B00JX4CVBU EBOK (14 page)

Turner shook his head. ‘Nah. Combs don’t work on my hair. Too kinky.’

Ember smiled. ‘Kinky?’

Turner laughed. ‘I mean wavy, with a mind of its own. I keep it short then just do this …’ At the edge of the stream he wet his hands. He then ran his hands through his hair and ruffled them around, before pulling his hands from his forehead to the back of his head. He knew from experience his short curls were tamed and flat—at least for the time being.

Ember laughed, ‘I never knew men had it so easy.’

‘This way please,’ said the True spirit, and it floated across the stream towards them and then up into the forest.

Ember held out her hand. ‘Let’s go.’

The True spirit bobbed along a little way ahead, leading them down a wide avenue between the giant trees. Turner was just thinking how nice it would be if he and Ember could stay here for longer than a few days, when she pointed ahead. In the distance the trees ended and Turner could make out a small hill or mound glowing like gold in the distance. As they got closer, Turner could see one large tree on top of the mound. But this was no ordinary True tree; it was an immense, mighty oak. And it was old. Its size, thick foliage and twisted, gnarly trunk attested to its age.

Around the tree were hundreds of the hovering, shimmering forms of the True.

‘What is this place?’ asked Turner.

The True answered in his head, ‘It’s is a Gathering place. We meet here to create the power of the True. The life-giving power which flows through to your world. We call this place a knot.’

‘Like in a tree?’

‘No,’ came the ethereal voice, ‘as in a net. There are many knots here in the True. All connected. So they form something like a giant net. It’s how we gather our power.’

The spirit halted at the base of the large mound. Turner and Ember stopped beside it. One by one the glowing spirits around the tree vanished until there were only six left.

‘Where did they go?’ asked Ember.

‘We cannot create the power by all being in the same place. We distribute ourselves around our world. Six to each knot. Thousands of knots, all connected, gathering power from the forest around them and feeding into the net.’

Turner saw it in his mind, as clear as day. ‘Like distributed computing! Or like the internet. Wow, of course. The combined power of many nodes is stronger than one large one.’

‘You’re such a geek, Turner,’ said Ember.

‘Of course I am,’ said Turner. ‘And now I’m a super geek. No, a mega geek. Or, an ultra …’

‘Yeah, yeah, I get the idea.’ Ember shook her head and laughed. ‘Cough. Geek.’ 

Once again the voice in their heads: ‘The Gathering has begun.’

Beams of nebulous light streamed out across the top of the forest to the tree on the mound, while the six spirits began circling the tree, faster and faster. And still faster they spun, joining together until they were just one loop of pulsating brilliance. A shaft of gold light sprang up from the spinning spirits and the tree, a huge spotlight, blazing and potent. Turner and Ember covered their eyes from the glare. 

Turner could feel the power all around him; his atoms quivered in response. He felt like he had when he’d been surrounded by the sisters and had helped dispel the Scathers. He felt huge, like he could move the Earth with just a breath, grab stars with his bare hands, smash them together, and forge new star systems with their substance. He turned to Ember and saw her looking at him, astonishment in her eyes.

‘Turner! Your aura. Oh my God!’

Turner couldn’t see his own aura, but he imagined what it must look like. All at once this immense power became too much to contain and he felt it blast out of him and into the sky, joining the gathered power of the True. Turner raised his hands, tipped his head back and let out a long, crazed laugh.

The outpouring of energy lasted only a dozen heartbeats and then, without notice, it was over. The power from the tree, from the ring of spirits and from Turner ended as if a switch had been thrown. Turner lowered his hands and looked around, slightly disoriented. He was just Turner again. Back to normal. For a moment he’d been everything … for a moment he’d been a god. For just one moment he’d been home.

‘Yes,’ said the spirit next to him. ‘You were, Turner. You were once again one with the True.’

Understanding flowed through Turner like molten metal. After what he’d just been through, every cell in his body understood. ‘Oh. Of course.’

‘What?’ said Ember. ‘Of course, what?’

Turner smiled at Ember. Surely she knew? Surely the Vordenes would know? ‘You know why my aura is so powerful here? Why I was able to join in their Gathering?’

Ember frowned. Shook her head.

‘This is where I come from, Ember. Where the Ring spirit in me came from.’

Ember still frowned. Did she really not understand?

