22 September 2025

AMSND 8 - The King of Magic

(Josie Sayz: This is the eighth story, from mine and my friends ‘AMSND’ series that we wrote when we was 13 years old. This story actually was not written by me, but by the girl in the stories who goes my “Shada”. Although this is not my story, it follows in the series of the ‘AMSND’ stories, so I felt like I should include it. This story was based on Shakespeare’s Tempest.


Although each story is a stand alone piece, you can find the rest of the AMSND series here:

1) A Magic School’s New Dream: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2025/01/ansnd-1-magic-schools-new-dream.html

2) The War of Crooked Burrow School: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2025/01/amsnd-2-war-of-crooked-burrow-school.html

 3) Six Se’enarians Go To Sea: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2025/01/amsnd-3-six-senerians-go-to-sea.html

4) The Arrival of a New Headmistress: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2025/01/amsnd-4-arrival-of-new-headmistress.html

5) The Day Before the Last (Day of Term):

https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2025/01/amsnd-5-day-before-last-day-of-term.html

6) The Story of Crooked Burrow School: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2025/02/amsnd-6-story-of-crooked-burrow-school.html

7) The End of the Octopus: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2025/09/amsnd-7-end-of-octopus.html.)


The King of Magic

By Shada

 

It was nearly half term, and everyone at Crooked Burrow School was looking forward to a break from work. Upstairs in Music a group of Year Tens and Elevens were huddled around the heater in the second Music practice room. They were discussing their half term holiday plans. “Who’s coming to the magic show on Monday?” asked Robin.

“We are!” shouted Ariel happily, shooting her hand up. As she was holding Bert’s hand at the time this meant his arm was pulled up too.

“Ariel,” he complained. “I’m in the middle of explaining something.” He was talking to Fred about the intricate details of casting different kinds of spell. Fred happened to be staring out of the window in boredom, but Bert didn’t seem to notice that. Ariel put her and Bert’s hands down and Robin wrote their names down on a piece of paper.

“Yeah, put down me and Katie too, mate,” said Joe who had got tickets for him and Katie. Joe was in Bert’s year and had recently become interested in the art of magic. He had a friend called Katie who lived near him. She was a year older than him and was also becoming interested in magic.

Just then, their friend Todd came running into the room. “Ben’s gone mad!” he gasped. “He’s been going round hitting people, calling them names, and being really mean, it’s not like him to –”

“Where is he now?” Bert cut across him.

“In Maths, scratching all the calculator displays with compasses,” Todd told him. “I locked him in the end classroom, because he was being so dangerous to other people in the corridor.”

“Okay, let’s go,” said Bert, standing up and pulling Ariel up too.

“But I –” Ariel began. Then she realised that Bert had no intention of letting her stay there with Robin in the room (Robin really liked Ariel) so she followed Bert (who had brought a violin case with him from Music) and Todd down the Music corridor. They went down the end Music stairs, and then along the corridor (which had what looked like barred prison windows all along it) that led to the English corridor. Before they reached the Staffroom where they would go down the Haunted Staircase, Bert stopped.

“I have a feeling that Ben’s behaviour is due to something else, like a ghost or something, possessing him,” he said. “We need a plan. Ariel, you carry on along here down this corridor, go down the Maths stairs and wait at the bottom of them,” he pointed down the German/French corridor. “Todd, you go along this corridor, go right and down the Science stairs and then along the Maths corridor and wait by the Science room that’s next to the Maths room that you locked Ben in. I’m going to go down the Haunted Staircase and along the Maths corridor. Then we can all appear from different directions at the same time, and all try to attract Ben’s attention. If it is a ghost inside him then it should make it come out, I’ve seen it done before.”

“Okay…” said Todd, not really understanding what Bert was saying. “I’ll just do what you say.”

“Me too,” said Ariel.

“But Bert, if you’re coming along the Maths corridor then won’t Ben see you?” questioned Todd, after thinking for a second or two.

“Yes, so he’ll be expecting just me, not you two as well. As soon as I get to the door you two have to appear and surprise him, and remember you must keep eye contact with Ben all the time. Then the shock will force the ghost out, and we rush inside after Todd has opened the door and then both of you deal with Ben who might feel a bit strange and I’ll get the ghost. So is everything clear?” Todd and Ariel nodded. “Okay, let’s go.” They all started walking in their assigned directions. As Bert walked past the Drama Studio and along the Maths corridor he saw Shada, Larissa, Samantha, Phoebe, Digby and Lizzy out in the quad, sitting on a bench as it was breakfast and they had Science, which was nearby. They waved to him and he waved back. Then he carried on down the Maths corridor.

“Why is Bert carrying a violin case?” asked Shada.

“I don’t know,” said Larissa. “Maybe he’s learning how to play the violin.”

“Then why is he in Maths?” puzzled Sam.

“I used to play the violin,” Phoebe told everyone.

“Yeah, until she cracked all the windows in Music,” grinned Digby.

“Stop being so mean to her,” Lizzy said, trying to elbow Digby, but he moved out of her way. Just then Alice, Florence and their three strange, snooty friends, Cara, Marina and Mel walked past. Alice and Florence always seemed to be hyper. Today they weren’t walking, they were skipping.

“Helloooooooooo!!!!!” called Alice to the six friends on the bench.

“Look, we’re skipping,” Florence told them proudly.

“They act like such little kids,” Cara whispered to Marina and Mel, so Alice and Florence couldn’t hear them.

“Yes but we wouldn’t want them to go off with that Zilla instead, would we?” Marina whispered back.

“Or Orora,” said Mel.

“I suppose not,” glared Cara. They walked over to the bench, where Alice and Florence now were, and started talking politely to Larissa, Samantha, Shada, Lizzy, Phoebe and Digby. Soon a whole crowd had gathered around the bench as people started to come back from the Greenwood to wait for lesson. Larissa, Shada, Samantha, Lizzy, Phoebe and Digby quickly forgot all about Bert and the violin case.

            Meanwhile, Bert’s plan seemed to be working. He had walked down to the end Maths room and now was waiting for Todd to reach the Maths room window. At that point, Ariel, who was waiting out of sight of Ben next to Bert, would jump out so Ben would see her and Todd at the same time. Eventually Todd came along the corridor. Bert saw him out of the corner of his eye, but he needed to keep eye contact with Ben who had stopped what he was doing and was staring suspiciously at Bert. Then Todd reached the window and Ariel jumped in front of the door. Ben’s eyes widened and smoke appeared, clouding the whole room. “Quick,” yelled Bert. “We need to get inside!” Todd hurried up to the door, holding the key. “Give me that,” Bert demanded, snatching the key from him.

“Calm down,” warned Ariel as Bert turned the key and opened the door. He ran inside, opened the violin case and started to chant a spell. Ariel and Todd ran over to Ben as he fell to the floor. Then the smoke zoomed into the open violin case and Bert snapped it shut with a smile. “Phew,” said Ariel.

That’s fortunate,” Bert remarked.

“Why?” Ariel asked curiously.

“Because it’s Ms. Harris’ ghost,” Bert smiled in satisfaction.

“How do you know that?” Ariel asked him.

“I just do. Maybe because I helped kill her,” he replied gloomily.

Todd distracted him by pointing at Ben and asking “What’s wrong with him?”

“It’s just shock,” explained Bert. “He’ll be okay in a minute or so. But we should get him out of here, so we can lock the door and pretend nothing happened.”

“What about these?” Ariel asked, pointing at the calculators and compasses.

“Erm…just leave them for the moment. I’ll come back and explain later, but we need to attract as little attention as possible,” said Bert. “Ariel, you carry this so me and Todd can carry Ben.” He held out the violin case to Ariel. By now both people in Maths and people in Science were coming back to their lesson. Some people saw Bert and Todd carrying Ben out of the classroom, but they didn’t say anything, just stared at Ben, wondering what had happened. Bert and Todd carried Ben to a part of the corridor that was almost under the stairs, so they were out of sight of most people.

“I hate to say this, guys, but it’s nearly lesson time for us too,” Ariel said, looking at the clock on her phone.

“Well all we need to do is wait for Ben to wake up, isn’t it?” Todd asked.

