved slightly under the impact of her knuckles, and Bryony realised it had been left ajar.

She pushed the door open. A forlorn squeal of rusty hinges echoed down the dingy hallway.

"Mum?" Bryony called out as she stepped inside, her anxious breath escaping in curls of coiling steam. "Mum, it's me."

It's me. She had used those words every evening on arriving home from school. Usually Mum hadn't been around to hear them, either out shopping or at the beauticians. Usually it was Dad who answered, smiling cheerfully as he welcomed his daughter home.

Poor Dad. He was involved in this too, but not like Mum. He was innocent, as much a victim of events as Bryony herself. So where was he now? That was another question Bryony had for her mother.

"Mum?" She padded down the hallway. The oak wood flooring had warped, and there was a horrible musty smell that got worse with every step, forcing Bryony to hold her breath. She mounted the stairs, the sagging treads creaking underfoot, the wooden banister wobbling in her grasp.

Bryony froze on the top step. She could hear a voice, muffled but familiar. Her mother's voice. She stepped onto the landing, tracing the sound to her own bedroom.

She stood in front of the door. It was grimy and stained, but she could still see the outline of glittery letters that had been glued on when she was just a baby.

"Bryony's Room."

And below, scrawled in faded red felt tip, more words. Words that made her gasp with shock:

HORRID MUM I HATE YOU.

It was a child's handwriting, but Bryony couldn't imagine what could have driven any child to write such words. It was obvious that whoever had lived here after she'd moved out must have had serious family problems.

Then she caught her mother's voice again, murmuring softly as though to a small child.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Poppet. It's only the moon."

Bryony gripped the door handle. Her hand was trembling, and it took all her strength to open the door. Heart pounding, she entered her old bedroom.

It was nothing like she remembered it. There was no furniture, just a square of stained carpet littered with old newspapers, empty drink cans and other assorted rubbish. The once beautiful wallpaper was shredded in patches, and scarred with more lurid graffiti.

The window had been shattered, the jagged glass framing a view of the churning sky. Then the snow blizzard abated, the clouds parting to reveal a shining disc of silver. Bryony stared at the moon, wondering how it looked so much larger than she'd ever seen it before. Then she heard a voice singing to her from a long time ago...

"I see the moon and the moon sees me,

Shining through the boughs of the old dead tree.

Oh, let the light that shines on me,

Shine on the one I love."

The voice seemed to come from all around her, like a distorted echo through time. She wheeled round, but there was no one behind her. Then Bryony turned back to see a woman at the window with her back turned, her long blonde hair fluttering in the chill breeze that wafted through the broken glass.

Bryony took a step towards the woman, who turned to smile at her. For a fleeting moment Bryony was looking at her mother's face, then the vision shimmered and she found herself staring in disbelief at her white haired double.

Albany's pretty lips twisted into a smirk. "Welcome home, Poppet."

Chapter 18- A Nice Sisterly Chat

"Where's Mum?" snapped Bryony. "I want to see her."

"She left," smirked Albany, her dark liquid eyes studying Bryony intently. "Surely you remember that morning, waking up to find she'd gone?"

"Of course I remember. But that was years ago, and she came back to me. I want to talk to her. And where's Dad, for that matter?"

"Don't know. Somewhere." Albany shrugged. "But never mind. Now the grown-ups have gone, it leaves us alone to have a nice sisterly chat."

"You're not my sister," snarled Bryony. "But I know what you are."

"I doubt that," Albany chuckled. "But give it a stab if you like."

"You're bad news. Things went wrong when you showed up at Wychetts."

"Went wrong?" Even when Albany frowned she still looked annoyingly pretty. "But I thought you wanted to come home and live with Mother. I thought you wanted your old life back."

"I did," admitted Bryony. "For a long time. But I had a new home."

"There was nothing new about Wychetts," Albany pointed out. "It didn't have a fitted kitchen. And the bathroom was downstairs, remember?"

"I got used to that."

"And you had to share that hovel with your annoying whiney ginger stepbrother and his annoying smiley mother. It was like living in the middle of a pelican crossing. And that talking fireplace. What a bore he was. Never answered any of your questions, did he?"

Bryony frowned. "How do you know all this?"

"It's all in here." Albany tapped her forehead. "Our minds are connected. Your experiences are my experiences. It's like telepathy. You know what that is, don't you?"

"Of course I do," said Bryony. "Telepathy is when people can read minds." Then she thought of something that made her smile. "Which proves you can't be telepathic. Because if you were, you would have known that I knew what telepathy was."

"Fair point," conceded Albany. "But then I knew you were going to say that."

Bryony couldn't think of a witty reply to that one. So she fired another question at her fair-haired twin.

"Just tell me who you are."

"OK," agreed Albany. "And I'll keep it simple. After all, I know how you struggle to keep up with things. That's the downside of sharing your mind. It isn't big enough for both of us."

Bryony gritted her teeth. She'd like nothing more than to wipe that smirk from Albany's face, but wanted to know what she was dealing with first.

"So here goes." Albany took a deep breath. "Putting it simply... I'm you."

"You can't be me," said Bryony. "I'm me."

"Maybe that was putting it too simply. I'm not you, but a different version of you. Say, I'm Bryony Version One Dot Two."

"One Dot Two?"

"An upgrade. The version of Bryony you've always wanted to be. Prettier, cleverer. And dare I say it..." Albany leaned forwards to whisper "... slimmer."

Bryony scowled. "Are you saying I'm..."

"Just look at me." Albany performed a flawless pirouette. "Haven't you always wanted to be like this? With real fair hair instead of having to dye it."

"I don't dye my hair." Bryony snatched her thick winter hat off to prove it, but gasped when she saw her reflection in the small mirror that Albany was holding up to her. "My hair..." She realised what had been bugging her when she'd studied her reflection the day before. "It's blonde!"

"Sort of proves my point." Albany turned the mirror round to inspect her own reflection. "You've always wanted to be like me. Still, can't say I blame you."

"I've never wanted to be you. You're a freak." Even as she said it, Bryony felt a twinge of guilt. There were plenty of reasons to hate Albany, but she supposed the girl couldn't help having such a tragic illness.

"You mean the age thing?" Albany waved her hand and the mirror vanished. "It's not really a genetic defect. It's how the spell was meant to work."

"Spell?"

"I was made for a reason. Thought you might have worked it out by now."

"Worked what out?"

"Sorry. Keep forgetting I'm cleverer than you. As well as prettier."

"Just tell me."

"And slimmer, let's not forget."

"Tell me now!"

"Afraid there isn't time." Albany glanced at the moon through the broken window. "There's a big night ahead, and he's going to need my help."

Bryony knew whom Albany meant. "Doctor Masters. You're something to do with him."

"Duh!" Albany rolled her eyes. "It took a while, but we got there in the end."

"He asked Mum to look after you. You're part of his plans."

"Very much. And so are you. Along with dearest Mother."

"She isn't your mum," hissed Bryony.

"She raised me, and loves me as her daughter. Better than her own daughter."

"No she doesn't. I'm her real daughter. She loves me more than anything."

"How do you know? Has she ever told you?"

"Sure. Loads of times."

"Like when, to be exact?"

"Well..." Bryony bit her lip, trying to recall the last time she'd heard Mum say those words.

She could remember Mum telling her lots of things. That she should spend more time brushing her hair, that she should try harder to colour-co-ordinate her clothes, that fighting with boys isn't very lady-like, that she shouldn't drop her aitches because people might think she lived on the lower class housing estate where people had shared driveways, and many other important things.

But try as she might, Bryony couldn't remember Mum saying that she loved her.

"She didn't have to tell me." Bryony tried her best to sound confident of the fact. "I know she loves me, and she knows I love her, too."

"Oh sure." Albany sneered sarcastically. "Because you told her that loads of times, too."

"I..." Again, Bryony couldn't reply with any certainty. "Of course I did."

"Then why did she walk out on you?" Albany's impeccable eyebrows arched doubtfully. "If you mean so much to her, how could she have left you, without even saying goodbye?"

That was a question Bryony had asked herself every day for years. But to hear it spoken aloud made her blood run cold.

"But you mustn't blame her," continued Albany. "It wasn't her fault. It was all down to you. You're the home wrecker, not dearest Mother."

Bryony felt a surge of anger. "What are you talking about? You don't know what happened."

"It's all in here." Albany tapped her head again. "Those five little words."

"What five little words?"

Albany clicked her fingers. The bedroom door flew open, slamming hard against the wall. And there, in red felt tip, Bryony saw those five words again...

HORRID MUM I HATE YOU.

"So very hurtful," sighed Albany. "Reckon that was the final straw for poor Mother."

"I never wrote that." Bryony shook her head. "That's a little kid's writing."

"You were younger then, remember. Look here." Albany magicked a tatty exercise book from nowhere. "Your English book from Year Three." She waved the opened book in front of Bryony. "A perfect match. You never did learn to hold a pen properly."

As Bryony matched the letters on the door to her old school book, she saw there were similarities to her younger handwriting. But then she realised what must have happened.

"You wrote them. Just now."

Albany looked offended. "My writing's much neater than that." She flicked her hand and the exercise book vanished. "Anyway, you can't deny it. I know everything that happened. How you drove poor Mother away."

"It wasn't like that." Though Bryony denied it, a memory flashed in her mind of her standing in front of her bedroom door, holding a red felt tip pen.

"I know you remember," whispered Albany. "You just can't face the truth of it."

"No." Bryony put her hands to her head. "It wasn't... I never..."

But now she couldn't be certain.

Had it happened like that? Was that why Mum had left home?

Because Bryony had written those horrible words on her bedroom door?

"And do you know what makes it worse?" There was an almost pitying look on Albany's face now. "Doctor Masters gave you a chance to put it right, to have a happy life with Mother. But this time you ran away. You ruined everything. All over again."

"But that wasn't real," croaked Bryony, now struggling to keep her emotions in check. "It was just a magic illusion."

"You're right, at least about that. It wasn't real, it was better than real. A better life than you had before. And that's what Doctor Masters wanted for you, as a way of saying thanks. Thanks to the one who found him in the Dungeon of Dreams. Whose fear and anger connected with him, who made him remember who he was."

"But that wasn't the real Magister. That was all just a dream."

Once again Albany's lips twisted into that searing smirk. "Dream magic is very powerful. Dreams can become reality."

"So you're a dream, too?" Bryony wondered if the white haired girl was just another illusion.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm very real." Albany patted her right thigh. "Part of this world, just like you. Only cleverer and prettier, of course. And slimmer. Have I mentioned that I'm slimmer?"

"Only several hundred times," muttered Bryony.

"That's why dearest Mother loves me so much. So much more than she loves you. But then why should she love someone who'd been so cruel to her?" Albany's dark eyes swivelled to the bedroom door. "Five little words that caused so much hurt."

Bryony still couldn't fully remember writing those terrible words, but what else would have made Mum walk out on her? She didn't want to cry in front of Albany, but she couldn't stop a surge of tears.

"Oh dear, you're upset." Albany's pretty lips pursed in mock concern. "But don't worry, I've got a plan to make things better." She leaned forwards, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I'm going to bring dearest Mother back."

"Back where?" sniffled Bryony.

"Here, thicko. Home to Mossy Glade Close. And your father, too. It'll be just like old times. Except much better, naturally. And... oh. I've forgotten something. Part of the plan. The best part, too." Albany tapped her pretty chin. "That's what comes of being lumbered with your brain. Not big enough for all my brilliant thoughts. Did I mention I'm cleverer than you?"

"You can't bring Mum back here. Look at the place. It's a dump. And if you reckon Mum doesn't love me, what makes you think she'd want to live with me again?"

"You idiot." Albany chuckled. "You're not coming back here to live with Mother. But I am, instead of you. How's that for a brilliant plan, huh?"

"You can do what you want." Bryony was past caring now. "As long as I never see you again."

"Just as well," pondered Albany. "Because I've just remembered the best bit of my brilliant plan. I get to live here with dearest Mother. Whilst you... get squished."

"Squished?"

"Squished." Albany raised her right hand, clamping her thumb and forefinger together. "Just like the irritating little insect you are. And I'm going to do the squishing. Here and now. But don't worry, I'll make it quick. Ish."

"You can't kill me." Bryony wiped away her tears, staring defiantly back at her fair-haired twin. "I'm a Guardian of Wychetts."

"Wychetts has gone," Albany reminded her. "You're a Guardian of nothing."

"Wychetts might be gone, but there's still some magic left." Bryony pointed her right hand at Albany. "Edwin transferred some power to me when we met at the burned out cottage. It should be more than enough to wipe that smirk from your face."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that." Albany levelled her own right hand at Bryony. "You may have some of Wychetts magic. But I have basically all of it." The tip of Albany's finger pulsed with white light. "It's still inside me. And I'm itching to use it. Now what would you prefer: being turned into a toad and then squished, or being squished and then turned into a toad? I'm easy either way."

"A toad?" Bryony kept her finger aimed at Albany whilst edging back towards the opened door. "Surely a clever girl like you can come up with something more creative?"

"Of course I can." Albany's brow furrowed. "Just give me a few seconds to..."

Bryony seized her chance, firing a bolt of magic energy straight at Albany. It wasn't a very powerful bolt of magic, and Albany blocked it with a simple wave of her hand. But it gave Bryony valuable seconds to make her escape.

Or so she thought.

She bolted from the room and galloped down the stairs, jumping the final three steps as she raced for the front door.

Only to find Albany standing in her way.

"Good try, Sis. But you'll have to do better than that. Now where were we? Ah yes, I was thinking of a more creative way to squish you."

Bryony didn't wait to find out whether Albany had thought of something. She turned and sprinted down the hallway, past the stairs and into the kitchen. The once beautiful room was as derelict as the rest of the house, but Bryony paid scant regard to the state of the décor as she made for the back door.

Only to find the smirking Albany had beaten her to it.

"Maggots. It should involve maggots. And cold baked beans. Is that creative enough for you?"

Bryony wheeled round, but the door to the hallway slammed shut on its own.

"Then again..." mused Albany, "maybe you don't deserve anything too grand or innovative. Think I'll just zap you into dust with a flick of the wrist."

Bryony swung back to face Albany, raising her hand to fire another bolt of magic. But this time nothing happened except a few feeble sparks. The tingling in her hand faded, and she knew her powers were spent.

Albany laughed, aiming her glowing forefinger at Bryony...

Chapter 19- Bye Bye, Sis

Bryony screamed and dropped to her knees.

"You're pathetic," Albany sneered. "No wonder it was so easy to steal Wychetts' power with useless Guardians like you around."

Albany's words stung Bryony. But then she thought of something.

"There's two of us." She looked up to challenge Albany's triumphant gaze. "You've forgotten about Edwin. If anything happens to me, he'll come looking for you."

The threat prompted a peal of mocking laughter.

"That carrot headed weed is even more of a joke than you," chortled Albany. "Besides, what makes you think he gives a stuff about his stepsister?"

Bryony caught a flash of movement behind Albany's right shoulder, and couldn't keep the smile from her face as she replied.

"Because he's standing behind you."

"Oh really?" Albany rolled her eyes. "As if I'd fall for..."

There was a whooshing sound, followed by a flash of blinding light. Then Albany was flying through the air, exhaling a yelp of surprise before she slammed into the kitchen wall.

Such a blow would have seriously injured most people. But in this case the wall came off worse.

Bryony gawped at the Albany shaped hole in the wall. Then she turned to gawp at her stepbrother.

"Sorry," grimaced Edwin, lowering his hand.

"It's OK," said Bryony. "Mum always wanted to knock through to the dining room."

"No, I meant for not getting here sooner." Edwin hurried over to Bryony, concern etched on his freckled face. "You've been crying. Did she hurt you?"

Bryony shook her head. Then her bottom lip wobbled, and she felt another burst of the sobs coming on. So she did the only thing she could, throwing her arms around Edwin and giving him the hardest hug she'd ever given anyone in her life.

It took Edwin a few shocked seconds before he got round to hugging Bryony back. He was surprised to feel how much she was shaking. Something bad had happened, that much was obvious.

Suddenly Bryony withdrew, wrinkling her nose with disgust.

"What's that stink?"

"That'll be the coat," explained Edwin. "Came from a rubbish dump."

Bryony tried not to inhale. "Have you checked to see if there's anything nasty in the pockets?"

"Just him," said Edwin, as Stubby's little head emerged from his inside his jacket.

"You nearly suffocated me," complained the mouse, his whiskers all bent. "Whatever happened to a good old fashioned handshake? If I'd known it was going to get so huggy, I would have relocated to alternative accommodation."

"Glad to see you, too." Bryony smiled at Stubby. Then she laughed, and Edwin laughed too. But the laughter stopped when they saw a white haired head emerging through the hole in the kitchen wall.

"So I was wrong," said Albany. She looked unhurt, and as immaculate as ever. "The weedy boy does care about his stepsister after all. But never mind." She smiled and pointed her finger at Edwin. "Gives me the chance to polish off both Guardians together. Two for the price of one."

"How about three?"

Albany's dark eyes swivelled in the direction of the voice, widening with surprise when she saw a grey haired old lady wearing tortoise shell glasses and a fawn cardigan had materialised in the kitchen.

"Harm so much as one hair on their heads, and you'll have me to answer to." Val raised her walking stick threateningly. "And be warned, I double-dosed on my vitamin supplement this morning."

"Ooh I'm scared." Albany feigned a terrified expression. "But don't worry. I'll get round to you in a minute, grandma."

"You'll have me to deal with first." A beautiful blonde haired woman wearing a cream coat and a diamond collar stepped out of the shadows, her green eyes flashing threateningly. "It appears you have underestimated the size of your opponents' forces."

"You don't scare me." Albany's finger twitched towards Katya Pauncefoot. "After I've finished with you, I'll be walking out of here wearing those diamonds and a nice new pair of cat fur snow boots."

"Come now, ladies." An auburn haired gentleman with a handlebar moustache emerged from behind Albany. "I'm sure we can resolve this disagreement without recourse to violence."

"Maybe, but that wouldn't be much fun." Albany span round to point at Captain Rathbone. "So it looks like five for the price of one. What a bargain."

"How about six?" A tatty bald bird was perched on the butler sink. "And a half, if you count old maggoty drawers here."

A dead tree with an ugly old man's face glared through the kitchen window. "You underestimate me at your peril," Twisted Bough warned Albany. "I can more than hold my own in a hand to hand fight. Well, a hand to twig fight, seeing as I don't have any hands."

"My oh my." Albany turned back to Bryony. "Quite an army you've got here."

"I don't technically have any arms either," continued Twisted Bough. "But..."

"You are outnumbered, Miss Albany." Captain Rathbone addressed the white haired girl. "It would be wise to lower your hand."

"You don't scare me." Albany's arm swung round to point at her opponents in turn. "I have all of Wychetts' magic at my fingertips."

"Not all of it," Edwin reminded her. "We still have some."

"No more than a tiny drop." Albany's finger jerked towards Edwin. "And no match for me. I could destroy all of you here and now without even breaking sweat. In fact, I never sweat. That's how perfect I am."

"But you know that isn't possible," said Captain Rathbone. "You may have possession of Wychetts' magic, but that magic cannot be used to destroy or harm any living creature. The Wise Ones forbade it."

"The Wise Ones are long dead," sneered Albany. "And it's not Wychetts' magic anymore. It's my magic, and I can do what I like with it."

"That isn't strictly true," croaked Dawes. "You are Doctor Masters' servant, bound to his will by the magical process of your creation."

Albany's smirk quivered, her hand reaching for the leaf shaped pendant at her throat. "You don't know anything about that. How could you know about that?"

"Doctor Masters enlisted the services of one of the Shadow Clan's most esteemed members," revealed Katya. "A sorceress famed for her knowledge of plant magic."

"Plant magic?" Edwin looked questioningly at Katya. "What's that got to do with Albany?"

"Everything," Katya purred. "Because that's basically what she is."

Bryony wrinkled her nose. "She's a plant?"

"A plant root to be precise," said Dawes. "The root of the most powerful herb known to magic."

"Of course." Captain Rathbone nodded knowingly. "Bryonia alba. Commonly known as 'white bryony'."

"It's a plant," said Edwin, in response to Bryony's puzzled frown. "See that pendant she's wearing? That's a white bryony leaf. The pendant I gave to you was a black bryony leaf."

Bryony instinctively reached for her neck, then remembered guiltily that she'd thrown her pendant away.

"There are two species of bryony," Katya clarified. "Black bryony has basic magical properties, but white bryony is prized by magical experts around the world. Its root is anthropomorphic, and..."

"Anthro-what?" Bryony frowned again.

"Anthropomorphic." Edwin had heard the word before. "Means it looks like a human being."

"Correct," said Dawes. "But in its natural state, a white bryony root is only a vague representation of the human form. At this stage it is known as a 'poppet'."

"Poppet." Bryony swallowed. "That was Mum's nickname for me."

"It takes a highly skilled magician to transform a crude poppet into the living image of another person," Katya went on. "Certain personal items are required from the subject who is to be copied. Such as a strand of their hair, a fingernail clipping, and the first tear they shed as a baby."

Bryony gasped. "Doctor Masters worked at the hospital where I was born. He could easily have collected those ingredients."

"And he did," confirmed Dawes. "For he knew that if those items were planted with the white bryony root, it would grow into a flawless duplicate of you."

"Better than flawless," said Albany. "You certainly know your stuff," she acknowledged Katya and Dawes with a slow, sarcastic handclap. "I assume you also know the poppet had to remain in the ground for ten years, after which it could only be dug up under the light of the moon on the last hour of a Quarter Day. And about the terrible price that had to be paid for raising a poppet from the earth."

"The soul of the first living creature it saw." Katya's eyes narrowed. "So was the fate of the sorceress who helped him. For she was tricked by Doctor Masters into surrendering her soul so that his poppet could live."

"So you knew about this all the time." Captain Rathbone rounded on Katya. "You knew what Doctor Masters was up to."

"We only found out after the poppet was raised," countered Katya. "And even then we couldn't be sure what Doctor Masters was planning, or even who he was. It was only when we saw the vision in the sky above Barrenbrake Farm, and heard the words of the prophecy spoken aloud, that we knew what must be coming. That's why we stole the Thunderstone to help us obtain Rainbow Magic. It was to be our weapon in the coming war. But our plans failed, thanks to the Guardians of Wychetts."

"Our pleasure," said Edwin, not feeling a smidgen of guilt. "But you just mentioned some prophecy. What's that all about?"

Katya pursed her lips and said nothing. Dawes angled his beaky face to the corner of the room. Captain Rathbone clenched his jaw. No one, it seemed, was prepared to answer.

Except Albany.

"I know this one!" She raised her arm like an eager pupil. "The Wise Ones made the prophecy themselves, right after the Battle of Nova Luna. You know about the battle, right?"

Edwin nodded. "That was where the Great War of Magic ended, when Magister was finally beaten by the Wise Ones."

"That's not right," said Bryony, who had been briefed by Katya following their escape from the Terrible Fang. "It was the Shadow Clan who beat Magister at Nova Luna."

Albany nodded. "Actually, you're both right. The Wise Ones and the Shadow Clan both fought Magister at Nova Luna. They'd teamed up, you see. It was all very chummy."

"Is she right?" Edwin stared searchingly at Captain Rathbone. "Did you join forces with the Shadow Clan?"

The Captain said nothing, but the uneasy glance he exchanged with Katya was enough to answer the question.

Edwin was horrified as the truth dawned on him. "You teamed up with the Shadow Clan. How could you?"

"The Eternal Balance of Nature was at risk," explained the Captain, head hung in shame. "In such a dire situation we had no choice. Combining our armies was the only way to defeat our common enemy."

That wasn't good enough for Edwin. "But the Shadow Clan are evil! The forces of darkness itself!"

"What is light without darkness?" purred Katya. "What is day without night? We were, and remain, as much part of the Elemental Balance as the Wise Ones."

Val pointed her walking stick at Edwin. "And before you judge the Captain too harshly, don't forget why we're here in the first place. It was the Shadow Clan who led us to Bryony, and you were happy enough to team up with them to rescue her."

"I wasn't happy at all," Edwin pointed out. "And I only agreed to a temporary truce."

"Of course you did," said Albany. "Because you're a man of honour, Edwin. And you'd never make friends with evil swine like the Shadow Clan. But if you did, because you were faced with a dire situation and had no choice, I'm sure you'd have the decency to tell your friends about it."

Edwin scowled at the Captain. "So why didn't you tell me?"

"I..." Captain Rathbone couldn't seem to answer. "Well..."

"Oh dear." Albany shook her head. "And I thought he was supposed to be your friend. Still, I bet there's more he hasn't come clean about. Like what happened to Magister after the battle."

"He wouldn't tell me," said Edwin, still staring at the Captain.

"Katya wouldn't tell me either," recalled Bryony. "Seems like it's some kind of secret."

"That's exactly what it is," said Albany. "A really big secret that no-one's supposed to know." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But I do."

"Miss Albany." Captain Rathbone's voice was sharp, almost anxious. "You will not speak of this."

"You can't stop me," hissed Albany. "And surely the Guardians have a right to know. Or are you worried they won't like that they've been lied to?"

"What secret?" Bryony's gaze flickered from Albany to the Captain. "What does she mean we've been lied to?"

"You must pay no credence to that creature's words." Captain Rathbone jabbed a finger at Albany. "She was created to deceive. She will try and drive us apart. She will..."

Albany clicked her fingers, and the Captain fell silent as his body froze. Katya froze too, and everyone else in the room except Bryony and Edwin.

"That's better," said Albany. "And don't worry, I haven't hurt them. They can still see and hear everything, only they can't keep butting in whenever they feel like it."

"Good move," said Stubby with an approving twitch of his whiskers. "Now us adults can hold a civilised conversation in pe..."

Albany clicked her fingers again, and Stubby froze too. "Now, where were we? Oh yes. The Battle of Nova Luna, the last big scrap in the Great War of Magic. Where the Wise Ones and the Shadow Clan combined their forces to attack Magister's fortress stronghold. That's the first part of the secret. The Wise Ones didn't want anyone to know they chummed up with the forces of evil, and the Shadow Clan wanted to keep silent about it too. Wouldn't have been good for their street cred. But the second bit of the secret is even worse."

"Go on," said Edwin, after trading a curious glance with Bryony.

"Nova Luna." Albany spoke slowly, emphasising the words' syllables. "Do you know why the battle was given that name?"

Bryony shrugged. "Isn't that a type of ice lolly?"

"Nova Luna means 'New Moon'," said Edwin. "So I guess it's because the battle took place during a new moon cycle."

"Close," conceded Albany. "The battle took place during the last moon cycle. Of the old moon, that is."

"I'm not getting this," said Bryony. "Old moon, new moon. Which moon are we talking about?"

"It's just a phrase," said Edwin. "There's only ever been one moon."

"Wrong!" exclaimed Albany. "The old moon, the original moon, was blown to pieces during the climax of the battle. Magister's defences had been breached, his forces scattered. He knew the battle was lost, but he would not surrender. Instead he chose to drag the world with him into oblivion by breaking the Eternal Balance once and for all."

Edwin blinked. "You mean... he destroyed the moon?"

"Turned it to dust in the blink of an eye. It took all his remaining power, but Magister knew that with the Balance destroyed, chaos would reign throughout all creation."

"But that couldn't have happened," said Bryony. "The moon's still up there."

"Because the Wise Ones put it back." Edwin thought the answer was obvious. "To restore the Eternal Balance."

"The Wise Ones didn't have enough magic left to do that," said Albany. "Not after decades of war. And not without the help of the Shadow Clan. But by then they were already falling out with their evil allies. The Shadow Clan had taken Magister prisoner, and wanted to punish him for waging war on them. But the Wise Ones wanted Magister back. He was one of their own, and they reckoned he was due a fair trial, even after all the death and destruction he'd caused. There was a bit of an argument, to put it mildly. For a while it looked like another war was going to break out, but then both sides came to an agreement. Magister would be punished, and there would be a new moon to restore the Eternal Balance."

"So they created a new moon." Edwin was tired of all this moon talk. "But I want to know what happened to Mag..."

"It's him!" Bryony suddenly realised. "Magister is the moon!"

"Except he can't be," contested Edwin. "We've seen Magister. He's Doctor Masters. So he can't be the moon as well."

"Doctor Masters isn't Magister," Albany clarified. "He's a magic projection."

Bryony thought she knew what that meant. "Like a hollow-gran?"

Albany winced. "The term you meant was 'hologram', but broadly speaking your comparison is correct. Except electronic devices are used to generate holograms. Magic projections are created by..."

"Magic," Edwin interrupted impatiently. "I'd worked that out. But what magic?"

"Magic projections can be created in a number of ways, provided you know how. From still images, from imagination, even from memory. And that is what Doctor Masters is. A magic projection created from memory."

This only caused yet more frowning from Bryony. Then it came to her.

"The Dungeon of Dreams. We met inside Inglenook's mind." Gawping, she looked at Edwin. "So that's what Doctor Masters is. Inglenook's memory of Magister!"

"Your powers of deduction are improving, Sis." Albany nodded appreciatively. "Although a snail wearing snow shoes would have got there quicker."

Edwin still wasn't totally convinced. "But how did he get out of the Dungeon of Dreams?"

"It's complicated," said Albany. "All you need to know is that Magister, the real Magister, is still locked in the sky, as he has been since the Battle of Nova Luna."

Edwin and Bryony stared at each other. They were still trying to absorb everything they'd heard. None of it made sense, and yet all of it made sense in a weird kind of way.

"Oh yes!" Albany gasped suddenly. "I almost forgot about the prophecy. You'll like this bit best of all. After Magister was turned into the new moon, the Wise Ones went on a bit of a guilt trip. So they did something they'd never done, that went against everything they stood for. They looked into the future, to see what consequences there might be. And what they saw petrified them."

"The prophecy?" Edwin was growing impatient. "What was the prophecy?"

"They saw that one day Magister would have his revenge," said Albany. "The Eternal Balance of Nature would be destroyed, and the moon would fall from the sky to destroy all life on Earth. And that these cataclysmic events would be triggered by five words." She paused to look Bryony in the eye. "Beware the Moon of Magister."

"I've never heard those words before," said Edwin.

"The prophecy didn't say the words had to be spoken," advised Albany. "Although over the centuries many scholars have argued about that."

"So they could be written words." Edwin shrugged. "I've still not read them anywhere. What about you?" He looked at Bryony, and saw that something was wrong with his stepsister. There were tears in her eyes, and her lips quivered as she finally answered.

"I've seen them. On a bit of paper. Inside Mr Cuddles."

Edwin pulled a face. "That stuffed toy of yours? Your mum made that thing, so how did..." He knew there could only be one answer to that. "Your mum."

"The words were in her handwriting." Bryony struggled to choke back a sob. "And worse, Mr Cuddles turned out to be a magic beacon that lured the Terrible Fang to the Shadow Clan's lair. You were right about her, Edwin. Mum was working for Doctor Masters all along. She wanted to trigger the prophecy."

Edwin took no delight in Bryony's apology. He reached down and clasped her hand. "So when did you find this message?"