Turner indicated the mound, the forest. ‘Ember. The True. The True is where your spirit animals come from. Where all the Vordene’s Rings come from. And I’m pretty sure where we come back to when we die in the human world.’

‘Yes,’ agreed the True spirit.

Ember’s eyes were wide. Her mouth was open. Finally she said, ‘I … we … how? How didn’t we know this?’ She grabbed Turner’s shoulders. ‘Oh my God, Turner! You! You are the True!’

Once again that one word in their heads: ‘Yes.’

Ember turned to the spirit. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

The spirit elf smiled serenely. ‘We cannot share this with you, Vordene. With this knowledge the Vordenes would try to tap the True for their own Rings. They would seek to create their own perfect Rings. This is possible but not the way the True works. Your Rings must arrive naturally. This is a dangerous knowledge you cannot have.’

‘But I know now.’

‘It is not knowledge you will keep, Ember. You will not remember it on your return. Away from the True the knowledge will be locked away in your mind.’

Ember didn’t say anything. She sat down on the grass and hugged her knees. Turner sat down next to her and put his arm around her.

‘You OK? It doesn’t really change anything does it?’

Ember shook her head. ‘I guess not. It’s just big you know? Like finding out about Santa Claus. It’s kind of …’ She stopped, sprang to her feet and faced the spirit. ‘If Turner comes from the True, how about the Vordene? Do we?’

‘Oh, Fire One, look within you. You know your home. No shadow world for the fundamental elements of life. You are a child of Mother Earth. How could you be anything else?’

Ember’s nodded slowly. ‘Of course. Of course.’ She turned to Turner. ‘I got carried away there for a second. I wouldn’t want to be from anywhere else of course. Gaia is us as we are Gaia.’

Turner looked up at the lone tree, at the cloudless blue of the sky, turned and took a step toward the endless forest of the True. 

His home.

CHAPTER SEVEN

T
URNER
AND
E
MBER
strolled back to their hut by the stream. Neither said a word until they stood again on the bank. The murmur of the stream and their breaths the only sounds.

‘So,’ said Turner. ‘If this is where the Rings come from, where did the Turner part of me come from? This ...’ He pulled the skin of his forearm.

‘I don’t know,’ said Ember, breaking a twig into small pieces and throwing them into the stream. ‘Maybe Chloe would know. Or Mother Torhild. I imagine the normal Rings, the spirit animals, come from here almost as is. Except, the type of animal they are gets decided somehow along the way, or maybe from the combined wishing of the particular Vordene.’

‘But I must have been inhabited by a True spirit at some point. I’m just wondering when. When I was born? When I was young? When I left London?’

The voice of the True in his head said, ‘You were born with the seed, Turner. It has lain dormant all of your life. It was brought to life when you met with the Fire One: Ember.’

‘Ah,’ said Turner. ‘Did you hear that, Em?’

Ember was watching a broken piece of twig float down the stream. Her hand went to the seed pendant around her neck.

‘Em?’

Her voice was soft. ‘We have to go back,’ she said.

‘To the tree on the mound?’

She looked at him then. To Turner she looked hurt and angry. ‘No. Home. Back to Wickerwell.’

‘Oh. But why are you mad?’

Ember threw the rest of the twig into the stream. ‘Because I don’t want to leave. We … you and I were just starting to … I don’t know.’

Turner took her arm and pulled her into his embrace. ‘We are past starting, Em. Way past starting.’

Her head on his shoulder, Ember said, ‘Thank you.’ Turner felt her hand move to her neck. ‘We need to go. Chloe’s calling. I think it’s urgent.’

‘O,’ said Turner in the True.

*

‘K,’ said Turner next to the Wickerwell spring. They were back. It seemed to be early morning here.

‘Oh my God!’ said Ember pointing to the manor house.

Turner turned and saw … what? He wasn’t sure. Mayhem. Destruction. War. The manor house was on fire. The sky was churning with hundreds of Scathers. The four sisters stood together near the shattered remains of the sunroom, back to back, firing bolts of blue and silver energy at the screeching monsters.

Ember sprinted towards the house. Turner followed, catching up with her at the stone steps. 

‘Ember! Turner!’ yelled Celeste holding out her hand.

Turner paused at the top of the steps. The Scathers. Couldn’t the girls see?

Ember had joined her sisters. ‘Turner!’