“Yes, and get rid of the violin case,” Bert reminded him.

“How are you going to do that?” Ariel asked.

Just then Ben opened his eyes and stared around for a few seconds. “What – where am I?” he asked.

“By the Maths corridor,” said Todd. “Come on, get up. It’s lesson time.”
“But – but –” Ben began.

“I’ll explain as we go back to lesson,” said Todd. Bert and Ariel went up the stairs to their lessons and Ben and Todd walked back down the Maths corridor. Todd had started to explain about Ms. Harris’ ghost when Ben noticed something strange on the floor. It looked a bit like a dead bird. He stopped to pick it up.

“It looks like something you’d put on a hat,” he noted.

“Um…it looks more like a real live dead bird to me,” worried Todd.

“It can’t be live and dead,” Ben told him. “No, it looks like that fake bird on the hat in the props room in Drama. Come on, let’s go and see if it is.”

“We have English…” Todd began.

“Oh who cares about English!” shouted Ben. “Let’s go on an adventure!”

“An adventure?” Todd stared at him. Ben ran off to the Drama office where all the props were kept, and Todd followed him, not wanting to miss out on anything. Todd peered inside (being taller than Ben he could see into boxes in the far corner of the room). “No, it’s not the bird from on the hat,” Todd told Ben. “I can see the hat, and the bird is still on it.” Ben gulped. “Are you okay?” Todd asked him in concern.

“Of course,” he replied after a second’s pause. “Come on, there’s no point going back to English, we’ll only get C3s, let’s do something else.”

“Like what?”

“Let’s…go to the library,” Ben suggested.

“We never go to the library,” said Todd in shock. “The library is for nerds. We’re not nerds; at least I didn’t think we were.”

“Today we are,” Ben told him firmly. “I need to look something up.”

            The library was deadly quiet. There was no one inside except for the librarian who was reading silently. Suddenly, there was a bang as the door opened and slammed against the wall. The librarian shot up in her seat and glared at the people who had perpetrated such a crime. “Sorry,” whispered Todd as he and Ben walked up to her to sign their names on the sheet of paper, to say what they were doing there. She continued to glare at them for a second or two and then returned to her reading. “Come on,” said Ben in a low voice so the librarian wouldn’t tell them off. “I need to find a recipe book.” Todd looked at him in a questioning way. “Not for cooking,” Ben told him. “I need to find a magic potion. It’ll be in one of the secret books.” The secret books were up on a high shelf out of sight of the librarian, and also out of reach of most people. Todd, however, being exceptionally tall, could reach them. “Could you pass me down the book with the front cover that looks the oldest?” Ben asked Todd.

“Sure,” Todd replied, reaching up onto tiptoes so he could see the covers of the books. He reached his hand into the farthest corner of the shelf and brought down a very old, dusty book.

“Thanks,” said Ben in relief.

“So, what’s this potion all about?” asked Todd curiously.

“Oh, it’s just for my revenge.”

“Your revenge? On who?”

“On Bert. He always thinks he’s so much better than all of us, showing off in front of Ariel and Fred and I think it’s time I showed him he’s not the best.”

“I didn’t know you were good at magic,” Todd said.

“I’m not. But I will be,” Ben told him. “And I’ll need your help.”

            It had begun to get dark. The moon was nowhere to be seen, as by now it was snowing lightly. A piercing wind ran through the girl’s quad just as Elly and Ariel went to get their coats and bags to go home.

“Are we meeting Katie again?” Elly asked Ariel.

“Of course. She’s really nice. I think Joe likes her,” Ariel giggled.

Elly smiled. “Come on, let’s go,” she said.

They met Bert, Fred and Joe outside the Hall, and they all started walking along the Maths corridor to go outside. On the way they tried to cheer up Elly, who was still upset over the death of her boyfriend, Woody, which had happened a few weeks ago. They started to talk about the new magic show that was going to happen on the next Monday in the Town Hall. They were all excited about it because as it was also Valentine’s Day on Monday, the magic show would include ‘how to make the perfect love potion’. Joe, who was Fred’s older brother and who was in Bert’s Year was particularly excited about this, and the others were teasing him about who it was that he liked. They all thought it was Katie, who lived near him and who he had suddenly become friends with. She was meeting them today outside school, so they could all walk home together. She was a year older than Bert and Joe, and was working at a nearby old people’s home.

“Hiya,” she said as they all came out. They all said hi back, and then began to walk home.

            Two Year Nine students were walking along the road opposite the six friends. They were Lizzy and Phoebe, and they looked annoyed. Phoebe had always had a crush on Joe, who didn’t know she existed and Lizzy had just got a crush on Fred, or so she said. Phoebe was annoyed because she had heard that Joe liked Katie. Phoebe kept staring evilly at the back of Katie’s head whenever Katie wasn’t looking. And Lizzy didn’t like the way that Fred kept being nice to Elly (at the moment he was giving her a goodbye hug). Phoebe and Lizzy decided to go to Digby’s house to moan about everything to him.

            “Well I guess we’ll see you on Monday,” Bert said to Joe and Fred.

“Monday?” questioned Katie, looking puzzled.

“Oh didn’t Joe tell you? We’ve all got tickets to see a huge Magic Show that’s happening in town, on Monday evening,” Bert explained to her.

“No, Joe never told me,” Katie sulked. “You’re mean,” she told Joe.

“I was planning on surprising you,” Joe told her. “I’ve got two tickets, you can have one if you want, but first I need to discuss something with you.”

“Oooh,” said Katie interestedly. Then Joe, Katie and Fred turned off to go to their homes, leaving Bert, Ariel and Elly to carry on towards Maycotts Heath and their homes and bus stop (Ariel always caught the bus near her friend Larissa’s house).

“I wonder what Joe wanted to discuss with Katie?” Ariel asked thoughtfully.

“Nothing to do with us, probably,” Bert told her.

“I suppose so,” she sighed.

            A while later, Joe and Fred had reached their house and Joe invited Katie in, so he could talk to her about the thing he needed to discuss with her. He didn’t want Fred to hear it, so he had started a new conversation about something else on the way home. Joe then persuaded Fred to do some homework, and then he took Katie down the bottom of the garden to his shed.

“Why all the secrecy?” Katie asked.

“Well, it’s about Bert and Ariel,” Joe said. “And if Fred knew about it then he’d tell them. And that would be bad.”

“I’m intrigued,” Katie said.

“I know you like Bert,” Joe told her. She gasped.

“But – how do you know that? I never told anyone! Promise you won’t tell a soul,” she pleaded.

“Okay, okay,” Joe smiled. “It was kinda obvious, the way you’re always hanging round with us now, and I know it’s not me you like because I’ve seen the way you look at him…but we have a problem.”

“Huh? We? A problem?”

“Yes, in order for you to go out with Bert, we need to split him and Ariel up,” Joe said.

“Well duh. But – Bert really likes her, he’d never like me the same way,” she moaned.

“I have a plan,” Joe told her.

            Meanwhile, Phoebe and Lizzy were at Digby’s house, badmouthing Katie and Elly. Digby, who was good at coming up with plans had had an idea to distract them. “You know the annual ‘Middle of the Middle’ party the Arians have over this half term?” he asked Phoebe and Lizzy.

“Yeah, but what’s that got to do with my suffering?” asked Phoebe.

“Nothing, well not much,” he admitted. “But just listen. I know where it’s being held this year. Why don’t we go and gatecrash it?”

“But why?” questioned Lizzy. “There’s no point doing something if there’s no reason.”

“We can go and spoil it for everyone,” Digby suggested. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

“Hmmm…” pondered Lizzy.

“Nah, that would be too tiring,” said Phoebe, lying down on the floor and putting her feet up on a nearby sofa arm.

“But you’ll get to see Joe,” Digby reminded her.

“I can see Joe any time I like, I know where he lives,” sulked Phoebe.

“Ooh, stalker!” gasped Lizzy. “How did you find out?”

“I was going for a walk with my 5-year-old cousin, okay? He was just walking home. I couldn’t help seeing what house he went up to.”

“Hmmm, do we believe her Lizzy?” Digby asked, teasing Phoebe.