"When we got home from the Isle of Lost Souls."

"But that was months ago." Edwin couldn't keep the irritation from his voice. "Why didn't you mention this sooner?"

"At the time, I didn't think it was anything to do with you." Bryony took a gulping breath. "But I told Inglenook, after we got back from Barrenbrake Farm, where I'd seen Mum's face in the sky. Katya and Dawes saw her too. That's why they ran off."

Edwin hadn't known any of this. "So what did Inglenook say?"

"Nothing." Bryony shrugged weakly. "It was like he didn't want to talk about it."

"He's not the only one," mused Edwin. "Captain Rathbone told me all about Nova Luna, but I got the feeling he was holding something back. Something important."

"Now you know what that was," smirked Albany. "The terrible secret of the Wise Ones. Of how they colluded with the forces of darkness to save their skins and condemn one of their own to an eternity of imprisonment. And worst of all, you know how Inglenook and Captain Rathbone hid the truth about the prophecy."

"This isn't true." Edwin turned to the frozen Captain Rathbone. "Tell me it isn't true."

"Yes Captain. Tell him." Albany clicked her fingers again. "Lie to them again if you dare."

Although now unfrozen, Captain Rathbone said nothing. But there was no need for words. The look in the Captain's amber eyes told Edwin all he needed to know.

"If only they'd told you, huh?" Albany's smile was almost sympathetic. "So how does it feel, knowing you'd been lied to? Knowing the people you trusted hid the truth from you all this time? You thought Captain Rathbone was your friend. And as for Inglenook... he was supposed to look after you, but instead he just watched as you walked into a trap. So how can you trust them now? How can you believe a word they told you about anything?"

Edwin wanted to respond, but the truth of Albany's words had turned his throat dry. Bryony too was now incapable of speech; it felt like her insides had been hollowed out, that nothing mattered anymore.

"But there you go," continued Albany, "that's all done and dusted now. And quite frankly I'm bored with all this talking. Almost forgot why I came here in the first place. Which, if I recall correctly, was to squish Bryony. So bye bye, Sis."

She pointed at Bryony. It wasn't a flamboyant, dramatic gesture, more a casual wave of the hand. But the effects were devastating.

There was a flash, a yelp from Bryony, and then Edwin felt her fingers slipping from his grasp. Except they weren't her fingers anymore, because there was nothing left of Bryony but floating black cinders.

There were enraged screeches and squawks from Katya and Dawes, shocked gasps from Val and Captain Rathbone, and a dismayed squeak from Stubby. But Edwin was too stunned to react. He stared agog as the remains of his stepsister dissipated into nothingness.

"Mmm." Albany pulled a face. "If I'm totally honest, that was a tiny bit of a disappointment. Thought there'd be more sparks and stuff. Still, I'm not surprised she turned out to be a dud."

"You killed her!" Edwin gawped at the white haired girl. "You murderer!"

"That's your view," said Albany, absently inspecting her fingernails. "I prefer to look at it as 'pest control'."

"Why you..." Edwin pointed at Albany, ready to unleash whatever magic he had left, but Captain Rathbone grabbed hold of his wrist.

"That would be unwise, Master Edwin."

"Let go!" Edwin tried to pull his arm from the Captain's grip.

"Master Edwin. Please listen to me."

"Why should I listen to you?" In his anger Edwin couldn't control himself. "You lied to me. You're as evil as the Shadow Clan!" A bolt of magic crackled from his hand, blasting a hole in the wall above Albany's snow-white head.

"Nearly," she said, without looking up from her nail inspection. "About half a foot lower should do it."

"Stop this idiocy," Stubby squeaked from inside Edwin's coat pocket. "You're wasting your magic!"

"Put your arm down, boy," cried Val. "You'll take someone's eye out."

Edwin continued his struggle with the Captain. A second beam of magic lanced from his finger, tearing a hole in the ceiling.

"A bit more to the left," said Albany, now examining her reflection in a hand mirror.

Despite repeated pleas from his comrades, Edwin refused to surrender. For a fleeting second Albany was in his sights, but Captain Rathbone yanked his arm away just before he fired. This time the magic bolt struck the floor, causing an explosion of shredded lino.

"Way out that time," tutted Albany. "Hate to say it, but you're not getting any closer."

Edwin roared with anger, the magic pulsing inside his arm as he took aim again.

"Someone help me," groaned the Captain, unsuccessfully trying to drag Edwin away from his target.

"Leave it to me," purred Katya. She transformed into a cat and leaped onto Edwin's left shoulder, sinking her claws into the back of his neck.

Edwin cried out in pain, firing a flurry of magic missiles in all directions. Bricks and plaster flew everywhere as the barrage ripped through the fabric of the house.

Captain Rathbone was flung across the room. With a squawk of protest, Dawes made a hurried exit through the shattered kitchen window. Katya dropped from Edwin's shoulder and followed after him. Twisted Bough also made a quick getaway, which actually wasn't very quick at all.

Edwin felt the power draining from his arm, and then collapsed to the floor as his limbs turned to jelly. He heard footsteps, and looked up to see Albany standing over him.

"Have you finished?" she enquired, fanning clouds of swirling brick dust from her pretty face.

Edwin tried to raise his arm, but every muscle in his body had turned to stone.

"Good." Smiling prettily, Albany aimed her right forefinger at Edwin. "Because now it's my turn."

"No you won't!" growled Val, hobbling towards Albany with her walking stick raised. "I'll not let you kill again."

"OK." Albany lowered her right hand. "He's not worth the effort anyway. I'll leave him to the forces of gravity."

There was a rumbling noise from above, accompanied by an ominous creaking.

Val halted her advance, lifting her bespectacled face to the ceiling. "What's that?"

"The house," gasped the Captain, clambering to his feet. "It's going to collapse."

Albany nodded. "I reckon you've got thirty seconds before the whole lot comes crashing down. So let this be a lesson. Don't play magic fireworks indoors. Generally not good for the structural integrity of buildings. Now I must be going. Some of us have work to do."

Albany treated Edwin to one last smirk before vanishing in a puff of white smoke.

"Quick, lad!" Val waved her stick at Edwin. "It's time to go."

"Master Edwin!" Captain Rathbone had yanked the back door open, and was beckoning furiously at him. "We must evacuate this building immediately."

But Edwin remained sprawled on the floor.

"What are you waiting for?" squeaked Stubby, jumping up and down on Edwin's chest. "If the answer is several tonnes of falling masonry, you're in exactly the right spot. Otherwise I suggest it's time to get going."

The rumbling and creaking grew louder, and Edwin saw cracks snaking up the kitchen walls.

"Get out of here," he told the others. "Save yourselves."

"We're not leaving you," wailed Val.

"Just go," rasped Edwin. "Captain, get her out of here."

Captain Rathbone bundled Val towards the back door, but a thick wooden joist crashed through the ceiling to bar their escape. The Captain wheeled round and dragged the old lady back across the room, but an avalanche of falling bricks blocked the exit to the hallway.

Now we're trapped, thought Edwin. Unless...

He clenched his right hand, sensing the faintest of tingles.

There was still some magic left.

"Master Edwin." Captain Rathbone crouched by Edwin's side. "We are facing imminent death. This is my last chance to say I am sorry."

Edwin said nothing, focusing all his attention on the tingle in his hand.

"I am sorry for what happened to Miss Bryony. I did not believe Albany capable of such an act. I was wrong."

Edwin closed his eyes. Partly because this helped him concentrate, and partly because they were stinging with tears.

"I was also wrong to hide the truth from you," the Captain continued. "About Nova Luna and the prophecy. Again, I can only offer my sincere..."

Captain Rathbone's voice was drowned by a deafening cacophony of crashing bricks and mortar. The air filled with grey dust, blocking the light and plunging Edwin into darkness.

"... apologies." Captain Rathbone blinked, astonished to find himself standing outside on a snow covered road. Val was at his side, gazing about her in a similar state of bewilderment.

Then they heard the crash, and saw the house in front of them implode into a heap of rubble, expelling a cloud of dust that rose mushroom-shaped into the snowy sky.

"He did it," exclaimed Val, once her shock had subsided. "The boy used his magic to save us!"

"Very well done." Captain Rathbone nodded, affording himself a relieved smile. "Very well done indeed, Master Edwin."

But when he looked round, he found that Master Edwin wasn't there.

"He didn't make it," said Stubby, poking his head out of Val's handbag. "There wasn't enough magic for all of us."

The Captain and Val stared at each other in silence. All around them the snow fell thickly, covering their saviour's rubble tomb in a soft white shroud. Then the snow clouds parted, revealing the swollen orb of the moon looming ever larger above them...

The Moon of Magister!

END OF PART ONE

Previously...

Albany pointed at Bryony. It wasn't a flamboyant, dramatic gesture, more a casual wave of the hand. But the effects were devastating.

There was a flash, a yelp from Bryony, and then Edwin felt her fingers slipping from his grasp. Except they weren't her fingers anymore, because there was nothing left of Bryony but floating black cinders.

There were enraged screeches and squawks from Katya and Dawes, shocked gasps from Val and Captain Rathbone, and a dismayed squeak from Stubby. But Edwin was too stunned to react. He stared agog as the remains of his stepsister dissipated into nothingness.

"Mmm." Albany pulled a face. "If I'm totally honest, that was a tiny bit of a disappointment. Thought there'd be more sparks and stuff. Still, I'm not surprised she turned out to be a dud."

"You killed her!" Edwin pointed at Albany, ready to unleash whatever magic he had left, but Captain Rathbone grabbed hold of his wrist.

"That would be unwise, Master Edwin."

"Let go!" Edwin tried to pull his arm from the Captain's grip.

"Master Edwin. Please listen to me."

"Why should I listen to you?" In his anger Edwin couldn't control himself. "You lied to me. You're as evil as the Shadow Clan!" A bolt of magic crackled from his hand, blasting a hole in the wall above Albany's snow-white head.

"Stop this idiocy," Stubby squeaked from inside Edwin's coat pocket. "You're wasting your magic!"

"Put your arm down, boy," cried Val. "You'll take someone's eye out."

Edwin continued his struggle with the Captain. A second beam of magic lanced from his finger, tearing a hole in the ceiling.

"A bit more to the left," said Albany, absently examining her reflection in a hand held mirror.

Despite repeated pleas from his comrades, Edwin refused to surrender. For a fleeting second Albany was in his sights, but Captain Rathbone yanked his arm away just before he fired. This time the magic bolt struck the floor, causing an explosion of shredded lino.

Edwin roared with anger, the magic pulsing inside his arm as he took aim again.

Katya transformed into a cat and leaped onto Edwin's left shoulder, sinking her claws into the back of his neck.

Edwin cried out in pain, firing a flurry of magic missiles in all directions. Bricks and plaster flew everywhere as the barrage ripped through the fabric of the house.

Captain Rathbone was flung across the room. With a squawk of protest, Dawes made a hurried exit through the shattered kitchen window. Katya dropped from Edwin's shoulder and followed after him. Twisted Bough also made a quick getaway, which actually wasn't very quick at all.

Edwin felt the power draining from his arm, and then collapsed to the floor as his limbs turned to jelly. He heard footsteps, and looked up to see Albany standing over him.

"Have you finished?" she enquired, fanning clouds of swirling brick dust from her pretty face.

Edwin tried to raise his arm, but every muscle in his body had turned to stone.

"Good." Smiling prettily, Albany aimed her right forefinger at Edwin. "Because now it's my turn."

"No you won't!" growled Val, hobbling towards Albany with her walking stick raised. "I'll not let you kill again."

"OK." Albany lowered her right hand. "He's not worth the effort anyway. I'll leave him to the forces of gravity."

There was a rumbling noise from above, accompanied by an ominous creaking.

"The house," gasped the Captain, clambering to his feet. "It's going to collapse."

Albany nodded. "I reckon you've got thirty seconds before the whole lot comes crashing down. Now I must be going. Some of us have work to do."

Albany treated Edwin to one last smirk before vanishing in a puff of white smoke.

"Master Edwin!" Captain Rathbone had yanked the back door open, and was beckoning furiously at him. "We must evacuate this building immediately."

But Edwin remained sprawled on the floor.

"What are you waiting for?" squeaked Stubby, jumping up and down on Edwin's chest. "If the answer is several tonnes of falling masonry, you're in exactly the right spot. Otherwise I suggest it's time to get going."

The rumbling and creaking grew louder, and Edwin saw cracks snaking up the kitchen walls.

"Get out of here," he told the others. "Save yourselves."

"We're not leaving you," wailed Val.

"Just go," rasped Edwin. "Captain, get her out of here."

Captain Rathbone bundled Val towards the back door, but a thick wooden joist crashed through the ceiling to bar their escape. The Captain wheeled round and dragged the old lady back across the room, but an avalanche of falling bricks blocked the exit to the hallway.

Now we're trapped, thought Edwin. Unless...

He clenched his right hand, sensing the faintest of tingles.

There was still some magic left.

"Master Edwin." Captain Rathbone crouched by Edwin's side. "We are facing imminent death. This is my last chance to say I am sorry."

Edwin said nothing, focusing all his attention on the tingle in his hand.

"I am sorry for what happened to Miss Bryony. I did not believe Albany capable of such an act. I was wrong."

Edwin closed his eyes. Partly because this helped him concentrate, and partly because they were stinging with tears.

"I was also wrong to hide the truth from you," the Captain continued. "About Nova Luna and the prophecy. Again, I can only offer my sincere..."

Captain Rathbone's voice was drowned by a deafening cacophony of crashing bricks and mortar. The air filled with grey dust, blocking the light and plunging Edwin into darkness.

"... apologies." Captain Rathbone blinked, astonished to find himself standing outside on a snow covered road. Val was at his side, gazing about her in a similar state of bewilderment.

Then they heard the crash, and saw the house in front of them implode into a heap of rubble, expelling a cloud of dust that rose mushroom-shaped into the snowy sky.

"He did it," exclaimed Val, once her shock had subsided. "The boy used his magic to save us!"

"Very well done." Captain Rathbone nodded, affording himself a relieved smile. "Very well done indeed, Master Edwin."

But when he looked round, he found that Master Edwin wasn't there.

"He didn't make it," said Stubby, poking his head out of Val's handbag. "There wasn't enough magic for all of us."

The Captain and Val stared at each other in silence. All around them the snow fell thickly, covering their saviour's rubble tomb in a soft white shroud. Then the snow clouds parted, revealing the swollen orb of the moon looming ever larger above them...

The Moon of Magister!

END OF PART ONE

PART TWO
NEWSFLASH!

"Over the past few days people have witnessed an unusual sight in the nocturnal firmament." The TV newsreader's sullen tones were accompanied by images of the night sky. "The moon appeared brighter than normal, and seemed to be growing larger. This anomalous astronomical event caused great confusion to laymen and scientists alike. Some suggested it was an optical illusion caused by freak atmospheric conditions, but now it has been confirmed by space research experts: the moon isn't growing, but its orbit has altered, and it's now plummeting through space at a rate of seventy thousand miles a day, on a collision course with the planet Earth."

As the newsreader continued, scenes of snowbound cities flashed across the screen.

"Already the hurtling moon has affected Earth's climate, causing freak weather across the globe. But these unseasonal blizzards are just the prelude to much greater chaos. In just twelve hours, when the moon crashes into our planet, it will cause devastation on a hitherto unimagined scale, most probably wiping out all living matter.

"But all is not lost. The world's superpowers have come together when it mattered, pooling their scientific resources to devise a means to save our imperiled planet. And the countdown to launch is about to commence. In just a matter of seconds these awesome devices of destruction will be fired at the moon."

The scenes of extreme weather were replaced by an image of six missiles on a launch pad. Each was taller than a house, their pointed nose cones scraping the swirling clouds above.

"Packed with several thousand tonnes of nuclear explosives, these missiles will obliterate the moon on impact, saving the world from an unspeakable fate. Let this be a lesson that, in times of crisis, leaders of different nations can work together for the good of all humanity."

The TV picture changed to show a group of suited men and women clustered around a large red button, apparently arguing with each other.

"The senior dignitaries are just deciding who will press the launch button," advised the newsreader. "This important decision should be democratically resolved in the next few moments."

The senior dignitaries started pushing and shoving each other. The largest of them, a thick set man with bushy eyebrows, elbowed his nearest opponent in the stomach, who fell backwards and knocked over several other dignitaries in one go. The thickset man seemed to have won the debate, but as he reached for the big red button a woman jumped on him from behind. The thickset man toppled forwards, his fat face slamming hard against the button.

"The countdown has been triggered!" The newsreader's voice rose with excitement. The picture cut back to the launch pad, displaying flashing numbers in the corner of the screen.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

"The world waits anxiously." The newsreader's voice became hushed. "All of humanity is holding its breath."

Three. Two. One. Zero.

"Blast off!" shouted the newsreader. "We have blast off!"

But there was no roar of rocket engines, no flames or billowing smoke. The missiles remained planted on the launch pad, whilst a big fat nought blinked in the corner of the screen.

"Oh dear," groaned the newsreader. "There appears to be a technical issue preventing blast off. But do not fear, because as I speak, the world's senior dignitaries are working together to resolve the problem."

The picture cut back to the group of suited men and women, who were now shouting and pointing at each other. The thickset man with bushy eyebrows raised a clenched fist. Then, just as he is about to take a swing at the nearest senior dignitary, the picture changed again to show a square jawed, sun-tanned male presenter with glossy blond hair, sitting in a gleaming TV studio.

"We're very sorry," said the presenter, "but we seem to have lost pictures from the rocket launch. We'll take you back there as soon as we can." The presenter put a finger to his right ear. "In the meantime I'm being told we can speak to an expert who can offer fascinating insight into what's gone wrong. His name is... um..." The presenter hesitated, shuffling through sheets of paper on his desk. "His name is..."

The image of a grey haired man with silver eyes and a hawkish nose filled the screen. "Doctor Masters," said the man with a smile. "And I'm joining you live via satellite from my private observatory."

"Doctor Masters?" For a moment the presenter looked confused, but quickly recovered his professional composure. "Of course. Thank you, Doctor Masters, for joining us live."

"My pleasure," crooned Doctor Masters. "Better than joining you dead, eh? Although my inanimate corpse would doubtless make a more interesting guest than your usual line up of politicians and so-called economic experts."

"Indeed." The presenter cleared his throat. "May I clarify, for the benefit of viewers at home, your particular area of expertise? What precisely are you a doctor of?"

Doctor Masters shrugged. "Stuff."

"Stuff?" The presenter forced a smile, his teeth glowing brilliant white against his tanned face. "Could I trouble you to be slightly more specific?"

"I don't think we have time," said Doctor Masters. "Nice wig, by the way."

The picture cut back to the presenter, who now looked flustered again. "It's not a wig," he hissed, patting his hair. "Now moving on, I wonder if you could give the viewers some insight into the technical problem that's preventing the missile launch."

"Indeed I can." Doctor Masters nodded obligingly. "And it's quite simple really. The missiles didn't launch because I don't want them to."

"I'm sorry?" The presenter shook his head as though he hadn't heard properly. "Did you say..."

"I said I don't want them to. It's dangerous having missiles flying all over the place. Could take someone's eye out, break a window, stuff like that. And anyway, we don't want to go blowing up the moon. We need the moon to maintain the Eternal Balance of Nature."

The presenter's confusion appeared to be deepening. "Maintain the... what?"

"Forget that for now. All I'm saying is there's another way to save our planet: my way."

"Your way? And would you like to explain to our viewers how you are proposing to save the world from destruction?"

"It will be my pleasure." Doctor Masters became serious. "People of the world, we stand on the brink of destruction. When the moon crashes into the Earth, which it will in precisely twelve hours, sixteen minutes and thirty three seconds, at six minutes past midnight, all life on this planet will cease to exist."

"We are aware of that," said the presenter, sounding as if his patience was wearing thin. "But what about your plan to save the world? And please be quick, we've only got two minutes to the weather forecast."

"I'll give you the weather forecast," said Doctor Masters. "As the moon plunges into Earth's atmosphere, there will be unprecedented atmospheric disorder. These freak snowstorms are just the beginning, and it will only get worse until the moment of impact, after which the weather will be the least of our worries. I can do the travel report too, if you want. There'll be no more trains. Ever. But on the plus side, less hold ups on the M25."

The presenter gritted his pearl white teeth. "What about your plan?"

"Yes, my plan." Doctor Masters cleared his throat. "Tonight I will be working in the control room of my purpose built observatory. From where, using a specially designed device, I shall discharge a beam of intense energy at the moon. The energy beam will push the moon back to its natural orbit, repairing the Eternal Balance and saving the world from destruction."

"That's incredible," said the presenter, slyly adjusting his fringe as the camera cut back to him. "So you claim you will restore normality to the lunar cycle?"

"Oh no." Doctor Masters shook his hawkish head. "Things will never be normal again. The new moon will herald a new age of hope and reason. There will be an end to war, plague and famine. Evil shall be banished forever. Men and women, all creatures on the planet, will thrive and prosper in a world of love."

The presenter snorted doubtfully. "You believe re-establishing the moon's orbit will achieve all that?"

"I do not believe," answered Doctor Masters. "I know."

"Really." The presenter wore a bemused smirk now. "So what is this beam of energy you'll be firing at the moon? Some kind of laser?"

"Oh no. It's magic."

The presenter chuckled. "You can be more technical than that, Doctor Masters. Our viewers are not children."

"No they're not. All the children are probably watching something far more intellectual on another channel."

"But it can't be magic," scoffed the presenter. "Unless of course you're some kind of world saving wizard?"

"Some might say that." Doctor Master's silver eyes blazed straight into the camera. "But I'd prefer to be thought of more as... a Guardian."

The picture flickered, and Doctor Masters' face vanished from the screen. The sun-tanned presenter reappeared, except now his head was bald and shiny.

"We apologise about that," he announced coolly. "As you may have realised, Doctor Masters was not our scheduled expert. Join us after the local news and weather, when we'll be keeping you up to date with the delayed missile launch." He smiled, but his expression changed to a shocked grimace when he reached up to adjust his missing wig.

Chapter 1-Target Sighted

It was still snowing. After three days. In July.

And it was only getting worse.

The fluffy flakes had hardened into pellets of ice, driven spitefully by the wind that moaned through the empty streets. And there was thunder now, too; incessant rumbles like an ominous drumroll, accompanied by echoing screeches that were hauntingly familiar. More haunting still was the cause of all this chaos, the swollen silver sphere that loomed menacingly above the roiling clouds.

The boy had known, hours before the papers and TV had started making a fuss about it. He knew the moon was falling towards the Earth, and what that meant for all life on the planet.

There'd been talk of firing missiles, but the boy doubted if that would do any good. The authorities had no idea what they were up against.

He lowered his head, hunching his shoulders and thrusting his hands deeper into his coat pockets. He had no way of telling the time, but guessed he'd been walking for at least six hours. He was cold, tired and hungry, but some inner resolve kept him going.

Everyone had left the streets now. The town was eerily deserted, and he hadn't seen another soul for a couple of hours. He supposed everyone had gone to their homes, to be with their families as the fateful moment approached. They were fearful, no doubt. But not alone.

Not like him.

His family were lost to him. There was no way of reaching them, and no home for them to go to in any case. So he'd decided there was only one place he could go.

It was a long time since he'd visited the town cemetery. Three, maybe four years. Mum had always been with him, leading him by the hand through the maze of stone memorials. Even if the place wasn't carpeted by eight inches of snow, the boy doubted if he could have found the grave on his own. He knew it was a long shot, but felt compelled to try.

When he got there he found the gates were left open. Not surprisingly the car park was empty, but he spied a trail of footprints in the snow. He followed the trail, as there was no telling where the actual footpath might be.

The thick snow clung to his boots and ankles, slowing his pace to a laboured shuffle. His feet had frozen hours ago, a chill numbness spreading up his legs.

Despite his cold and hunger, the boy knew he had to focus. He read the names on the headstones as he passed, but none meant anything to him. He began to question what he was doing there, and was on the verge of abandoning his quest when he saw movement ahead. He froze, fearing an ambush, but the cause appeared to be no obvious threat.

It was an old man, with scraggly grey hair and a long, knotted beard. He wore a patched up overcoat, threadbare fingerless gloves, and a large conical shell hung from his neck on a loop of twine. He looked up, and scowled when he saw the boy approaching.

"You're a bit late for visiting." The old man had a weird, gulping sort of voice. "Was about to close the gates and head home. You should be going home and all, boy."

The boy replied that he didn't have a home, but the old man seemed unmoved by this revelation.

"You can't sleep here," he gulped at the boy. "Enough people sleeping here as it is."

The boy stepped back, after catching a whiff that reminded him of rotten fish. "I've come to look for a grave," he told the old man.

"Of course you have." The old man smiled, his lipless mouth peeling back to reveal two rows of strangely pointed teeth. "For yourself, is it? Never hurts to check in early."

"No," said the boy. "It's... family. Only I can't remember where it is."

"Might be able to help you there." The old man tapped his wrinkled forehead. "Been working here so long I can remember every name and plot number. So which resident do you wish to call in on?"

The boy hesitated. It had been a long time since he'd said the name aloud, and it felt as if doing so might have consequences.

"Well?" The old man's bulbous grey eyes stared at the boy. "It's ten minutes till closing."

The boy had to force the words out in the end.

The old man frowned, his face puckering like a prune whilst he fingered the dangling shell. Then he grinned again. "I know it. Go straight down the middle path, left at the big fat cherub, then sixth row on the right, third grave in. But I wouldn't dawdle." The old man called after the boy as he set off again through the snow. "If you're not out before I lock the gates, chances are you never will be!"

The boy waved vaguely over his shoulder to signal his understanding. The old man watched him carefully, then raised the shell to his lips.

"Target sighted," he gulped. "Proceed to interception point as planned."

Chapter 2- All My Fault

I wake up, and I'm excited, because it's the start of the school holidays and we're going to the seaside. I get out of bed and pull back the curtains. The sky is a perfect clear blue. The whole day is going to be perfect. A perfect family day.

I get dressed, putting on my new clothes. I don't really like them, but Mum bought them and says they suit me, and I know she'll be disappointed if I don't wear them. She also says they're expensive, so I mustn't run around in an un-ladylike manner and get them dirty.

I quickly brush my hair. Mum says it's very important to make sure I look nice, as first impressions count and I might not get a decent job when I leave school if I don't look nice, but this morning I'm too excited to worry about a few knotted strands. I finish getting ready and rush downstairs. I can smell the familiar mixture of air freshener and burned cooking from last night's supper. The house is very quiet, which is strange, normally Mum would have started shouting at Dad by now.

I walk into our beautiful bespoke handcrafted kitchen, but nobody's there. So I check the dining room, but Mum isn't in there either. I head back into the hallway and call out to her, but there's no reply. Then I notice the living room door is open. I think that's odd, because normally no one is allowed in the living room until after dinner. I poke my head round the door. There's no sign of Mum, but Dad is sitting on the sofa. I ask him where Mum is. He doesn't answer, but when he looks at me I notice his eyes are all red and I realise something is wrong.

I ask him again about Mum, but it's like he can't speak.

I leave him and rush back upstairs. I go into my parents' bedroom. The bed is unmade. The beautiful fitted oak wardrobes are open, and some clothes have gone.

And so, I realise, has Mum.

Suddenly I'm struggling to breathe. My stomach is churning. I can't understand why Mum would leave me. I try to remember what happened the day before, what might have made her go.

But it was just like any other day. Mum burned the dinner. Dad broke something. They argued. I got fed up and ran to my bedroom.

I stagger back onto the landing. And then I see my bedroom door, and these five words I wrote yesterday in red felt tip.

And I realise why Mum left me. Because of those horrible words, because I never told her I loved her. And I realise it's my fault.

It's all my fault...

Bryony blinked as her eyes filled with tears. Suddenly she wasn't standing in front of her bedroom door, but was in a large rectangular cage. There was a horrible musty smell. The floor was strewn with chunks of splintered wood, and there was a plastic trough full of dirty green water. By far the strangest feature was something that resembled a large, circular treadmill.

A giant shadow fell across her, and then a loud voice boomed from above.

"I hope you like your accommodation. I'm afraid the sawdust isn't fresh, but you'll soon get used to the stink. Actually, it's the sawdust I feel sorry for, having to share the cage with you."

Bryony looked up to behold a vast, fair-haired head looming through the bars of the cage.

"You!" she hissed. "What have you done to me? What is this place?"

"This is your home from now on." Albany's giant lips creased into that all too familiar smirk. "A fitting abode for vermin like you."

"Let me out," Bryony shouted. "Or I'll..."

"Or you'll what? The feeble powers you had are all gone. You're totally my prisoner now."

Bryony rubbed her right hand, trying to sense a magic tingle. But there was nothing.

"So you'd better get comfy," sneered Albany. "If you want some cardboard to chew on, just let me know."

"Where are we?" asked Bryony, who couldn't see much beyond the cage except Albany's massive head and shoulders.

"Sorry. Should have explained. We're in my plush private quarters inside Doctor Masters' observatory tower."

"Observatory tower?" Bryony's black eyebrows knotted. "Why are you keeping me here? I thought you were going to squish me."

"I was just teasing. You're my sister. I wouldn't hurt a hair on your pretty little head. Although when I say pretty, I mean not as pretty as mine, obviously. Oh, and whilst we're on the subject of hair, I've turned yours back to its natural drab colour. I think black suits you much better. Makes you look marginally less stupid. Although so would a plastic bag, if I'm honest. Or a bucket. Or a very large plant pot. Or..."

"You belong in a plant pot," seethed Bryony. "Because that's what you are. A plant. A vegetable. A... a cabbage!"

Albany groaned. "Is that all it's going to be from now on, pathetic plant based jibes? Because if you're not going to be pleasant, I might end up squishing you after all. And I won't need magic now you're the size of a hamster. A shoe would do the trick. And I've got literally hundreds of those."

Bryony fell silent, gritting her teeth. It wouldn't pay to get Albany riled, however much she'd like to wipe that smirk off her evil twin's face. In any case, there were things she needed to know.

"So what happened to Edwin?"

"Oh, you mean the weedy ginger brat." Albany inspected her perfect nails. "Don't worry about him, he's not important."

"He is to me." Bryony gripped the cage bars in an attempt to control her fury. "So where is he?"

"I've no idea. He might have escaped before the house collapsed, or he might have been buried by several tonnes of rubble. Either way, no great loss."

"The house collapsed?" Bryony gasped in horrified outrage. "You killed him?"

"I did nothing, Sis. He went nuts after I zapped you. Obviously didn't like my little practical joke. Started blasting magic everywhere. Took out a couple of structural walls. That was the end of the house. And him, for all I know."

"You mean..." Bryony's hands slid limply down the cage bars. "Edwin's dead?"

"Forget about the boy. He doesn't matter. Nothing matters now the Eternal Balance has been destroyed. Events have been set in motion. Even if your weedy little stepbrother still lives, he's just one of several billion facing obliteration in a matter of hours, unless Doctor Masters can save the world."

"Save the world? What are you talking about?"

"Have you ever made an omelette?"