Turner smiled at her and crossed his arms. Ember’s look of surprise and outrage was one Turner knew he would treasure forever.

He stared at the Scathers. This time he knew what to do. Replenished from his time in the True, he felt overbrimming with power. 

‘Turner!’ The girls were still firing balls of light and fire into the circling Scathers. 

Turner held up one finger. One moment please. Amid the pandemonium of the explosions, the screeching Scathers and the burning house, Turner felt nothing but utter calm. He raised his fist to the sky. He opened his fingers. He threw the word at them. LEAVE!

And they were gone.

The girls stopped their fight. All turned to Turner. Turner shrugged. ‘They weren’t real, just like like the ones in the field. Except for the sound—that was new.’ He was pleased at the look of uncertainty and awe on the sisters’ faces.

Turner enjoyed the feeling of satisfaction that using his powers gave him. It must have shown on his face though, because Ember placed a hand on his arm and said, ‘Good job. Just don’t get cocky, huh?’

Turner nodded. She was right of course. The girls had grown up with these sort of powers. More than anyone they understood about the perils of arrogance and boasting. He’d try and cut down on the swollen-headed wanker stuff.

There was a loud crash nearby, and the group turned towards the burning house. 

‘Our house!’ cried Skye.

Brooke stepped forward, raised her arms and a torrent of rain poured from the sky. 

‘It’s not putting the fire out inside!’ yelled Chloe pointing to the upstairs windows, from which flames still erupted.

Turner had a thought. ‘Skye! Grow a dome over the house. No air in it, though!’

The other’s looked at him strangely, but Skye’s face lit up with understanding. She raised her joined hands towards the house and spread them slowly apart. After a few second, the flames started to dwindle but then flared up again. Skye’s shoulders shook under the strain.

‘Can’t hold …’

Turner stepped up and placed his hand on her shoulder. The effect was immediate; Skye’s mouth opened in shock. Her invisible shield became visible, shot through with glowing ice-like lines, and the flames were extinguished.

Turner couldn’t see any fire in the house. He nodded at Skye and she brought her hands together again. 

‘Wow,’ she said. She turned to Turner and embraced him for a moment. ‘Wow!’

The smell from the smouldering house was terrible. The windows were blown out and the inside looked black and destroyed. Turner thought of Ember’s lovely bedroom, and his heart sank. Now the not-Scathers had gone, the sound of beams and perhaps even walls, collapsing could be heard.

‘It’s gone,’ said Chloe.

‘At least it’s mostly standing,’ said Celeste.

‘No,’ said Chloe. She pointed away to their left. ‘It’s gone.’

Turner turned with the others. He heard them gasp, but wasn’t sure what was supposed to be missing.

‘The chapel. Aunt Lani. Gone,’ said Skye in a tiny voice.

It was then Turner saw beyond the stone wall, behind the low trees, what he was sure was a pit. A huge, dark pit.

*

Forgetting the smouldering house, the five sisters and Turner rushed to where the chapel had been. The pit began just a few feet from the stone wall that ran beside the small building. Just like the pit that had swallowed the car, heat and acrid air rose from it. And, just like the one that had eaten number 8 Chaucer Street, this hole was huge, and the whole chapel had disappeared into it. Its sides were sheer dirt walls going down into blackness. Turner had visions of the chapel building tumbling end over end, forever downwards.

Skye and Chloe were openly crying. Ember held tight to Turner’s arm.

‘She’s gone. Oh my God. We’ve lost our last mother,’ said Brooke. Skye cried harder.

A large piece of dirt from the edge of the pit fell away into the darkness. Just for a second Turner thought he saw a flash of light down there.

‘We should move away,’ said Celeste. ‘It’s not safe.’

Chloe picked up a large stone. ‘Hang on a sec,’ she said, and threw the stone into the pit. Once again the flash of light.

‘What’s that flash?’ asked Turner.

As everyone moved back through the gap in the wall Chloe said, ‘I don’t think that pit is all it’s made out to be. Or as deep as it seems.’

‘Trust an earth elemental to guess at the truth,’ came a new voice.

Everybody stopped. A stunning woman stood next to one of the stone lions, the same one in which Turner had seen the glowing eyes. She wore a gown, like something out of a Greek painting. Her hair was long, golden, and blew in languid waves behind her, although there was no wind to make it so.