Clearheart (3 page)

‘Perfect,' said the Duke. ‘They will never find me,' he said. ‘Not here, not within my new Dome of Inconspicuous Impenetration. Now, how are our new Flitterwig friends adapting?' he asked.

‘Just fine,' said Saul. ‘They are on board completely. They will expect their kind to be part of your Royal Court once you overtake Magus, of course.'

‘Of course,' said the Duke.

Ella stood quietly in the driveway of Hedgeberry School of Flitterwiggery, one of the few quiet places she could find in this crazy school. Since the beginning of term, she had seen no-one come and go conventionally using the driveway, although she had caught a few Flitterwigs skateboarding along it on occasion. She took a deep breath and dug her hands deep into her dungaree pockets. She could feel Dixon there, snoring contentedly. He had exhausted himself earlier, worrying about her fall from the cloud. She looked up at the building that was her new home, her hair floating out behind her. The school was stately and old and huge and imposing. There were rows of windows. There were two turrets that rose high up into the grey English sky, and a sunrise of roses grew in wild abandon up their walls. The steps to an entrance on the right were peppered with tiny white flowers. And through an arch in the middle of the building she could see gardens that stretched out forever, wild and blossoming and alive with colour.

Ella wandered over to the entrance and peered in, enjoying
this moment of quiet. Although the ceilings were high and the walls regal, they were painted in the warmest colours. One terracotta red, another salmon pink, yet another mustard yellow, beside another faded autumn green. Every surface was different, a patchwork hotchpotch of pigments. She looked through a window to the common room, dotted with beanbags covered in colourful striped French cotton and big, bold prints. Every item of furniture was made of natural fibres. There didn't seem to be a piece of plastic anywhere.

Ella needed some time out. She found the multitude of people and goings-on at Hedgeberry exhausting. She'd never been to school before this term. Instead she had learned at home with a tutor, Mrs Dribbleton-Faucet, who was known as Dribbles, on account of her unfortunate inability to keep spittle in her mouth. Ella's grandparents had kept her from the world. Partly because she looked so strange, with her pointed ears, her hair that grew too fast, her skin so pale it was almost translucent and her too-green eyes; and partly to protect her and keep her safe after the tragic loss of her mother and brothers in a dastardly car accident. So school and lots of other children were a bit of a braindrain!

She stepped back into the driveway and pulled her skateboard out of her backpack. Setting her right foot upon it, she
pushed off along a path towards the outhouse. Hedgeberry was littered with paths, vert ramps and quarter pipes. Skateboarding being the official sport of Hedgeberry, the grounds were full of perfect surfaces upon which to practise the respected sport. Ella sped masterfully along a bending trail. She wished her wings worked to help her manage the bends and jump the crests she saw other Flitterwigs conquer with far more skill than she. Some Flitterwigs used their speed, others the movement of the air and the wind, and others, like her, their wings, to balance them and to thrust them forwards. Flying was forbidden when skateboarding, of course, but Ella wished she had the dexterity those appendages afforded others so that she could move as gracefully as they did.

Which is not to say that Ella was not a naturally magnificent skateboarder anyway. Within minutes, she was away from the great building and speeding downhill.

As soon as she felt the world of Hedgeberry disappear behind her, trees and hedges and grassy patches filling the space, she skidded to a stop and set herself down beneath an old oak tree. The solid strength of the aged tree settled her. It felt safe here. This was the only spot she knew where she could be alone with her thoughts. Sometimes she imagined that the breeze
in the leaves of the old oak whispered to her.
‘Asquemi, asquemi,'
it seemed to say. She found the sound soothing, if incomprehensible.