"Huh? I don't see..."

"I love omelettes, and I know you do too. But think about it: you can't make an omelette without breaking an egg."

"Sure. But..."

"You see Doctor Masters doesn't want to destroy the world. That was never the plan. In fact, he wants to save it. And he can't wait to tell everyone how."

Chapter 3- A Grave Situation

The boy followed the old man's directions as best he could, but couldn't be sure he was going the right way until he saw the big fat cherub. He headed left, counted six rows, and found what he was looking for three headstones in.

It was just a slab of grey stone. It was smothered in green moss, but the name was still legible, as well as the short inscription beneath.

"Loving Husband of Jane and Father to Edwin. We love you, rest in peace."

Edwin had been only six years old when it happened. A power cut caused by a dodgy electric fuse. Dad had gone down in the cellar to fix it, but tripped in the darkness and fell down the stairs, hitting his head on the wall. A freak accident, so everyone said. And so Edwin had believed, until the Dark One had revealed the truth that night when the Shadow Clan invaded Wychetts.

Only six years old when it happened. Edwin had lived almost that many years again. His memories of his father had faded, the sense of loss dimmed over time. Like Mum, he'd found a new life with a new family. But that life too was now over. Their home had been destroyed by fire. Mum and Bill were probably in the clutches of his enemy. And Bryony...

He still couldn't think it, let alone say it aloud. In some ways he refused to accept it. Refused to accept that this upright slab of weather beaten stone was all he had left in the world.

Edwin took a deep breath, the cold air stinging his lungs. Then he reached out his right hand, and felt a gentle tingle as his frozen palm touched his father's headstone.

He wasn't sure why he did it, or what he thought might happen. He didn't know if the faint tingling was caused by the last drops of Wychetts' magic, or simply because his hand was near frozen.

He didn't even realise he was speaking.

"Dad. I..."

"What is it, son?"

A tall, brown haired man was now standing next to the headstone. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way, with a square jaw and hazel eyes. He wore a buff leather jacket, blue jeans and trainers.

"Dad." Edwin's throat went dry. "Is it you?"

"Of course it's me." Dad smiled. "You don't recognise your own father?"

"Sure I do. You're just like I remember."

Dad nodded. "I suppose because that's what ghosts are. Memories."

"I thought ghosts were supposed to be spirits?"

"They're whatever people want them to be."

"So what are you?"

Dad's smile broadened into a grin. "I'm whatever you want me to be."

"Right." Edwin's sense of confusion was now deepening faster than the snow around his shins, and he wondered if the cold and hunger were affecting his brain. "Anyway, you look well."

"You mean for someone who's been dead six years?"

"No, I..."

"It's OK." Dad chuckled. "Anyway, you look... grown up."

"I'm eleven. Twelve in three months." Edwin checked himself. "If the world lasts that long."

"Any reason why it shouldn't?"

Edwin realised his dead father couldn't know about the planet's impending doom. That's if it was his father standing there, not some illusion. Deciding there was one way to check, Edwin reached out his right hand.

"No hugs, I'm afraid." Dad stepped back. "Even the slightest contact could tear a hole in the fabric of time and space. To be honest, I'm taking quite a risk doing this. Where I come from, direct communication with the realm of the living is a strict no-no. Still, Wednesdays are always a bit quiet in the afterlife, so I've got nothing else on."

"So what's it like?" asked the ever-curious Edwin. "On the other side?"

"Wonderful. Having the time of my life being dead. Been keeping really busy. Taking flying lessons. Learning to play the harp. Lots of choral singing."

Edwin frowned. "Is that what it's really like?"

Dad laughed. "I'm fooling you, son. It isn't all puffy white clouds and pearly gates. Quite like this world, really."

"I suppose it's good to know there's something else." Edwin gestured around him. "Wouldn't like to think you were just lying here."

"Me neither," agreed Dad. "I mean look at it. The place is dead." He laughed again. "Dead, geddit?"

Edwin had forgotten about his father's corny jokes. In some ways, Dad was more like Bill than he'd cared to remember.

"This is serious, Dad."

"I know. What you might call a 'grave' situation." Dad was still in pun mode. "All getting a bit 'tomb' much for me, I might end up having a 'coffin' fit. Or..."

Edwin's father started flickering like a faulty light bulb.

"Dad, what's happening?"

"My credit's running low." Dad patted his jacket pockets. "Got any loose change?"

"Not a penny."

Dad grinned. "I'm kidding again, son. It's just the astral link breaking up. Not sure how much longer it will hold, so we'd better be quick. So tell me, how's your mother?"

"She..." Edwin didn't know how his father might take this. "She got married again."

"I know." Dad stopped flickering. "And don't worry, I'm not offended or bitter. It's great that you both found a new life with Bill and Bryony in Wychetts."

Edwin gasped. "You know about Wychetts?"

"Sure. I know pretty much everything. About Wychetts, Inglenook, the Wise Ones and the Moon of Magister. I know about the prophecy, and why they kept it a secret."

Edwin snorted. "So you know that Inglenook and Captain Rathbone lied to us."

"The Captain hid the truth, son. That's not the same as lying. Not when there's good reason." Edwin's father folded his arms. "You never hid the truth from anyone?"

"No." Edwin was sure of it. "Never."

"Wow. I did a better job raising you than I thought."

There was a sarcastic edge to his father's voice that made Edwin bristle.

"Well maybe once," he conceded with a sigh. "When I knocked the head off Auntie Kath's garden gnome with a Frisbee, and blamed it on a low flying seagull."

Dad grinned and shook his head. "No one bought that one, believe me."

"But if it was something important. You know, like a matter of life and death. That would be different."

"Sure it would be." Dad studied Edwin carefully. "So your mum's OK with you being a Guardian of Wychetts?"

"She... um... she doesn't know." Edwin hesitated. "Inglenook... I mean we... we haven't told her. Or Bill."

"Why not?"

"Because grown-ups can't cope with stuff like that. And you know what a worrier Mum is. She still makes me wear a cycle helmet to school every day, even though I've been getting the bus for three years."

"So, you're protecting her by hiding the truth?"

"Yeah. It's for her own good. Bill's too."

"And how do you think your mother might feel if she found out?"

Edwin had never considered that. "I reckon she'd be cool with it."

"Cool, eh? Cool with her only son risking his life on a daily basis in a hazardous struggle against evil forces bent on his destruction?"

Edwin shrugged. "Maybe she'll make me wear elbow pads too?"

"Or maybe she'll feel hurt and betrayed? Like you do with Inglenook and Captain Rathbone."

Edwin shook his head. "It's nothing like that. I'm not hiding some dark secret from her."

"She might not see it like that." Dad smiled. "But I bet she'd forgive you."

"Yeah. Knowing Mum she probably would."

"So maybe you could forgive the good Captain?"

"No way." Edwin was adamant. "Captain Rathbone and the Wise Ones joined forces with the Shadow Clan."

"Guess they had no choice."

"The Shadow Clan are wicked. They killed you, Dad!"

"It was a freak accident. If anyone were to blame it was me. Should have grabbed a torch before I went down into the cellar."

"It was no accident. The Dark One did it. He told me."

Dad looked unconvinced. "The Dark One is evil incarnate. Lying must be pretty high on his job spec. Along with sinister lurking and talking in a deep whispery voice."

"I'm serious, Dad. I can never forgive Captain Rathbone. Or Inglenook. Especially Inglenook." Edwin's eyes pooled with tears. "He didn't tell Bryony about the Moon of Magister, even when she asked him."

"Maybe Inglenook didn't know?"

"How couldn't he know? Inglenook was the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom."

"And where do you think that wisdom came from?" Dad's hazel eyes studied Edwin intently. "The Wise Ones gave Inglenook his knowledge. Everything he knew, everything he thought, they put inside him. They wanted to keep the prophecy a secret, so they made sure he could never tell anyone by wiping his memory. He was as much in the dark as Bryony and you."

"That can't be true, Dad. Albany told us that Doctor Masters is a magic projection, created from Inglenook's memory."

"A shade of a memory, that's all. A shadowy remnant of the Wise Ones' guilt that they couldn't remove from Inglenook's subconscious."

Edwin let this news sink in. "So it wasn't Inglenook's fault?"

"Inglenook couldn't tell anyone about Magister, and Captain Rathbone was bound by an oath, sworn on his soul, to keep the prophecy of the Wise Ones a secret. The Wise Ones knew that five words could trigger the return of their enemy. If these words became public knowledge..."

At last Edwin realised. "Then the prophecy would come true. So that's why they kept it quiet all those years."

"That's right, son. The Wise Ones couldn't take that risk. Neither could the Captain. So don't be too hard on them, eh?"

Edwin fell silent, his stomach churning with guilt. He'd said some cruel things to Captain Rathbone, without stopping to consider the other side of the argument. He felt his anger and mistrust evaporating like the breath steaming from his lips. Yet for all his regrets, he still couldn't entirely absolve the Captain from blame.

"But if we'd known about the prophecy..." His eyes moistened as he spoke. "If Bryony had known the danger she was in, chances are she'd still be alive."

Dad looked puzzled. "What do you mean, she'd still be alive?"

"She's gone." Edwin clenched his jaw to stifle a sob. "Zapped into ashes by her evil twin Albany. Right in front of me."

"But Albany didn't zap you, too?"

"She didn't have to. The house was about to collapse on me."

"But she must have known you had some magic left. If she wanted you dead, she would have finished you off there and then."

"Maybe." Edwin scrubbed a half frozen tear from his cheek. "But it doesn't make any difference. Bryony's still dead."

"Except she isn't," Dad insisted. "I'd know if she'd crossed over. And I haven't seen her in the afterlife."

"Really?" Edwin dared not hope against hope. "But I saw what happened to her."

"You saw something happen to her, but you don't know what. And look at the facts, son. Doctor Masters could have done away with you two Guardians as soon as he stole Wychetts' magic. But he didn't. If anything, he went to a lot of trouble to keep you both alive. He gave Bryony her old life back, and put you in his clinic to recover. Now why would he suddenly want you dead? It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe because we don't matter anymore."

"You matter, son. Never think you don't matter." There was a mischievous glint in Dad's hazel eyes. "And you can still stop him. You and Bryony, together."

"Stop Doctor Masters? Like how? The moon's going to crash into the Earth tonight."

Dad nodded. "Six minutes past midnight, to be precise."

"So there's nothing I can do to stop Doctor Masters destroying the world. Not without Wychetts' magic."

"You don't have any power left?"

Edwin shook his head. "It's finished, Dad. The moon will wipe out all life on Earth, and Magister will have got his revenge."

"That's not what Doctor Masters says. You didn't catch the TV broadcast just now?"

"I haven't had time to watch TV."

"No. You've been too busy running away from things."

"I wasn't running away from anything."

"You let your friends think you'd died, when really you used your last magic to zap yourself clear before the hoise collapsed."

"I..." Edwin felt another pang of guilt. "I just wanted to be alone for a while. Anyway, what TV broadcast are you on about?"

"Well if you missed it, that's too bad." Dad puffed his cheeks and blew. "In any case, I've said more than enough already. There are rules, you know. We're not allowed to influence events in the physical realm. All communication with the living must be vague or cryptic. You know, Ouija boards, glass cups and that. I could get into a lot of trouble for what I've said. The guys who run this place won't take kindly to..."

Dad started flickering again.

"Drat," he muttered. "Looks like the link is about to fail. We'll have to cut this short."

"But I don't understand," whined Edwin. "What happened to Bryony? How do I stop Doctor Masters?"

"I've told you all I can. It's up to you now." Dad faded to a pale shadow. "And you tell your mother that Bill is a decent guy. And she shouldn't let go of him, no matter what."

"Dad, please! What do I have to do?"

"You do what you always do." Dad's image vanished, and his voice became a whisper on the wind. "You make me proud, son."

"Daaaaaad!"

Edwin stared into the space where his father had been standing. There were no footprints in the snow, nothing to suggest he'd even been there. But his words still echoed inside Edwin's mind. And those words gave him something precious, something he hadn't felt for a long while...

Hope.

It seemed all was not lost after all. Bryony was alive, and together they could stop Doctor Masters. But what was Edwin supposed to do? How could he make his father proud?

As he was mulling over this, he heard a startled voice from behind him.

"Edwin, is that you?"

He turned to see a slender figure in a green duffle coat, with coils of auburn hair trailing from a fur-lined hood.

"Oh Edwin, I found you!" Jane lunged at her son, wrapping her arms around him. "Oh my darling boy, I found you!"

Edwin was too cold and confused to return his mother's embrace.

"I've been worried sick. Searched all over town. Then I wondered if you'd be here, so I took a chance." Jane cradled Edwin's head in her hands, looking into his eyes. "You've been crying. And you feel like a block of ice. How long have you been out here? We need to get you to a hospital."

"No!" Edwin jumped out of his numbed trance. "You're not taking me to Doctor Masters!"

"I didn't mean Doctor Masters." Jane held on to Edwin as he tried to peel away. "I don't want anything more to do with that man, now I've found out what he's really up to."

Edwin looked questioningly at his mother. "How can you know?"

Jane pursed her lips. "Darling. There's something I need to..."

Edwin's head jerked round as he glimpsed a ragged black shape flitting between two headstones.

"We've got to get out of here." He grabbed Jane's right arm. "They've found me."

"Who?" asked Jane, resisting his frantic tugging.

Edwin doubted if she'd believe him, even if he had time to explain.

"We need to move, Mum!"

Jane yielded, allowing Edwin to lead her back through the cemetery. They were halfway to the main gate when Edwin saw a cream coloured cat up ahead, its green eyes flashing at him through the curtain of falling snow.

"They've got the exit covered," he panted. "Is there another way out?"

"Yes. A footpath to the alley." Jane gestured left. "But darling, I need to tell you..."

Edwin turned on his heel, yanking his mother with him. They stumbled together through the deepening snow until they reached a small gate in the hedge that marked the perimeter of the cemetery. He hauled Jane through and into a narrow alley between two rows of terraced houses. There was only a light dusting of snow here, the sheltered backstreet making the perfect escape route.

"Come on!" Edwin coaxed Jane into a sprint, but then saw an obstacle ahead: an ugly old tree in the middle of the alley.

"Hah ha!" rasped Twisted Bough. "Got you cornered now! Been tracking you like a hare, I have. There's no escape from... Oi! Where do you think you're going? Come back here!"

Edwin and Jane ran straight past the ugly tree, ignoring its groaned commands.

"Oi, I said come back! Show some respect when your elders and betters are trapping you!"

Twisted Bough's voice faded as Edwin and Jane reached the end of the alley. Instinctively he headed right, dragging Jane through an empty car park before turning down a side street and into the market square. The precinct was normally packed with shoppers and traders, but today there wasn't a soul in sight...

Apart from the auburn haired, moustachioed man standing by the frozen fountain in the middle of the square.

Edwin skidded to a halt, keeping a safe distance between himself and Captain Rathbone.

"Master Edwin." The Captain raised his right hand in a gesture of greeting. "We need to talk as a matter of great urgency. I have news of..."

The Captain's voice was drowned by a loud boom of thunder. Then Edwin heard another noise carried on the gusting wind: that eerie, oddly familiar screeching.

He looked up, and gasped in horror when he saw a cluster of bizarre creatures swooping from the clouds. They were vaguely human, clad in tattered robes, with scraggly grey hair streaming from skull-like heads, and lights flashing in their hollow eye sockets.

Edwin had seen these terrible creatures before. They were elemental beings known as Storm Hags.

And they were diving straight at him!

Chapter 4- I Guess That's Up to Me

Exhaling an angry screech, the leading Storm Hag aimed a skeletal hand at Edwin. He knew what was coming, but a combination of fear and cold had frozen every muscle in his body.

A fork of lightning arced from the Storm Hag's fingers. At that same moment something bowled into Edwin and Jane, knocking them clear just in time. There was a bright flash and an explosion of melted tarmac where the lightning struck the pavement, followed by a chorus of frustrated shrieks when the Storm Hags saw their attack had failed.

Stunned by the fall, Edwin lay on his back in the snow, watching as more Storm Hags poured from the clouds. The creatures swarmed above the town square, wheeling en-masse for another attack.

Jane crawled to her son, enfolding him in her arms. There was nowhere to take cover, and no chance of outrunning the flying monsters. All Edwin could do was hold on to his mother.

The Storm Hags' shrieking reached a nerve-shredding crescendo, but then Edwin caught another monstrous sound: a deep growling that grew steadily louder...

The cause of the growling noise was no monster, at least not of flesh and blood, but a silver car that came lurching into the square. It was a big machine, with chunky tyres that chewed through the snow. It was going fast, too fast for the icy conditions. One of its headlights was already smashed, its bonnet crumpled from a previous accident. Its driver was clearly some sort of maniac, as was the bespectacled old lady leaning out of the front passenger window.

"Oi you!" The old lady yelled at the Storm Hags, waving her walking stick threateningly. "If you're looking for a scrap, I'm up for a spot of aggro!"

The swarm of Storm Hags responded to the challenge, veering away from Edwin to dive at the car in a screeching horde. The old lady seemed unperturbed, continuing to shout insults at the top of her voice.

"That's it! Don't bother forming a queue. I'll take you all on at once!"

"She's crazy," gasped Jane, squeezing Edwin tighter. "Those monsters will tear her to shreds!"

By then, Edwin had recognised the little old lady. And it was the monsters he felt sorry for.

Val swung her stick to block the first barrage of lightning bolts. There was a loud crackle as the old lady and her walking stick were enveloped in a flickering silver glow.

Jane screamed with terror. The Storm Hags shrieked triumphantly. But when the silvery glow faded, Val was apparently no worse for wear.

"Is that all you got?" she taunted the circling Storm Hags. "I've had bigger electric shocks from my nylon leggings!"

The big silver car careered around the market square, trailed by a twisting ribbon of ragged fury. Jane pulled Edwin to his feet and out of the vehicle's path. They huddled together by the central fountain, keeping their heads down as they watched the battle unfolding.

The Storm Hags unleashed a second round of lightning bolts, again turning Val into a flashing human light bulb. The old lady crumpled with pain, and Edwin feared she would topple from the car. But she quickly recovered, raising her head to bark more insults at her airborne assailants.

"Pathetic! I got a more painful charge the last time my savings account was overdrawn by tuppence!"

Enraged by the old lady's taunts, the Storm Hags circled for another attack. Even though Edwin knew how resilient Val was, he doubted if she could survive a third dose of elemental power.

If only he had some magic left!

But there was nothing now, not even the faintest tingle in his hand. Helpless, he could only watch the swarm of Storm Hags bearing down on their target.

But Val remained undaunted, hefting her walking stick like a spear. "You've had your go, ladies. Time for me to prove who's the brightest spark!"

A fork of lightning lanced from the tip of Val's stick, turning the nearest Storm Hag into a bundle of smouldering rags.

"Come!" Val hoisted her stick above her head and challenged her enemies. "Test yourselves against the power of Asgard!"

The whole swarm of Storm Hags rushed at Val, who unleashed a fusillade of electric blots from her walking stick. The air filled with sparks and agonised screeching. In the blink of an eye there was not a single Storm Hag left, just a cloud of charred wisps in the wind.

"Hah ha!" Val twirled her stick like a majorette's baton. "That showed those scrawny old bags not to mess with the kids!"

Edwin couldn't help but laugh, too. Jane breathed a sigh of relief. Together they moved away from the fountain, waving at the car as it performed another circuit of the precinct.

Either the driver hadn't seen them, or was distracted by something else. Edwin called out, but struggled to make his voice heard above the growling engine. Luckily Val saw him, and rapped the roof of the car with her walking stick. At the last second the driver must have realised, because he slammed hard on the brakes. Its chunky wheels locked, and the car went skidding in a wide arc.

Jane yanked Edwin aside as the car skated uncontrollably towards them. But his right foot slipped and he fell, taking her with him.

They lay in a heap, directly in the path of the skidding car. Edwin closed his eyes. He felt a spray of cold snow on his cheek, followed by a sickening thud. Then the growling engine cut off, and there was silence; at least for a couple of seconds, until Jane started yelling.

"You berk! Didn't you see us?"

Edwin heard a car door being opened, and then footsteps crunching on snow. He opened his eyes and saw a dark haired, anxious faced man wearing a gaudy lumberjack shirt hurrying towards them.

"Of course I saw you," Bill told Jane. "That's why I stopped."

"Eventually." Jane clambered to her feet, hoisting Edwin up with her. "After almost killing your wife and stepson."

"I was in total control of the vehicle," Bill insisted. "How else would I have managed to stop it safely?"

"Bollards," snarled Jane.

Bill blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"You didn't stop the car. The bollards did." Jane pointed to the circle of concrete posts around the fountain, one of which was buried in the front grill of Bill's car.

"That's what bollards are for," said Bill. "And anyway, if you want to split hairs, you were the ones in the wrong. The town square is traffic only after noon on a Wednesday."

Jane exhaled an outraged gasp. "So it's our fault, huh? Let's see if a Court of Law thinks the same."

"You can't take me to court," gasped Bill.

"Why not? You were quite willing to do the same to me."

"That was different, sweetheart. At the time..."

"I'm not your sweetheart!" snapped Jane. "Don't think you can wheedle your way back into my affections with words like that."

"But baby..."

"Or that."

"Look, bunnykins..."

"Especially that!"

"But Jane," said Bill, "you know I'd never do anything to hurt the boy. He's like a son to me."

"He's no son of yours," growled Jane. "And never will be!"

"Hey, sugarlump..."

"And not that one either!"

Bill protested, and a full-blown argument erupted.

"Hey! Guys!" Edwin had to shout to make himself heard. "The main thing is that no one got hurt."

"That's not quite true." Val hobbled from the car, gesturing with her stick. "That there gentleman looks in need of some urgent medical attention."

Bill and Jane fell silent, their attention drawn to a body lying in the snow behind them. Edwin saw it too, and then realised who had saved him from the first wave of Storm Hags.

"Captain Rathbone!" Edwin dashed to the motionless fox. "Are you OK?"

The animal transformed into the familiar tweed suited gentleman. Captain Rathbone opened his eyes to peer blearily at Edwin.

"You're unhurt?" His voice was shaky, yet his concern obvious. "What happened to the Storm Hags?"

"I did," said Val, shuffling to Edwin's side. "Taught those noisy blighters not to fool with a Shield Maiden of Asgard."

"But I thought you'd retired from all that," said Edwin. "So how come you've still got your magic powers?"

"Those weren't my powers. I absorbed the Storm Hags' energy and threw it back at them. That taught them a lesson. Doctor Masters, too."

"Doctor Masters didn't send the Storm Hags," said the Captain. "Their appearance was inevitable, a natural result of the worsening elemental imbalance." His body shook with a racking cough, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Look what you've done," Jane hissed at Bill. "You hit Captain Rathbone!"

"The car didn't hit me," wheezed the Captain. "I fell awkwardly, that's all. It's probably not that serious."

"I wouldn't be so sure," said a mouse perched on Val's shoulder. "I'm no expert, but I'd say you've most likely broken a rib or two, and possibly fractured several thoracic vertebrae."

Val stared down at the mouse. "Have you swallowed a medical dictionary?"

"I might have browsed a few of the more interesting chapters," admitted Stubby with a twitch of his whiskers. "And very delicious they were, too."

"Don't worry." Jane shooed Edwin away from the Captain. "I'm an experienced teacher, and regularly deal with playground accidents. There is a very strict procedure to follow. First, ensure the patient is comfortable."

Edwin took off his coat and scrunched it beneath the Captain's head.

Jane made a few adjustments to the makeshift pillow before nodding her approval that due procedure had been satisfied. "Secondly, administer a sweetie." She took a pear drop from her coat pocket and stuffed it into the Captain's mouth. "And thirdly, call an ambulance."

Everyone looked expectantly at Bill.

"What?" he asked.

"Call an ambulance," repeated Jane, pointing at the Bluetooth headpiece he was wearing.

"I can't," said Bill. "It doesn't work anymore."

Jane scowled irritably. "Then why are you still wearing it?"

"Because it makes me look cool and successful."

Jane gritted her teeth, bunching her right hand into a fist. "Let's see how cool it looks with a black eye to go with it."

"Mum!" Edwin grabbed his mother's arm before she could take a swing at Bill. "Thumping him isn't going to help the Captain."

"No," seethed Jane. "But it'd make me feel better."

Captain Rathbone discreetly spat out the pear drop. "No ambulance. Too risky. We don't know what influence Doctor Masters has over the authorities. In any case, time is short. I must speak with Master Edwin."

The grown-ups drew back. Edwin leaned closer to the Captain.

"I apologise." Captain Rathbone's once bright amber eyes were drained of colour as they fixed on Edwin. "You were right to be angry with me for hiding the truth about Magister and Nova Luna. I humbly ask whether you can find it in your heart to forgive me?"

"Of course I forgive you," murmured Edwin, lowering his head ashamedly. "I would have done the same if I were you. In fact, I did exactly the same." Deciding now was as good a time as any, he looked up at Jane. "Mum. There's something I need to tell you. Bill too."

To Edwin's surprise, his mother nodded.

"We know, darling."

"You're a Guardian." Bill was nodding, too. "A descendant of the Wise Guys."

"It's the Wise Ones," Jane muttered, rolling her eyes.

"But..." Edwin was taken aback. "You can't know about that."

"But we do," said Jane. "We know about the Wise Ones, about Inglenook, and all your magic adventures."

"You told them." Edwin shot the Captain an accusing glare. "Don't you know that grown-ups can't deal with that sort of stuff? That's why we kept it a secret."

"The Captain didn't tell us," said Jane. "You see, when we were rescued from Doctor Masters' clutches, we were given a special potion to break the magic spell he'd put on us. But it also broke the spell Inglenook had put on us. And that's when our memories of Wychetts returned."

"So now we remember everything," added Bill. "Like that night the Shadow Clowns invaded Wychetts. And our holiday on the Isle of Lost Souls, when we all got shrunk, and I almost married a venomous spider. That was a lucky escape."

"For the spider," reflected Jane. "And they're the Shadow Clan, not Shadow Clowns."

"And we remember Barrenbrake Farm as well," continued Bill. "Where we got turned into zombie scarecrows. And you got changed into a chicken."

"I remember it too," mused Stubby. "He started laying eggs."

"All right," hissed Edwin, who didn't want reminding of that particular incident. "So now you know." He looked his mother square in the face. "Are you mad at me?"

Jane pursed her lips. "I don't like the fact that you hid the truth. But I understand why you did it. You were trying to protect us."

Bill nodded. "In the same way Captain Bathrobe here was trying to protect you."

"It's Rathbone," growled Jane. "Can't you get anything right?"

"I still should have told you," said the Captain, laying a hand on Edwin's arm.

"It's OK," said Edwin. "You'd sworn on your soul to keep it a secret."

"What is one soul against the billions who might perish as a result of my secrecy?" Captain Rathbone sighed wearily. "Sometimes even the most solemn of vows must be broken for the greater good."

"I'm sorry too, Captain." Edwin hung his head in shame. "For what I said to you back at Mossy Glade Close. And for letting you think I'd died when the house collapsed. I just wanted to be alone, that's all."

"I understand, Master Edwin. But that is in the past. We must focus our minds on the present, and those in peril who need our assistance. I speak of Miss Bryony, of course."

"She's OK?" Edwin's heart leaped. "Bryony's alive?"

"Very much so." A fleeting smile twisted the Captain's lips. "Though far from safe, I regret. According to my Chief Scout, she is being held captive by Doctor Masters in his centre of operations."

"The clinic?"

"The clinic was merely a magical illusion. Doctor Masters' real headquarters is three miles off the south coast, a purpose built observatory on the Isle of Lost Souls."

"The Isle of Lost Souls?" Edwin frowned. "But I was there only last summer. I didn't see any laboratory."

"It was constructed in a matter of days," said Stubby. "With all of Wychetts' magic at his disposal, Doctor Masters could take one or two shortcuts in the construction process."

"So what are we waiting for?" Edwin felt a renewed sense of purpose. "Let's go rescue her!"

"We cannot rush into such an undertaking," the Captain warned. "For there is another important matter we must first consider: Doctor Masters' true intentions."

"I thought we knew what he wants," said Edwin. "To destroy the world by crashing the moon into it."

Captain Rathbone shook his head. "We have obtained evidence suggesting that may not have been his plan after all. Doctor Masters wasn't content with just destroying Wychetts, which he could have done through various other means. He wanted its magic, which means he must have a broader purpose in mind than destroying the world."

"What sort of broader purpose?" Edwin was sensing that everyone knew more about this than he did. Then he remembered his father's words. "Was there some TV broadcast?"

"It was shocking." Val shook her grey head. "Never in a million years did I think it was a wig."

"Wig?" Edwin felt only more perplexed, until Jane explained.

"The governments of the world were going to fire missiles to blow up the moon, but the launch never happened. Doctor Masters hijacked the broadcast, and announced that he's going to fire a beam of magic energy at the moon at midnight, pushing it back into orbit."

Captain Rathbone nodded weakly. "That is what he wants the world to believe. But in truth he has another reason for firing a magic ray at the moon: he plans to free Magister."

"Is that possible?" Edwin gasped. "I thought it took all the powers of light and darkness to lock Magister up there."

"That is true," acknowledged Stubby. "Wychetts' magic alone would not be enough to undo the spell. So he has developed a means of enhancing its range and power. A Magic Lantern."

Edwin frowned. "A what?"

Captain Rathbone took a deep breath before answering. "A Magic Lantern is a WMD, a Weapon of Magical Destruction, capable of firing a beam of highly concentrated magic over vast distances. It was Magister who built the first functioning prototype during the Great War of Magic, which he used to tear the moon from the sky as the Battle of Nova Luna reached its climax. But this new version is even larger, more powerful."

"So he's going to fire a beam of Wychetts' magic at the moon to free Magister." Edwin wrinkled his nose. "But the prophecy said the moon would destroy the world."

"The exact wording of the prophecy has been lost in time," revealed the Captain, wincing as he spoke. "And scholars have been arguing over its true meaning for centuries. All we know for sure is that the moon will fall from the sky. What happens next has been open to interpretation."

"On the broadcast Doctor Masters talked about creating a new age of peace and love," said Jane. "Is that really what he wants?"

Captain Rathbone managed a feeble shrug. "Doctor Masters may simply be deluded, or that he is lying to hide the truth. But whatever he believes, when the real Magister returns the world will wish it had perished under the falling moon. His vengeance is sure to be swift and terrible."

"And we've only got five hours to stop him." Val waved her walking stick belligerently. "Let's head over to that observatory and give him what for!"

"And rescue Bryony," said Bill. "I'll teach that Doctor Plaster chap a lesson he'll never forget."

"It's Doctor Masters," Jane groaned. "And you couldn't teach anyone anything, except how to get things wrong all the time."

"I agree we must act," said Captain Rathbone. "But the observatory is sure to be heavily defended. Any assault on our enemy's stronghold must be meticulously planned."

"So what do we do?" Edwin stared expectantly at the Captain. The reply was not what he expected.

"The question is not what we do. But what you do, Master Edwin."

"Huh?"