“Will you stop being so stupid?” Phoebe screamed. “Okay, I’ll come with you to crash the Arian party. So where is it?”

“It’s being held at Ben’s house this year,” Digby told them.

“It’s always at one of the Tenarians’ houses. Well, they would have been Ninarians last year. I don’t think it’s ever been at Bert’s house,” Lizzy thought out loud. “I wonder why that is?”

“Maybe he has a deep dark secret?”

“Like an evil twin brother?”

“Or a baby-eating father, like in that Greek legend?”

“Baby-eating? Eww, that’s gross!” said Lizzy.

“Okay, let’s get off the subject of Bert’s secret family member,” Digby said. “I know you pair have got to get off soon because you have stuff to do, so I’ll meet you here on Wednesday at about half eleven in the morning, okay? That should leave enough time to get there before the main event.” By this he meant 12 o’ clock, when the Ninarians celebrated their ‘middle of the middle of the middle of the middle’, which was the middle of the day of the middle of the week of the middle of the year of the middle of their time at Crooked Burrow School, which was 12 o’ clock midday on Wednesday of half term during Year Nine. Of course this was just an average middle, but they celebrated it then anyway.

“Come on Lizzy. I have to get home so I can do more knitting,” Phoebe said.

“I still think you should bring that knitting to school,” Digby told her.

“What? And have you make fun of it all the time? I don’t think so,” she stated. “Come on Lizzy. Let’s go.”

“Nah, I want to stay for a bit longer, I have to get the answers for some homework,” Lizzy said vaguely.

“Hello? It’s half term. You can get the answers from Mr. Brainbox next week,” Phoebe reminded Lizzy. “But no. I can see where I’m not wanted. See you on Wednesday, if you’re lucky.” And with that she stormed out of the living room and out of the house, slamming the door behind her. Lizzy and Digby raised their eyebrows at each other.

“Is it me, or is she getting even more touchy?” Digby asked.

“She’s always been like it,” Lizzy said matter-of-factly, getting out her homework.

            Joe had walked Katie home after telling her his plan, and was now putting Stage 1 into action. This involved talking to Ariel, but as he wouldn’t see her until Monday he had decided to chat to her on Messenger. Their conversation went like this:

Joe: Hi, I know we’ve just seen each other at school, but I’ve just found out something that I need to tell you.

Ariel: Okay, what is it?

Joe: It’s about Bert. I’ve found out he has a dark secret, that he hasn’t told you.

Ariel: Don’t be stupid. Bert tells me everything.

Joe: Ah, but not this.

Ariel: I don’t believe you.

Joe: Have you ever been round to his house?

Ariel: Well, no but –

Joe: Why don’t you ask him if you can visit him?

Ariel: Um, because it’s rude to ask someone if you can go to their house. You have to wait until they ask you.

Joe: Well he’s been round to your house a lot of times; don’t you think it’s only fair if he invites you over to his?

Ariel: How do you know he’s come to mine? Are you spying on us?

Joe: Of course not. But let’s just say I’ve recently found out.

Ariel: You’re scaring me.

Joe: I’m sorry; I don’t mean to scare you. I’m just trying to let you know that Bert isn’t as perfect as you think he is.

Ariel: What’s that supposed to mean?

Joe: Remember, he has a secret that he’s not telling you.

Ariel: Explain.

Joe: Sorry, I have to go now.

Ariel: No, you have to explain!

Ariel: Come back!

Ariel had now become so worried, confused and curious that she decided to talk to Bert to ask him outright if he had a secret that he hadn’t told her. She saw he was online, so she began a conversation.

Ariel: Hi sweetie, I have a question to ask you.

Bert: Ask away.

Ariel: Have you got a secret that you haven’t told me?

Bert: Yes, several.

Ariel: Any that are dark and mysterious?

Bert: Not that I know of.

Ariel: Well then, why is it that…you’ve been round to my house plenty of times, but you’ve never invited me to yours?

Bert: That secret will have to wait until the time comes.

Ariel: What time?

Bert: I’ll tell you when I can, okay? Just trust me.

Ariel: Sometimes that’s difficult. By the way, Joe scares me.

Bert: Joe? But he’s really nice. He’s always asking how I am, and looking out for me.

Ariel: So it seems.

Bert: What?

Ariel: Nothing.

Bert: Okay…well I have to go now. I have a lot of practising to do, as always. And homework, which will have to wait until after the practising.

Ariel: As always. Okay, see you Monday, unless you want to meet up over the weekend?

Bert: I would if I could, but I have lots to do. See you Monday!

            After Bert had gone offline, Ariel looked around her room in despair. Joe wouldn’t explain, and Bert apparently couldn’t explain his mysterious secret. She tried to think of people she could talk to about this and her first thought was Elly. But then she remembered that Elly was still so upset about Woody’s death. She wouldn’t want to talk about Ariel’s selfish doubts about Bert. Then her eye caught her laptop screen, which now had a message from her friend Larissa. Despite being a year older than her, Ariel was good friends with Larissa. Whenever Larissa had a difficult problem, she’d come to Ariel for advice. Ariel thought of her as her younger sister.

Larissa: Hi Ariel! Are you looking forward to the party on Wednesday?

Ariel: Yeah, it should be good! All the Arians are coming. There are, what, twenty of us? Ben’s house will be packed – it’s only small.

Larissa: I don’t really know Ben. I mean, his girlfriend is my next-door neighbour, but apart from that I don’t know him at all.

Ariel: Well the party’s an excellent opportunity to get to know not only him but also all of the Arians you don’t already know. The more friends we make, the less likely it is that we’ll have another outbreak of the nasty War that keeps turning up.

Larissa: You give very good advice Ariel; did I ever tell you that?

Ariel: Aww, thank you! Would you be able to help me with a problem, do you think? I can’t seem to find a solution to it.

Larissa: Sure, what’s your problem?

Ariel: It’s Bert. He’s keeping a secret from me, and I wouldn’t mind if it didn’t sound so suspicious. He’s never let me go to his house, and I’m worried that he’s doing something illegal, or experimenting with dangerous potions or something else really bad.

Larissa: Oh, don’t worry Ariel! He might be doing something really nice for you. It’s coming up for Valentine’s Day, remember? Maybe he’s got something planned.

Ariel: Ooh, I hope so! Not because I want anything, but because it’s better than if he was doing something bad.

Larissa: So you don’t need to worry, Ariel. I’m sure it’s okay.

Ariel: Thank you Larissa! Did I ever tell you that you give very good advice? Well thank you again, but I have to go now. I have stuff to do…
Larissa: Okay, bye, see you Wednesday!

            Ariel then settled down to do some work, to get as much of it over and done with as soon as possible. She had a whole Art project that was due in two week’s time. She had already completed most of it, but still had quite a lot of work to do. But she kept thinking about what Joe had said, and Bert’s reply, and even though she knew Larissa’s idea seemed to fit she still couldn’t help wondering, what if it wasn’t right? What if Bert was bad?

            Monday evening finally came. Ten friends from Crooked Burrow School had met up in town, to go and see the magic show. They were currently waiting in a long queue that led into the Town Hall, and were getting rather cold so Bert made a magic fire appear in midair which they grouped around to keep warm. Other people in the queue saw what he had done and conjured up their own fires, which Ben said was copying them and they should have asked Bert’s permission to use his idea. Bert told Ben not to be stupid. “See,” whispered Ben to Todd. “This is what I meant about Bert always thinking he’s better than us.” Todd nodded glumly back. He wasn’t too happy about being in on Ben’s plan of revenge on Bert, but he couldn’t get out of it unless he told Bert but that would mean Ben would never forgive him and that would make Todd very lonely. Eventually the queue dwindled down until they were nearly inside. Bert got rid of the fire and after showing their tickets they were let inside. They all went to sit in their seats which were in different places, so they couldn’t all sit together. Joe, Fred, Katie and Elly had managed to get seats together, and they were just in front of Bert and Ariel, which meant they could talk to each other if they wanted to. But Robin, Lyra, Ben and Todd were the other side of the Hall. Ben kept glaring over at Bert when Bert wasn’t looking. Todd asked what he was doing, but Ben just answered that he was ‘practising’ – what for, Todd didn’t know.