Ella looked out across the grounds of Hedgeberry and sighed. She was surrounded by red poppies. Some grew in wild abandon, but clumps of them wound out in a broken order that made her catch her breath. Ella had done a lot of gardening with Granny and Grandpa. Her grandparents were keen and excellent gardeners. But never before had she seen such unkempt order in nature. Right now she was sitting near a most impressive herb garden. She could smell the rosemary growing in thick clumps wafting across the poppies, for Ella's sense of smell was powerful. She could smell thyme too, great fat bushes of it, beside the rosemary. And if her memory served, there were long, rich bunches of chives, much denser than any she had smelt before, spreading out beyond the thyme. And dill, and—goodness only knew how in the English weather—basil and marjoram and mint. Gosh, was that coriander she could smell beyond that? Granny had told her it wasn't even worth trying to grow coriander in English soil. Ella breathed in the scent of the plants about her, the woody strength of the oak tree sheltering her. The smells calmed her, as pleasant, natural smells always did.

Whichever way she looked, there were wonders growing. When she looked east, she saw a vegetable garden, perfectly sewn, making patterns in the soil. To the west were flowers, some she recognised, including some that shouldn't have been growing in autumn, never mind in England. Lilies, geraniums, bluebells. It was surprising. She sat back down in the wet earth by the oak tree in wonder. This was a very interesting place indeed.

Her moment of quiet was short-lived however, for Ella could see three girls gliding briskly towards her on their skateboards.

‘Oh no,' she groaned, as she made out the forms of Gloria Ulnus, Olive Pumpernickle and Annie Squirmer. She felt Dixon stretching his arms out in her pocket. The oak tree ceased its whispering. She wished Gloria would just leave her alone.

As Dixon popped his head out of Ella's pocket with a cheerful, ‘Hello, blow, mow, ho,' Gloria pulled up before her. Dixon was astride Ella's lap in an instant, his hands on his hips and his face set in a ferocious (for a pixie) frown.

‘Go away, you smelly old moo you. Rhymes with poo,' the pixie said, falling about laughing at once, for he loved the poo word.

Gloria flipped her silver skateboard into her arm smoothly and put her other hand on her hip. She turned her ratty nose up. ‘Shut up,' she spat at Dixon, who was so affronted he covered his
face at once and went into some sort of astounded freeze. ‘What are you doing out here?' she asked Ella. Olive Pumpernickle and Annie Squirmer pulled their boards up too and placed their free hands on their hips. Ella almost wanted to laugh, the girls looked so silly copying their leader.

‘Just sitting,' said Ella, looking up at Gloria, her eyes clear as emeralds.

‘You can see the tree, can't you?' said Gloria.

‘This one?' said Ella, looking up at the old oak.

‘Yes, duh,' said Gloria, putting her tongue under her bottom lip and squinting her eyes at Ella as if she thought the girl was a total moron. Olive and Annie looked about blindly. Not being Dryad Flitterwigs, they couldn't see what Gloria was talking about. For the tree Ella and Gloria could see was a Spirit Tree, supposedly visible only to those of dryad heritage. Olive and Annie rolled up their tongues under their bottom lips and squinted their eyes anyway, for effect. Dixon, who had overcome his shock, started jumping up and down on Ella's lap, yelling whatever rude words he could think of.

‘Go away you pee, poo, farty, moos you,' he hollered. ‘Leave us alone, old groany, moany, smelly ponies,' he yelled. Gloria pulled her skateboard from under her arm and swatted the pixie away with a great swipe of it. Dixon was sent flying.

‘How dare you!' said Ella, jumping up, her hair flaring about her and her eyes shining sharply.

‘I don't even know what you're doing with a Magical here at school anyway. Wasn't even legal until about a minute ago. Stay away from my tree, or I'll tell the teachers about the pixie,' Gloria threatened.

‘But why would you do such a thing?' asked Ella. She gathered Dixon up in her hands and tucked the moaning pixie into her hoodie pocket for protection. It was quite beyond her that a Flitterwig could be so mean.