Captain Rathbone tightened his grip on Edwin's arm. "You are a Guardian of Wychetts. That still means something to a great many souls, who would proudly follow you into battle."

"Follow?" Edwin wasn't sure what the Captain was getting at. "Why would they follow me? You're the Captain. You're in charge."

"You must take this." Captain Rathbone drew a brass fob watch from his jacket. "It will prove vital in the coming battle."

Edwin didn't take the watch. "But won't you need it?"

"I will play no part in the fight," wheezed the Captain. "My injuries are worse than I divulged. I took a Storm Hag's lightning bolt in the side. Only a Shield Maiden can survive a dose of elemental power. There is no medecine, no magic that can save me."

Captain Rathbone closed his eyes, his face creasing with agony. Edwin realised time was running out, but he wasn't going to give up yet.

"I won't let you die," he told the Captain. "There must be something we can do."

"The only thing you can do is what the good Captain asks."

Edwin recognised the weird gulping voice. He looked round and saw the old man from the cemetary standing behind Bill and Jane.

"Go away," Edwin growled. "This is none of your business."

"This business concerns everyone." The old man walked forwards to stand in front of Edwin. "Every living creature on Earth. And in Water."

As the old man spoke, his face began to change. His eyes bulged from their sockets, his lipless mouth widened, and a crown of spikes sprouted from his balding head. His patched up overcoat became a gown of fine silver mesh enrobing a slender body covered in golden scales.

Bill and Jane uttered terrified gasps as they watched the strange transformation. Edwin's reaction was somewhat different.

"Your Majesty?" He bowed hurriedly before the scaly-skinned being, now regretting the tone of his previous remarks. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise it was you."

The Nyx Queen raised a webbed hand in a gesture of forgiveness. "Your apology is accepted," she gulped. "In turn I crave your pardon for my own subterfuge."

"That's OK, Your Majesty." Edwin lifted his head. "I'm actually very glad to see you. The Captain's hurt. Took a bolt of lightning from a Storm Hag. Is there anything you can do for him?"

The Nyx Queen's bulbous fish eyes scanned the prostrate Captain before she gulped her grim diagnosis. "He is dying. At present my magic powers cannot cure his injuries."

Edwin's heart sank.

"However," continued the Nyx Queen, "if you entrust him to my care, my royal physicians can keep his condition stable until the Eternal Balance is restored and my powers returned."

Edwin looked at Val, who nodded firmly in response.

"All right." Edwin turned back to the Nyx Queen. "We entrust Captain Rathbone to your royal care. Please do what you can for him."

The Nyx Queen raised a webbed hand again. A halo of shimmering light engulfed the Captain's body; it faded moments later, leaving a hollowed shape in the snow where he had lain.

"Doctor Masters must be stopped," she said forcefully. "A force will be assembled to attack his stronghold."

Edwin was pleased to hear the Nyx Queen had everything organised.

"Your army is ready. Brilliant, Your Majesty."

The Nyx Queen inclined her head. "My legions are entombed by frozen waters, and can play no part in the coming battle. Even if they could dig their way to the surface, the climate is too cold for the Nyx to survive more than a few minutes. I too must return below water very soon."

Edwin's hopes dived. "So where will this force come from?"

"Captain Rathbone has already begun assembling a strikeforce," gulped the Nyx Queen. "But more recruits must be found, from both the forces of light and darkness."

The Nyx Queen's bulbous fish eyes swivelled sideways. Edwin followed her gaze and saw the familiar human figures of Pauncefoot and Dawes striding towards them across the square.

"You mean the Shadow Clan?" Edwin sneered with distaste. "No way. We can't trust them."

"It was Katya and Dawes who rescued Bill and I from Doctor Masters," revealed Jane. "We would still be his prisoners if it wasn't for them."

The Nyx Queen nodded. "And as I said, this impending danger affects every living creature on this planet. It will be the task of the leader to muster these combined forces and devise a strategy of attack."

"But we don't have a leader," whined Edwin. "Not now the Captain is out of action."

"I see a leader." The Nyx Queen stared at Edwin. "As did the Captain. I see a brave warrior who will do his duty as a Guardian of Wychetts."

"No." At last the horrified Edwin twigged what Captain Rathbone had meant. "I can't be leader. I've never led anything in my life. Except the school hockey team. And we lost the match because I got confused and told everyone to bring tennis racquets instead of hockey sticks."

"It is your choice," gulped the Nyx Queen. "Your decision to make. I suggest you consider it carefully. I must leave now. My gill flaps have started to freeze."

"Don't go just yet," pleaded Edwin. "We need you. I need you..."

A shimmering light shrouded the Nyx Queen. "I can do no more, brave Guardian. It is up to you now."

The shimmering light dimmed, and the Nyx Queen was gone.

"Is everything all right, darling?"

Edwin looked round at his mother's anxious face. He wanted to run to her, to nestle in her arms as he had done so many times as a child. But suddenly he didn't feel like a child anymore.

"Hey, lad." Val wagged her walking stick to attract Edwin's attention. "What is to be done now the Captain has gone?"

"We couldn't hear what the fish lady said," added Bill. "So what's the plan?"

Katya and Dawes halted next to Bill's parked car. They were both staring at Edwin. Suddenly it felt as if the whole world was staring at him.

He lowered his gaze, spotting something glinting in the snow where the Captain had lain. He stooped and picked up the fob watch, clasping the bulky timepiece as he rose to face the unlikely gathering.

He took a deep breath, exhaling a long cloud of twisting steam before answering Bill's question.

"I guess that's up to me now."

Chapter 5- Cheesy Super Villain

"Hello, my dear." Doctor Masters smiled warmly at his guest. "And welcome to my humble abode."

"I don't feel very welcome," muttered Bryony. "After being shrunk and locked up in a hamster cage."

"Shrunk and locked in a hamster cage?" Doctor Masters frowned at the white haired girl stood next to Bryony. "Is this true?"

"Of course not," replied Albany, sliding an arm around Bryony's shoulder. "I've been looking after her just as you instructed, Uncle."

"She's lying," hissed Bryony, squirming out of Albany's embrace. "She only magicked me back to normal size to meet you. And she killed my stepbrother Edwin. She's an evil monster, just like you!"

Doctor Masters looked horrified. "I can assure you that Albany couldn't have harmed the boy. She is bound to me through magic, and can only do my will. I wish no malice towards your stepbrother. Nor indeed you, dearest Bryony."

"But you killed Inglenook. Burned Wychetts to the ground!"

"The fire was not our doing," insisted Doctor Masters, "but a self-destruct mechanism installed by the Wise Ones in the event of a dire emergency. I didn't intend to destroy Inglenook, believe me. And if I am a monster, would I have given you such a lovely home after the cottage burned down?"

"It wasn't a lovely home. It was just a magic illusion."

Doctor Masters dismissed Bryony's response with a wave of his hand. "If I was a monster, would I have saved you from the clutches of the Shadow Clan?"

"You sent a flying, fire breathing snake that almost killed me."

"If I was a monster, would I have constructed this magnificent observatory with which to save the world from destruction?"

Bryony couldn't deny her surroundings were impressive. She was standing in the middle of a huge glass bubble. Overhead was a circular panorama of the heavens, a dome of swirling clouds framing the massive moon. Below, the walls were lined with rows of sophisticated looking computers, all flashing screens and flickering dials. And in the centre stood a bulbous contraption that resembled a large glass lantern, with a brass funnel extending through the observatory roof and up into the sky.

"I hope you like it?" Doctor Masters leaned towards Bryony, his tufted eyebrows raised eagerly. "It's taken years of painstaking planning."

Bryony wrinkled her nose with disdain. "It's all a bit 'cheesy super-villain'."

Doctor Masters chuckled. "I wanted a mono-rail, but you know what a nightmare Health and Safety rules are. In any case, I'm no villain. I thought you might have realised that by now."

"I know what you are," said Bryony, recalling what Albany had revealed to her at Mossy Glade Close. "You're a magic projection, created by Inglenook's memories of Magister. What I don't get is how you escaped from the Dungeon of Dreams, and how you got into my past."

"It's quite simple." Doctor Masters leaned forwards to explain. "When you escaped from the Dungeon of Dreams, the boundary between fantasy and reality was torn apart, if only for a couple of seconds. This event created a surge of magic energy, which I used to transport myself into the past using your memories as a kind of roadmap."

"Couldn't have been a very interesting trip," sniggered Albany.

Bryony kept her incredulous gaze on Doctor Masters. "So you're Boney?"

Doctor Masters shook his head. "Boney was Inglenook's original memory. His guilty dark secret, locked away in the shadows of his mind. But you restored me, when you spoke about the Moon of Magister, when we shared our minds in the Dream Well, and particularly when I heard you singing that lovely lullaby about the moon. That's when I remembered who I was, and what the Wise Ones did to me."

Bryony realised what Doctor Masters told her must be true. "So now you've escaped to fulfil the prophecy and destroy the world."

"The prophecy didn't mention anything about the world being destroyed. Only that the moon would return from the heavens. The Wise Ones chose to interpret that in negative terms, eternal pessimists that they were. I prefer to see these events as an opportunity for good to finally triumph over evil."

"Like how?" wondered Bryony. "The Eternal Balance has been destroyed. The moon is going to crash into the Earth and wipe everything out."

"No it won't. I'll let dearest Albany explain."

"Thank you, Uncle." Albany pointed to the bulbous glass contraption in the middle of the observatory. "This device is called a Magic Lantern. It is based on apparatus built by Magister in the last days of the Great War of Magic. Although we have incorporated several enhancements into this new model."

"Can it make a cup of coffee?" Bryony asked sarcastically.

Albany swept the question aside with a wave of her perfect right hand. "The Magic Lantern can transmit a beam of highly focused magical energy across vast distances. In terms you'd understand, like a laser beam."

"So it's a weapon?"

"It could be if desired," said Doctor Masters. "But of course that's not our intention, as I explained in my TV broadcast which I hope you managed to catch."

"I made sure she watched it," said Albany. "Although I don't think she understood much."

"I got the gist," said Bryony. "You're going to fire a beam of magic at the moon, and push it back into its proper orbit. But the bit I don't understand is why. After all, you caused the moon to fall from its orbit in the first place when you stole Wychetts magic and destroyed the Eternal Balance. So why bother doing all that, if you're just going to put the moon back in its place?"

"Perhaps I didn't explain everything in my broadcast," conceded Doctor Masters. "It was daytime TV after all, so I didn't want to make it too complicated. Truth is, my magic beam won't restore the moon to its natural orbit. Because, as you now know, the moon isn't really the moon."

"I get it." Bryony finally understood. "You're going to use the Magic Lantern to free Magister!"

"Correct." Doctor Masters clapped his hands. "Although the Lantern is just a device. The magic power itself will be provided by my capable assistant."

"You mean Wychetts' magic." Bryony glared at the smirking Albany. "Which you stole."

"And which I still possess, Sis. Flowing all around inside me. I bet you're dying to know how it's all going to work, huh?"

Bryony wasn't, but guessed she was about to find out.

Albany walked to a big chair set on a raised platform next to the Lantern. It looked like a cross between a pilot's seat and a throne, with large glass orbs set in each arm.

"This is the control chair, where I shall be sitting." She pointed to the orbs. "When I touch these spheres I shall trigger a transfer of power from myself to the Lantern's magic fuel cells. I can control the flow rate by telepathic link. From this chair I can also control other systems in the observatory, such as defence mechanisms and air con." She pressed a button on the chair's right arm, and immediately Bryony felt a gust of chill air. "Simple, but effective. And all my own design."

"Albany has proved my greatest pupil." Doctor Master's chest swelled visibly. "If only the Wise Ones had produced more like her."

One thing puzzled Bryony. "So why are you waiting? Why not fire the Lantern now and get it over with?"

Again Albany was keen to explain. "Although the Magic Lantern represents the latest in magical technology, its effective range is limited to twenty-five point seven-nine thousand miles."

"So we have to wait until the moon is within range before firing." Doctor Masters gestured to a large countdown clock on the wall behind him. "Which is in precisely four hours and fifteen minutes. Bang on midnight, and six minutes before the moon is due to strike the Earth. I know that's cutting it a bit fine, but all adds to the drama, eh?"

Bryony's nostrils flared with disgust. "So then Magister will be free to take revenge on all his enemies?"

"Revenge?" Doctor Masters looked horrified. "Oh no, the Grand Magister's ambitions are far worthier than that. He will return to finish what he began all those years ago."

"The Great War of Magic?"

Doctor Masters glowered at Bryony. "The war was not his aim. Magister sought not to destroy, but to create. To create a new world of magic." His expression softened as he spoke. "A world without war and famine. A world of everlasting peace."

Bryony snorted sceptically. "If that's the case, then why did the Wise Ones stop him?"

"The Wise Ones never understood the Grand Magister. They preached about kindness, yet they permitted evil and suffering to exist under their very noses."

"But it's the Balance," said Bryony. "Inglenook told us about it. That's why they never destroyed the Shadow Clan. The world needs light and darkness, night and day, good and evil."

"Hah!" Doctor Masters gritted his teeth. "I see old wooden face has trained you well. Yet he lied, dearest Bryony. Hid the truth from you. Not just about Nova Luna, but about the very essence of magic itself. Did he tell you how it started?"

"The war?" Bryony nodded. "Magister stole the Tome Terriblis."

"The Maddergrub girl stole it," Doctor Masters corrected her.

"Magister tricked her into stealing it," Bryony corrected him back.

"A mere technicality. In any case, the whole story began many years earlier, when Magister was a child. When he lost his parents." Doctor Masters looked away, his silver eyes seeming to cloud over. "There was a terrible plague, another of the Shadow Clan's vile schemes. In an attempt to stem the pestilence, the Wise Ones used their magic to cure the sick. Both Magister's parents were sent to a nearby village, where they got infected whilst treating the sick. They made it home, only to die in front of their weeping son."

Although it was a tragic tale, Bryony found it hard to believe. "But why didn't they cure themselves with magic?"

"It was against the laws of the Wise Ones, to save themselves with magic whilst others were in need. It was always a suicide mission, and my parents... Magister's parents... both knew it. But it didn't have to end like that. If the Wise Ones had acted responsibly in the first place by wiping the Shadow Clan from the face of the Earth, there would have been no plague. You tell me that's right." He turned back to Bryony, his eyes now tinged with red. "Inglenook spoke about the Eternal Balance of Nature, but there is nothing natural about a son watching his parents perish because of their own kindness."

"I..." Bryony felt a lump swelling in her throat. "I'm sorry. That must have been tough."

"You cannot imagine such pain, child. But in a way, it was the making of Magister. The orphaned child was adopted by the High Council of the Wise Ones, from whom he received the best magic training anyone could hope for. But all the while he doubted the Wise Ones. He knew there was a better way of using his gift of magic, by eliminating evil to create a new world of peace. And he will create that world, when he is freed at midnight."

"But you're forgetting something," said Bryony. "The moon is part of the Eternal Balance, which is why the Wise Ones put Magister up there in the first place. If he returns to Earth, there won't be a moon anymore. The Eternal Balance will be ruined, and the world will be destroyed before he's had a chance to do anything."

"Don't worry," Doctor Masters assured her. "I haven't forgotten that. After I have freed Magister, I shall replace the moon with another moon. A new moon. A new, new moon to be correct. But this new, new moon won't just be a lump of space rock."

Bryony's lips parted as she realised. "You're going to put someone else up there."

"Justice demands a sacrifice." Lowering his voice, Doctor Masters glanced at Albany, who was busy inspecting the control chair. "You have to break an egg to make an omelette."

"Who is it?" asked Bryony. "Who are you going to sacrifice?"

"That is none of your concern, at least for the moment." Doctor Masters raised his voice again. "I have final preparations to make. Albany will take you back to your quarters, where you will remain until Magister has been freed. After which you will be reunited with your mother."

Bryony's heart stuttered. "She's here?"

"Naturally," Doctor Masters smiled. "Your mother has played a vital role in proceedings, so I thought it just reward for her to witness the fruits of her labours."

"I want to see her," Bryony demanded. "Now."

"Not yet." Doctor Masters wagged a long finger. "Not until Magister has been freed."

"But I have to see her. I have to ask her..."

"Ask her why she helped me?" Doctor Masters shrugged. "Maybe she didn't have a choice. Maybe it was destiny. You see, growing a living poppet from the white bryony root was difficult even for a learned magical practitioner such as me. It was hard enough obtaining the special ingredients needed to grow a replica of you, but there was one thing only a mother could supply: the love for her child. And because I wanted Albany to grow into a perfect copy of you, perfect enough to fool Inglenook, it had to be your mother who provided that love. A task she was more than happy to fulfil."

"She loved me from the moment we met," said Albany, returning to Doctor Masters' side. "At last she had a daughter who loved her back."

Bryony felt her eyes watering. It all made sense now. Except for one thing.

"The note inside Mr Cuddles. Why did Mum put it there?"

"I needed a way to trigger the prophecy," said Doctor Masters. "A means of putting those words into your head, so that in the future I could reach out to you from the Dungeon of Dreams. So I suggested your mother write a note to put inside your toy, as a token of her undying love for you."

That only half made sense to Bryony. "So why did she write 'Beware the Moon of Magister'? That's not very loving."

Doctor Masters smiled sheepishly. "She didn't write that. I changed the words afterwards with some simple magic. Kept the same handwriting, knowing the words had more power if you'd think they came from your mother."

"So she never wrote about Magister." Bryony felt a strange mixture of relief and confusion. "So what did she write, before you changed the words?"

Doctor Masters ignored the question, turning away to check the countdown display. "Time draws on. You must return to your quarters with Albany."

"But I need to see Mum," pleaded Bryony. "I want to know..."

Her voice trailed off when she glimpsed a metallic flash from inside Doctor Masters' jacket, coming from a large metal key hanging from his belt.

"The Wychetts Key!" Bryony shrieked when she glimpsed Inglenook's miniature face staring back at her. "You've got the Wychetts Key!"

Doctor Masters wheeled back to Bryony. At first he looked irritated, but then he smiled and patted the Key.

"I personally retrieved it from Wychetts' wreckage. Cleaned it up, too. Doesn't it look lovely? Almost brand new."

Instinctively Bryony reached for the Key, but Doctor Masters fastened his jacket to hide it from view.

"It is of no use to you," he told her. "I keep it merely as a trophy to offer Magister on his release, as a symbol of his ultimate victory over the Wise Ones."

"You really think your plan will work?" Bryony shifted her gaze to the Magic Lantern. "That you can free Magister from the moon before it crashes into the Earth?"

"How can I possibly fail, when I have all of Wychetts' magic at my disposal?" Doctor Masters grinned triumphantly. "Tonight I shall free Magister, and there is no one and nothing that can stop me."

Chapter 6- Grown Ups Are Useless

"There it is, look." Bill handed the binoculars to Edwin. "Reckon that has to be Doctor Master's observatory."

They were huddled behind a boulder on a cliff top overlooking an expanse of frozen sea. The snow blizzard had abated, but the wind was gathering strength and growing icier by the second. There was still the incessant rumbling of thunder, but luckily no signs of any more Storm Hags.

Edwin pressed the binoculars to his eyes. They weren't real binoculars, but a pair of Val's old opera glasses. But although there was no zoom or focus controls, they still offered a closer view of the enemy's stronghold.

The Isle of Lost Souls looked just as Edwin remembered it, an unremarkable hump of rock. It was the tall, mushroom-shaped construction sprouting from the top that drew a gasp from his frozen lips. A tower built of grey stone, topped with a glass dome that glinted in the light of the moon that loomed larger than ever in the evening sky.

"We should have realised," trilled a voice from Edwin's coat pocket, "that Doctor Masters would choose the location of Magister's final defeat for his centre of operations."

Edwin looked down at Stubby. "That's where the Battle of Nova Luna took place?"

"According to Captain Rathbone, yes. He said the world had seen nothing like it, a clash of armies on an unprecedented scale, the forces of light and darkness combining to strike at the very heart of Magister's power. And that is where it ended: his fortress on the Isle of Lost Souls."

"There was nothing left of the fort when we visited the island," said Jane, taking her turn on the binoculars. "It must have been totally destroyed in the battle."

"Levelled to dust," nodded Stubby. "All that remained was Magister's magic well, although of course it was empty by the time the battle ended."

"I remember that well," said Jane. "It was very deep. That's where I met up with the children at the end of our little adventure."

Edwin recalled the well, or 'the Pit' as it was referred to by the island's imprisoned inhabitants. He wondered if the rats and spiders were still there. They could prove useful allies. He would ask the Captain's Chief Scout when he reported in.

"I remember the well well too," said Bill, grinning at his witticism. "Did you see what I did there? The well well?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "How can you even attempt a joke when your daughter is in danger?"

Bill shrugged. "Just coping in my own way."

"You never could cope," grumbled Jane. "You're next to useless in situations like these."

"My daughter has been kidnapped by the ghost of a mad man trying to free an evil wizard who's really the moon," Bill pointed out. "I'd like to see the manual that tells any parent how to cope with that kind of situation."

"It's obvious silly jokes aren't going to help," tutted Jane. "If only I'd listened to my mother. She said you were bad news, right from the start."

"Mum. Bill." Edwin scowled at the grown-ups. "Give it a rest, will you? We're supposed to be on a military mission."

"Of course," said Jane.

"Sure," said Bill. "But she started it."

"I started it?" Jane shrieked with outrage, but fell silent when she caught an admonishing glare from her son.

Edwin doubted if the truce would last long. Mum and Bill had been bickering in the car all the way from town. He wondered if they could ever be a family again, even if they somehow managed to rescue Bryony and stop Doctor Masters freeing Magister.

He pulled his hood tighter, clenching his teeth to stop them chattering. Stubby had warned against lighting a fire, in case the flames drew the enemy's attention. But Edwin doubted if the flames would have lasted more than a few seconds in the freezing wind. So he tried to imagine he was sitting with the family in front of a roaring log fire back in Wychetts, with Inglenook smiling down at him. For a fleeting heartbeat Edwin felt a comforting glow inside, but the chill returned when he realised he would never see those friendly wooden features again.

"How much longer do we have to sit here?" Val's woolly-hatted head popped up from behind the boulder. "I'm itching to have a crack at Doctor Masters."

"I'm waiting for the Chief Scout's report," said Edwin, taking the binoculars back from Jane to inspect the island again. "I won't commit to any course of action without intelligence."

"That's never stopped you before," squeaked Stubby.

"Don't speak to Edwin like that," Jane scolded the mouse. "He deserves more respect as your leader."

"I apologise," said Stubby. "And can confirm that the boy has my total respect as leader. Even though he has no strategic vision, zero tactical awareness, and less sense of direction than a barmy bat in a bottle bank."

"Thanks," said Edwin. "I think."

"Don't listen to the cheeky rodent." Val patted Edwin's shoulder. "You're a natural born leader, and a Guardian of Wychetts to boot."

Bill smiled encouragingly. "Remember what the Captain said. There are many who will rally to our cause because of you."

Stubby looked all around him. "I don't see much in the way of rallying at the moment."

"Me neither," mewed Katya, curled up in feline form at the base of the boulder. "You told us Captain Rathbone had summoned his most loyal troops. He clearly overestimated their commitment to the cause."

"Our chaps will be here soon enough," said Val. "If anyone's letting the side down, it's you lot. Where are all your troops, eh?"

"We are all that remains of the Shadow Clan," croaked Dawes, perched on the ugly tree next to the boulder. "We tried recruiting from the criminal community, but there were no volunteers."

"That's the trouble with criminals," groaned Twisted Bough. "No sense of right or wrong."

"That's what makes them criminals in the first place," purred Katya.

"Oh yeah," said the ugly tree. "I hadn't thought of that. Anyway, I'm here aren't I?"

"Only because they had a roof rack," said Dawes, before angling his beaky head towards Edwin. "But worry not, Guardian. You shall find us able allies in the coming fight."

Edwin still couldn't think of the Shadow Clan as allies. Accepting the role of leader had been a tough decision, but agreeing to join forces with his hated enemies had been even more gut wrenching. Even though Dad had said the Dark One was not responsible for his death, Edwin couldn't ignore all the other evil things that Katya and her comrades had done. But in the end, just like the Wise Ones and the Captain all those hundreds of years ago, Edwin come to realise that he didn't have a choice. He needed the Shadow Clan. There was no other way of rescuing Bryony and saving the world from Magister's vengeance.

Edwin retrieved the Captain's fob watch from his coat pocket. It was eleven fifteen, just forty-five minutes before the moon came into range of Doctor Masters' Magic Lantern.

He turned his gaze back out to sea, his doubts growing with every passing second. And not just his doubts about the Shadow Clan...

He had no magic left now, no right to call himself a Guardian of Wychetts. Despite the encouraging words of his friends, he felt like a fraud, and way out of his depth. But even if Edwin had been the most confident of leaders, he wouldn't have been able to stave off the impending sense of doom.

He was standing on a cliff top in more ways than one, on the verge of a precipice from which there could be no turning back. He sensed that, whatever happened in the next hour or so, the world would never be the same again.

His world had changed before, of course, that night his father died. But Edwin had been too young to fully grasp what had happened. Looking back, he realised Mum had shielded him from much of the grief. But she couldn't shield him from reality this time.

He turned to look at her. A lot of people thought Mum weak and nervous. She did worry a lot, but Edwin knew she had an inner strength that belied her delicate appearance.

"Don't worry," she told him. "If no one else turns up, we'll go and rescue Bryony ourselves."

"And how do you propose to do that?" Dawes croaked sceptically.

Jane didn't appear to have an answer, but Val did.

"An attack helicopter!" The old lady waved her walking stick excitedly. "With a four-blade rotor, twin turbo-shaft engines, thirty-millimetre automatic chain guns, and computer guided rockets!"

"That's right," agreed Bill. "What we need is an attack helicopter. With... everything she just said."

"That's all very well," squeaked Stubby. "But where will you find such an aircraft?"

Val had evidently thought of that. "There's a military air base not six miles along the coast. My great nephew works there. I'm sure he'd let us borrow one of his helicopters for an hour or two. Owes me big time anyway, after I covered for him denting his mum's car."

"That was sweet of you," said Jane. "The accident was his fault?"

"Partly," said Val. "It was his head that caused the dent. I was the one driving his mum's car. Thought it best if we hushed the whole thing up."

"Forget about the helicopter," said Edwin. "Even if you got hold of one, who's going to fly it?"

"Me," said Bill, as though it was obvious. "I've flown one before, when I helped out on my Uncle Angus's sheep farm."

Jane frowned. "That wasn't a helicopter, it was a sit down mower."

"It's the same principle," argued Bill. "Just... upside down."

Jane's response was drowned by a chorus of cries filtering up from the cliff edge. At first Edwin thought it was another horde of Storm Hags, but then a wall of flapping white wings rose into view.

"Here they are," exclaimed Val, having to shout to be heard above the din. "Our forces have arrived!"

"Seagulls." Dawes sounded disappointed as he watched the flock of birds ascending. "Is that the best you could muster?"

"That is no less than the First Squadron of the Marine Air Corps," said Stubby. "Their bravery and aeronautical skills are second to none."

The gulls hovered above the cliff top. There were too many to count, but Edwin guessed they must have numbered well over a thousand. A keen ornithologist, he could spot several different species of sea bird: there were common gulls, black-headed gulls, kittiwakes and wide winged albatrosses to name but a few.

A large, orange-legged bird with slate grey wings swooped down to land on a rock in front of Edwin.

"Squadron Leader Herringbone-Smythe reporting, Sir." The seagull saluted Edwin with a bob of the head. "My squadron is assembled and ready to load ammunition."

Edwin didn't know about any ammunition, but Stubby appeared fully briefed.

"Very good, Squadron Leader." The mouse saluted the seagull, before turning his attention to Val. "Is the ammunition ready for loading?"

"It is," said the old lady. "Although I can't help thinking it's a terrible waste of good grub."

Edwin watched Val peel back the lid of a large plastic container on the ground beside her. He'd been wondering why she'd brought so many of her homemade scones.

"Excellent." Stubby nodded after inspecting a scone or two. "Squadron Leader, have your bombers load up."

Squadron Leader Herringbone-Smythe issued a shrieked command to his birds. The wide winged albatrosses peeled away from the flock, diving in a steady stream to snatch scones from the container in their beaks before returning to the main flock above the cliff.

"Ammunition loaded," announced Squadron Leader Herringbone-Smythe. "Squadron reassembled and awaiting further orders, Sir."

Edwin became aware that everyone was looking at him.

"Just waiting for our Chief Scout to report in," he told the Squadron Leader. "Then we'll make our move."

"The Shadow Clan shall only make a move when we have received the report from our Chief Scout," said Katya.

This news only increased Edwin's suspicions about his so-called allies. But he knew there was nothing he could do about it, except wait.

Only he couldn't wait forever. With or without the Chief Scout's report, Edwin would have to make a decision sooner or later. He checked the Captain's fob watch again. Just thirty-eight minutes till midnight...

A cry from Squadron Leader Herringbone-Smythe jarred Edwin from his silent deliberations. Dawes croaked as though in answer. Edwin wondered if the noises were some kind of alarm. He raised the binoculars, but couldn't spot any danger approaching on the horizon. Then he heard a rough edged voice from below.

"Chief Scout Slinker reporting, Sir."

Lowering the binoculars, Edwin saw a weasel with an eye patch on the rock beside the Squadron Leader.

"You're our Chief Scout?" He couldn't hide his surprise.

"I sure am," Slinker replied with a grin. "On a freelance basis, of course. All expenses paid."

"You're their Chief Scout?' Katya seemed equally amazed. "But you're supposed to be our Chief Scout."

"There's no rule against holding down two jobs," said Slinker. "As long as all income is declared for taxation purposes. Which I'll get round to. At some point. So do you want my report or not?"

"I'm not sure I do," muttered Edwin. "With your track record, how can I believe a word of it?"

"I understand your doubts about the weasel's loyalty," said Stubby. "Personally, I'd sooner trust a tarantula to tickle my toes. But the Captain assured me that Mr Slinker has proved a valuable source of information in the past."

"Thanks for that glowing personal reference," said Slinker. "I'll be sure to include it in my curriculum vitae."

"Enough of this," Katya meowed impatiently. "Let us hear your report."

Slinker obliged, detailing the observatory tower's outer defences.

"I spotted three magic cannon emplacements, of six-point-five calibre guns with an estimated range of four kilometres in prevailing atmospheric conditions."

Katya, Dawes and Stubby nodded thoughtfully. So did Edwin, although he wasn't entirely sure what the one eyed weasel was talking about.

"There's more," continued Slinker. "The base of the tower contains a secret compartment housing the secondary defences. I couldn't get a look, but you can bet your last buck Doctor Masters has something nasty in store for unwelcome visitors."

"The defences are too strong," Dawes squawked with dismay. "An airborne attack will never break through."

"We expected no less," said Herringbone-Smythe. "Reaching the Magic Lantern by air was never going to be easy."

"Then let's strike it from distance," suggested Val. "An attack helicopter with long range rockets could take out that tower in one hit."