Soon the magic show started, and it was absolutely spectacular. Bert, Ariel, Fred and some others had tried to do some small magic shows at Crooked Burrow School before, but they were nothing compared to this. The performers were so talented they could cast spells whilst doing a number of other things at the same time, such as balancing on tightropes and juggling. While all this was going on, Bert was thinking. He had been secretly watching Joe and Katie for a while now, and he thought that Joe liked Katie, but that she didn’t really like him back. Bert thought maybe Joe needed some extra help, and had come up with a solution. Because it was Valentine’s Day Week he had brought the purple stitched ball and a supply of love potion in a small medicine bottle to pour on to the ball, just in case he saw an opportunity to use it, like now. Carefully he took them out of his bag, and unscrewed the lid of the bottle, and making sure he didn’t touch any of the potion (he didn’t want to fall in love with anyone except Ariel), poured it onto the middle of the purple ball. Because it was dark, like in a theatre or cinema, no one could see what he was doing, not even Ariel. Then he screwed the lid back on the medicine bottle and put it away in his bag. He waited until Katie turned to tell Joe something, then leant forward in his seat, touching Katie with the side of the ball that had the love potion on. Katie stopped talking to Joe and just stared at him. “What?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” mumbled Katie. Satisfied that his plan had worked, Bert leant back and put the ball in a small plastic bag he had brought for the purpose.

A while later Ariel whispered to Bert, “Look at the way Fred’s looking at Elly! Poor thing, he must fancy her.”

“I know, but Elly’s still upset about Woody isn’t she?”

“Of course she is. Maybe we should give Fred some help?” Ariel suggested. “Have you got the purple stitched ball and the potion on you?”

“Yep, here you go,” Bert said taking the ball out of the plastic bag. “Now be careful with it, won’t you?”

“You’re letting me throw it? What if it gets lost?”

“Oh come on, it’s not that difficult, just wait until she’s looking at him which may take a while, and then throw it at her head,” Bert explained. “And I’m sure we’ll be able to find it afterwards.” So Ariel waited until Elly looked at Fred, took aim, and threw the purple stitched ball, which hit Elly on the back of the head. They could tell that the potion had worked because Elly suddenly smiled at Fred and took his hand in hers, which surprised him but he just smiled back at her.

“Whew,” remarked Ariel as she sat back in relief. They continued to watch the magic show, which got better and better as it went along. When it finally finished and everyone in their row had left the Hall Bert and Ariel searched under all the chairs and eventually found the purple ball. Bert stuffed it back in the plastic bag without touching the potion and they left to find the others and go home.

            Tuesday dawned, cold and grey. An angry wind swooped through the streets of Maycotts Heath and the clouds grew dark and looming. Bert looked out of his window and groaned. He was planning to visit his great-grandfather Albertus today, but as he lived in a care home right the other side of Maycotts Heath to him, and there was no bus that ran directly there, he always had to walk, which took over half an hour. It would be especially worse today because it was freezing and looked like it might snow. As he was getting ready Bert remembered the violin case containing the ghost of Ms. Harris. He grinned to himself. He had had an idea.

“Bye Mum,” Bert said to his Mum as he walked past her to go down the stairs. “I’m going to see Great-grandpa.” She didn’t reply, as he knew she wouldn’t, but her hand twitched as if she wanted to wave goodbye. He paused to blow her a kiss, and then put his jacket and shoes on before picking up the violin case that lay in the hall, casting the normal protection spells and opening the door. “I’ll be back in about three hours,” he called, and then the door banged behind him, leaving the house quiet and still.

It should be explained that Bert’s Mum had been a very successful sorceress up until about a month ago, when one of her many rivals had managed to pour an evil potion on her as she was walking home one night which left her almost completely paralysed and unable to do anything for herself. Bert had found her and brought her home, and had just about been able to stop the potion from worsening which would probably have killed her. Of course, he didn’t want anyone to know that his Mum wasn’t well, or they’d worry and maybe tell Social Services, and then there was no guarantee that he’d be able to stay and look after her. So he couldn’t tell anyone, not even Ariel.

As he walked down the windy roads Bert thought about what else he could do to help his Mum. He had been through all the books he could find but they all needed him to know what potion it had been, and of course he didn’t know that as he wasn’t there. Some books described symptoms his Mum had, but none of them fitted exactly. He now had no other choice but to visit his great-grandfather – again. He had already been twice in the past month but Albertus was being sly and keeping Bert guessing as to whether he knew what to do or not. But now Bert had the ghost of Ms. Harris, who had told him a long time ago that she was once the servant of Albertus. She had lost her memory but as a ghost she would probably be more susceptible to memory-joggers, such as seeing Albertus again, though now of course he would be much older. But because she had stayed the same age for so long now it was likely he would still remember her.

Eventually Bert reached the care home and went inside. Everyone there knew him because he visited regularly. “Coming to play a bit of music to your Grandpa?” asked one nurse as he passed her.

“Me? Oh, yes, maybe, if he’s good,” he replied, looking down at the violin case. He hurried past and reached Albertus’ room. He knocked on the door.

“Come in,” croaked an old voice.

“Hey, Greatgramps,” smiled Bert, because he knew it annoyed him.

“That’s enough of that!” Albertus snapped. “And what is it this time? Is it that mother of yours again? She was my least favourite grandchild…”

“Yes, but not just that. I’ve brought a friend along.”

“What? A friend? Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t have any friends.”

“No, not my friend, your friend.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” Albertus laughed. “Now that is funny.”

“Why?” frowned Bert.

“Because I never made any friends. Who wants friends, when you can have world domination? Well, I almost had world domination…” He paused to think. “And now I am 112 years old I don’t suppose what acquaintances I made are still alive, so you see why it is funny.”

“Not really; it’s depressing.”

“Well what are you wasting my time for? If you haven’t got anything decent to say, get out.”

“Okay, okay. Now say hello to Ms. Harris, or as I think you knew her, Aris?” Bert said as he opened the violin case. What appeared to be white smoke exploded out and took the form of Ms. Harris. She turned on Bert and opened her mouth, about to yell at him when Albertus, who actually had been watching said “Aris?”

She turned her head to him and whispered “Albertus? Is it you?”

“Of course it is me. Who else would I be? And why do you look so young. It isn’t fair you know, they–”

“It was that stupid time spell. It went wrong somehow, and zipped me forwards 90 years. And of course then I was stuck there. Yes, stuck!” she sulked. “Though of course it’s better than if I had gone back 90 years. And the magic here is much improved from ours, though more strict. There are more spells we are forbidden to cast than ones we can! But I expect you already know that.”

“Sorry to interrupt your reunion,” said Bert. “Yes I know you both hate me–”

“I think hate’s a little strong,” laughed Albertus. “After all, you have brought me Aris.”

“Be that as it may,” Bert continued. “I have something to ask you both. Yes, you too,” he stared hard at Ms. Harris who had raised her eyebrows at him. “And it is this: do either of you know of an antidote to a potion that leaves you completely paralysed?” Although he had asked Albertus this at least twice before, he hoped he could surprise him into telling him this time. Ms. Harris defiantly shook her head but Albertus looked guiltily away.

“Come on,” urged Bert. “Just tell me. Or I’ll go away and take Aris with me.”

“No, there’s no call for that. I’ll tell you, if you promise to accept the facts and take what’s unfortunately rightfully yours.”

Shrugging at this apparently cryptic offer Bert replied “Yeah whatever. Just tell me quick.”

Albertus frowned. “I have to tell the whole story. If bits are missed out it will eventually end up completely different, like in Chinese Whispers.”

“Okay then, I’m listening,” said Bert, finding a chair and sitting down. Ms. Harris (or Aris as she will now be called) remained standing but lowered her floating position so she was at a level with Albertus, who was sitting in bed.

“Is everyone comfortable? Then I shall begin. There was once a wonderfully evil King, who came up with a plan to use magic to keep the position of King. This magic that he used was so powerful that it did not just hold his position of King; it also gave him the highest magical power in the whole world. This power would give him long life and happiness, but even so the King would still die after maybe a hundred years, so the power would be passed on through the generations, and I am the last King of Magic.”