‘Just stay away from my tree,' hissed Gloria, picking up Ella's skateboard and flinging it into the bushes for no good reason at all. Olive and Annie clapped their hands with glee and, hearing the bluebells ring, gave Ella a smirk and followed Gloria back up to the school. Ella could not for the life of her understand what would make people behave so stupidly. She watched them skate away, laughing uproariously to themselves, as though something funny had happened. She shook her head.

‘Are you okay, Dixon?' she asked, pulling her friend out of her pocket. Tiny birds circled around his head.

‘I am if you are?' he answered, his voice woozy. Then he collapsed back into her pocket in a swoon.

Gloria Ulnus stood shivering in the crisp autumn air, waiting in line with the rest of the Portality class. In spite of the cold, they stood on the edge of a stream near a small waterfall, wearing their swimming costumes. Flitterwigs have a fair resistance to the cold, but even so, it was pretty chilly. She was trying to figure out what had happened to her yesterday in the cloud during Aeronortics.

Gloria Ulnus hated Ella. Of course she did. And it was of the utmost importance to Gloria that Ella not make it to the Skateboarding finals. Of course it was. For Ella Montgomery, who had only started at Hedgeberry this term, was far too swift on a skateboard for a Flitterwig who couldn't fly. She was elf, for Magic's sake. Elven Flitterwigs are not supposed to be as swift on a skateboard as she was without her wings. But Ella's affinity with nature in general was confounding. She seemed to flow with the wind and catch the breeze in the trees in a way that was quite unusual for her kind. So it was of utmost
importance that Ella not find her wings, or she would be at a distinct advantage.

But that did not explain why Gloria had pushed Ella off the cloud yesterday. She had meant simply to frighten her. What had happened after that was a mystery, even to her. It was as if she hadn't been herself, as if she had lost all her senses, as if there had been someone else around her, maybe even inside her. It made Gloria very uncomfortable indeed.

A few hundred metres away, a skinny little student popped up out of the stream in his swimming trunks, forcing Gloria from her ruminations. His entire body was covered in freckles and his ears stuck out like funnels. He was wearing a big pair of red spectacles on his snubby little nose and a shock of white hair stuck out from his head as if he had just been electrocuted. A small frog disappeared down the back of the boy's swimming trunks. It was Charlie Snoppit and his froggy friend, Harold.

‘I've lost her,' he yelled.

Mr Frollick, the Portality and Mirrority instructor, and a Marshlin Flitterwig, raced over to the boy, his reedy frame tucked into the tightest T-shirt and shortest shorts imaginable.

‘What do you mean you've lost her?' the teacher shouted, his knobbly knees knocking together passionately. ‘All you had to do was tweak your ear and say the spell, dive into the stream and
up you should pop a little further along! Did you mess with the rules, you naughty things?'

‘Of course we didn't!' said Charlie, grabbing a handful of pussy willow from the ground next to the stream, tweaking his ear and passing it over himself. This Goblin Protector business was awfully hard work, especially with a Protectee as unreliable as his own. The pussy willow absorbed most of the liquid from his body at once. ‘One minute I was holding her hand as we jumped in by the waterfall, the next we were whirling through the Waters, then I couldn't hold her hand anymore, and now here I am, without her!' Charlie's teeth began to chatter.

Mr Frollick was hoicking his tight top over his bald head and running to the stream, his face set in a tight squeeze of concern. This was a simple exercise in Portality, designed to get the children used to travelling through water, the fastest way for Flitterwigs to travel long distances. It was almost impossible for the exercise to go wrong. The simple spell he had taught the children should have drawn them to the closest available Waterway, a few hundred metres further along! Mr Frollick tweaked his ear, muttered a spell and dove into the stream. Seconds later he appeared at the same spot as Charlie. He hadn't seen her anywhere. The poor teacher scrubbed his poky face in horror as he climbed out of the stream. In all his years teaching at
Hedgeberry, this had never happened to him before. He picked his whistle up from where he had dropped his clothes, and tweaking his ear, Personified it.