"We mustn't damage the Lantern," said Stubby. "That device is our only chance of returning the moon to its natural orbit and restoring the Eternal Balance. Our strategy must be to secure the observatory platform with the Magic Lantern intact. For that, our best hope is to combine an aerial assault with a secondary strike from ground forces operating on the island."

Katya mewed despairingly. "But we don't have any ground forces on the island."

"Oh but we do," said Slinker. "I've made contact with the Ratello Mob and the Sisterhood. Their lairs were destroyed when Doctor Masters built his observatory, but they survived and are itching to get their own back. Wincella and Pipsqueak have agreed to lead their gangs in a joint attack to seize control of the Magic Lantern before it fires."

Edwin had been listening intently as plans developed, but there was one thing that hadn't been mentioned so far: one very important thing. And he could contain himself no longer.

"But what about Bryony? Do you know what's happened to her?"

"I haven't made contact with Her Ladyship," admitted Slinker. "She's being held captive by her evil twin Albany. I don't know what Doctor Masters has in store for her, but so far he hasn't harmed a hair on her head."

Bill exhaled a thankful sigh. Whilst Edwin shared his stepfather's relief, he wouldn't rest until Bryony was safely out of their enemy's clutches.

"So how are we going to rescue her?"

"By stealth," advised Stubby. "A covert infiltration and extraction operation is the only way."

"I like the sound of that." Val nodded eagerly. "Do we get to wear balaclavas and black leather?"

"I'm sure you'd look lovely," said Slinker. "But the only ground route to the island is through a network of cracks in the frozen sea. It's how I got there and back. Perfect for a small to medium sized mammal, but too low and narrow for a human." He looked at Edwin. "Even a human boy."

"But I've got to help rescue Bryony." Edwin looked pleadingly at Katya. "Can you shrink me with your potion?"

"I have no shrinking potion left," said the cat. "I will go with the weasel. You must lead the airborne assault, Captain Edwin."

Captain Edwin. The title sounded strange, especially from the lips of his hated enemy.

"But I can't lead the aerial attack," he argued.

"You have already accepted the position of leader," croaked Dawes. "You cannot resign before the battle has even started."

"The boy is scared," rasped Twisted Bough. "Such a coward is not fit to command."

"I'm not scared," contested Edwin, fibbing just a little. "It's just, if you hadn't noticed, I don't have any wings."

"The Shadow Clan will provide transport," promised Dawes.

"Great." Bill rubbed his hands. "Can I have a window seat?"

"No," replied the tatty bald bird. "Because you will not be joining the battle."

"Good job too," said Jane, before Bill could utter a word of protest. "You're bound to mess things up."

"Or you," Dawes told Jane, before turning his beak towards Val. "You neither, old woman."

There were shouts of dissent from the grown-ups.

"But my only daughter is in that tower," yelled Bill. "As her father, it's my duty to help rescue her!"

"My son is leading the charge," wailed Jane. "I have a right to be at his side. Plus I've got a pocketful of sweeties in case anyone gets wounded."

"And I'm a Shield Maiden of Asgard," cried Val, shaking her walking stick. "A warrior maiden of the sky."

"You were," Edwin reminded her. "Then you retired, remember?"

"See," groaned Twisted Bough. "There's no respect for the elderly."

"You will only be a hindrance," Katya told the adults. "It is a well-known fact that grown-ups are useless."

This comment sparked another chorus of discontented shouting. Edwin realised that only he could put a stop to the argument.

"Everyone be quiet!" He held up his right hand, but no one paid any attention. So he grabbed Jane's arm. "Mum, listen..."

"Please stay out of this," she hissed. "It has nothing to do with you."

"But I'm supposed to be leader," he reminded her. "And you're meant to show me respect."

At last the grown-ups fell silent.

"Thank you," breathed Edwin. "Look, I know you all want to take part in the battle. But if there's no room on the transport, you'll have to find another way of helping. So why don't you go find that attack helicopter?"

That suggestion seemed to do the trick. Bill's face lit up at the prospect, and Val clapped her hands like an excited schoolgirl.

"You know they have no hope of getting a helicopter," Stubby whispered.

Edwin nodded. "But it'll keep them out of danger, and at least they'll think they're helping."

"A shrewd decision," the mouse conceded. "You might make an effective leader after all."

Keen to start their mission, the adult humans lined up to say goodbye.

"I've have a gift for you." Val presented her walking stick to Edwin. "It will help you lead the attack."

"Wow, thanks." Edwin took the stick, examining it with reverent awe. "Is there any of Asgard's magic left?"

"Not a smidgen," Val admitted. "But you can use it to point at things."

"Cheers." Edwin tried to hide his disappointment. "Wouldn't want to face a magic cannon without one of these."

Bill was next in line to say goodbye.

"I don't have a gift for you, Edwin. But I need to tell you something." He swallowed hard, as though welling up inside. "I know you don't think of me as a father, and that I'll never replace your real dad. But I've watched you grow into a fine young man. And I would be proud if you were my son." He grinned and slapped Edwin hard on the shoulders.

"Thanks," said Edwin, rubbing his shoulder. "But please don't slap me like that ever again."

"Sure." Bill grinned, and slapped Edwin even harder on the shoulder. "Is that better?"

"Darling." Jane stepped forward to take Edwin's hand. "I know you're a little nervous, but Captain Rathbone gave you command because he knew you could do the job. And it isn't just because you're a Guardian. You've proven your bravery time and time again, even without magic."

"Still," sighed Edwin, "I'd feel better if I had the Wychetts Key."

Jane smiled. "You are the Key, now."

She hugged him, and he hugged her back. He knew it was pointless telling her not to worry. Yet he was glad she knew of his life as a Guardian, even though it must be tearing her up inside. Somehow it made him feel closer to his mother than ever before.

He watched the grown-ups leave the cliff top, Bill and Jane supporting the hobbling Val as they made their way to the large silver car parked in a nearby field. He shuddered; not from the cold, but the thought that he might never see them again.

"I shall rescue the female Guardian," announced Katya. "Mr Slinker, how long will it take to reach the island?"

"Thirty minutes on foot," replied the weasel, leaping nimbly onto her back. "Fifteen if you maintain a steady gallop."

Katya hissed her displeasure. "I am not a horse."

"Shame." Slinker wriggled about on her shoulders. "We could have fitted you with a cushioned saddle."

"If you'd prefer a more comfortable berth, I have plenty of room inside my stomach."

"On second thoughts, top deck is fine by me." Slinker turned his single eye to Edwin. "Don't worry about Her Ladyship. I know where she's being held, and Albany will be too busy working the Magic Lantern to worry about her prisoner. You just concentrate on leading the aerial assault. We'll aim to rendezvous on the observatory platform at three minutes to midnight."

Edwin checked the Captain's fob watch. "That gives you thirty minutes to reach the island and find Bryony."

"Then we had better get going," said Katya. "Where is this tunnel entrance?"

On Slinker's directions, the cream coloured cat bounded away across the cliff top, disappearing behind a cluster of snowy rocks.

"It's time to form up," said Stubby. "We must launch the aerial assault in two minutes."

Edwin looked at Dawes. "So where's my transport?"

The tatty bird bowed his bald head. "Your vessel awaits, Captain."

Edwin peered expectantly at the sky. As it only had room for one, he knew the Shadow Clan's transport wouldn't be anything as grand as their Darkwing airship. Probably some sort of single-seat magic jet plane. Small, but fast and nimble. Just the sort of thing to zip around the battle arena.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?" Someone was moaning again. "That's no way to treat your elders!"

Edwin turned round to shush Twisted Bough, but all he could see was a haze of flapping white wings. For some reason a section of the seagull squadron was mobbing the ugly tree.

Then the birds shot upwards, clasping strands of silver rope in their beaks that were lashed around Twisted Bough's branches. The ropes tightened as the gulls flew higher, and the tree was lifted from the ground.

"Our new flagship." Dawes flapped excitedly. "Hurry, boarding now in progress."

"I'm not flying in that," said Edwin. "It doesn't look safe."

"Fear not," said Dawes. "The ropes are made of woven web strands, and have a tensile strength of two hundred and sixty thousand pounds per square inch."

"It's not the ropes I'm worried about." Edwin noticed how the tree's branches were bending under the strain.

"Put me down," moaned Twisted Bough. "I've no head for heights."

"On the contrary," said Dawes, "your head is perfect for this exercise. Hollow, and just about large enough for our Captain to sit in."

Despite his doubts about transport arrangements, Edwin began clambering up the tree trunk using various lumps and knotholes as an improvised ladder.

"Watch where you're treading," grumbled Twisted Bough. "That's my earhole you just put yer great clumsy foot in."

"I always took that for your nose," said Dawes. "Just goes to show you're even uglier than I thought."

Edwin apologised, taking more care as he ensconced himself in the hollow at the top of the trunk.

"There's not much leg room," he observed, struggling to get comfortable. "The seat's damp. And there's loads of woodlice crawling about."

"It's far from satisfactory I agree," trilled Stubby. "But choices are always limited if you book late."

"What are these for?" Edwin found a set of earmuffs inside the trunk.

"This mode of transport can get noisy at speed." Dawes fluttered up to perch on a twiggy branch next to Edwin. "Indeed, it doesn't shut up even when it's standing still."

"And this?" Edwin held up a rectangular brown bag.

"For nausea," said Dawes. "In case the ear muffs don't work."

"The squadron is ready." Herringbone-Smythe spread his wings and took to the air. "We await your orders to advance, Sir."

"We must go now." Stubby's black button eyes looked up at Edwin. "Are you ready for this?"

Edwin checked the Captain's fob watch again. Stubby was right. It was now or never, but he could hardly have classed himself as 'ready'.

Up to now the prospect of battle had seemed distant, almost unreal. But as the gulls lifted Twisted Bough higher, and the chill wind whistled through the old tree's branches, he realised the moment had come.

"I'm ready," he answered in a dry mouthed croak. "Let's do it."

At their Squadron Leader's shrieked command, the seagulls assumed a wide 'v' formation above the cliff. A second peal of cries urged them forwards, like a gleaming white arrowhead piercing the darkened sky.

The tree trunk followed, lurching sideways as the icy gale strengthened.

"This isn't in my job description," moaned Twisted Bough. "I demand a raise for this."

"You'll get a raise," promised Dawes. "Up to a thousand feet, most probably."

The ugly tree groaned more complaints, whilst Edwin gritted his teeth and steeled himself for the coming battle.

Chapter 7- You Couldn't Handle Being Me

"Just forty five minutes to go." Albany nodded at the ornate clock on the wall of her private suite. "I'll have to be leaving you soon, Sis. Some of us have got work to do."

Curled up on the plastic treadmill in her stinky cage, Bryony said nothing.

"What's wrong with you?" Albany's giant face loomed closer. "You haven't said a word for hours. Got the sulks, have we?"

"I'm not sulking," muttered Bryony. "I'm just thinking."

Albany laughed. "Well they say it's good to try something new every day. Anyway, I know what's going on inside your little head. But don't be getting any ideas about the Wychetts Key. There's no magic left in that lump of old metal, so you can't use it against Uncle and me."

Bryony, of course, had been thinking just that. She should have known better. Albany could read her mind, after all.

"And I know what else you've been mulling over, Sis. You're wondering who's going to be the new new moon."

Again, Albany was spot on. Bryony had been considering the likely victims, and had come to the only inevitable conclusion.

"It's me, isn't it?" She stood up, looking straight at Albany. "You're going to put me up there."

"I'm sure you'd make a lovely moon. Right body shape, after all. But no, you're not in the running. More's the pity."

"Then who is it?" Bryony walked to the bars of the cage. "If it isn't me, who's been chosen?"

Suddenly Albany looked serious. "You really don't want to know."

But Bryony's curiosity only deepened. "Is it anyone I know?"

"You could say that. A relative, actually."

Bryony gasped. "Is it Edwin?"

"I already told you, I've no idea what happened to that little runt. Anyway, it's a grown up."

"Then it's my dad?"

"It's not male."

"My stepmum?"

"Too freckly." Albany's expression remained serious. "But you're getting warmer. It's a grown up female relative. So who does that leave?"

For a few seconds Bryony struggled to work it out. And then the realisation hit her like a speeding juggernaut.

"Mum?" She gripped the cage bars to stop herself collapsing. "You're going to turn Mum into the moon?"

Albany nodded gravely. "That's why she's here tonight."

"No no no!" Bryony shook her head. "You can't do that to her!"

"It was her choice. She volunteered."

Bryony found that hard to believe. "Why would she do that?"

"Because of you, stupid. Her daughter, who wrote such horrible words on the bedroom door."

Bryony knew that Albany was right, and the truth brought tears to her eyes. Mum had left home because of those words. And Bryony must have written them, because she remembered holding the felt tip pen, and struggling to keep her hand still as she scrawled the large red letters...

"Oh dear. You're crying." Albany's voice lacked the slightest trace of concern. "But there you go. What's done is done. Can't be helped."

"Can't be helped?" Bryony lifted her tear-streaked face to glare at Albany. "I thought you were supposed to love Mum?"

"I do. More than anything in the world. But Doctor Masters is in charge around here, in case you hadn't noticed."

"He's just a hollow... whatsit. But you've got Wychetts' magic inside you. You could stop Doctor Masters' plans with just a click of your fingers. You could save Mum, put the moon back in its orbit, and make everything like it should be."

"But I can't." Tears glistened in Albany's massive black eyes. "Doctor Masters created me to serve him. I can't act against his wishes, no matter what I want to do."

"But you have to try," urged Bryony.

"Don't think I haven't. But I'm bound to him through magic. I'm his poppet, after all."

Albany was weeping, but Bryony felt no pity.

"If I were you, I'd find a way to stop him."

"You couldn't handle being me," sniffed Albany, wiping away her tears with a handkerchief she conjured from nowhere. "Being me is way beyond your qualifications. You're not even up to being a hamster." She tapped the cage. "Let's see you running on that wheel. It's not like you don't need the exercise."

Bryony ignored Albany's taunts. An idea was forming in her mind. As long shots went it was very much on the longer side, but if there was a chance...

"Our minds are linked, right?"

"We've had this discussion before." Albany stopped tapping the cage. "Everything you are, everything that's happened, I can see it all. I can read your brain like an open book. A very dull, poorly written book. Rubbish and for babies. No bestseller, for sure."

"So if our minds are linked, that means I can see into your mind too?"

Albany's snow white eyebrows puckered. "I suppose you could. But like I said, you couldn't handle it."

"I'd like to give it a try," Bryony ventured. "To see what it's like being you. To be so much prettier, so much cleverer. So much..." She had to dig deep to push the next word out. "Thinner."

"I bet you would." That familiar smirk returned to Albany's perfect pink lips. "But it'd be cruel of me to let you suffer like that."

"At least let me see." Bryony did her best to look pleading. "Just for a minute or two. Then I'll know how much better than me you really are. If you are better, that is." She stood back and folded her arms. "Or maybe it's all just talk."

"OK then. If you really want to know what it's like being me, then feel free to try. See if you can handle perfection."

Bryony hesitated. What she was about to attempt was dumb and dangerous. Edwin wouldn't have liked the idea. Nor the Captain, or Val. But they weren't here, and it was down to her now. It was all her fault, so it was only right that she should take the risk.

She nodded. "Let's do it."

Albany leaned closer to the cage. "Ready when you are, Sis."

Bryony took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She stared at Albany's face, seeing her own reflection in those dark liquid eyes.

"Can you feel it yet?" Albany spoke in a whisper. "Can you feel what it's like being me, the girl you've always wanted to be?"

Bryony felt something, an odd sense of lightness. Like she was floating, leaving her body behind.

"That's it," breathed Albany. "You're nearly there. Can you see it yet? Can you see my brilliance?"

Bryony could see nothing except those dark eyes. But then there was a bright flash of light, and she was being cut out of the earth on a windy night. A hawk nosed man stared down at her, his silver eyes glinting in the moonlight.

There was another flash, and Bryony saw her mother smiling at her.

"My dearest Albany. Everything's going to be all right now I'm looking after you. And Doctor Masters is going to make you better, Poppet."

Another flash, and Bryony felt a terrible power flowing through her. All Wychett's magic, all at once, searing her veins, burning her muscles, consuming every fibre of her being...

It hurt so much. She feared it would destroy her, just as Albany had said. But then Bryony remembered she was a Guardian, and that Wychetts' power was hers to command.

Then another flash, and a sharp crackle inside her head. For a moment she couldn't breathe. Then her lungs filled with air, and it seemed she was back inside her body.

Except it felt different somehow.

For starters, she wasn't in a cage anymore. She was standing in a room, similar to her old bedroom in Mossy Glade Close, only three times as large and with brand new furniture.

Yet it wasn't only her surroundings that made Bryony feel different. She didn't realise what it was until she caught her reflection in the dressing table mirror.

She gawped at herself, scarcely able to believe what she was seeing. The fair hair, the prettier face, the stylish clothes. It wasn't her. It couldn't be her.

It was the girl she'd always wanted to be.

It was Albany!

Bryony waved her hand, checking that this vision of flawlessness was actually her own reflection. Then she pulled a face, and marvelled at the fact that she still looked pretty.

"What have you done?" A tiny voice wailed from somewhere. "How could you even do it?"

Bryony traced the sound to a metal cage on a desk. Inside was a miniature black haired girl jumping up and down with rage.

"Get out of my body," cried the black haired girl. "You can't use it. You don't know how!"

"I'll learn soon enough." Bryony leaned over the cage to smirk victoriously at the tiny figure. "And then I'm going to stop Doctor Masters, put the moon back into orbit, and save Mum."

The miniature Albany exhaled a tiny gasp of astonishment. "You won't. You can't..."

"Oh yes I can. I'm not bound to Doctor Masters, and I can use my magic to do whatever I want."

"Why you..." Albany stopped hopping with rage, and gave her giant fair-haired double a curious stare. "Yes, I suppose that might work."

"Of course it will work," said Bryony. "I'm going to save the day and turn everything back to how it should be. But don't worry, little Sis. After I'm done with Doctor Masters, you'll get your old body back. In the meantime, have some fresh sawdust." She clicked her fingers, and the miniature Albany disappeared beneath a pile of woodchips.

Bryony returned her attention to the dressing table mirror. She had never looked this good, apart from in her dreams. She'd never felt this good either, never so sharp minded and buoyant. She felt like she could take on the world!

But first things first. If she was going to save the planet, she had to be dressed right.

All it took was a few finger clicks, and Bryony was wearing a delightful blue silk party dress, and a pair of scrummy shoes to go with it.

She turned away from the mirror to see a black haired head surfacing from the heap of sawdust in the cage.

"I'd love to stay and watch you running on that little wheel," she told Albany, before glancing at the wall clock. "But there's only thirty five minutes till midnight, and I've got work to do."

Ignoring her prisoner's screamed protests, Bryony checked her reflection again, adjusted her fringe, then shot Albany one last smirk before leaving the room.

Chapter 8- All Systems Ready

Albany's bedroom door opened into a curved passageway. The walls were white, reminding Bryony of Doctor Masters' clinic: clean and modern, but a bit too plain for her taste. She changed them to purple with a wave of her hand, but found the shade a tad depressing. So next she tried crimson, but that clashed horribly with her dress. Several colour changes later she remembered that she hadn't come to sort out the décor, so settled on an inoffensive shade of tangerine.

Time was ticking on. She had to find her way to the observatory.

"Poppet?"

The familiar voice made Bryony spin round. Mum stood in the corridor. She wore a designer charcoal suit, her long hair shining like strands of pure gold. She looked more beautiful than ever, but there was an uncertain look in her bright blue eyes.

"Oh it's you, Albany. For a moment I thought..." Mum shook her head as though clearing her mind. Then she noticed the walls, and frowned. "Oh not again. You know Doctor Masters prefers white. Never mind, at least it's nicer than last time. Mauve polka dots on custard yellow really aren't his thing."

"I..." Bryony struggled to retain her composure. Half of her wanted to run and hug her mother, the other wanted to run away and hide. "I'm sorry about that, Mum."

Mum's frown deepened. "Is everything OK, Poppet?"

Bryony wondered if Mum had seen through her magic trick.

"It's just you normally call me 'Mother'. It's how I brought you up, remember?"

That had always been one of Mum's pet nags. Although Bryony had never quite got the hang of it, she'd noticed how Albany always used the term 'Mother' instead of 'Mum'.

Realising her mistake, Bryony forced an apologetic smile.

"Sure. I was only joking, Mother."

"Now come along." Mum took Bryony's arm. "Your Uncle needs you in the observatory."

Mum escorted Bryony to the end of the curved corridor, where a pair of elevator doors swished open to admit them. Mum pressed a button on the wall, and there was the faintest tremble as they began their ascent.

Bryony tried to keep calm, to behave just like that smug brat Albany would, but she couldn't stop herself shaking as she clung to Mum's arm. She had to keep control of herself. Everyone was depending on her. She needed to focus on her mission.

Mum too seemed on edge. She caught Bryony's gaze and smiled in response, but in truth it looked more like a grimace.

Bryony considered whether to reveal her plan there and then, but decided it would be best to keep quiet for now. There was no telling how Mum might react, and until she had knocked out the Magic Lantern, the less people knew the better.

There was the softest jolt, and the elevator doors opened.

"Come along, Poppet. Doctor Masters is waiting."

Mum ushered Bryony out of the lift and into the domed observatory. The white-suited Doctor Masters was there, scowling at Mum as she hurried towards him.

"What kept you?" he demanded. "There's only thirty minutes to firing."

"I'm sorry," Mum simpered. "I just needed a little extra time to get ready. Wanted to look my best for the big occasion."

Doctor Master's frown melted into the sweetest of smiles. "And you look lovelier than ever, my dearest Diana. I'm glad you have chosen to share this wonderful evening with me. After all, we wouldn't be here tonight if it wasn't for you."

Mum responded with a coy smile. "It's been a privilege working with you, Sir."

Bryony fought the urge to scream at her mother. But then she reminded herself that none of this was Mum's fault. There was only one person to blame, and that was Bryony herself. She wrote those horrible words on her bedroom door. She made Mum leave home. Everything that happened since was her fault.

But now, with Wychetts' magic, she was going to put that right.

"Albany." Doctor Masters snapped his long fingers at Bryony. "It's time to take your seat for the main event." He gestured to the throne-like control chair. "Hurry now, we need to test the magic circuits before firing."

Bryony looked at the Magic Lantern. With her power, she knew she could destroy the contraption in the blink of an eye. The whole observatory, too. So what was she waiting for?

"Come along, child." Doctor Masters flapped an impatient arm. "You know the routine."

Bryony found herself walking. There was nothing unusual in that, except now it felt like she wasn't controlling her own legs. And before Bryony knew it, she was sliding onto the control chair.

The soft leather seat squished beneath her, and the glass orbs lit up as her hands came to rest on them. Immediately she felt a tingle of magic flowing through her fingers.

Suddenly she was surrounded by a haze of lights and sounds. Hundreds of computer screens flashed into life, accompanied by a chorus of clicks, whistles and bleeps.

"Perfect." Doctor Masters inspected the nearest computer, his steel eyes reflecting the flashing symbols on the monitor. "Auxiliary systems fully operational. Magic receptors primed and ready." He glanced up to smile at Bryony. "Good girl."

Bryony had no idea what she'd done to merit such praise. She tried lifting her hands, but her palms were fused to the glowing glass orbs.

She felt powerless, even with all of Wychetts' magic flowing through her.

"All systems ready." Doctor Masters rubbed his hands together. "Just twenty seven minutes before all my hard work pays off." He turned to grin at Mum. "I meant our hard work, of course."

Bryony felt another surge of anger welling up inside her when she saw Mum smiling back at Doctor Masters. But when Doctor Masters returned his attention to the computer screen, Mum's expression changed. She suddenly looked unsure, afraid even.

Mum caught Bryony looking at her. Her lips parted as though she was about to speak, but then a loud siren started blaring...

Chapter 9- Incoming!

"We have incoming!" Mum rushed to a scanner screen. "Approaching air traffic detected at five nautical miles, north north east."

Doctor Masters raised a grey eyebrow, seemingly intrigued rather than alarmed. "Calculated altitude and speed?"

"Approximately six hundred feet, moving at..." Mum frowned as she read the screen. "Moving at twenty miles an hour." Then she smiled, silencing the siren with a flick of a switch. "It's just a flock of birds."

"Of course it is." Doctor Masters stared towards land through the domed observatory roof. "And right on cue."

"Sir?" Mum hurried to his side.

"Don't you see them?" Doctor Masters pointed to a grey smudge above the snowy shoreline. "The forces of light and darkness, flying together in a vain attempt to stop me." He wheeled round to point at Bryony in the control chair. "Prime magic cannons."

Of course Bryony would do no such thing. Now was the time for her to stop Doctor Masters. But even as she thought this, her right hand was pulling a lever on the side of the control chair.

There was a deep rumble from below. Bryony didn't know what it signified, but she was certain it couldn't be good news for whoever was approaching the observatory. She tried pushing the lever back, but her hand wouldn't do as she wanted. It was as though her body belonged to someone else. But then, she reminded herself, it wasn't her body.

"Lock on target," barked Doctor Masters.

Bryony was now flicking numerous switches on the chair arms, her hands working in an uncontrollable blur. She tried to stop them, she wanted to stop them, but she couldn't.

"Get ready to fire on my command," ordered Doctor Masters. "Diana, monitor the enemy's approach and let me know when they're in range."

"But Sir..." Mum looked confused. "It's just a flock of birds."

"To your position," snapped Doctor Masters.

Mum scurried back to the tracking monitor. "Now four point three miles and closing. Wait." She leaned closer to the screen. "It's not just birds. There's something else."

"Main monitor." Doctor Masters clicked his fingers. Bryony's left hand flicked another switch, and an image appeared on a large screen above her head.

It was a strange image, of an ugly old tree hanging in the sky with a dense white cloud above it.

"Closer," instructed Doctor Masters. "Maximum zoom level."

Again Bryony's left hand moved of its own accord, turning a dial that brought the ugly old tree closer to the screen. Now she could see silver strands tied to its bare branches, and that the cloud was a mass of white birds. And something else was poking out the top of the tree. A head, crowned with a mop of ginger hair.

"Edwin!"

Bryony mouthed the words, but it was Doctor Masters who spoke them.

"The boy is braver than I thought," he murmured. "Or infinitely more foolish. Either way, it is a pity. I bore him no ill will, yet he leaves me little choice."

Mum looked shocked. "You're going to shoot at him?"

"He is our enemy, Diana. Come to wreck our plans to save the world."

"But Sir, he's a child!"

"And a Guardian of Wychetts. A descendant of the Wise Ones, those self righteous criminals who imprisoned Magister. He will destroy all we have worked so hard for."

He marched briskly to the tracking monitor, pushing Mum aside.

"Now three point nine miles," he inspected the radar-like display. "Be ready, Albany. They will come within range any second."

Bryony couldn't stop her right hand moving along the arm of the control chair, her fingers stopping to hover over a large red button. Even though she didn't want to do it, Bryony knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself pressing that button when the order came.

Her plan was failing. Doctor Masters was controlling her, just as he would have controlled Albany. She was nothing but his poppet after all.

"Stop this!" Mum implored Doctor Masters. "You'll hit Edward!"

"Relax, Diana." Doctor Masters' smile returned. "I shall not harm him. Merely warn him off."

His silver eyes swivelled to Bryony in the control chair.

"Fire when ready," he told her. "Maximum power."

Despite all her efforts to tear her hand away, Bryony's finger stabbed the big red button.

Chapter 10- I See Lunch

Edwin followed the first attack wave through his makeshift binoculars. At first it looked a chaotic charge, but then the birds assumed a more structured pattern. The wide-winged albatross bombers formed the central column, flanked by smaller, sharp-beaked fighters. The glass domed observatory roof lay exposed before them, and Edwin found himself daring to believe their mission might succeed.

But he had forgotten about the magic cannons.

A dazzling flash blossomed from the wall of the tower, accompanied by a rumbling boom. The air filled with frantic shrieks, the seagulls scattering like confetti as a ball of silver sparks exploded in their midst.

There was a second flash, quickly followed by another explosion in the ranks of flying seagulls. Edwin closed his eyes, unable to view the destruction of his forces. Sat in his tree trunk flagship he was well out of range, but he could feel the air crumpling from the intense magic blast. When he dared look again he saw the remnants of the attack wheeling away to re-join the main flock.

Squadron Leader Herringbone flew back to deliver his grim account.

"Heavy casualties sustained, Sir. We have been forced to abort the first attack wave."

"I'm sorry about your losses." Edwin bowed his head. "I shouldn't have ordered the advance until we had checked out the defences."

"My flock knew the risk," replied the seagull. "We shall mourn the fallen later. For now we need to find a means of neutralising the magic cannon."

"There's no way through," squawked the bald headed jackdaw perched on a branch next to Edwin. "To attempt another charge would be tantamount to suicide."

From habit, Edwin found himself looking down at his top coat pocket. "Well, Chief of Strategy?"

"There is no way of knocking out the cannon," pondered Stubby. "They are in a fixed position behind thick stone walls. But we are not in a fixed position, and that gives us the advantage."

"I don't see much of an advantage," said Edwin.

"I see lunch," said Dawes. "Unless what the mouse says next is very, very good."

"The magic cannon have a wide range of lateral fire," continued Stubby, unperturbed by the jackdaw's threat. "But because they are fixed, they have limited vertical scope."

Edwin thought he knew what that meant. "So they can't fire up or down?"

"Only a few degrees, that's all. If we changed course and attacked from a higher altitude, we could avoid their line of fire."

"Our Chief of Strategy is correct," Dawes conceded with a begrudging croak. "But if we fly higher it will take longer to reach the target, and we have only twenty minutes before the Magic Lantern fires."

"Then we must go no higher than we need to," said Herringbone-Smythe. "I shall approach the tower alone, flying at a steep angle to determine the limit of the cannon's vertical scope."

"I shall go in your stead," Dawes told the seagull. "You are needed to lead your flock."

"Your plumage is too dark," argued the Squadron Leader. "I will present a more visible target to draw the cannons' fire."

Dawes nodded his bald head. "And therefore more likely to be hit. I suggest we go together."

That suggestion drew a horrified gasp from Edwin. "I can't afford to lose you both."

"Our lives are expendable for the greater good," said Herringbone-Smythe. "As a leader, you must accept that."

Edwin couldn't, but sensed the matter had already been decided.

"OK." He nodded. "I'll order the main flock to hold back. Squadron Leader, Mr Dawes, are you ready?"

Herringbone-Smythe bobbed his head. "On your command, Sir."

"Wait!" groaned Twisted Bough. "Don't I get a chance to say some last words to a trusted old friend?"

"Of course," said Dawes. "If you had any."

"I meant you," clarified the ugly tree. "I've always thought highly of you, even though we've never seen eye to eye."

"That's because you don't have any eyes," scoffed Dawes. "Only a couple of mouldy knot holes."

"We've been through a lot together," the ugly tree droned on. "I've always given you a branch to perch on when the going got tough. And I hope you've come to see me as a true and loyal mate."