There was a knock on the door, and Katie entered. Bert and Aris were so enthralled by Albertus’ story that they didn’t even notice anyone had come in, let alone who it was. Aris would have known Katie because she taught her the previous year. Katie gathered up the leftover cup, plate and cutlery from Albertus’ last meal, put them on a tray and was about to leave when the words “I am the last King of Magic” caught her ear. Intrigued, she sat down on the floor next to Bert and carried on listening. Albertus was saying “Now if anyone wanted to challenge the current King, they could do so by issuing a magic fight between them and the King.”

Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door. Katie jumped and immediately stood up, clutching the tray. The door opened and a nurse strode in. “What are you playing at, we’re waiting for you to get the dishes done,” she announced to Katie, ignoring the others.

“Sorry,” mumbled Katie. Albertus, Bert and Aris never noticed Katie enter or leave.

“But the fight had to be to the death. Either the King or the potential successor would be killed. But the position of the King of Magic could also be passed on. Now because I have kept my position of the King of Magic for so long, I feel I should pass it on. So you see, the power is now to be yours,” Albertus explained to Bert.

“But what if I don’t want it?” asked Bert.

“Then of course you will never help your mother, and I will have to find someone more worthy of taking it.”

“Fine! So, what happens next?”

“I must sit facing you, so come closer. Good. Now I place my hands, like so, and…” He placed his hands on Bert’s head and shut his eyes. It was a strange sensation. Bert could feel something rushing into him, but at the same time he felt weightless, as if he was floating upwards, though he could feel his feet on the floor throughout. Eventually it stopped and Albertus took his hands from Bert’s head and collapsed onto his pillows. “That’s enough for today,” he mumbled and shut his eyes. “Goodbye.”

“Bye, Greatgramps, and thanks,” said Bert. Albertus’ eyes flew open at the word he hated but shut again as if he was too tired to keep them open. “Aris, do you want to stay?” asked Bert.

“What, or go back with you? No way, I’m staying here,” she replied.

“Suits me,” smiled Bert, picking up the violin case. “Greatgramps can explain to everyone why there’s a ghost in his room.” He walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He was about to walk down the corridor to leave when he heard Aris shout. He opened the door again. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s Albertus. I think he’s…dead,” sobbed Aris. Bert ran across to him, dropping the violin case by the end of the bed. He felt for a pulse, but there wasn’t one. “Oh great,” he moaned. He dashed out to find a nurse. He saw one and quickly explained to them that he thought Albertus might be dead. They came to see if he was telling the truth and were shocked to see it was true. “I’m afraid you’re right,” they told Bert.

“Oh.”

“Did you kill him off by playing your violin?” they asked, indicating the violin case.

“Or something,” Bert agreed sadly. He suddenly remembered Aris, and looked around for her. Then he realised she was gone, along with Albertus.

            The next day was Wednesday, the day of the Arian party. Because the party was to be at Ben’s house he was getting ready for it, as well as mixing up a special potion – for revenge on Bert. Todd had come round to help him. The potion Ben was mixing up was one for him – it would give him laser eyes, so he could just look at Bert and kill him. Todd thought this was a bit harsh, and had brought along a secret ingredient which he was going to add when Ben wasn’t looking. This was some hydrochloric acid which he had stolen from Science a while ago. He thought it might make the potion come out slightly differently, so maybe Ben wouldn’t quite be able to kill Bert.

            Meanwhile, Joe and Katie were doing some plotting too. “Look, I told you, we have an excellent opportunity here, so why not use it?” Katie was arguing to Joe. “We know that old man was the King of Magic, but he died, and the only other person that he could have passed it onto is Bert, so therefore Bert is the King of Magic now. So what you do is you have a magic fight with Bert and get all his magic off him and ta-da! You’re the King of Magic!”

“I don’t think it works like that, Katie. He’d beat me easily. And even if I did steal his magic off him, what’s to stop him fighting me and stealing it all back again? Answer me that one! And anyway, I thought you liked Bert.”

Katie frowned. “I did, but I like someone else now.”

“Great! So you don’t want to try and split Ariel and Bert up still?”

“Oh, we can still carry on with that, if you want, but I don’t care about Bert. And as for Ariel…” Katie shivered. “I hate that girl. Let’s make them both as miserable as possible.”

“Hey, why do you hate Ariel? I think she’s really sweet.”

“You would. But I see straight through her. She’s evil.”

“Don’t call her evil! Come on, what has she ever done to you?”

“Oh, I’m just jealous,” she forced a smile.

“Why would you be jealous?”

“I suppose because she’s everything I’m not; she’s smart, funny, nice.”

“You are too,” Joe reminded her.

“I am?”

“Yep, when you’re not in a mood.”

“Hey!” Katie laughed, elbowing him. The tension was gone, and they carried on planning. Joe eventually agreed to fight Bert despite still being sure that Bert would win.

            Ben had finished the potion, and by now the Arians had started arriving. Most of the Ninarians had brought ‘middle of the middle of the middle of the middle’ presents to give to each other, to celebrate getting halfway through school, which was a great achievement, seeing as quite a few students had been killed recently at their school. Then Joe and Katie arrived. Ariel who was nearby saw them come in together, and giggled, thinking about what Bert told her he had done on Monday evening (he had told her about using the love potion on Katie). They saw her giggling, and came over.

“What are you laughing at?” demanded Katie.

“Um, nothing,” Ariel said, beginning to get scared of Katie.

“Good. Remember what I told you about Bert?” asked Joe.

“Yes,” said Ariel, looking worried. “But I still don’t believe you. Bert’s secret isn’t important, and anyway he says he’ll tell me all about it, when the time comes.”

“That’s his way of saying “Mind your own business”; it doesn’t mean he will tell you.”

“Stop being mean to him!” Ariel cried, running off.

“Oh, she’s DUMB!” exclaimed Katie.

“No she’s not, she’s just upset,” Joe frowned.

            “Bert, Bert, Joe’s scaring me,” Ariel said when she found Bert.

“How can Joe scare you? He’s so nice,” Bert smiled.

“No he’s not! He’s being really mean, and Katie too,” Ariel looked really worried.

Bert began to worry too. “What did they say?” he asked.

“They said you’ve got a really bad secret to hide and when I say you haven’t they say I’m lying, well they imply it.”

“Do you want me to go and talk to them?”

“I don’t know. If you do they’ll just be mean to you and if you don’t then they’ll probably be meaner to me, so it’s up to you.”

“Okay, I’ll go and speak to them and tell them the truth.”

“The truth?”

“Yes, that I have got a secret and it’s none of their business, but it’s very important to me and it’s certainly not bad, well not bad in the way they think.”

“And what’s that meant to mean?”

“I’ll tell you soon, maybe Thursday or Friday, okay?”

“Of course!”

“Now, are you going to stay here, or do you want to come with me?”

“I’ll stay here if you don’t mind,” Ariel shivered at the thought of going back to talk to Katie.

“See, there’s Elly with Fred. Why don’t you go and talk to them?”

“Okay boss!” Ariel replied cheekily. Bert smiled and went to find Joe and Katie.

            “Right, so what is it you pair have been saying about me?” asked Bert when he found them.

“We know your secret, Bert,” said Joe.

“Oh no you don’t,” smiled Bert.

“Yes we do. Why else don’t you let anyone come to your house?” asked Katie.

“What do you mean?”

“Well you see, we also know about you being the you-know-what,” Joe told him.

“The what?”

“The King of Magic, of course!” Katie laughed.

“How do you pair know that?” gasped Bert.

“Skill, intelligence and the fact that I work at the care home that your grandpa was in,” Katie said, smiling evilly.

“So you know how much magic I have, you know I could easily get rid of you both,” Bert glared at them.

“Ooh, I’m scared!” Katie laughed. Then she frowned at Joe. “Joe…”

“What?” he asked irritably.

“You know what,” she snapped.

“Where’s Ariel?” Joe asked Bert.

