Wildspark Page 13

  “I don’t think I can go. I haven’t got suitable clothes,” Prue said.

  “Nonsense! Everyone attends the Sahwen celebration! Perhaps Cora can lend you something?”

  Prue thought that she would rather face an angry bear than borrow something from Cora.

  “I’d love to, Lavender, but I’m afraid I only brought a couple of dresses, and they certainly wouldn’t fit her.” Cora’s face dropped in fake disappointment.

  “Don’t worry, we can go shopping at the weekend. We have plenty of time,” said Agapantha, smiling at Prue.

  Prue did have her apprentice money, but she wanted to send it home.

  “It’ll be my treat,” said Agapantha.

  Edwin glanced up. Things had been a little awkward since the parade.

  “And you, Edwin. We can visit Bard’s Precision Tailoring and get something made specially.”

  He smiled. “I’d like that.”

  Cora puckered her mouth. “How sweet,” she said sourly.

  *

  The following few days were spent on repair duty – there was a backlog due to the craftsmen and masters working flat out on the hundred, so the apprentices were drafted in. They finished early on both days and Prue made excuses so that she could work in her memory lab. It also gave her time to sneak around and borrow all manner of equipment she thought might be useful, including an old GODAR which was left in a box in one of the labs. It was different to the GODAR she’d seen used in the harnessing, but she’d found books on older models in the library, so she’d been able to work out what needed fixing.

  Prue sat behind a cluster of boxes in the memory lab and tapped a pencil on her journal. “The ghost machines process the movement data and thought data within the frequency … but somehow the pre-harnessing history data is blocked,” she muttered to herself.

  Her journal was filling up fast with notes. She was convinced that the memory of the personifates still existed somewhere; either it needed pulling back from the spirit world, or it was in the wildspark harnessed by the qwortzite, possibly hidden in some way.

  Sighing, she laid back on the floor and stared at the ceiling. Francis and home were on her mind. Her parents had written again on Monday, wanting to know why she hadn’t been home for a weekend yet. She’d sent a note back with Luella explaining that they could only go on certain weekends and they were very busy at the moment with the hundred and promised to visit soon. Prue felt she was getting closer to finding a way to Francis, but there was one big problem; she would need a personifate test subject to get frequency readings from in order to take a closer look. Edwin was the obvious choice, and she thought he would probably leap at the chance of unlocking his past memories, but then again, she wasn’t entirely sure on how he would take it after the Inventors Parade incident, or that she could ask him to risk his apprenticeship position, if they were ever found out. She had almost finished fixing the broken connections on the GODAR and she planned a few adjustments to make it more transportable, so next week she would be able to analyse the frequency and see if what she suspected from her research matched up.

  At the end of the week, when they arrived back after lessons, Lavender had a hearty vegetable broth and still-warm sourdough bread ready for them. All the apprentices’ winter cloaks were hanging on the pegs and there was a line of what looked like fishing nets, the sort Prue would use to skim the pond back at the farm.

  “Everyone eat up quickly, then collect the light jars from the shelves and check your nets before we leave. You don’t want any holes, or you’ll have a very disappointing evening,” she said, taking one of the light jars from the shelf.

  “What in all of Medlock is she up to?” said Agapantha.

  Martha, a year two apprentice, smiled. “Oh, it’s the first new moon since you’ve been here, isn’t it?”

  “What does that mean?” said Prue.

  “It’s the collecting of the spirit lights.”

  “Spirit lights?”

  She looked at the chaos lamps on the shelf – and realized they weren’t chaos lamps at all!

  “Yes, they’re sort of like a wildspark, from beyond,” said another apprentice. “But you can only briefly see them at the new moon. If you capture one, it stays until the next. We do it every moon-cycle. You’ll soon see!”

  “Hurry up now. Don’t forget your jars!” Lavender called.

  They ate hurriedly, then gathered the rest of the light jars and carefully packed them into backpacks. Then they checked the gossamer fine nets lined up in the hallway to make sure there were no holes.