Dawes cocked his head. "More of a park bench, actually. A very moany, boring, maggot-ridden old park bench."

"That's sweet of you," said the tree, seemingly taking the jackdaw's remark as a compliment.

"We must delay no longer." Dawes took to the air. "Awaiting your order to advance, Captain Edwin."

Edwin raised Val's stick. "Main flocks, hold back!" Then he nodded at Herringbone-Smythe and Dawes. "Your way is clear. Go!"

The jackdaw and the seagull flew off towards the observatory tower. Heart in mouth, Edwin watched the unlikely duo swoop low across the frozen sea before shooting up when in range of the cannon.

There were flashes and booms from the tower. A line of stuttering explosions traced the steepening trajectory of the flying targets. Edwin lost sight of his comrades, fearing they had succumbed to the magic blasts. He reached for his binoculars, but a squeak from Stubby drew his attention to the birds as they returned to the tree.

"Oh you're back," said Twisted Bough, sounding a tad disappointed. "I was about to make a moving speech about your heroic demise."

"Then we've all had a lucky escape," said Dawes, who was first to reach the tree.

Herringbone-Smythe flew more slowly, as if something was wrong. Then Edwin spotted the seagull's singed right wing.

"A mere scratch," the Squadron Leader said in response to Edwin's worried look. "More importantly, we have identified the limit of the cannon's vertical scope. We must climb another three hundred feet to avoid defensive fire."

Edwin shouted the command, gripping the tree trunk tightly as the gulls lifted Twisted Bough higher.

Again he felt a surge of renewed hope.

But again it would not last long.
Chapter 11- You're My Poppet Now!

"Fire! And again!"

Bryony's finger responded to Doctor Masters' command, repeatedly jabbing the big red button. She heard the cannon booms resonating through the observatory, but couldn't bring herself to view the results on the large screen above her.

She was firing at Edwin and his allies, and there was nothing she could do to stop herself!

"Please, Sir!" Mum's pleading voice was shrill with desperation. "If you hit that poor boy..."

Doctor Masters raised his right hand for silence, his attention still locked on the tracking monitor. "They're changing altitude. Climbing six hundred feet." His bushy eyebrows knotted. "What is that boy playing at?"

"He's out-manoeuvred your cannons." An amused smile rippled Mum's glossy red lips. "Perhaps he's not so foolish after all?"

The icy wind strengthened with altitude, stinging Edwin's face and threatening to tear Val's stick from his grasp.

The glass observatory roof was now far below them. The cannons continued to fire, but their magic blasts fell short of the massed flock. The seagulls swirled above the tower, awaiting the command to strike.

A command Edwin gave with a sweep of his arm.

The seagulls descended in a spiral of white. The smaller birds struck first, Dawes amongst them, diving on the observatory roof and hammering the glass with their sharp beaks. Edwin held his breath, but when the birds peeled away he saw the assault had caused nothing more than a few tiny cracks

A wave of wide-winged albatross bombers went next, opening their beaks to drop a barrage of rock hard scones. The hailstorm of knobbly missiles clattered against the roof. Through his binoculars Edwin saw more cracks spreading across the glass dome. Another attack wave followed, a flight of smaller birds pecking ferociously at the weakened rooftop before a second chevron of bombers flew down to drop their hard-baked payload.

Surely nothing could withstand such an onslaught, thought Edwin. He consulted the Captain's fob watch. Fifteen minutes to midnight. The only thing that could stop them now was time...

The noise was deafening, a thunderous drumming that made even Doctor Masters flinch.

Bryony watched the birds assaulting the observatory roof. The cracks were spreading rapidly. She knew it was only a matter of time before the glass dome ruptured.

Doctor Masters studied the countdown screen.

"Fifteen minutes. I cannot take any chances." He wheeled away and paced around the observatory, his fists clenched in anger. "I did not want to do this, but that do-gooding boy has left me no choice."

Somehow Bryony seemed to know what Doctor Masters was planning, her right hand already moving to another lever on the control chair.

"The Guardian wants war, so we shall give him war." Doctor Masters' lips twisted into an ugly grin. "Albany, release the fanglets!"

Teeth clenched and eyes clamped shut, Bryony drew on all her strength to resist. But it wasn't enough, and there was a loud clunk as the lever descended.

"The last wave of bombers are about to attack," reported Squadron Leader Herringone-Smythe. "This final barrage should break through the enemy infrastructure."

Edwin studied the observatory roof through the binoculars. The glass dome was smothered with a web of cracks, and he watched expectantly as the albatross bombers approached their target in a steep dive.

Then he noticed movement lower down as something emerged from the base of the tower; something long, dark and serpentine that unfurled a pair of leathery wings as it took to the air.

Before Edwin could cry a warning, a second winged snake slithered from the tower. A third followed close behind it, then a fourth and fifth. Edwin watched, mouth agape, as a swarm of monsters came streaming skywards.

"The Terrible Fang!" Dawes squawked with panic. "The Terrible Fang has returned!"

"These creatures are juveniles," observed Herringbone-Smythe. "They must be her children."

"They've inherited her good looks," said Stubby. "Let's hope they don't share the same fiery temper."

As the mouse spoke, the leading fanglet belched a ball of flames at the diving albatross bombers. Edwin looked away, but was unable to block out the sound of the birds' agonised shrieks. Even at a distance of several hundred yards, he could feel the searing heat of the serpents' fire.

As brave as his flocks were, he knew this was a fight they couldn't win.

"Stop this, Sir!" Mum turned away from the main display screen. "Call off those monsters!"

"It is a regretful necessity," Doctor Masters replied, his face stern. "A handful of lives to save billions. In the scheme of things, that's a price worth paying."

Mum shook her blonde head. "But the boy's still out there..."

"You can't say he hasn't had fair warning, and he started it."

"He has a mother," Mum hissed. "Would you say that to her?"

"Magister had a mother. And a father." Doctor Masters lowered his grey head. "They too paid the price of serving the Wise Ones."

Bryony still had her eyes closed, but she could hear the carnage unfolding above her. The flock was being torn apart. Edwin's life was in danger, and Doctor Masters would spare no one who defied him. She had to do something. But she was frozen, her muscles turned to stone.

And time was running out. The countdown clock now said ten minutes.

Just ten minutes for Bryony to save her stepbrother, to save the world and her mother from a terrible fate. But how? Even with all of Wychetts' power, Bryony felt paralysed in the control chair. And she knew that when the time came, there would be nothing she could do to stop herself activating the Magic Lantern.

The sounds of battle intensified, yanking Bryony's attention back to the sky above. There was a thud as the flaming carcass of a seagull bounced off the cracked glass roof.

"This is horrible," wailed Mum.

"War is horrible," agreed Doctor Masters. "But this is the final war. After tonight, peace will reign forever. Everything will be as it should."

He pointed at Bryony.

"Be ready, my dear. The moment of your destiny draws closer."

"We are no match for the enemy defences." Squadron Leader Herringbone-Smythe shrieked. "The monsters are impervious to attack."

Edwin didn't need to be told. It was all too obvious the battle had swung in their opponents' favour.

"You must order a retreat," Dawes croaked at Edwin. "We should regroup and consider alternative tactics."

"We must not forget our mission," piped Stubby. "Which is to keep the defenders occupied whilst the rats and spiders secure the Lantern. We cannot retreat, no matter the cost."

"Our Chief of Strategy is correct," said Herringbone-Smythe. "Now is the time for every feathered comrade to do his duty. We must launch one last charge at the enemy. For death or glory."

"Most likely death," squawked Dawes. "Which is why I will play no part in such a foolish undertaking."

"That is typical." The seagull glared at the tatty jackdaw. "I knew you'd desert us when the going got tough."

"That's OK," said Edwin. "No one has to risk their life if they don't want to. But I'll be right with you, Squadron Leader."

Stubby emitted a startled squeak. "Are you sure that's wise, boy?"

Edwin wasn't entirely sure, but he couldn't sit back and watch any longer.

"I'm the leader. It's only right I lay my life on the line. But you don't have to join the charge if you don't want to."

"I didn't say I don't want to," protested Stubby. "We've come too far together for me to abandon you now."

Edwin smiled at the mouse. "Thanks, old friend."

"The sight of you joining battle will boost morale," Herringbone-Smythe told Edwin. "It will reassure the flock to see you enter the fray."

"And I'll not shirk my duty," said Twisted Bough. "I'm ready to face the flames of destiny,"

"You'll be all right," said Dawes. "With your damp rot you're basically fire proof."

"So let's get it over with," said Edwin. "Squadron Leader, order your flock to fall back to my position. Then await my command to attack the serpents."

The seagull relayed Edwin's instructions in shrieks and squawks. The birds obeyed, retreating from the serpents to mass in a crescent behind the ugly tree flagship.

The serpents fell back in response, forming a defensive ring above the cracked observatory roof.

"We await your order," said Herringbone-Smythe. "It is now or never, Sir!"

But Edwin couldn't speak, his tongue suddenly paralysed.

"Only you can give this command," Stubby told him. "You can't back down when so much is at stake."

Edwin had no intention of backing down. Yet he felt a terrible, crushing weight of responsibility. He was about to send his troops to their death. No matter how bravely they fought, there could only one outcome.

The only thing he could do was die with them.

The wind intensified, hurling nuggets of stinging sleet at his face. He tried lifting Val's stick, but it suddenly felt as heavy as a sledgehammer. Still he couldn't speak, but he heard a voice echoing in the back of his mind...

Make me proud, son.

Suddenly Edwin felt strength returning to his trembling arm. He raised the stick above his head, and with the loudest cry he could muster, ordered his flocks to attack.

There was a sound like rain, six hundred wings beating in unison. The seagulls dived as one, and Edwin felt the tree trunk lurch as it followed after them. The fanglets reacted instantly, flying to meet the flock in a scaly stream of red-eyed fury...

Bryony opened her eyes, but kept her attention focused on the countdown clock as the battle raged outside.

Just six minutes left.

Doctor Masters had turned his attention to the Magic Lantern, lovingly buffing the glass with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Not long now," he whispered, glancing up at the massive moon. "Very soon your torment will be over. You shall be freed, and the world will bask in the glory of your majesty."

Suddenly Mum charged towards him, her face contorted with anger.

"This stops now," she snarled. "Call those monsters back! Return the moon to its orbit!"

Bryony had never seen her mother so furious. But Doctor Masters didn't even look at her as he answered.

"Oh really, Diana. This is no time for jokes."

"I'm not joking." Mum's voice trembled with rage. "You must end this!"

"I know what this is about." Doctor Masters still didn't look up from his buffing. "And I understand how you feel. But there's not long to wait. In just a minute or two, everything will be back to how it should be."

"How it should be?" Mum spat the words scornfully. "What does that even mean?"

At last Doctor Masters raised his head to meet Mum's accusing gaze.

"It means you get your daughter back. Surely that's all that matters to you? To be with your girl again, to lead the perfect life you once had. Only better, this time."

Bryony was confused. Albany had said that Mum had volunteered to become the new moon, but from what Doctor Masters was saying it didn't sound like that was the plan.

"I won't let you harm the boy." Mum was almost screaming now. "So just stop this. Put the moon back into its orbit. And give me my daughter back."

Doctor Masters raised a tufty grey eyebrow. "Forget it, Diana. You can't make me stop."

"Maybe I can't. But I know who can." Mum turned to the control chair. "Albany, my darling. You can end this madness."

Bryony couldn't answer, her tongue had become glued to the inside of her mouth.

"You're wasting your time," Doctor Masters sneered at Mum. "Albany is my creation. She was born to serve me, to carry out my will. Nothing can break the power I hold over her."

"But you have power of your own," Mum told the girl she thought was Albany. "Use it to end this."

"That power is mine now," said Doctor Masters. "All of Wychetts' magic belongs to me!"

"I didn't mean the magic you stole," said Mum, hurrying to the control chair. "I meant the power I gave Albany."

Doctor Masters scowled. "What are you talking about?"

"Please, Poppet." Mum reached the chair and placed a hand on Bryony's shoulder. Her blue eyes glistened as she spoke. "If you love me, stop this."

"I love you, Mother." Bryony spoke, except it felt like the words came from someone else. "But Magister must be freed. He is our saviour. He will cleanse all evil from the Earth and build a new world of love and kindness. And I will help make that world. After I have fired the Lantern and freed Magister, I shall take my place in eternity. I shall become the new new moon."

As the words streamed from her numbed lips, Bryony realised she'd been tricked. And that it wasn't Doctor Masters who was controlling her.

Then she heard her voice again, only this time it came from inside her mind.

"So now you know, Sis. Dearest Mother was never going to be the new new moon. That fate was reserved for me all along. Except now, of course, it's going to happen to you!"

"That doesn't have to happen," said Mum. "You can put the moon back, Albany. You can make things right again..."

Mum was still talking, urging Albany to stop. Bryony tried to move her hands away from the orbs in the control chair. But her arms had turned to stone.

"There's no point resisting," Albany's voice rang in Bryony's skull. "You're my poppet now!"

"Fly on, my brave squadron." Squadron Leader Herringbone-Smythe urged his seagulls towards the observatory roof. "It is time to do or die in the name of honour!"

"Speak for yourself," squawked Dawes, who had joined the charge after all. "I shall die in the name of dishonour!"

The seagull squadron sped towards their target, but the fanglets were ready for them. The opposing forces clashed in a frenzy of flames, flapping wings and stabbing beaks. But even the sharpest of bills couldn't penetrate the scaly serpent hides.

Edwin wished there was something he could do to help. His fingers tightened around Val's stick, hoping against hope to feel the faintest tremble of Asgard's magic.

So far the birds had kept the fanglets away from their flagship, but Edwin glimpsed a pair of red eyes flaring through the haze of feathers...

A giant spiked snake's head lunged at the tree. There was a blast of fiery breath, and Val's stick crumbled to ashes in Edwin's hand. The fanglet exhaled a jubilant hiss, another bud of flame glowing in its jaws.

Instinctively Edwin raised his right hand. There was a stuttering noise, and the serpent writhed in agony before dropping from view.

Edwin examined his hand, his relief mixed with confusion. There had been no tingle, no crackling magic beam to bring the monster down. So how...

"On our left flank!" A squeak from Stubby drew Edwin's attention. "Another airborne monster!"

All Edwin could see was a pair of bright orange lights in the distance. Then he heard a deep growl, growing louder as the flying beast approached.

A second fanglet flew at Edwin, blocking his view of the orange-eyed monster. There was another burst of stuttering, and the snake went twisting from the sky.

Edwin squinted as the orange lights came closer. The growl was now deafening, but he heard a familiar voice cutting through the din.

"Hi, lad. Thought you might need a hand."

The voice was distorted and crackly, but he was sure it sounded like...

But it couldn't be...

Bill?

"Oh Edwin, are you safe in that thing? And you're not wearing your cycling helmet!"

Mum, too!

Edwin's vision adjusted to the orange glare, and he saw what had saved him from the fanglets.

It was a helicopter, a large military aircraft equipped with two heavy machine guns. Inside the cockpit, waving at him through the angular windshield, was his stepdad. And beside him, her face etched with concern, was his mother.

"What... how... wha..." Edwin lost the power of speech.

"Val's nephew came up trumps." Bill's voice came from a loudspeaker mounted above the helicopter's cockpit. "And there's nothing to flying one of these things once you get the hang of it. Mind you, it helps when you've got a good teacher."

Bill grinned at Jane, who held up a hefty training manual. "I'm better at reading instructions than him," she told Edwin. "He couldn't even work out how to open the door."

"But you can't take one of these things into battle without an expert gunner." A silver haired old lady gave Edwin a thumbs-up from a window above one of the machine guns. "Armour piercing bullets. Designed for tanks, but work just as well on giant flying snakes."

"Bandits at six o'clock!" exclaimed Jane as another fanglet attacked the helicopter.

"I've got her in my sights," yelled Val. "Eat lead, winged maggot!"

The machine gun spat a rattling stream of lead, downing the serpent in the blink of an eye. Jane shouted again as another fanglet attacked from the rear. The helicopter banked steeply, swinging round to fire at its assailant. The monster didn't stand a chance, withering in the hail of bullets.

Bill grinned at Edwin as he brought the helicopter closer to the tree. "With this baby on our side we'll make short work of Margery."

"It's Magister," hissed Jane.

"Turns out this was a good idea after all," laughed Val. "Who says grown-ups are useless?"

Suddenly the helicopter started to rock, its engine emitting a shrill whining noise.

"What's happening?" Jane looked at Bill. "What did you touch?"

"Nothing," said Bill. "Just that little red button there."

"Why did you do that?" Jane barked. "I didn't tell you to touch a little red button."

"It was getting a bit stuffy. Thought it might be the air con. Perhaps it might help if I pressed this little green button next to it?"

"No," cried Jane. "Don't..."

Suddenly the helicopter pitched sideways, coming perilously close to the ugly tree. Edwin shouted a warning, but even if Bill could hear it would have been too late.

A series of sharp twangs sounded as the whirling rotor blades sliced through the ropes holding Twisted Bough aloft. The seagulls flew clear, narrowly avoiding a similar fate, before the helicopter went whirling into the night.

"We're out of control!" Bill's panicked voice blared from the loudspeaker. "May day! Er... July day! October day! Er... Christmas day!"

"Oh shut up!" wailed Jane. "And let me find out how to put on a parachute."

Edwin could only wish he had a parachute as the ugly tree plummeted towards the observatory roof.

"Here we go again," Twisted Bough groaned. "Ruddy hooligans! There's no respeeeeeeeee..."

"Please, Poppet. You have the power to stop this. If you love me."

Bryony tried to imagine that Mum was speaking to her, not Albany. She tried to draw strength from those words...

If you love me.

Slowly, painfully, she managed to lift her hands from the orbs in the control chair.

"That's it," whispered Mum. "You can do it, Poppet."

I can do it, Bryony told herself. But then a strange noise cut through her thoughts. Not the blaring of a siren, but a weird kind of groaning...

Bryony looked up and saw the countdown screen now said one minute to midnight. But Doctor Masters wasn't looking at the screen, instead he was staring through the observatory roof. Mum was staring too, her watery eyes wide with bewildered horror.

The groaning noise grew steadily louder. With a mighty effort, Bryony craned her neck to glimpse something hurtling from the sky.

"...eeeeccccctttt!"

And then an ugly old tree came crashing through the observatory roof.

Chapter 12- I Shall Finish What I Began

A carpet of glass shards covered the floor, glinting in the light of the giant moon that beamed through the shattered roof.

Edwin emerged from the hollow tree trunk, dazed but miraculously unhurt.

"What an ill mannered boy." Doctor Masters glowered at his visitor. "Have you never heard of knocking?"

"I am continuously pointing out his lack of etiquette," trilled Stubby from Edwin's top pocket. "But believe me, that entrance was quite refined by his standards."

Doctor Masters' scowl melted into a smile. "Whatever the boy lacks in social graces, he more than makes up for in timing." He nodded at the countdown clock above his head. "You made it with fifty two seconds to spare."

Edwin clambered to his feet, trying to get his bearings. He saw a fair haired girl, hands pressed against a pair of glass orbs in the arms of her throne-like chair. Albany stared back at him with her dark liquid eyes, her lips twisting as though she was trying to speak. To her left was what he guessed must be the Magic Lantern, gleaming and undamaged.

Bryony tried to attract Edwin's attention to the Wychetts Key at Doctor Masters' waist, but her body was completely paralysed. Mum had left the control chair, and was hurrying towards the dazed looking Edwin.

At first he didn't recognise Bryony's mother, her face was haggard from worry, her eyes red rimmed and tearful.

"Edgar, my dear boy!" Diana threw her arms around him. "Are you all right?"

"It's Edwin," said Edwin, pushing her away.

"I'm sorry," sobbed Bryony's mum. "I tried to make them stop. But I couldn't..."

"Mother!" An excited shriek rang through the observatory, accompanied by the sound of scrunching glass.

Edwin looked round to see a girl with long black hair running towards him.

"Bryony!"

The black haired girl ignored him, haring past to throw herself into her mother's arms.

"My darling!" Mum clung onto the girl. "Are you all right?"

"Katya and Slinker found me." The black haired girl gestured to the weasel and cat that came bounding after her. "They set me free, and gave me magic potion to make me normal size again."

"That cruel girl Albany had her locked in a hamster cage," explained Slinker.

"It was horrible," sobbed the black haired girl. "It had sawdust and a plastic wheel."

"Sounds quite luxurious to me," said Stubby.

"No one mind about this old tree," groaned Twisted Bough, obviously feeling left out. "I've just fallen three hundred feet onto solid floor."

"Then it's the floor I feel sorry for," croaked a bald headed jackdaw that fluttered down to land on the prostrate tree trunk.

"What a touching reunion," Doctor Masters beamed at the assembled group. "I'm glad you could all make it, wouldn't want you to miss this for the world." He gestured dramatically at the countdown clock. "Just fifteen seconds to go!"

"We've got to do something." Edwin grabbed the black haired girl by the arm. "Find a way to stop the Lantern firing."

"It's too late now." The black haired girl swatted his hand away. "There's nothing you can do."

"Thirteen." Doctor Masters read from the countdown screen. "Twelve. Eleven. Ten..."

Edwin looked around, wondering what had become of the rats and spiders. But there was no sign of his allies, and he realised with dismay that the attack had failed.

"Six. Five. Four." Doctor Masters spread his arms wide. "Three. Two. One!"

The sound of a tolling bell resonated through the observatory. Doctor Masters raised his head, his silver eyes reflecting the light of the looming moon.

"Now!" he rasped, pointing at the fair-haired girl. "Activate the Magic Lantern!"

Despite her last desperate efforts, Bryony couldn't stop what happened next. She writhed as the magic coursed through her, every muscle, vein and sinew fizzing with power that flowed from her hands into the glowing orbs in the control chair. The Magic Lantern started to hum, the glass bulb filling with intense white light.

"The magic reservoir is fully charged." Doctor Masters yelled gleefully. "Stand by for the main event!"

Bryony's right hand moved to another button in the control chair. She tried to catch her mother's gaze, but all she could see was the black haired girl in her arms.

Albany stared back at Bryony, her lips twisting into that all too familiar smirk.

Bryony pressed the button, and there was a mighty whoosh as a beam of dazzling white magic shot skywards from the funnel at the top of the Lantern.

Edwin would never forget what happened next, the most spectacular and terrifying spectacle he would ever witness...

The magic beam struck the moon, which expanded like an inflating balloon, swelling to cover the entire sky. Its cratered surface fractured like a powdery eggshell, fingers of brilliant white light bursting from within.

"He is freed." Albany's victorious voice rang in Bryony's head. "Your purpose is served. You are finished, Guardian."

Bryony's limbs turned to jelly, and it felt like all the strength had been drained from her. Her hands slipped from the control spheres, and her head lolled sideways.

The Magic Lantern filled with light again, but even brighter than before. There was a noise like thunder, only a thousand times louder. The observatory shook, the remaining glass fragments tinkling from the roof like drops of crystal rain.

Sheltering behind the fallen tree trunk, Edwin wondered if Doctor Masters had failed. It sounded like the moon was crashing into the Earth after all. But then the thunderous noise stopped, and the blinding light faded.

Edwin blinked up through the shattered roof. He wondered if Doctor Masters had pushed the moon back into orbit after all, but the night sky was empty.

Then a squeak from Stubby drew his attention to the Magic Lantern.

Inside the glass bulb stood a tall figure clad in robes of shimmering white silk. Its face was wreathed in shadow, but two silver eyes glinted from beneath the wide brim of its tall pointed hat.

"He has returned." Doctor Masters' voice was a husky whisper as he beheld the glowing apparition. "Magister walks upon the Earth once more!"

The glass bulb opened silently.

Edwin must have been twenty feet away, but he could feel the power emanating from the figure that stepped from the Magic Lantern. Katya must have felt it too, because she quickly hid behind Twisted Bough along with Slinker and Dawes. Edwin beckoned to Bryony and her mother to join them, but they were both transfixed by the white robed giant.

"Who has freed me?" Magister's voice was familiar, yet deeper and more menacing than Doctor Masters'. "Who has dared to corrupt the Eternal Balance in order to restore my power?"

"It was I." Doctor Masters bowed. "I brought you back, Master of Magic."

"Who are you?" demanded Magister. "And why would you risk so much to free me?"

"I am you, Grand Magister. To be precise, a memory of you." Doctor Masters kept his head bowed. "But I do not matter. I exist only to restore you, so you can shine your light upon the world once again."

Magister exhaled a derisory snort. "The world shall have no light. It deserves only darkness and oblivion."

"You may believe it so, for the cruel manner in which it imprisoned you." Doctor Masters finally dared to meet Magister's gaze. "But with your power it can be reborn. There will be a new age of peace, with a new moon." He pointed at the fair haired girl slumped in the control chair. "There she is. The poppet. I created her for this very purpose. Use your powers, Grand Magister, send her to the heavens to restore the Eternal Balance."

"There shall be no new moon," bellowed Magister. "You think I tore the old moon from the sky for sport? I did not steal the Tome Terriblis and wage war on the forces of light and darkness in pursuit of some foolish dream of peace. I sought to destroy the Wise Ones and their world, to obliterate this paltry planet and everything on it."

"But Grand Magister..." Doctor Masters gawped up at the shimmering white figure. "I brought you back to save the world. To banish evil and to heal the sick."

"Heal?" Magister's deep voice curdled with disdain. "Why would I wish to heal?"

"Your parents." Doctor Masters looked at the floor again. "You were denied the chance to cure them of the plague. You were forced to watch them die."

"Yes, I watched them die. Yet I could have saved them."

Doctor Masters' head twitched up in surprise. "Grand Magister?"

"I had the antidote. A few precious drops of a magic potion my parents had created. I knew the rules of the Wise Ones, but there was no one there to stop me curing my mother and father. No one except me."

"You could have saved them?" Doctor Masters' voice was shrill with disbelief. "But you let them die. Why?"

"Because of the power, fool. The power of life and death. I watched my parents die, knowing I could have saved them. And that knowledge made me what I am. At that moment I knew my destiny was to be Master of All Magic, and to hold such power in my hands for eternity."

Doctor Masters shook his head, mouth agape. "The Grand Magister is crazed. Maddened by centuries of imprisonment. He cannot remember what it was like. What he was like."

"I remember everything," said Magister. "It is you who are mistaken. Your memories are false, borne of dreams not reality. You are not Magister. I am Magister. And I shall finish what I began."

"You will not!" Doctor Masters spread his arms. "I freed you to heal the world. I cannot let you destroy it."

"Then you die," thundered Magister, clenching his hands into fists.

"I am dead already," gasped Doctor Masters. "A ghost of a dream that never was."

Two tendrils of silver light lanced from Magister's eyes, striking Doctor Masters in the chest.

Mum screamed, clutching the black haired girl as she watched her stricken boss crumple to his knees.

"Children!" Doctor Masters stared at Edwin and the black haired girl. "Only you can save the world." He reached into his jacket with a trembling hand, but there was a second burst of magic from Magister's eyes. Doctor Masters disappeared in a haze of white smoke. When the smoke cleared there was nothing left except a mound of smoking grey ash.

"So perish all who defy me." Magister turned his head to stare at Edwin. "Vengeance shall be mine!"

Chapter 13- Master of Magic

Edwin stood frozen, transfixed by the twin points of silver light glaring at him from beneath the tall pointed hat. He knew there could be no escaping Magister's merciless wrath.

Then there was a shriek from above. Magister's head twitched skywards as a stream of white darts dived at him through the shattered glass roof.

"Ground target identified!" Squadron Leader Herringbone-Smythe led the remnants of his flock. "Engage enemy using maximum force!"

Edwin watched, mouth agape, as the seagulls attacked Magister in a frenzied mass.

"They can't win," croaked Dawes, peering nervously from behind the ugly tree. "It will take more than a few seagulls to stop Magister."

"I sadly agree," squeaked Stubby. "Where's the cavalry when you need them?"

"Hey!" Slinker's head bobbed up. "D'you hear that?"

Katya's ears pricked. "Yes. It's coming from that air vent."

Edwin couldn't hear anything except seagull shrieks and Magister's angry bellowing. Slinker ran to a metal grille at the base of the wall. The weasel cocked his head and listened, then turned back to grin at Edwin.

"Looks like the cavalry is coming, kid!"

A dark fluid mass oozed from the grille. At first Edwin couldn't work out what it was, but as it seeped closer he realised it wasn't liquid, but a tide of tiny, eight-legged bodies.

"The Sisterhood!" Edwin watched thousands of spiders teeming across the floor. Then a squawk from Dawes drew his attention to a stream of larger, four legged creatures pouring from behind a bank of computers on the opposite side of the observatory.

"The Ratello Mob!"

"Sorry we're late, Guardian." A small rat with a golden neck chain waved an apologetic paw at Edwin. "But this tower is over three hundred feet tall."

"And that's a long way to climb," said the largest spider. "Even when you've got eight legs."

Edwin acknowledged Pipsqueak and Wincella with a grateful nod. The gang leaders charged ahead with their troops, the rats and spiders merging into a single column that swarmed to the aid of the battling seagulls.

Magister disappeared behind a mass of birds, spiders and rats. Only his arms remained visible, flailing wildly as his attackers bit, gnawed and stabbed at him.

"But surely even they can't beat Magister in a fight?" Edwin looked doubtfully at Katya. "He's the most powerful wizard that's ever lived."

"He is not yet at full strength," purred the cat. "But we don't need them to beat Magister, only to distract him. The Key, Guardian!"

Only then did Edwin realise what Doctor Masters had been reaching for when Magister had zapped him. For there it lay, nestled in the pile of grey ashes...

The Wychetts Key!

He began climbing over the fallen tree trunk, but was forced to retreat when the bellowing Magister unleashed a stray magic bolt in his direction. But the black haired girl showed no hesitation, ignoring the protests of her mother and dashing fearlessly to retrieve the Wychetts Key.

"I've got it!" She ran back, holding the Key aloft like a trophy.

Edwin smiled, glad his stepsister had lost none of her courage. But what happened next took him totally by surprise.

"Let's go!" The black haired girl grabbed her mother's hand. "I can zap us both out of here."

"Huh?" Bryony's mum looked as shocked as Edwin. "But..."

"There's nothing we can do to stop him," said the black haired girl. "All we can do now is save ourselves."

"You cannot leave," mewed Katya. "Only the Guardians can defeat Magister and restore the elemental balance."

"Besides," said Dawes, "no place in this world will be safe from the wizard's vengeance."

"I'm not talking about this world." The black haired girl took hold of her mother's right hand. "Doctor Masters created the perfect life for us back at Mossy Glade Close. I can do the same. But my dream world will be beyond time and space, beyond even Magister's reach. We'll be together forever, Mother."

Edwin couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could Bryony run out on them now, after everything that had happened?

Her mother obviously thought the same.

"But what about everyone else? We can't just run away. You're a Guardian of Wychetts, Bryony."