“Why?” Bert questioned, looking at Joe carefully. He saw Joe’s face, scaredly looking round the room they were in. Then he saw the real reason for Joe pretending to be his friend, for pretending he wanted to learn magic, for telling Ariel he, Bert, had an evil secret. “You like Ariel!”

“What? No, I –”

“JOE!” screamed Katie. “Tell him!”

Joe stared at her miserably. “I don’t want –” he began.

“Come on, Joe, tell me what?” asked Bert.

“FINE then, Bert, we’re going to have a magic fight,” Joe told him.

Bert burst out laughing. “You’re not serious?”

“I wish I wasn’t, but I am,” Joe moaned.

“No, you don’t want to do this,” said Bert.

“Oh yes we do,” said Katie.

“Great!” Bert frowned, realising he had set himself up for this. “You realise I’ll probably kill him?” he asked Katie.

“You don’t have to kill him, you just have to beat him, don’t you?” she asked.

“No, it has to be a fight to the death,” Bert told her. She turned pale, and turned to walk away. “Where are you going?” Bert called after her.

“To find your girlfriend,” she shouted back.

“But why?”

“To use her as blackmail!” she laughed. By this she meant she was going to find Ariel and hold her as a hostage to make Bert fight Joe.

As Katie disappeared into the crowd, Bert now had two choices – he could fight Joe to stop Katie from using Ariel to force him to fight Joe, or he could hide Ariel so Katie couldn’t find her, so he wouldn’t have to fight Joe. He didn’t want to either die or kill Joe, so he decided to hide Ariel. Being an expert in making people invisible, he didn’t need to use much of the extra magic to just wish Ariel invisible, although he didn’t know where she was.

            “Hey, where did Ariel go?” Fred asked.

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe she went to find Bert?” Elly suggested.

“No, she was here just. It was like she just vanished,” he told her.

Elly raised her eyebrows at him. “People don’t just vanish!” she said.

“Ariel did,” Fred insisted. Just then Katie appeared.

“You haven’t seen Ariel, have you?” she asked in fake concern. “I need to talk to her about something.”

“Yes, she was here, but then –” Fred began.

“But then she went to find Bert,” Elly finished.

“I see, thanks!” said Katie and ran back the way she came. “Where is she?” she demanded when she reached Bert and Joe.

“Where’s who?” Bert asked innocently.

“You know who!” she shrieked. “What have you done with Ariel?”

“As if I’d tell you,” he mumbled, turning away.

“JOE!” Katie screamed.

“Oh come on Katie, the fight is off,” Joe told her firmly. “I am not going to fight Bert and that is that.”

“But you could be the next King of Magic! Just think what you could do!”

“No, think what you could do,” Joe told her. “I’ve had enough of you telling me what to do, why don’t you fight him and be Queen of Magic?”

“Um, Joe, it doesn’t work like that, at least I don’t think so. But it wouldn’t be fair to fight you anyway, Katie, because you don’t know much magic,” Bert said apologetically.

“I know more than you think,” she said quietly, so he couldn’t hear her. She had had an idea. She did know enough magic to do some spells, for example the ones that Joe had taught her after he had learned them from Bert. One of these was a spell to move things. If she used the spell to move the nearby plant pot into Bert’s face when he was looking away then he might think it was Joe and start a fight.

“Look, is that Ariel?” Katie asked, pointing out into the room at a random person.

“No,” Bert shook his head without looking round to see who Katie was pointing at.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked.

“Ah, that would be telling,” he said.

“Fine then! Come on Joe, let’s go, this party sucks,” she sulked.

“No, let’s stay for a bit longer,” Joe pleaded.

“You’re not going to see Ariel while you’re here,” Katie reminded him harshly.

“But –”

“But nothing, let’s go,” she dragged him by the arm so they were turned away from Bert. Joe tore his arm away from her grasp just as Katie made the plant pot move and smack Bert in the face. He fell to the floor but got up again straight away, rubbing his cheek where the pot had hit him.

“Joe!” he said in a warning voice.

“It wasn’t me, honest!” Joe held up his arms in protest.

“Well, Katie then,” he turned to Katie.

“I don’t know any magic!” she lied. “It couldn’t have been me.”

“No, I suppose not,” Bert agreed. “So, Joe, what was that for?”

“Me? What are you talking about? What even happened?”

“Oh, a plant pot decided to fly of its own accord and hit me right here,” Bert pointed at his cheek which was now red.

“I’m sorry b–” Joe began.

“You’re sorry? You start a fight, because that’s in effect what you’ve done, and you say you’re sorry? Grow up!” Bert shouted, losing his temper at Joe for supposedly lying to him.

“It wasn’t me!” Joe’s face was now white and scared. If Bert was this angry at him there was no knowing what might happen next. He knew he couldn’t defend himself against Bert for a long time, but he could try to for the moment. He conjured up a shaky barrier between him and Bert, who just destroyed it with a flick of his finger.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” he laughed at Joe.

Joe wracked his brains to try to think of a spell he could use to either hide or get rid of Bert, but he couldn’t think of anything. Then he remembered the shrinking spell. He tried to shrink Bert, but Bert had already cast a deflecting spell to direct the spell at the ceiling. It hit the light bulb, which started to shrink.

“Hey!” shouted Ben. “Stop wrecking my house!” By now everyone in the room was watching the fight and more people who were in other rooms had heard the shouting and were being nosy, so the room was packed and there was barely enough room for space between Joe and Bert.

“Sorry, Ben,” Bert called over to him, as he quickly made the light bulb grow back to its normal size. “I’m sure Joe will replace the plant pot.”

“I will not, as it wasn’t me who smashed it,” Joe shouted at Bert angrily. He then remembered the moving spell, and that he had taught it to Katie. He looked around for her, but Bert misinterpreted that as looking around for Ariel.

“Like Katie said, you’re not going to see Ariel anymore, so give UP!” Bert shouted angrily back at Joe. He made Joe fly up in the air and then fall back down. But Joe didn’t get up again. Everyone crowded around him. “Bert,” said Todd. “He’s dead.”

“You murdered him!” shrieked Katie.

“Yes, Katie, I had to. You know that. Are you happy now? The one person you truly loved is now dead.”

“Hey! How do you know that I liked him?” Katie demanded.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault. I thought Joe liked you, well you can’t blame me, it seemed that way, so I made you fall in love with him,” Bert told her. “After all, it was Valentine’s Day.”

“How dare you! Anyway, you’re wrong; he wasn’t the ‘one person I truly loved’. No, that would be you. Up until Monday.”

“What!? But you – ah, I see it now! Joe liked Ariel, you liked me, and so you tried to split us up! Oh, it’s so clear! You’re cunning, you know. And pretty evil too.”

“Why thank you,” Katie smiled.

“It’s not a compliment!”

Just then, Shada, Larissa and Samantha came up to Bert. “What’s been happening?” asked Shada. “We heard lots of shouting.”

“And where’s Ariel?” Larissa asked, looking worried. “She’s been missing for at least half an hour now. Something must have happened to her.”

Bert looked uncomfortable. “Yes, well something did happen. But I can’t say what, okay?”

“Is she hurt?” Larissa asked quickly.

“No, she’s fine. She’s safe, which is what matters. Shada, aren’t you going to be making your speech soon?” Bert changed the subject quickly.

“Yes, where should I be when I say it?” Shada asked. She was the Best Ninarian, and the Best Ninarian always made a speech on the Ninarians’ middle of the middle of the middle of the middle.

“How about halfway up the stairs?” Bert suggested.

“Hmmm, might work,” she admitted. “Thanks. So, are you going to tell us?”

“Tell you what?”

“What all the shouting was about? We were busy, so we couldn’t come to find out,” she explained.

“Well, erm, I kinda had a magic fight, against Joe, and, well, I killed him okay?”

Larissa, Samantha and Shada were speechless with shock. Then Shada found her voice. “No it is not okay! You can’t go round killing people! Why did you have a fight anyway? That is so stupid!”

“I know,” said Bert miserably. He was beginning to calm down and understand that what he’d done could probably have been done better another way. “If you have any more questions, then ask Katie, it’s mainly all her fault it came to this.”

“Shifting the blame too, Bert, tut tut,” said Shada.