  They all streamed down to the pneumerator. “Come along, ten at a time, we’ll soon all be there, no need to push,” said Liddy.

  Once at the factorium they gathered on the front lawn. Everyone was instructed to take a jar and stood in a great line with Lavender in the middle.

  The apprentices held their jars up to the sky. Prue looked at Agapantha.

  “Well, this is a bit weird,” said Prue.

  Lavender cleared her throat and launched into a poem:

  “At full moon’s gate

  We wish you well,

  Spirit stars of light.

  We thank you for your everglow

  And return you to the night.”

  Then she unscrewed her jar and the light shot out. With a fizzle it was away.

  Everybody else started unscrewing their jars. It was suddenly as though fireworks had been set off and the lights shot into the air, leaving a shimmering trail in their wake, dancing off into the night air. Then the apprentices all sat on the lawn and waited until the very last sliver of sun had disappeared somewhere behind Medlock.

  “All right, spread out everyone. Nets at the ready,” Liddy said.

  “What are we waiting for?” said Prue.

  “Why, for the lights to return, of course!” Lavender laughed.

  “So, we released them, and now we’re going to catch them again?” said Prue.

  “Not the same spirit lights! Oh, dear no, that would not do. They stay with us until the next full moon is approaching then we release them back and catch a whole new set of spirit lights. Just wait, they’ll be here soon.”

  Prue watched the night sky, eagerly looking for more lights. In Staplefield, when it was the end of the harvest, fireworks were set off. She and Francis would climb out of his bedroom window where the ledge made it possible to edge along to the roof, and scramble to the top.

  “Francis, Mum is going to kill us if she finds out.”

  “Best not tell her, then.” He laughed, swung his other leg out of the window, then disappeared.

  “Francis!” Prue whispered urgently. She heard the door to her parents’ room close.

  Francis’s hand appeared back in the window and beckoned her. Prue took a breath and climbed out. They edged along, Prue’s heart juddering like cart wheels over dry tracks as they passed the window of their parents’ room. They clambered up the roof tiles to sit atop the ridge of the roof, just as the first fireworks of Staplefield began. They were just distant pinpricks of sparkle in the night sky, but Prue knew to her and Francis they represented possibility.

  A grey speck caught Prue’s eye; it was Luella flying towards her. She landed clumsily at Prue’s feet. “I’m sorry I’m so late with this letter. I had a lovely chat with your father about the barley harvest, and he showed me all the fascinating machines you and your brother had created.”

  Agapantha looked over at Prue. Prue hoped Agapantha hadn’t heard and put the letter in her pocket for later.

  Prue spoke quietly. “Wait, you chatted with my father?”

  “Oops, well, he was making a rather interesting pie and I was curious about the ingredients – I thought I could pass it on to the personifate chefs at the factorium who cook for the masters, and I completely forgot myself and asked, then had to explain about being a personifate. He was very nice about it.”

  A whirlpool of panic churned inside of Prue. “And he spoke about me and my brother … b
y name?”

  There was a moment of awkward silence, then Luella said quietly. “Frances or Prudence, I can tell a good person when I meet one. I’m sure you have your reasons and it’s no business of mine. I shan’t be passing the knowledge on to anyone. You’re Apprentice Haywood to me.” She winked.

  Prue smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Your dad said that they had accepted that you need to follow your own path, although he said your mum has taken some convincing. And he told me about—” She paused. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

  All Prue could do was nod, because if she dared to open up, she feared it would flood out of her like a burst dam. She was pleased that her dad had seen how amazing personifates were – she was certain he would love them. “Did you meet my mum too?” she asked tentatively.

  “Your dad said she was busy in the fields.”

  Prue sighed, but she wasn’t sure if it was relief or a slight disappointment – she was worried about her mum’s reaction, but also wanted her to see how amazing the personifates really were.

  “I stopped off in Batterthwaite on the way back. It was rather strange; I felt a sensation which I can only describe as being pulled away, which was odd. It was like one minute I was there, then for a moment I wasn’t.”