"Listen, Mother." The black haired girl pressed her mum's hand against the Wychetts Key. "Like me, you're a descendant of the Wise Ones. You can feel the magic of Wychetts. Together we can make things as they were meant to be. But you have to want it. The magic won't work if you don't want it."

"I do, Poppet. That's why I went along with Doctor Masters' plans. He promised he would bring us together again. But..." Mum shook her head, and pulled her hand away from the Key. "Not at the expense of everything else. Not the whole world."

"But aren't I your whole world?" asked the black haired girl. "I'm your daughter. Your only real daughter."

Edwin had been listening with a mixture of disgust and bewilderment. But suddenly it all made sense.

"No you're not!" he shouted. "The real Bryony would never run out on her friends when they needed her!"

"Keep out of this," the black haired girl snarled at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

But Edwin was certain. Somehow Albany and Bryony had swapped places. The black haired girl wasn't his stepsister after all!

"Give it here!" He lunged and seized Albany's wrist. "The Key doesn't belong to you!"

Albany pulled her arm away, stumbling backwards and yanking Edwin with her. They rolled across the floor together, locked in a desperate wrestling match. Edwin rolled onto her arm, pinning it to the floor, but couldn't prise the Key from her fingers.

"I won't let you have it," Albany vowed, pummelling Edwin's back with her free fist. "I won't let you ruin everything."

"But I've got to reach Inglenook." Edwin struggled to keep his opponent subdued. "It's the only way to save the world."

"I don't care about your world." Albany spoke through gritted teeth. "I wasn't born to be part of it. He had other plans for me all along, to become the moon in place of Magister. That's why I tricked your dumb stepsister into swapping places. But I was still controlling her, still inside her head all the time."

"But your little plan backfired when Magister turned out to be an evil nutter." Edwin ducked as another stray magic bolt from Magister fizzed overhead. "So you thought you'd run off with Bryony's mum instead."

"She's my mother, too." Albany's black liquid eyes moistened as she spoke. "And I love her. More than Bryony ever did!"

"Your little game's over. Give me the Wychetts Key. I need it to save the world."

"I don't care about the world." Albany's fingers curled more tightly around the Key. "If I can't have Mother, I'll gladly watch it crumble."

"Get a move on," squeaked Stubby, poking his head out of Edwin's top pocket. "Our forces can't keep Magister tied up for much longer."

"I'm trying," Edwin groaned, still struggling to tear the Key from Albany's grasp. "Don't suppose you could lend me a hand here?"

"A hand, no." Stubby leaped onto Albany's hand. "But I can offer you an incisor or two."

With that, the mouse bit into Albany's fingers.

A terrible noise rent the air, a piercing scream that seared Edwin's eardrums. At first he thought it came from Albany. But then there was an explosion, an invisible blast that sent rats, birds and spiders flying in all directions. Edwin was thrown onto his back, clutching his ears as the awful noise became even louder.

Then suddenly the screaming stopped. Instead there was silence, a grim silence that seemed even more terrible.

"Something's happened." Stubby's shrill voice sounded close as Edwin unclamped his ears. "It's Magister. Look!"

Edwin scooped up the mouse, and staggered to his feet. Bryony's mum appeared unharmed, although more than a little dazed. There was no sign of the rats, gulls and spiders, and nothing left of Magister except a heap of shimmering white cloth and an empty pointed hat.

"They killed him?" Edwin peered cautiously at Magister's robes.

"They can't have." The black haired Albany was also back on her feet. "That's impossible."

"Correct," boomed Magister's voice. "It takes more than a few vermin to destroy the Master of Magic. I have not perished in battle. Merely... transformed."

"Transformed?" Edwin looked around, trying to work out where the voice was coming from. "Into what?"

"A higher state of being," explained Magister. "I have transcended the physical realm, and entered a plane of incorporeal existence."

"There. You see it?" Albany pointed to a patch of silver mist hanging in the air.

"This was always my plan." The mist swirled and shimmered as Magister spoke. "My goal from the very beginning: to become more than a magical being, to become magic itself!"

"But what's the point of that?" Edwin's gaze followed the tumbling mist around the observatory.

"I can see you are a true descendant of the Wise Ones," mocked Magister. "You have inherited their woeful lack of imagination. In this form I can go anywhere. The whole universe shall be my playground. I can shape the destiny of empires, bend eternity to my will."

Albany frowned. "But how will you spread your power across the whole universe?"

"The means of my pan-galactic propagation is to hand." The sparkling mist swirled towards the Magic Lantern. "With just a few magic tweaks to its output range, I can use this device to project myself across all of space and time. My power shall know no limits, no horizons. I was imprisoned for eight centuries, but now nothing shall contain me!"

The silver mist coiled into the Magic Lantern, the glass bulb closing around it. Lights started flashing all around the observatory, and the countdown screen flashed back into life.

"Ninety seconds to blast off." Magister's voice thundered jubilantly. "I could kill you all now, but instead I shall let you witness this great moment in history. Or should I say, the last moment in history. For with no moon, the Eternal Balance of Nature cannot be restored. In just a matter of minutes, your planet will be torn apart by the opposing elemental forces, by which time I shall be halfway across the galaxy!"

"Can he do this?" Edwin turned to Albany. "It won't work, will it?"

Albany said nothing, her face frozen with shock.

"Magister is a supernatural genius." Stubby squeaked the answer to Edwin's question. "If anyone can turn themselves into magic to conquer all of space and time, it's him."

"So we need to knock out the Lantern," said Slinker, peering up from behind the ugly tree.

"Then you'll condemn the Earth to destruction," Katya meowed in response. "We need the Magic Lantern to stand any chance of restoring the Eternal Balance. And we need both Guardians."

Edwin looked across the observatory at the girl in the control chair. His stepsister sat motionless, her eyes half closed, head hanging sideways.

Bryony's mum brushed past him, calling out her daughter's name. Edwin followed, and they were halfway towards Bryony when a beam of silver light lanced from the Magic Lantern. They both ducked just in time, but were forced to retreat when a second magic missile fizzled even closer.

"Keep back," roared Magister. "Do not attempt to interfere. No one and nothing will stop me from fulfilling my destiny!"

"We can't reach her," Bryony's mother groaned.

"Not physically," said Stubby. "You must use the Key, boy."

Edwin looked round, and saw that Albany was still holding the Wychetts Key.

"Give it here," he demanded.

Much to Edwin's surprise, Albany offered him the Key without any objection.

He hesitated, fearing some trick. But Albany thrust the Key into his palm.

"You're running out of time," she urged. "Get a move on!"

Edwin raised the Key, staring intently at Inglenook's etched metal features.

"Can you hear me? Inglenook, are you there?"

He felt a tingle in response, and then heard that familiar cheery voice.

"Good evening, Young Master. And what may I do for you?"

"Oh, Inglenook!" Edwin struggled to control a joyous sob. "You're alive!"

"I am a being of magic," replied Inglenook. "I cannot die as long as the source of my magic survives."

"You mean the magic inside the Wychetts Key?"

"No, Young Master. The Magic inside of you."

Edwin was about to ask what Inglenook meant, but Stubby butted in.

"We don't have time for a philosophical discussion on magical existentialism. Magister has been freed from the moon, turned himself into pure magic energy, and in approximately sixty seconds will project himself across the entire universe via the Magic Lantern. And the world will end about five minutes later because there's no moon. Oh yes, and welcome back."

"So you've got to do something," added Edwin. "Please!"

"I can do nothing," said Inglenook. "The power to restore the Eternal Balance of Nature lies not within me, but within the Guardians of Wychetts. And it will need both of you."

Edwin looked at the fair haired girl slumped in the control chair. "But I can't get to her. Magister will zap me if I go anywhere near the Lantern."

"We can wake her through a psychic link, Young Master."

"But that won't work," sighed Edwin, remembering that his stepsister had never been able to talk to Inglenook that way.

"Then give her the Key," advised Stubby. "So she can speak to you through Inglenook."

"Allow me." Dawes took to the air, snatched the Key from Edwin's hand with his beak, and flew off towards the control chair in a flurry of tatty black feathers.

A branch of silver magic shot from the Lantern, shaving the jackdaw's tail feathers. Dawes flew on, but a second magic blast tore through his right wing. The tatty bald bird spiralled towards the floor, the Key tumbling from his beak.

Edwin held his breath as he watched the Wychetts Key arcing through the air...
Chapter 14- I Play to Win

Despite appearing unconscious, Bryony had seen everything.

She had seen the Magic Lantern shoot a beam of light at the giant moon. She had seen the white robed figure materialise, the demise of Doctor Masters, the ensuing battle with the rats, birds and spiders. She had seen Edwin wrestling the black haired Albany. She had seen Magister become a swirling white mist, pouring himself into the machine that had freed him, threatening to spread his power across the galaxy and beyond.

She had witnessed all of this, yet she was powerless to act. Every muscle in her body was drained of power. Now even keeping her eyes open proved beyond her ailing strength. As a curtain of darkness descended, the last thing she saw was the giant screen counting down to doom.

Ninety. Eighty-nine. Eighty-eight...

The image faded from her mind, leaving only sounds echoing from the murk. Soon these noises faded, and there was just a black, empty silence.

And then she heard a voice. Faint, but instantly recognisable.

"Bryony!"

It was her stepbrother Edwin.

She tried answering, but her throat was paralysed. Then she felt a familiar tingle in her hands.

Somehow she managed to open her eyes. Her hands had slipped from the control orbs into her lap, and lying on her upturned palms was a large metal key. There was a face etched in one end, a weird bestial face that seemed to smile at her.

"Greetings, Young Mistress. I trust you are well?"

Bryony felt anything but well, although a lot better for the sound of that familiar cheery voice.

Then she heard Edwin again, and she realised he was speaking to her through the Key.

"Bryony, please answer me!"

Bryony tried, but couldn't force so much as a whimper from her lips.

"Use your mind," urged Edwin. "Link with me through Inglenook."

I can't do that, thought Bryony.

"Yes you can," said Edwin. "You're doing it now."

Am I?

"How else would I know you just thought that?"

Oh yeah, thought Bryony.

"Listen, Sis. We've got a problem."

I can see that. We've got to stop the Magic Lantern firing. Can't Inglenook use his magic?

"The magic is not mine to use," said the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom. "The magic of Wychetts is yours, as it always has been. My role is simply to help you use it."

Bryony didn't fully understand, but knew there wasn't time to ask Inglenook what he meant.

So help us now, she pleaded with her mind. Tell us how to stop Magister.

"The answer is simple, Young Mistress. Magister was freed by Wychetts' stolen magic, and he has become that very same power. You simply need to take back what is rightfully yours."

"Sure." Edwin sighed impatiently. "But how do we do it?"

I know, thought Bryony. I'm sitting in the control chair. This body I'm in, Albany's body, was created to absorb Wychetts' magic. I put the magic into the Lantern, so I can take it back again.

"Sounds risky," said Edwin.

"Very much so," agreed Inglenook. "Magister will not let go without a fight. It will take both of you to stop him. Young Master Edwin, whilst the Young Mistress absorbs the magic, you must distract Magister. Goad him into using his power."

"No probs," said Edwin. "Leave it to me."

Good luck, thought Bryony.

"You too, Sis."

She looked across at Edwin, who gave her a thumbs-up sign. Mum stood next to him, her face etched with anguish. The black haired Albany lurked behind them, staring back at Bryony with a blank expression.

Bryony checked the countdown clock again. There were only fifty seconds before the Magic Lantern fired. Although she felt suddenly stronger, it still took a huge effort to move her hands back to the orbs. When they were in position, she gave Edwin a nod.

"We've got a plan." Edwin addressed his remaining comrades. "I'm going to draw Magister's fire whilst Bryony drains the Magic Lantern."

"I shall join the diversion," purred Katya. "Multiple targets will increase our chance of success."

"I'm with the cat," said Slinker.

"Me too," said Twisted Bough. "I'm pretty useful in diversion type situations. As long as someone can nail a sign on me."

"With the best will in the world, I think you'll have to sit this one out," Stubby told the ugly tree.

"I'm coming too," said Bryony's mother.

Edwin was going to tell her no, but from her determined expression he knew he wouldn't be able to stop her. He turned to Albany, expecting her to look away. But she nodded.

"And me. So what's the plan?"

"Here's what we'll do," announced Edwin. "I'll take the middle. Katya, you go on the left wing. Slinker, I'd like you to operate a sort of flexible role just behind..."

"Enough of the tactics," squealed Stubby. "Surely all we need to do is run around and wave our arms about."

Bryony's mum nodded. "When it comes to saving the universe, it's always best to keep things simple."

"Agreed," said Katya. "I suggest we commence diversionary movements on Captain Edwin's command."

Forehead creased with concentration, Edwin relayed the plan to Bryony via psychic link.

So get on with it, came her response. We've only got forty seconds now!

"On my command." Edwin drew a deep breath. "Charge!"

Edwin sprang to his feet, hurdling the fallen tree trunk. Katya and Slinker advanced either side him. He couldn't see Bryony's mum, but he heard her screaming voice from behind.

"Hey, Magister! Over here!"

"And here!" meowed Katya, waving her tail as a target. "Come and get me if you think you're fast enough!"

A beam of light shot from the Lantern, but the cat sprang effortlessly clear of the magic missile.

"How about me?" yelled Slinker, performing a series of nimble somersaults. "Have a pop. You can't miss!"

There was another burst of magic lightning, followed by a mini explosion as it struck the wall. But the light-footed weasel was already out of range.

Albany called out next, and Magister replied with another magic barrage. Edwin caught sight of the lack haired girl dodging the attack, and guessed it was his turn next.

"Hey Magister!" he hollered, waving his arms above his head. "Bet you can't hit me!"

Magister responded with an angry roar.

"You think that I, Master of All Magic, would stoop to play your childish games? Then you are right, Guardian. But be warned: I play to win!"

Multiple tendrils of light radiated from the Magic Lantern. There was an agonised mewl from Katya, and Edwin glimpsed an explosion of cream coloured fur on his right. From his left, the body of a one eyed weasel came twisting through the air to land limply on the floor.

"We've got to find cover," screamed Bryony's mum. "Quick, Albany! Edmund! Behind the tree!"

"Oh I see," groaned Twisted Bough. "I'm useful all of a sudden, am I?"

Bryony's mother shouted again at Edwin, but it was already too late. Another beam of magic crackled from the Lantern, skimming his left shoulder before striking the prostrate tree trunk.

The explosion flung Edwin across the observatory in a haze of splintered wood. He landed with a jolt on the hard metal floor, his ears ringing and stars dancing before his eyes.

Blinking to clear his vision, he looked round to see that Bryony's mum had landed on the other side of the observatory, seemingly dazed but otherwise unhurt. Which was more than could be said for the rest of Captain Edwin's army.

Slinker lay lifeless, his single eye shut tight. There was no trace of Katya save a few tufts of fur and a diamond-studded collar. A scattering of tatty black feathers was all that remained of Dawes. Twisted Bough was no more than strewn bark chips and broken branches. And on the floor by his side, Edwin saw a small brown body with a stumpy tail.

"Stubby?" He gently scooped up his faithful companion, but the mouse didn't stir.

"I like this game," boomed Magister. "A shame it had to end."

Edwin raised his head, blinking back tears to see the Magic Lantern was now pulsing with silver light. Bryony was motionless in the control chair, her head angled forwards.

The black haired Albany stepped into view from behind Edwin, her dark eyes locked on the countdown screen that now showed only ten seconds remaining.

At that point he knew the game was over...

Chapter 15- Meant for This

Bryony kept her eyes closed, trying to block the shouts and crackles as she concentrated on her task. It was simple: all she had to do was to draw the magic from the Lantern, just as Albany had taken the power from the Wychetts Siphon.

With the Key cradled in her lap, she laid her hands on the orbs in the control chair. Immediately she felt a surge of power coursing through her fingers and into her arms. It was working!

But within seconds she felt the magic flow resisting, as if the power had a will of its own. Bryony realised Magister wouldn't be consumed without a fight.

She heard more shouts ringing through the observatory. The air around her seemed to fizzle with power. At the same time the magic's resistance weakened, and she felt a sudden surge flowing back into her arms. She pressed her palms down harder, her flesh seeming to fuse with the crystal orbs.

"What is this?" Magister's voice thundered. "What is happening to my power?"

Edwin still lay on the floor, unable to move his numbed legs. All he could do was watch the countdown.

Eight seconds.

The Lantern dimmed and flickered.

"No! You cannot do this!" Magister bawled with outrage. "You cannot take my power!"

As the Lantern drained of magic, Bryony's body began to glow.

Six seconds.

"You cannot steal my magic," rasped Magister. "For I am magic!"

"The power isn't yours," cried Edwin. "It was stolen from us in the first place!"

Edwin tried to stand, but still couldn't move his legs. The Lantern flared brightly again, and he saw the fair-haired Bryony writhing in the control chair. It looked as though she was in terrible pain.

And she was in pain. As Magister resisted, Bryony felt like she was being torn in two.

"Go on, Bryony! You can do it. I believe in you!"

She heard Edwin's voice calling out to her, and then a face materialised in her mind. Not a freckled boy's face, but a bestial face etched in a shiny metal key.

"And I believe in you too, Young Mistress. As I always have done."

Then another face appeared to Bryony. It was Mum. She wasn't smiling, yet there was a look in her eyes, a tender look Bryony hadn't seen for years.

Gritting her teeth, Bryony summoned strength from somewhere deep inside her. Then it felt like a dam had burst, and she was being drowned in a deluge of power. She struggled for breath, tilting her head back and gulping for air whilst a torrent of magic threatened to pull her under.

Magister's booming voice warped into a scream that tore through Bryony like a dagger of ice...

Edwin pressed his hands against his ears to blot out the terrible sound. His gaze was drawn to the countdown screen.

Three seconds.

We've failed, he thought.

Two.

Edwin lowered his head, unable to watch any longer.

One.

The screaming stopped. Suddenly the only sounds were of howling wind, mingled with rumbles of thunder.

Edwin looked up to see the Magic Lantern was empty. The countdown screen had frozen on zero, with the words 'LAUNCH ABORTED' flashing below.

At first his mind struggled to make sense of these images. It seemed impossible, but he realised they could only mean one thing...

Magister had been beaten!

Bryony lifted both hands from the arms of the control chair. Her muscles tingled, but otherwise she felt fine. In fact, she felt amazing.

She looked up to see Edwin, still prone, staring back at her in mute astonishment. She glimpsed movement to her right, where Mum rose shakily to her feet. Behind her stood the black haired Albany; for once she wasn't smirking, her features frozen in mute astonishment.

Then more movement drew Bryony's attention upwards, and what she saw turned her face into a mirror image of her twin's.

A little old lady hung from a billowing parachute, descending sedately through the shattered observatory roof.

"That was fun," Val enthused after landing on her feet. "Most thrilling experience I've had since I went bungee jumping off Brighton pier without a bungee."

Another parachute came down beside her, carrying a man in a gaudy lumberjack shirt holding a frightened looking ginger haired lady in his arms.

"See?" Bill grinned at Jane after they landed softly. "Told you I'd get us down safe and sound."

"Oh, darling." Jane gazed at Bill through misted eyes. "I'm sorry I doubted you, dearest husband." She expressed her regret by giving him a kiss on the lips.

Edwin hadn't been quite as shocked as Bryony. Until the kiss, at any rate. It looked like Bill and Jane had finally made up with each other.

"What happened to the helicopter?" he asked, finally making it to his feet.

"Parked safely," replied Bill. Then there was a loud crashing boom from outside. "Must have hit a bollard," he added with a sheepish grin.

"We took out the last of those snakes before we jumped ship," explained Val, deftly unclipping her parachute harness. "But what's happened here? I don't know if you noticed, but the moon's disappeared."

Edwin didn't know where to start. In any case, he found he couldn't speak.

"Darling?" Jane broke away from Bill and hurried towards him. "Tell us what happened?"

"They've gone," he sobbed as Jane swept him into her arms. "The seagulls, the rats and spiders. Katya, Dawes, Twisted Bough. And poor Stubby." He gazed down at the lifeless mouse in his hand. "But we stopped him."

"Bryony stopped him," Albany grinned. "She absorbed Magister's power, and him along with it."

"That's not Bryony," said Edwin, noticing his mother's confusion. "She is." He pointed at the fair-haired girl clambering down from the control chair.

"He's right," admitted Albany. "Bryony swapped places with me before Doctor Masters fired the Lantern at the moon. It was all part of her plan. Clever girl."

Then Albany ran up to Bryony and embraced her, whispering in her ear...

"But not clever enough."

Bryony felt herself spinning round. Then Albany let go of her, and she went stumbling backwards in a giddy daze.

Everything seemed suddenly different. But it wasn't until Bryony saw Albany toss her head that she realised what had happened.

Albany's hair was back to its shimmering snow-white hue. And when Bryony looked down she saw her long tresses had returned to their familiar jet black.

"Don't everyone thank me at once," said Albany, spreading her arms. "I only saved the universe, after all."

"No you didn't," countered Bryony. "I absorbed Magister's magic. I saved the universe."

From outside came a loud clap of thunder that made the observatory tremble. Lightning flashed jaggedly across the sky, which was turning into a kaleidoscope of garish greens, reds and yellows.

"It doesn't matter who saved the universe." Val used one of Twisted Bough's branches as a makeshift walking stick as she hobbled towards the arguing girls. "The moon's gone, and the Earth is doomed."

"Val's right," said Edwin, carefully slipping Stubby into his top pocket. "Without a moon, the elemental imbalance will tear the planet apart in just a few minutes."

"Then we must make a new moon," said Albany. "That was Doctor Masters' idea, and there's no reason we shouldn't proceed as planned." She pointed at Bryony. "Get inside the Magic Lantern, so I can zap you up there where you belong."

"Hold on!" Jane gawped in horror at the fair-haired girl. "Are you saying we should create a new moon using Albany?"

Albany nodded. "That's what Doctor Masters was going to do. Albany knew that, which is why she let me swap places with her."

"But we can't send the poor girl up there," said Bill. "No matter what she's done."

"This isn't a girl." Albany pointed at Bryony again. "It's a poppet, made from magic spells and plant roots. It shouldn't even exist."

"Bryony is right." Val nodded grimly. "After all the mayhem she's caused, this cursed creature deserves no better fate."

There was another clap of thunder. Then came another sound, a chorus of piercing shrieks that drew Edwin's attention to a flock of ragged forms circling overhead.

"Storm Hags," he gasped. "They must be feeding off the elemental imbalance!"

Even as he spoke, the Storm Hags swooped closer to the observatory.

"Leave them to me, lad!" Val tapped Edwin's shoulder with the tree branch. "All I need is my trusty old walking stick."

"It got frazzled," Edwin confessed with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry. I'll buy you another one."

"You won't get the chance unless we act quickly." Albany took a step towards Bryony. "Come along, Sis. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"But I'm not Albany!" Bryony turned to Edwin. "It's me. Can't you tell?"

Edwin was as confused as everyone else. "Maybe we should ask Inglenook?"

Bryony thought that was a good idea, until she saw the Wychetts Key was back in Albany's grasp.

"He won't be able to tell the difference," sneered the fair-haired girl. "Didn't stop you stealing Wychetts' magic in the first place, did he? And anyway, we don't have time for a debate."

"Talk to Inglenook." Bryony stared pleadingly at Edwin. "Use your psychic link."

Edwin was already trying, but for some reason he couldn't get through. All he could hear was crackling, like static from a faulty radio. He guessed the elemental imbalance was scrambling the magic signal.

"The natural order is decaying fast." Albany seized Bryony's left arm. "Come along, Sis. Time to fulfil your destiny."

The black haired girl screamed in protest as she was dragged towards the Lantern.

"Can't you tell which is which?" Edwin asked Bill. "You're her dad, after all."

Bill shrugged helplessly before turning to Diana. Bryony's mother just stood there, her eyes wide and glistening as she watched the girls struggling with each other.

Just then there was a blood-curdling shriek as the Storm Hags dived though the shattered roof, firing forks of lightning from their skeletal fingers.

Everyone dived for cover. There were sparks and small explosions where the lightning bolts struck a bank of computers. Luckily no one was hurt in the attack, but the distraction was all Bryony needed...

She took her chance, twisting free of Albany's grip before running towards her father.

"Dad! Help me!"

"Oh no you don't!" Albany recovered her balance, raising her right hand to point at her black haired twin. "You're going up there, dead or alive!"

"No!" Diana threw herself in front of the real Bryony, just as a beam of magic crackled from Albany's finger.

Bryony heard the scream, and glimpsed the flash in the corner of her eye. She span round to see her mother lying sprawled on the floor. Albany's arm was still raised, her dark eyes wide with shock, the smirk wiped from her quivering lips.

Bill brushed past Bryony to kneel by Diana's side. He reached out to touch her face, but Val shoved his hand away with her twiggy walking stick.

"Best not touch her. She's absorbed a great deal of magic." The old lady scowled at Albany. "That was a foolish thing to do, child."

Albany lowered her hand, a dazed expression on her pretty face.

"Mum?" Numb with shock, it took a few seconds before Bryony was able to move. She crouched beside her father, heart in mouth as she waited for a response. "Mum, can you hear me?"

Edwin too was in shock, but snapped out of it when he heard more shrieks from above. The Storm Hags wheeled away into the sky, the flock seeming to grow in size as he watched it. He knew they would soon attack again. He tried to warn the others, but everyone's attention was focused on Diana.

At last she stirred, her blue eyes opening to fix on Bryony. "It's you." Her voice was a hollow whisper. "My daughter."

"Yes it's me." Bryony reached down for her mother's hand, but Bill gently pushed her arm away.

"You heard what Val said. It's not safe to touch her."

"They're right." Mum smiled ruefully. "I'm not safe. Never was. Sorry I came back to ruin your life again."

"I'm the one who's sorry," said Bryony. "It's all my fault."

"How is it your fault?" Mum shook her head weakly. "I'm the one who walked out on you."

"But I made you unhappy. I made you go, Mum."

Mum frowned. "Who told you that?"

Bryony looked at Albany. The fair-haired girl stood in silence, staring at the floor.

"It wasn't like that," said Mum. "I was a terrible mother, right from the start. Your father was a rock, bless him. But he had to go to work, and I couldn't cope on my own with you. That's why I was grateful for Doctor Masters' help. Back then, I didn't know about the Wise Ones or the prophecy. If I had, I never would have put that message inside Mr Cuddles. That was Doctor Masters' idea. Said it would bring you luck throughout your life. Did anything but, huh?"

"Doctor Masters tricked you," sniffled Bryony. "Whatever you wrote, he changed the words with magic so they would trigger the prophecy. None of it was your fault, Mum."

Mum opened her lips to reply, but winced with pain instead.

"What's going to happen to her?" Bryony's watery eyes swivelled to her father. "Dad?"

Bill looked at Jane, who turned to Val. The old lady pointed her stick at Albany.

"You just going to stand there, girl? Or are you going to use your powers to make her better?"

"I can't." Albany raised her head, her cheeks streaked with tears. "There's not enough magic."

Edwin didn't believe it. "You hurt her, so you can make her better."

"And then I won't be able to save the world." Albany peered up at the churning heavens. "To create a new new moon will need all the magic I've got."

"I don't care about a new moon," spat Bryony. "I want you to save Mum!"

"It's Mother or the world." Albany lowered her head to meet Bryony's gaze. "That's the choice you've got, Sis."

"You're lying," growled Edwin. "This is another one of your games."

"Go on." Albany handed the Wychetts Key to Edwin. "Ask your precious Inglenook."

Edwin did just that, snatching the Key and staring questioningly at the miniature metal face. "Is she right?"

"I regret that Miss Albany is correct, Young Master." Inglenook's usually cheery voice was heavy with sadness. "The Young Mistress's mother has been shot by a bolt of intense magic. To heal her requires a significant amount of power, more than can be spared if the Eternal Imbalance is to be repaired within the next sixty seconds."

"But maybe there's another option," said Albany, the traces of a smirk returning to her pretty pink lips. "How about if I volunteer to be the moon. It's what I was created for, after all."

Edwin snorted doubtfully. "As if you would!"

"I'd do it. I'll willingly sacrifice myself to save your miserable planet. But only on one condition." Albany stared at Bryony. "Mother comes with me."

"No." Bryony spread her arms protectively across Mum's sprawled body. "I won't let you."

Jane agreed with Bryony. "We can't. Not to Bryony's mother. It would be tantamount to murder."

"It would be no such thing. Dearest Mother would be kept alive inside a cocoon of magic, just as Magister was."

"But she'd be stuck up there forever," said Edwin. "That would be worse than a prison sentence."

"She'd have me for company," Albany pointed out. "We would be back together, just like before. Meanwhile the world would survive. All of creation spared from oblivion. It's your choice. And you don't have long to make it."

There was another clap of thunder. The observatory shook again. Edwin looked up and saw the flock of Storm Hags had become a vast swarm, massing for a second strike.

Now he understood why the Wise Ones had kept Magister's fate a secret. It was a terrible choice to make.

He saw in Bryony's eyes that she shared the same realisation. Then he looked down at the face in the Wychetts Key.

"So what do we do?" he asked the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom. "How can we decide?"

"You don't have to," said Mum. "I've decided. I'll go."

"Mum?" Bryony stared at her mother through a curtain of tears.

"I have to. There's no other way."

The observatory continued to shake whilst the sky churned and flashed chaotically. But Bryony didn't hear the world dissolving around her. All she could hear was her mother's whispered voice.

"It has to be this way, Bryony. The life, the dream life Doctor Masters gave us, that wasn't for you. I could see that you belonged somewhere else, and that it could never be how I wanted. You were meant to be a Guardian. And I was meant for this."

"That's not true," wailed Bryony. "This is my fault. All of it. You never would have left home in the first place if it wasn't for me. I made you go, because of what I wrote on my bedroom door."

"Those words, yes." Mum managed a feeble nod. "I saw them that night, when I came up to check on you, after I'd stopped arguing with your father. But it wasn't just the words that made me leave home. I could hear you crying your heart out from inside the room. And that's when I knew I couldn't stay. I was hurting you, every day. I wanted you to be something you couldn't be. When Albany came along, I treated her the same. And look how she turned out."

"Yeah," sniffed Bryony. "Better than me. A perfect daughter."

"No," said Mum. "Living at Wychetts has made you better than Albany. I see that now. I see the daughter I never could have raised."

Bryony's response was drowned beneath a flood of her tears. As she wiped her eyes there was a bright stuttering flash. When she lowered her hands, her mother was gone.

"Sorry there's no time for proper goodbyes." Albany's voice echoed through the trembling observatory. "You've got twenty two seconds before I fire this thing."

Bryony looked all around, trying to work out where Albany's voice was coming from. A nudge from Bill drew her attention to the Magic Lantern. Albany stood inside the glass bulb alongside Mum, both enrobed in a haze of silvery light.

"Mum!" Bryony ran to the Lantern. "You're better already."

"It's the magic." Mum smiled, spreading her arms. "It's working."

"Then come back out." Bryony beckoned frantically.

"You know I can't." Mum leaned forwards, pressing her palms on the Lantern's glass casing. "This is the only way to save me."