“You’re not the Bert we used to know!” Larissa cried, running off. Samantha followed her, and Shada went to see what standing on the stairs would be like for presenting her speech.

Katie had decided she’d had enough of the Arian party. She was about to go when she remembered that Joe had a brother, Fred. Maybe she should tell Fred that Bert killed his brother, and then maybe there would be another magic fight? She was about to go to find Fred when she bumped into Ben, who had the potion to give him laser eyes in a glass in his right hand and was about to drink it. She knocked his right arm, which made the potion fly out of the glass and all over her, drenching her. There was a loud hiss as the potion dissolved her. There was a startled silence. Then – “What was in that?” Todd asked Ben.

“Only some Frandadis fruits, it shouldn’t have done this!” Ben exclaimed in shock. “Someone must have added something else!”

“Oh, I put some hydrochloric acid in, I thought it might help,” Todd explained.

“You what? You could have killed me!”

“Oops, I’m sorry,” Todd apologised. “But we killed Katie instead, isn’t that good?”

“Well, not really. It’s not a good thing to kill anyone, even if they are annoying or mean.”

“What about both?”

“Well I suppose exceptions can be made.”

            It was almost midday, when the Arians would be celebrating the middle of the middle of the middle. By now all the Arians, including Fred and Elly, had heard that Joe and Katie were dead. Fred especially was very upset, because Joe was his brother, and Bert was his best friend. He wasn’t sure what to believe, and now Katie was dead too he was beginning to think it was all Bert’s fault. Elly had been trying to persuade him it wasn’t, but because she didn’t know exactly what had happened, and for all she knew it might have all been Bert’s fault; she was having a hard job. She was wishing Ariel would turn up too, and beginning to wonder herself if Bert had something to do with that as well.

            Ben had forgiven Todd for putting acid in his potion for revenge on Bert, and had dropped the idea of drastic revenge in favour of subtle revenge in the form of making Bert clean the whole house after the party, after all it had almost been Bert’s fault that there was a smashed plant pot on the floor and a disintegrating carpet where Katie’s body still was. And he would make Bert deal with both Joe and Katie’s bodies. And anything else that Ben couldn’t be bothered to do.

            “Okay, everyone, it’s time for Shada’s speech!” Bert announced. As he was the Best Ellarian he was in charge of all the Arians. “Now you all know Shada, she’s the Best Ninarian, and we all know that today is a special day for the Ninarians in particular. Shada, it’s all yours.”

“Thanks, Bert,” Shada smiled. “Before I start, when’s Ariel coming back, Bert? We’re all missing her.”

“Yeah!” said Larissa, Samantha, Robin, Fred and Elly along with other people.

Bert looked guiltily about and then made Ariel reappear.

“Yey!” Everyone cheered.

“I’m sure Bert will answer any questions about Ariel’s disappearance afterwards,” Shada said to everyone, glaring at Bert. “But now, unfortunately, it is time for my speech. The middle of the middle of the middle is a wonderful point of reflection…on how rubbish our school is. Most of our teachers are evil, dumb or both, and the few that are left are pushovers. But I don’t think it’s the ugly building, or the idiotic teachers that make Crooked Burrow School our school. No, I think it’s us, the kids, or victims, some may go so far as to say. We can make our school different if we want to; we just have to know how. But I don’t think we’re going the right way about it, not at the moment anyway. I mean, during the past year or so we’ve had six deaths, two of which were today. Now that is really shocking. And one of those deaths was caused by Bert, our leader! So I think we should all look at our lives over the past few years and ask ourselves the question: ‘What have we done to make our school a better place?’ Thank you.” She finished her speech and walked downstairs. Bert walked upstairs, because he wanted to say something.

“As you all probably know by now, I killed Joe today. This was due to him and Katie plotting to take my place. I just want to tell you all now that what happened shouldn’t have happened, I should have done the normal trick of saving everyone, but I just got tired of always being the good guy, always seeing the good in others when I know there’s hardly any. And what happened with Ariel, well Katie was going to use her as blackmail so I made her invisible, until just. I’m sorry Ariel, I did it to protect you, and I hope you understand. And also I am really sorry about Katie. I understand that was Ben and Todd’s experimentation, so maybe I should have been watching them to see if they were doing anything illegal, which of course they were,” Bert glared at Ben and Todd. “Now no one’s perfect, and I’ve proved today that I’m certainly not perfect, but I hope you won’t blame me too much.” Bert turned to walk down the stairs when he noticed three non-Arians standing near the door. “Hey, what are you guys doing here?” he asked.

“I don’t know, do you know, Lizzy?” Phoebe asked Lizzy.

“No I don’t think so. Well it might be so we can WRECK YOUR PARTY!” Lizzy shouted. “You’re all so stuck-up! You think just because you’re Arians you can do what you like, you can have your own parties and leave out everyone else, and make mean speeches about our school, and go around killing people! That is so immoral, but you’re never going to get found out by the police or anyone because you can do magic, and make stuff so it’s never happened. Well I don’t think it’s very fair on the rest of us who try to do what’s right and don’t cover up what we mess up. You should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

“Wow, way to go Lizzy,” admired Digby. Phoebe just rolled her eyes.

“What is it with speeches today?” she wanted to know. “I don’t like speeches, and there’s been far too many for my liking. Come on, let’s smash stuff up.”

“Like what?” asked Lizzy.

“Like people’s ambitions and aspirations,” said Digby hastily.

“No, I mean real stuff like vases and plates,” Phoebe began.

“No, that’s just mean, that makes us like them,” Lizzy told her.

“You realise Bert killed Joe? How can I just stand by and let them not care without smashing some china? I need to show my feelings,” Phoebe pleaded.

“Why don’t you go and shout at Bert?” Digby suggested. “I’m sure he’ll be a good person to argue with.”

“I suppose so, but you’re both mean not to let me smash stuff,” Phoebe told them, marching away to find Bert, who she eventually found, had a long row with and then stormed off in a huff. “This is it, I’m going,” she shouted at Digby and Lizzy who were talking to Aidan, Toby, Lyra, Lola and Lara, five Ninarians. “This was the worst party I’ve ever crashed.” And with that she walked out of the house, closely followed by Digby and Lizzy, who had been trying to persuade most of the Arians to give up being Arians and live like normal people. But they realised they hadn’t really convinced anyone, and Lizzy had a suspicion that it was because Bert was a brainwasher and the Arians were a cult he had formed who would eventually take over the school.

            It was Thursday, the day after the Arian party. Bert’s mother was finally better thanks to him - he had managed to heal her with his new powers. This meant that Ariel could now come round to his house for the first time.

“Ariel, I’d like you to meet my mother,” Bert told her when she arrived, and introduced her to his Mum. He then explained why he’d had to keep her being ill a secret. Ariel didn’t mind; she was glad he had finally let her know. But she was left wondering, why had Joe told her Bert had a dark secret?

 

The End

 

19 September 2025

MF - Ruler of Seas - #2) Discovery

(Josie Sayz: This is the other part of my duology story Moonstone Fortress: Saviour of Ships that I shared a few years back. This is the alternative version of the story - what would have happened if Peter made different choices. It isn’t finished yet; I am only halfway in writing the story. I am really interested in finishing this, but life keeps getting in the way (all I seem to do is work and pay bills, but I guess that is what being an adult is all about). I figured that if I shared this, it would force me to keep at it, as I hate sharing unfinished work.

This is my Mary Shelley piece - I would love to know if you get that reference.

If you are interested in checking out Saviour of Ships, , you can find the prologue here:
https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2021/11/mf-saviour-of-ships-1-blackout.html

This is the second chapter. If you are interested in reading this, please find the first chapter here:
Chapter 1: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2025/01/mf-ruler-of-seas-1-charleston-mistake.html).