  “Perhaps you should rest, Luella,” said Prue. Then a tiny spark of light caught Prue’s eye in the grass. Then another, and another.

  “Here they come. Give them a moment; we don’t want to scare them off,” Lavender called out.

  “Nonsense. Let’s go!” said Liddy, leaping after them.

  “Quick, Luella!” said Prue, tearing off after Liddy. Luella took flight beside her.

  Lights were now flickering all over the lawn, like a star-spangled sky turned upside down. Prue darted around, with Luella laughing in her ear.

  “This is the most fun I’ve had in many moons! Hurry! To the right, there’s one!”

  They dashed about catching the lights, filling the jars and laughing until Prue’s legs felt like jelly and she slumped on the floor. Then Prue had an idea. “Luella?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “I wonder if you would mind helping me with a little project.”

  “Of course, although I’m not sure what use I can possibly be?”

  “It’s nothing difficult. I’ll call for you before lessons tomorrow.”

  Luella stretched out her wings. “I shouldn’t think I’ll have anything else to do, I’m hardly in demand.”

  “Then I’ll see you then,” Prue said quickly as Edwin and Agapantha bounded over.

  “Lavender, Liddy and the apprentices are heading back,” said Edwin.

  “I’d best be getting back to the tower. I’ll see you all later,” Luella said, taking flight.

  Agapantha stood beside Prue. “Lavender said there’ll be hot cocoa waiting for us at the house.”

  “If there’s one thing I wish I could try, I think it’d be that,” said Edwin.

  “It’s a hug in a mug,” said Prue. “I hope there are cookies too.” Her stomach growled at the thought and she made exaggerated groans of hunger.

  “Come on,” Agapantha said, glancing towards the transport hut. “Everyone’s gone back now.”

  But Prue’s eye was caught by a flash of light at the forest tree line. “Look! There’s one more!” She grabbed her net. “It’s mine.”

  “Not if I catch it first!” said Edwin leaping after her.

  “We really should go,” said Agapantha.

  Without moonlight, the forest was a complete and dense black, apart from the spirit light which brightly illuminated the immediate area at the edge. It flitted through the ferns like a gleaming dragonfly, with Prue, Agapantha and Edwin leaping after it.

  *

  Behind a tree, a short distance away, the creature watched the children. They were the enemy. If it was to stay alive there was one order to obey – you will need to kill. He wanted to give his new body a try. He was meant to await command, but what difference would two small girls make? Perhaps the master would be pleased? This new body was powerful; it would be practice. The others had gone – two girls and a little white creature could be quickly disposed of. It flexed its clawed hands and edged closer. A branch cracked beneath its feet.

  “What was that?” said the pale girl, suddenly looking his way.

  “Got it!” called the other girl. “Feisty one, this!”

  “We should go,” said the pale girl, weakly.

  The creature took another step closer, behind the next tree. The leaves shook.

  This time the other girl, the one with the wild hair, looked over her shoulder, into the forest. “Did you both hear that?”

  She was barely ten metres away. The creature crouched, ready to spring. The ferns crunched.

  “We should go,” said the small white animal.

  “I think you’re right,” said the girl.

  The creature surged forward, thundering through the undergrowth towards them.

  “Run!” Prue cried, but Edwin and Agapantha were already dashing across the lawn towards the transport hut.

  Prue sped after them, dropping her net so that the spirit light fizzed away, her heart suddenly felt like a rotary engine thudding in her chest. The rush of leaves and pounding of feet came from the forest behind, or was it her own hectic steps thumping, and what in Medlock was that great snorting sound? She willed her legs to charge faster through the dew-soaked lawns and sprinted onward, her eyes firmly on the glow coming from the door of the transport hut. She was fast – she’d always been able to beat Francis – luckily, Ag and Edwin were too. Prue risked a swift look over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of something. A horned creature. Was it just a stag?