"I can't let you go." Weeping, Bryony placed her hands on the glass, the nearest she could get to touching her mother. "I only just got you back."

"I'm sorry." Mum wept, too. "I put you through so much pain. All of you." She looked at Bill, Edwin and Jane as they assembled behind Bryony. "Ruining lives is all I've ever been good at. Hopefully this will put it right."

"Fifteen seconds," said Albany.

"There's something I need to ask." Bryony's gulping breath steamed the glass between them. "The message you put inside Mr Cuddles. Doctor Masters changed the words by magic, but what did you really write?"

"Just five words." Mum winced as though in pain. "Words I never said aloud to you. But I can say them now."

Bryony blinked back another flood of tears. "Mum?"

Another rumble shook the observatory. Metal creaked ominously. A chorus of angry shrieks grew louder...

Then Mum spoke those words.

"Darling daughter, I love you."

Bryony felt like her insides were melting. She tried to reply, to tell her mother that she loved her too, but then the haze of light intensified, and Bill pulled her away from the Lantern.

"It's started." Albany's voice echoed loudly once again. "See, Sis? I won in the end. I get the life I always wanted. Just Mother and me together forever. But I'm not as cruel as you think. In return I'll give you your own life back. Wychetts will be restored, the magic of the Wise Ones with it. You and Edwin shall be Guardians as before. And all who died today, every creature of flesh, fur and feather, will live again. Things will be as they should be."

Bryony squinted into the light. Mum had vanished now, but she could see Albany staring back at her.

"But Sis, you know what the real irony of all this is?" The familiar smirk returned to those pretty pink lips. "I always wanted to be you."

There was a deafening boom from the sky. Albany's face vanished as the white light flared.

A peel of shrieks heralded the return of the Storm Hags, streaming into the observatory, drawn towards the glowing Lantern like moths to a flame.

Edwin raised the Wychetts Key, but a sudden gust of wind tore it from his hand. Helpless, he clung onto his mother as the leading Storm Hag bore down on him.

And then everything faded in a haze of silver light.

The screeching ceased. The floor stopped trembling.

And Edwin felt movement in his top pocket...

Chapter 16- As It Should Be

I wake up, and I'm excited, because it's the start of the school holidays and we're going to the seaside. I get out of bed and pull back the curtains. The sky is a perfect clear blue. The whole day is going to be perfect. A perfect family day.

I get dressed, putting on my new clothes. I don't really like them, but Mum bought them and says they suit me, and I know she'll be disappointed if I don't wear them. She also says they're expensive, so I mustn't run around in an un-ladylike manner and get them dirty.

I quickly brush my hair. Mum says it's very important to make sure I look nice, as first impressions count and I might not get a decent job when I leave school if I don't look nice, but this morning I'm too excited to worry about a few knotted strands. I finish getting ready and rush downstairs. I can smell the familiar mixture of air freshener and burned cooking from last night's supper. The house is very quiet, which is strange, normally Mum would have started shouting at Dad by now.

I walk into our beautiful bespoke handcrafted kitchen, but nobody's there. So I check the dining room, but Mum isn't in there either. I head back into the hallway and call out to her, but there's no reply. Then I notice the living room door is open. I think that's odd, because normally no one is allowed in the living room until after dinner. I poke my head round the door. There's no sign of Mum, but Dad is sitting on the sofa. I ask him where Mum is. He doesn't answer, but when he looks at me I notice his eyes are all red and I realise something is wrong.

I ask him again about Mum, but it's like he can't speak.

I leave him and rush back upstairs. I go into my parents' bedroom. The bed is unmade. The beautiful fitted oak wardrobes are open, and some clothes have gone.

And so, I realise, has Mum.

Suddenly I'm struggling to breathe. My stomach is churning. I can't understand why Mum would leave me. I try to remember what happened the day before, what might have made her go.

But it was just like any other day. Mum burned the dinner. Dad broke something. They argued. I got fed up and ran to my bedroom.

I stagger back onto the landing. And then I see my bedroom door, and these five words I wrote yesterday in red felt tip.

HORRID MUM I HATE YOU

And I realise why Mum left me. And that it's my fault.

But then the writing changes, the letters twisting into new ones before my tearful eyes.

And I realise it was magic. Albany's magic that had tricked me, just like Doctor Masters had tricked Mum when she wrote that message she put inside Mr Cuddles.

Because the words on the door are now the real words I wrote. The words Mum read that night, the words that made her realise how much she was hurting me.

The words I never said aloud...

DEAREST MUM I LOVE YOU

Bryony opened her eyes, and everything seemed as it should be.

The moon was back to normal size, a perfect disc of silver in a velvet night sky. There was no howling wind, no rumbles of thunder. The only sound was a soft breeze rustling the trees. The snow and ice had gone, all trace of the recent climatic chaos having melted away.

The Eternal Balance of Nature was restored.

And so was Wychetts.

Bryony was back in the ancient cottage, sitting on her own bed.

The house was whole again, not a burned out shell. It was as though the fire had never happened.

Albany had been true to her word.

Everything was back as it should be.

Except Bryony knew that it wasn't.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, the mattress sinking as someone sat next to her on the bed.

"You OK, Sweetpea?"

Bryony was going to tell Dad that was the dumbest question anyone could have asked, but then she saw his face, and decided to hug him instead.

"But are you OK?" he asked, evidently taken aback by her show of affection. "You seem upset about something."

Bryony couldn't believe her father had forgotten already, but then she realised that his mind had probably been wiped by Inglenook's magic.

"It's OK." She gave him another squeeze. "You can't remember."

"I can if you want me to." Bill frowned, as if unsure what he was saying.

"I do," Bryony told him. "I want you to remember."

Bill nodded, his expression changing from confusion into pain.

"I saw what happened to your mother. I was there..."

"You always were," said Bryony, smiling at him through her tears.

"And I always will be. And Mum will be, too. Looking down on you. On all of us."

They both gazed out of the crooked arched window, and Bryony thought she glimpsed her mother's beautiful face smiling back at her from the moon. And she heard a voice, soft and lilting, singing to her from a long time ago...

"I see the moon and the moon sees me,

Shining through the boughs of the old dead tree.

Oh let the light that shines on me

Shine on the one I love."

Bill drew her closer, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"You know Mum loves you," he whispered.

"I do," said Bryony. "Because she told me. And she knows I love her too."

Edwin stood there, blinking.

Seconds ago he'd been standing in front of the Magic Lantern as the world around him collapsed in flames, a horde of screeching Storm Hags bearing down from the sky.

It was still night time, but now he was in a narrow lane in the middle of the countryside. He had no idea how he'd got there, and could only assume it was Albany's doing. When he looked round he saw a gate in the hedgerow. There was a word painted on the gate, illuminated by the silvery moonlight...

When he'd first seen that word, so long ago, it had seemed weird and strangely foreboding. Now that same word represented all that he cherished. His life, his family, his home...

WYCHETTS

"So you made it back here, lad."

Although familiar, the old lady's voice made Edwin start. He turned to see a grinning Val standing next to him in the lane. And with her, smiling broadly, was a healthy looking Captain Rathbone.

"The Nyx Queen's magic healed me once the Eternal Balance was restored," the Captain explained. "I am fighting fit once more. Although," he mused with a wry smile, "let us hope there is no more fighting required for the time being."

"Me too," said a mouse that emerged from Edwin's top pocket. "I think we all deserve a rest after that last gruelling adventure."

Edwin couldn't agree more. He felt physically and mentally exhausted. Emotionally, too. He knew it was time to bid farewell to his comrades, but after all they'd been through together it seemed impossible to express himself in words.

"Look after yourself." Val shook Edwin's hand. "And that stepsister of yours. She'll be needing you."

Edwin nodded. "Thanks for everything you've done. We never would have made it without you."

"Too right you wouldn't," agreed the old lady, hobbling to her mobility scooter parked in the lane. "Never again think that grown-ups are useless."

Edwin promised he wouldn't. The Captain said his goodbyes to Val, who insisted on a kiss on the cheek after he'd helped her onto the scooter.

"Don't be a stranger," Val told Edwin as she started the scooter. "You know where I live. Would be nice to catch up on things over tea and homemade scones."

"Or maybe you could pop in and see us," suggested Edwin, knowing that his mother's hospitality might prove more agreeable to his teeth and stomach.

"Excellent idea," agreed Val. "I'll bring a supply of scones."

"Not on that thing you won't," said Stubby. "You'll need a heavy goods vehicle."

Val waved as the scooter trundled off slowly down the lane.

"At that rate it will take her all night to get home," said Edwin. No sooner had he spoken than they heard a whoosh, and he saw Val and her scooter shooting up into the air.

"Looks like Inglenook has made a few modifications," said the Captain, grinning as he watched Val disappear over the horizon.

"I hope air traffic control have been notified," said Stubby. "I've seen first-hand how fast she goes round clouds."

A chorus of seagull shrieks drew their attention higher, where they saw a mass of large white birds wheeling above them. Squadron Leader Herringbone-Smythe swooped low to acknowledge Edwin with a bob of the head, before returning to his flock and leading the birds away into the night.

"I'm glad they're OK," sighed Edwin. "But what about the rats and spiders? And Slinker?"

"The Ratello Mob and the Sisterhood are fully recovered," said Captain Rathbone. "And Mr Slinker is enjoying some well-earned rest from his scouting activities. Everybody is fine. Thanks to you, Master Edwin."

"I didn't do much," said Edwin modestly. Then he bit his bottom lip. "I'm sorry for what I said. About you keeping things from me. I was wrong to call you a liar. And your alliance with the Shadow Clan, I know it was the only way of defeating Magister. I should have trusted you more."

"Trust must be earned," stated the Captain. "You had every reason to question my motives. I hereby pledge that in future missions I shall not withhold crucial information from you."

Edwin secretly hoped any future missions might not be for a little while yet, but he nodded to acknowledge Captain Rathbone's promise.

"Now I must take my leave," announced the Captain. "It has been an honour to serve with the Guardians of Wychetts. My only regret is that I didn't fight alongside you in the battle."

"That reminds me." Edwin fished in his pocket and retrieved the Captain's fob watch. "Thanks for lending me this. You can have it back now."

"You must keep it," ordered the Captain. "It is the nearest thing to a medal I can bestow upon you. And you have earned it, Captain Edwin."

Captain Rathbone saluted.

Captain Edwin saluted back.

Then Captain Rathbone seemed to vanish, but Edwin caught sight of a bushy white-tipped tail bobbing away down the lane.

"That's the goodbyes over with." He slipped the fob watch back into his pocket and turned to the garden gate. "Let's check on the rest of the family."

"Not quite," said Stubby.

Edwin paused. "Not quite what?"

"Not quite over. The goodbyes, I mean."

Edwin peered down at the mouse in his pocket, only to see that his pocket was empty.

"Hey." He looked around. "Where are you?"

"Down here," called Stubby, who was now sitting on the ground.

"What are you doing down there? Don't tell me you've made a mess in my pocket again."

"I am, and always have been, fully pocket trained. I just thought it would be easier to do it like this."

"So hurry up," said Edwin, looking away.

"I don't mean going to the lavatory. I mean saying goodbye."

"It's a bit late now. Val and the Captain have left."

"It's not them I'm going to say goodbye to. It's you."

Edwin frowned. "But I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh dear," Stubby shook his little head. "I didn't think you'd make this easy."

"Make what easy?" Then a thought struck Edwin. "Hey. You don't mean you're leaving?"

Stubby nodded. "We got there in the end."

"But you can't leave!"

"I'm a free agent. My work here is done."

"What work?"

"You," the mouse explained with a frustrated sigh. "You were my work. My little project. And now that project is complete, it's time to look elsewhere for honest job fulfilment."

"I don't understand." Edwin crouched next to Stubby. "How can I have been your project?"

"Think back to when we first met. You were just a little kid. With a good heart, yes. But otherwise no more than an irritating, snotty nosed mummy's boy with less intellect than a bowl of boiled cabbage."

"I wasn't the one in a dustbin," Edwin reminded the mouse.

"But under my expert tutelage, you slowly developed into a fine young man, capable of great acts of intelligence and courage. I wouldn't say you were my greatest triumph, but you've come a reasonably long way in a reasonably short time. But the tragedy of being a great teacher is that every day you make yourself progressively unnecessary."

Edwin frowned. "I think I need more lessons, because I'm not following a word of this."

"What I'm saying, in simple terms, is that you don't need me anymore. There's nothing left I can teach you. Apart from a few more table manners, I suppose. But in general terms, I've taken you as far as I can."

"But you can't just leave." Edwin was incredulous. "Where will you go? What will you do? Who's going to feed you?"

"I'm a mouse of the world. I can look after myself. And so can you, now."

Edwin realised Stubby wasn't joking.

"I'll miss you," he admitted. "We've had some good times together."

"Hmm." Stubby twitched his whiskers. "You might have to jog my memory with some more specific references."

Edwin felt a tear burning his eye, and had to turn away so that Stubby wouldn't notice.

"I'm sorry," said Stubby after a pause. "I know I've been hard on you at times. Always ready to dish out a witty put-down when some gentle encouragement might have been better. Truth is, the fact you've grown, developed as a Guardian of Wychetts, that wasn't really because of me. It was more in spite of me."

"That isn't true." Edwin turned his head back to Stubby. "You've been a good friend. The best friend I ever had."

"Wish I could say the same for you, but there was a fellow rodent I used to bunk with at college. Fantastic chap, George the gerbil. We used to have some proper laughs."

"Nice to know where I stand," mused Edwin. "Second place behind a gerbil."

"I haven't finished yet. There was also a shrew called Kenny, and of course earthworm Ernie."

"You rank me lower than a worm?"

"He was a very entertaining worm. Great after dinner speaker."

"That's not the point. You still rank me lower than someone who eats mud."

"Have I mentioned Dave the dung beetle?"

"OK, I get the picture. I'll miss our chats, though."

"Me too," agreed Stubby. "But a fellow like you shouldn't be talking to mice anymore. Now you've mastered the rudimentary skills of conversation, you should try communicating more with other humans. Particularly your family. I can think of one person who'll need a friend right now."

"Yeah, you're right."

"So go to her. And leave me to explore the wide world on my own."

"We'd better say goodbye then."

"Goodbye," said Stubby.

"Goodbye," said Edwin.

The mouse scampered off into the undergrowth.

Edwin stared into the shadows, hoping that Stubby might return. But then he remembered Bryony, and knew he should check up on his stepsister. He pushed through the gate in the hedgerow, and was halfway up the garden when he heard a rustle to his right. There was a flash of diamonds as something pale emerged from the bushes. At first he thought it was a cat, but in the blink of an eye there was a woman standing in front of him.

"Katya Pauncefoot." Edwin froze, every muscle tensing.

"Relax," purred Katya. "This is not a hostile visit. I come to serve you notice that the alliance between the Shadow Clan and the Guardians of Wychetts is at an end."

Edwin snorted. "There's not much of the Shadow Clan left."

"On the contrary," Katya's lips pursed into a smile, "the Shadow Clan is stronger than ever thanks to Albany."

Edwin nodded as he realised. "She restored Wychetts, so she restored the Shadow Clan to preserve the balance of power."

"The Dark One sits again on his throne, and he wishes it to be known he will continue to wage war against the forces of light."

"And I'm back too," rasped another voice. "Back and ready to take on the world."

Edwin hadn't noticed the ugly old tree on the lawn until now.

"The only thing you can take on is fungus," croaked a tatty bald bird perched on one of Twisted Bough's branches. "And the fungus always wins out."

Edwin felt a surprising sense of relief that his former allies were all right. But he wasn't going to let them know it. He straightened, puffing his chest to deliver his defiant response.

"You can tell the Dark One, and all of the Shadow Clan, that the Guardians of Wychetts shall be ready for anything you can throw at us."

"We wouldn't have it otherwise." Katya smiled and stepped aside, as though indicating he should pass.

Edwin obliged, keeping a wary eye on her. Katya waited until he had walked by until speaking again.

"But don't think things will be as they were. The world, your world, will never be the same."

"A new moon always brings changes," squawked Dawes. "And not always for the better."

Edwin said nothing, continuing up the garden.

"And another thing."

Now there was an edge to Katya's voice that made him halt.

"We know what you did. In the cemetery. We know you spoke with your father."

Edwin felt an icy shiver down his spine.

"So what of it?" he asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

"What you did transgressed the laws of nature," warned Katya. "There are bound to be consequences, for the living and the dead."

"Like what?" Edwin looked round, but all he saw was a pale cat-shape melting into the gloom. Something dark and tatty flitted up into the sky. Only the ugly tree remained.

"Well?" Edwin asked Twisted Bough. "Aren't you slinking off as well?"

"I'm doing it," rasped the tree, even though he was standing perfectly still. "This is me slinking off. See how slinkily I can slink."

Edwin stood watching the tree for a few moments, but nothing happened.

"I'll be gone by morning," promised Twisted Bough. "Maybe say lunch time, to be on the safe side."

Edwin turned and continued up the garden, trying to push the Shadow Clan's warning from his mind.

Lights from the cottage windows cast diamond crossed shadows on the glistening lawn. He paused to study the crooked old building. It was a sight he'd never thought he'd see again. It was home.

And yet he knew that Katya had been right. Things couldn't be like they were, not after everything they'd been through in the last few days. Just how different they'd be, he sensed he was about to find out.

The front door was ajar. As Edwin entered the cottage he met Bill striding towards him down the hallway.

"There you are, boy." Bill gave his stepson a welcoming grin. "Ready for a bite to eat, I bet?"

Edwin admitted that he was.

"Then I'll rustle up supper. Just going to check on your mother. Think she's gone upstairs." Bill's smile faltered. "Bryony's in the living room. She's bearing up, given the circumstances."

Edwin nodded. "Maybe she'd prefer to be alone for a while?"

"Go to her," said Bill. "She needs you."

Edwin made for the lounge door. As he passed, Bill raised a hand as though to give him a slap on the back. Edwin shot him a warning glare, so Bill shook his stepson's hand instead.

"Good chap," he whispered. "Be gentle with her."

Bill headed up the stairs. Edwin drew a deep breath before stepping into the lounge.

A small fire glowed in the hearth, just enough to stave off the night time chill. Bryony stood in front of the fireplace, her back to the door. Edwin coughed loudly, but there was still no indication that she'd noticed his presence.

He walked up to her. When he drew level he saw she was staring at the carved wooden face above the hearth.

Inglenook's polished wooden features shone like new. The Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom was back in the building.

"Master Edwin, Miss Bryony." That deep cheery voice reverberated through the ancient cottage. "Welcome home to Wychetts."

"It's good to be back," said Edwin, returning Inglenook's smile. He looked at Bryony, wondering if she was going to speak.

But she said nothing.

"I trust you will find everything to your satisfaction," continued Inglenook. "The cottage has been restored exactly as it was before..." He hesitated slightly. "Before the incident that caused its destruction."

"All looks great to me," said Edwin. "As good as new. Well... as new as anything as old as Wychetts can be." He grinned at Bryony. "So everything's back as it should be."

He instantly regretted his choice of words.

"I didn't mean that," he mumbled. "Things aren't how they should be, what with your mum... um... what I meant to say was..."

He wasn't really sure what he'd meant to say. He guessed nothing he could say could make things better.

Bryony didn't answer, her shining black eyes still studying Inglenook's carved wooden face. Edwin couldn't tell what she might be thinking. He thought she was about to scream in fury.

"It wasn't his fault," Edwin told her. "Inglenook didn't know about Magister and the prophecy because the Wise Ones had wiped his memory. When you asked him about the message in your toy, he knew as much as you did."

Bryony's lips quivered, but still she stared at Inglenook. It all made sense to her now. Of course Inglenook couldn't have known, otherwise he would have told her, done his best to protect her like he always had.

When at last she spoke, her voice was hushed and shaky.

"I'm sorry I doubted you."

Inglenook's wooden features softened. "There is no need for apologies, Young Mistress."

"He's right," said Edwin. "If anyone is to blame, it's the Wise Ones."

"It is not a question of blame," replied the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom. "The Wise Ones acted to protect the innocent, because they feared the prophecy would come true."

"They did what they thought was right," said Bryony. "Like my mum, when she left home because she thought she was hurting me. She did that out of love, not because she hated me."

"I am deeply sorry about your mother," said Inglenook. "If there had been another way..."

"There wasn't." Bryony shook her head. "Mum knew that. I think somehow she knew from the start."

"So there's no way of saving her?" Edwin looked imploringly at Inglenook. "Can't we reverse the magic spell?"

"I regret that is not possible, Young Master. To attempt such a thing would almost certainly cause irreparable damage to the Eternal Balance."

"Not if we put another moon up there," said Edwin.

Inglenook's wooden brow creased doubtfully. "But to do that would require another soul."

At last Bryony looked at Edwin, her expression quizzical. "Are you volunteering?"

"Yes." Edwin answered without thinking. "I'd do anything. Whatever it took to get your mum back, so you can go and live with her if that's what you want."

"I don't want that," sighed Bryony. "We've been through this before, in the Dungeon of Dreams. I want to live here in Wychetts. With Dad, your mum and you."

"But..." Edwin felt his eyes moistening. "When we met up here after the fire, you said you didn't want to see me or Wychetts again."

"I didn't mean it," explained Bryony. "I was scared, that's all. Of course I want to live here. And it wouldn't even matter if we weren't Guardians with magic powers. Wychetts is my home." She smiled. "Our home."

Smiling back, Edwin rummaged in his jacket pocket. "That reminds me, I've got something of yours." He presented a wad of tissue paper to Bryony.

"That's mine?" Bryony eyed the offering with suspicion.

Edwin unfurled the paper to reveal a silver chain and leaf shaped pendant. The same chain and pendant Bryony had hurled away when they'd met in the burned out cottage.

Bryony felt a lump rising in her throat. "You kept it."

"The Captain sniffed it out for me. I hoped one day I'd get the chance to give it back to you."

"Thanks." Bryony took the chain from Edwin, examining the leaf pendant. "Are you sure it's the right bryony leaf?"

"The pendant represents black bryony," said Inglenook. "Latin name tamus communis. Despite its similar common name, the plant is not related to bryonica alba, also known as white bryony."

The silver chain was broken, but Bryony fixed it with a simple bit of magic before slipping it over her head.

"There." She fingered the leaf pendant, smiling gratefully at Edwin. "Now things are back as they should be."

He knew Bryony was putting on a brave face, and expected her to start blubbing any second; but instead it was Edwin who burst into tears.

He felt like a dam had burst inside him, all the tension of the past few days unleashed in a tidal wave of emotion, a conflicting swell of relief and heartache.

"I thought I'd lost you," he sobbed. "When Albany zapped you. I thought everything was lost."

"It would have been except for you." Bryony laid a hand on his arm. "You came for me. You found Inglenook and Wychetts' magic."

"The magic was never lost," said Inglenook. "It was there inside you both, all the time."

"But I thought the magic came from the cottage," said Bryony. "That's why the Wise Ones built it, as a place to store all their power."

"There is a kind of magic in this crooked old building," admitted Inglenook with a smile. "It is the magic of time, an echo of all those souls who have lived here through the centuries. But the true strength of Wychetts' power comes from you Guardians."

The children looked blankly at each other. Edwin was going to ask a question, but Inglenook delivered the answer before he got a chance to speak.

"The Siphon in the cellar is not the source of Wychetts' power, but merely a receptacle for your own magical energies. And the Wychetts Key is really no more than a lump of metal, yet it acts as a conduit through which your powers are focused."

"In the same way your face did." Edwin inspected his right hand. There were no burn marks visible now, but at last he realised where his magic had come from after the cottage burned down. "I thought you'd transferred some magic to me, but the power was in me all the time."

"Hang on," said Bryony. "But if the magic was in me all the time, how come I couldn't feel any when I was being held prisoner by Albany? And why couldn't I do magic stuff before I came to Wychetts."

Edwin hadn't thought of that. "Me neither." He frowned at the carved wooden face. "So how..."

"The magic was in you both all the time," beamed Inglenook. "But it was coming to Wychetts that made the magic stronger."

"So the cottage is a conduit? Like the Key?" Edwin thought he'd cracked it, but Inglenook's reply surprised him.

"It is not. The cottage is your home, but your magic conduit is... each other."

Bryony and Edwin swapped more bemused glances.

"Moving to Wychetts together was the spark that ignited your magical powers," explained Inglenook. "And I have felt those powers grow stronger, each and every day since you made this humble cottage your home."

Edwin struggled to control another wave of sobs. The sight of her weeping stepbrother brought Bryony to tears. She was going to give him a hug, but then she noticed his empty top pocket.

"Where's your little friend got to?"

"Stubby's gone," snuffled Edwin. "Said his work was done."

"What work? All he did was chew tissues and make sarky comments."

"It was his choice to leave. He's going to travel the world."

"Yeah right." Bryony smiled knowingly. "He'll be back by breakfast."

Edwin wasn't so sure of that.

"You know what," he began, wiping a tear from his nose, "after I escaped from Doctor Masters' clinic, the one thing that kept me going was thinking that somehow, when it was all over, everything would be back to normal. But it won't be, will it? It can't ever be like it was."

"Guess that's how life works," reflected Bryony. "If things stayed the same, stuff wouldn't happen. Good stuff as well as bad." She wiped a tear from her cheek. "You know, I used to wish more than anything that Mum hadn't left me. But that would have meant my dad wouldn't have met your mum, and we'd never have moved here together."

Edwin gazed at the wonky walls and the sagging, beamed ceiling.

"I can't imagine life without Wychetts," he breathed.

Bryony's hand squeezed Edwin's arm. "I can't imagine life without you," she whispered.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs came echoing through the cottage, followed by Bill's pleading voice.

"Baby, please..."

"Don't call me baby," hissed Jane.

"Angel."

"Or that!"

"Sweetie pie."

"Or that, either. It won't make any difference!"

The children hurried into the hallway. They found Jane standing by the front door, a hastily packed suitcase beside her.

"Edwin." She pointed at the winding staircase. "Get packing."

Edwin didn't move a muscle. "How come?"

"Because we're leaving," Jane clarified.

"But Mum, we only just got home."

"And I'm doing supper," added Bill.

"That might not persuade her," pointed out Bryony.

"We're not leaving," Edwin told his mother. "There's no way we're leaving. Not now, not ever."

Jane scowled. "Edwin, don't make this difficult."

"But Mum, I'm a Guardian of Wychetts."

"Yes, you are." Tears pooled in Jane's eyes. "I've seen what that means. And I can't live through it again. I can't see you risking your life every day."

"It's not every day, Mum. More like every other day. And I'll wear my cycling helmet more often if that makes you feel better. Elbow pads, too."

"And a nappy," teased Bryony. "Just to be on the safe side."

"No. We're leaving." Jane yanked the front door open. "Your Auntie Kath will take us in for a while."

"But what about us?" It had finally dawned on Bryony that Jane was serious. "Does this mean we're not a family anymore?"

"We can still meet up," said Jane with a wavering smile. "Once I get a new home sorted out, you can come round for tea." She looked at Bill. "Both of you."

The cottage fell silent. Edwin swallowed. He knew it was now or never.

"Mum..."

"Not now, darling. You need to get packed."

"I met him."

"Met who?"

"Dad."

"You what?"

"At the town cemetery. He came to me. We talked."

Jane gritted her teeth. "Don't say things like that. Go and pack your suitcase."

"We talked," repeated Edwin, committed to revealing the truth. "He knows everything that's happened. About you getting married again. About our new life in Wychetts. And he said to tell you that Bill is a good guy, and that you shouldn't let him go."

Jane cupped her hands over her mouth, her shoulders shuddering.

"Please stay." Bryony walked up to Jane. "Dad needs you. And I..." She fought in vain to control a heaving sob. "I need a mum."

Jane burst into tears and embraced Bryony, who reached instinctively for her stepbrother. Edwin took hold of her hand, wrapping his other arm around his mother's waist. Bill joined the family huddle, kissing his wife and daughter in turn.

A tiny, whiskered snout poked round the opened door.

"I've had a little think about it, and all things considered, it's probably best if I left in the morning." Stubby shook himself as he scuttled back into the cottage. "What with it being dark out there and everything. Plus it would be unwise to head off on an empty stomach. Not that I can't fend for myself, of course. It's just..."

His voice trailed off into a squeak when he saw the family huddling together in the hallway.

"On second thoughts," he sighed, "with all this hugging, I'll be better off outside."

But he was too late. Edwin had spotted the mouse in the corner of his eye, and before Stubby knew it he was magically transported into the boy's top pocket.

"Oh well." Stubby snuggled against Edwin's beating heart. "If you can't beat them, you might as well join them."

The family drew apart, and then walked hand in hand into the lounge. Lured to the warming fire, they assembled in a line before the hearth, where Inglenook's gleaming wooden face smiled back at them.

Edwin felt Bryony's fingers squeezing his hand. He squeezed back, turning his head to meet her gaze. He could see the reflection of the flickering fire in her dark, wet eyes; and there was something else, something that couldn't be expressed in words.

Bryony studied her stepbrother. His freckled face had changed somehow. He was no longer the weedy little boy she'd found so detestable when their parents had first met. Truth was, he'd stopped being that a long time ago. He'd grown, changed over time. Like her whole world had changed, and would continue changing in the years ahead. But she knew he'd always be there for her. He'd always be her fellow Guardian of Wychetts. Her brother. Her Edwin.

The children didn't smile at each other. After all their shared trials and adventures, a mere twitch of the lips would have counted for little. But at that moment, standing hand in hand with their parents in front of the warming fire, they both realised what magic really was.

Epilogue

I am old, dear reader. Older than you, older than anyone alive in the world today, except for a few ancient trees. I was made from such a tree, many hundreds of years ago, and the true moment of my birth is lost in the hazy dimness of time.

I have seen much throughout my long life. I have seen wars, famine, plague and fire. I have seen those I love wither and die.

But for every tear of sorrow, I have shed a tear of joy.

I have seen enemies come together in peace. I have seen love blossom. I have seen new life draw its first breath.

All these things I have seen in this Old Place. And I will see so much more...

The Eternal Balance has been restored. But the Balance is always in flux, like the ebbing and flowing of the sea. Our planet spins, the moon turns around us, and every day brings a new view of the universe.

The Old Place has stood for centuries, a fixed point in an ever-changing world. And there will be more changes to come for the young Guardians of Wychetts. There will be fresh challenges, new dangers. There will be excitement and there will be pain. There will be fear, but there will joy and love.

The love of a family, the love of a home...

A wonky old cottage called Wychetts.

THE END

Thanks from the Author

I hope you enjoyed Wychetts and the Moon of Magister, along with the other titles in the Wychetts series. I am assuming you must have read them all by now, or else I suspect little of what you've just read will have made the slightest bit of sense. Even if you have read them all, it's quite possible you are still a little befuddled. I can only apologise!

However, if you did somehow enjoy this book I would be most grateful if you could spare a few moments to register your delight by leaving a rating (5 stars would be nice, but I'll leave that to you) at the website from which you downloaded this ebook. Even better if you could write a quick review!

Thanks again for your support, it is much appreciated.

The Author