‘Go to the office and tell Ms Wheelbarrow I need her at once,' he instructed the whistle, who had grown arms, legs, wings, eyes, a nose and a mouth. The whistle saluted the Marshlin Flitterwig and flew off in a trice.

A splashing sound in the stream drew his attention. Everyone turned to the sound. Ella appeared, her hair flaring wildly, in spite of how wet it was. Her green eyes sparkled excitedly.

‘Hi,' she said, all eyes upon her. A strong smell of cinnamon and oranges emanated from her. She quickly squished Dixon, who had been in her hand, down the back of her swimming costume. ‘Anyone seen Charlie?'

There was a splash and a splish and a rather indecorous slurpy sound of water sucking. Everyone turned again. The imposing figure of Annie Wheelbarrow, Hedgeberry's long-serving headmistress (and a Dryad Flitterwig), thrust up out of the waterfall. She was an extremely tall gentlewoman, at least sixty-five years old, with long grey hair held in a low, messy, wet ponytail down her back. Her many-coloured skirts, frayed army jacket and pink and white striped top were plastered to her body, and she wore an awful lot of large, colourful rings, one of which matched the
startling ruby earrings that dangled from her droopy lobes. She hauled herself out of the stream, took off a pair of wellington boots and emptied the water from them.

‘That was quick!' said Mr Frollick. ‘Did the whistle reach you already?' Ms Wheelbarrow looked at him, confused. For she had not received any message from a whistle. Oh no. She had been informed of Ella's absence by a white elf. A pure Magical. Fancy that! Such behaviour had been illegal until a couple of months ago. A rather dizzy white elf, it had to be said, but still.

‘Come with me, Ella,' said Ms Wheelbarrow smartly, marching past Mr Frollick back towards the main building. She grabbed a branch of pussy willow as she went, tweaked her ear and passed it over her body to dry herself off.

As Ella followed her, a disgruntled-looking whistle flew past her ear muttering to itself. ‘Just waste my time why don't you… who needs a whistle after all… yes, don't mind me…'

In her office, Ms Wheelbarrow motioned for Ella to sit on a deep, much used, brown corduroy sofa. Ella sat and found herself looking out the window at a vista of wildflowers that would take even the most unwilling naturalist's breath away. Ms Wheelbarrow sat herself down beside Ella and took the girl's
hands firmly in hers. Ella sort of wanted to pull them away, for she still wasn't used to being touched that much, apart from Dixon dangling all over her. But Dixon was different. He was her best friend. She felt the pixie squirm down the back of her swimsuit and wished she had had time to put some clothes on before she'd come to the office. She trusted him to stay hidden. He seemed to know that their friendship would draw unwanted attention. After all, it had been forbidden for pure Magicals and Flitterwigs to communicate with each other until very recently. The teachers would be most suspicious if they found out that Ella's best friend was actually a pure Magical.

It was warm in the room and it smelt of the gardenias that grew in abandon out of a hole in the floor, up the wall and across the ceiling.

‘Welcome,' said Ms Wheelbarrow. ‘Welcome,' she said again, somewhat unnecessarily.

Ella smiled politely.

‘How are you finding your first term, child?' asked Ms Wheelbarrow, peering down at Ella over her beaky nose.

‘Weird,' Ella answered honestly.

‘Yes, I suppose you would,' said Ms Wheelbarrow matter-of-factly, though her eyes were warm. ‘Well, we are very pleased to have you with us,' she added, tapping Ella on the hand.

Ella shuffled uncomfortably in her spot.

‘I'm sorry we haven't met more formally until now,' Ms Wheelbarrow continued. ‘I wanted you to settle in and feel as normal as you possibly could here at Hedgeberry.' Ella looked up at Ms Wheelbarrow to see if she was joking. There wasn't anything normal about Hedgeberry. The headmistress looked completely serious. ‘And I have had rather a lot to do, meeting with the Magicals and whatnot. Now that we are allowed to fraternise after all these years. Thanks in large part to you,' she added. A faint flush coloured Ms Wheelbarrow's cheeks with the thrill of being able to enounce such words.