  Then, with a terrible rasping hiss, it called, “Need to kill.”

  Blood whooshed in her ears and she doubled her efforts, not even daring to look again for fear it would slow her down by one moment. The group hurtled inside the transport hut and Prue slammed the door behind them. Agapantha rushed to pull the lever to bring the pneumerator their way. There was an immediate whirring sound.

  “What was out there?” Agapantha said, her chest heaving.

  “You ran, so I ran! What happened? I didn’t see a thing!” said Edwin.

  Prue’s legs felt like the bones had disappeared. “Hurry up!” she said, willing the pod to appear, glancing back at the door.

  Agapantha stared at her, emerald eyes glistening and as wide as one of Lavender’s dinner plates. “What did you see, Frances?”

  “It was like a stag, but not. Worse. It was hard to see in the dark, but there were antlers. I think it stopped not far from the forest edge. I couldn’t see properly.”

  The pneumerator appeared – they hurriedly opened the hatch and clambered inside. Prue sat down and put her hands on her knees, taking several breaths, trying to reassemble what she had glimpsed. They all sat in silence for a moment.

  “So it was just a stag?” Edwin said, letting out a small laugh of relief.

  Agapantha huffed out a lungful of air. “Yes, must’ve been.”

  Prue shook her head. “No. It said something to me.”

  Agapantha looked to Edwin. “Maybe it was a personifate, then – a guard. Are there any stag personifates?”

  He thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. Not that I know of.”

  “But it wasn’t like a normal personifate. It said…” Prue shook her head.

  Edwin put a paw on her arm. “What?”

  The pneumerator slowed to a stop at the house.

  “What did it say, Frances?” Edwin asked, as they all climbed out.

  After drawing a long breath, Prue said, “‘Need to kill.’”

  Agapantha shivered her shoulders. “We should tell someone.”

  Prue shrugged. “It’s going to sound pretty ridiculous. I mean maybe it was a deer, or a personifate guard thinking it was funny or something.”

  There was a whirring sound as the pod disappeared. They climbed the s
tairs back into the hallway of the house. Chatter was coming from the dining room and the sweet waft of cocoa and cookies filled the air.

  “Perhaps we should keep this between us,” said Prue. “I mean, what evidence do we have?”

  “I agree. Cora would probably only jibe us about it and say we’d made it up,” said Edwin.

  Then footsteps sounded behind the mouse painting. Cora and Larkin appeared, laughing.

  “What are you three doing lurking in the hallway?” said Cora. Larkin carried on to the dining room.

  “Where have you been?” Prue said, narrowing her eyes.

  Cora raised her eyebrows and said, tight-lipped, “We had to run an errand for Master Sollentude.” She pushed past them and carried on to the dining room.

  Prue stared after her.

  “Do you think they saw it too?” Agapantha whispered.

  Prue and Edwin exchanged a look.

  “Think about it, Ag. They arrive not long after us. Don’t you think that’s a bit strange?” said Edwin.

  Prue nodded. “Exactly. I think it was their idea of a joke. I mean it’s not exactly hard to find the materials to make you appear like a scary animal around here, is it? Well, we’re not going to let them see it got to us one bit. Come on – cocoa’s waiting.” Prue strode forward to the dining room.

  TRAPPED

  The next morning, Prue sneaked out of the room before Cora and Agapantha woke up. The events of the previous night seemed silly in the light of morning. She was pretty certain it had been a Cora and Larkin joke, and she’d decided not to get drawn into Cora’s games and focus on her memory mission. She hurried down the stairs, hoping Edwin was still resting in his room. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably – it was horrible having to lie to both of them, but she needed to keep on track with her plans to get to Francis, before she was found out.

  She was about to open the door to the pneumerator staircase, when a cough came from the dining room.

  “Where is one off to so early, Frances?” said Queen Adelaide

  Prue turned to see Queen Adelaide sitting on her golden chair.

  “Oh … one is, I mean, I’m off to the library, to get some study in before lessons.”