Ella looked down at her bare feet, embarrassed. For it was true. Ella, with Dixon and Charlie's help, had saved the Sacred Dewdrops of the Magical Kingdom of Magus from the dastardly designs of the Grand Duke only a few months ago. By performing such a Clearhearted act, Ella had restored the Queen's faith in Flitterwigs, and as a result the Queen had lifted the Ban forbidding contact between Flitterwigs and pure Magicals. Ella hadn't realised that Ms Wheelbarrow was one of the few Flitterwigs who knew her history.

‘But now we have had something out of the ordinary happen,' said Ms Wheelbarrow. Ella looked up at the headmistress again. Everything was out of the ordinary here! But Ms Wheelbarrow
was deadly serious still. ‘It is important that we get a few things clear,' she said, patting Ella's hands resolutely to reassure her. ‘So that you don't feel too perplexed.'

Ella wanted to laugh now. She'd been perplexed since the day she arrived. Wasn't that the norm here? Ella may not have been to school before Hedgeberry, but even she knew this place wasn't normal!

‘Firstly,' said Ms Wheelbarrow, ‘you should know that you are doing very well. It takes some of us years to find the magic inside us, you know. Don't feel disheartened by your shortcomings. You haven't been studying magic for very long. But you are doing much better than expected. Must come with being—' Ms Wheelbarrow dropped her voice secretively, ‘—the Clearheart. You do remember that is a fact which must be kept completely secret, don't you? For your own safety. Plus, we want you to have as normal a life at Hedgeberry as possible. No-one need know your true heritage if you are discreet about it. Which brings us to today.

‘I need to know where you went in the water, dear. It is of utmost importance. It is most out of the ordinary for us to lose a student during such a simple exercise.'

Ella looked into the lady's deep grey eyes and began to explain. ‘When we were jumping into the water, I thought of
Don Posiblemente,' she said simply. ‘I suppose because the first time I ever travelled through water was from his house, you see, and it made me think of him. Although I didn't get so wet that time,' she added.

‘Ah, Don Filosofico Posiblemente,' said Ms Wheelbarrow, looking reverently into the distance as she said the great scholar's name. Keeper of the Flitterwig Files, Don Filosofico Posiblemente was a name every Flitterwig knew well, though few were lucky enough to have met him. The Flitterwig Files were the sacred text of magic past, present and future, drawn from memory of the Magusian Tomes that belonged to the Magicals themselves.

‘Well, that's Posiblemente for you, from what I hear,' said Ms Wheelbarrow, the way teachers do when they talk about other teachers they think are brilliant. ‘Always testing the rules. Developing new ideas. So I hear,' she added again, with a funny laugh.

Ella didn't know what the woman was talking about, so she just carried on. ‘Anyway, next thing I knew I was at the top of his staircase. The one that leads up into a watery sky. A literditty—you know, one of those little imps with the big eyes and glasses, that read all the time—met me at
the top and told me to get back to school at once. Next thing I knew, I was popping up out of the pool back here.'

‘Was this your first time travelling through water at school, dear?' Ms Wheelbarrow asked.

‘Yes,' said Ella. ‘So far all we've done is try to see things in the water and learn the spells for water travel.'

‘Of course,' said Ms Wheelbarrow. ‘Of course. You are only in primary school, after all. And a new student, of course. Not terribly easy or reliable seeing things in water, is it? Mirrority is its proper term, dear. And travel by water is called Portality. Do try to use the correct terms.' Ms Wheelbarrow looked at the girl sternly, then just as quickly her face became entirely soft again.

‘My, my,' said Ms Wheelbarrow. ‘When they said the Clearheart can perform magic no other Flitterwig can, I didn't think that meant such clarity of mind that you could just “think” yourself somewhere.'