 

Moonstone Fortress

Ruler of Seas

Discovery

Slime squelched his palms. Water washed over him. His hands sank deeper. Rolling his head, he groaned as pain stabbed him in the neck. His eyes pierced open. Letting out a breath, his chest shook. Darkness. Something covered him. The grains scratched against his stubbled face. Roaring loudened. His skin dampened. He flinched, his right elbow jabbing into his side. Ramming his elbows into the ground, he threw himself up to sit. Light stabbed at his eyes. Throwing a hand in front of his face, he squinted. The fabric flopped to his lap. A breeze swept up his back. His damp shirt clung to his spine. He shuddered. Wrinkling his nose, he snapped his wrists out at his sides. Sodden sand clung to him. Grabbing the fabric, he scrunched his hands into it, scraping away the grained gunk. Shaking his head, he clambered to his feet. ‘Calico,’ he scorned, throwing the sheet to the ground. ‘I was left for dead.’

The distant roaring returned. His heart leapt. Shooting his head up, he scanned his surroundings. Sea. He staggered back. Sweeping towards him, the sea splashed at his ankles, before gripping the calico, yanking it back on its return. As he arched his head over his left shoulder, a seagull cawed overhead. He stared, balling his hands into fists. Perching on a cluster of rocks nearby, the seagull pecked its head towards the sand. A lump formed in his throat. He staggered forwards. A feathered flock swooped by. He shuddered. As they landed, he watched their heads bob up and down over the rock’s edge. Shaking his head, his stomach spiralled. “Poor guy,” he muttered, spotting a fleshed hand poking out of the debris. A shudder crept up his spine. Clawing a hand through his curled hair, he arched his head further left. Weight tugged at his legs. He growled. Glaring down as his feet, water washed towards him. He sank deeper. Sand gripped him between his toes. Kicking his ankles about, the pulse pounded in his ears. Ramming his fists into his pockets, he let out a sigh. They were empty. Scratching a hand to his stubble, his shirt sleeves were torn. Blood blotched his arm.

Leaping away from the sinking sand, he staggered onto a rock. Staring ahead, his eyes widened. His heart gave a fierce thud, before dropping to his stomach. Lodged on the rocky shore lay a ship. His brow lined, as the breeze swept at his face. Cracked through the centre, two halves of a wooden vessel protruded out of the sand. Pointing out in different directions, the stern and bow of the ship angled towards the sky. Waves lashed, crashing water over the cracked craft. Seeping through the ship, water dragged fragments of the framework further inland. Staggering forwards, he shook his head. Images flashed before his eyes. The storm. His pulse pounded. Cannons. He swallowed hard. A ship. His stomach spiralled. A wolf’s head. His chest heaved. The black flag. Fog. Rocks. He gasped. Long Tom. The mast. His heart leapt to his throat.

Leaping down from the rocks, he splashed into the shallows surrounding the wreckage. Wooden chippings washed around his feet. Clambering into the middle of the two halves, his eyes scanned the debris for signs of whether the wreckage was the ship that he had been held captive on. He stretched his neck, as he arched his head over bobbing barrels and drifting wood. Sloshing through the shallows, something scraped against his shin. He crouched down, scooping a plank out of water. Tossing it into the air, a little, and catching it, he tested its weight. He let out a gentle hum, as he rocked the plank back and forth in his left hand. Flipping it over, his eyes widened. The name ‘Charleston’ was etched into the plank. Scratching his thumbnail against the wood, he hummed again. “King’s ship,” he muttered under his breath. A powdered, white wig of curls flashed before him. The billowed navy justacorps. The rosy cheeks of the captain’s pale face. Snarling his nose, he spat at the plank. ‘The ship…’ he grumbled. ‘Stupid captain,’ he growled. ‘Shoulda listened t’ me. Now look.’ Lowering the plank to his side, his eyes scanned over the vessel. Double decked. A single mast. Rolling his eyes at the debris and destruction, he shook his head. ‘It’ll do as a weapon,’ he decided, swinging the plank at his side. ‘Until I find something else.’

Scraping a hand through his hair, he turned around. The waves had washed over his footsteps. Glancing down the shore, water had washed over any sign of his existence. As he arched his head around the island, his eyes lay upon the mossed, mounded mountain and the forest of trees that clung to its side. Clinging a hand to his blooded arm, he winced. ‘There’d better be spare armour or clothing in this junk,’ he grumbled, turning on his heels to face the shipwreck. Sloshing through the shallows, he kicked at cracked planks, damaged hinges and fragments of wood. Nearing the hull of the stern’s half of the ship, his eyes scanned over the portholes and the ship’s levels. He sniffed, wrinkling his nose, as he neared what appeared to be a manmade hole in the side of the ship. Fragments of wood splintered the ground, at his feet.

Heaving himself over the hacked at hole, crates lay scattered inside the body of the ship. Throwing his legs over the entranceway, he lowered himself inside. As his feet pressed into the ground, he seeped a breath through gritted teeth. Shards of glass stabbed him in the heel. He winced, staggering forwards. Flopping onto a crate, he peered inside. Empty. Staggering down the room, he gripped a hand to each crate as he passed. Iron nails littered the ground. Every crate had all been forced open and their contents swiped. Kicking at a spoon on the floor, he growled, throwing himself into the crate at the end of the room. Heaving his weight into it, something rustled inside. With a sharp inhale through his nose, he straightened his back. He stretched up on his tiptoes and dipped his head inside. Balls of scrunched paper lay on top of a lump of cloth. Reaching his hand inside, he kicked his toes off the ground, as he tipped himself towards the depth of the crate. He swayed, kicking his legs out behind him. Sliding deeper into the crate, he clawed his hands out at the cloth. The tip of his nails scratched the surface. With a grunt, he switched hands. Pressing his right hand into the edge of the crate, he prodded his weight onto his elbow. Stretching forwards with his left hand, he swiped a swing at the fabric. Digging his stomach into the crate’s rim, he kicked his legs back. His face scrunched, as she strained the stretch of his arm further. Grunting, he took one last swipe. His nails scratched against the material. With a murmuring groan, he spiked out his fingers and clawed the fabric into his palm. A gasp escaped him. Jabbing both hands into the crate’s frame, he lowered his legs back to the ground. Blood pounded at his temples. He swayed, toppling to his left, as the heat drained from his face.

Shaking the cloth out in front of him, two sleeves flapped at his sides. His brow furrowed. Wide enough to fit three of him inside, a baggy, greyed, calico shirt wafted out in front of him. Tugging it over his head, it draped over him, like a dress. He puffed out a breath, as he scrunched up the shirt fabric and yanked at his belt, freeing it from his stirrups. Wrapping the leather strap around his waist, he puckered the excess shirt under his ribcage.

Clambering out from inside the ship, with his ‘Charleston’ plank in hand, he made his way towards the divide in the ship. The main mast of the ship lay in the sand, between the two halves of the Charleston. Engulfed by the sludge of the sand, the ship’s mast has begun to sink. Stepping onto the mast, he staggered forwards, as the pole sunk deeper. His arms flapped at his sides, as he leapt towards the main deck. Cracked wooden planks, with splintered, jiggered edges spiked out towards him. Kicking at the cracked decking, a beam bounced back towards him. He gasped, ducking. His heart leapt. Swallowing, he threw his head over his shoulder, towards the other half of the ship. A bundle of broken barrels and crate lids bobbed as the wind grew fierce. Waves thundered behind him. Leaping into the shallowed waters, he fumbled towards the wooden debris. As the hissing of a storm swirled in his ears, he grabbed out for an open barrel and poked his head inside. Swiping a rag from the barrel’s depth, he scrunched his nose, before heaving the container to the side and trudging onto the next. Empty. His shoulder blades stiffened. His heart thumped. Empty. He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as he lunged for the ned barrel. Grabbing the next barrel, his brows daggered, as he looked inside. Light glimmered off the surface of an object. His eyes widened. Diving his arm into inside, his hand gripped the neck of a bottle. Swiping it from the container, he yanked its cork. Wafting his nose to the lip of the bottle, he gave a whiff. He let out a hum as a smile stretched across his face. “Rum,” he beamed. Pressing the bottle to his lips, his tossed his head back.

Wind gushed through his hair. He puffed his chest out, letting the gusts dry out his sodden locks. As he took another swig of his rum, something thudded into his foot. Scrunching up his face, he splashed a fist into the water. A frown fixed upon his brow, as he fished out another bottle. Tilting his head to the right, he squinted. There was no liquid inside, instead a roll of parchment replaced the expected nectar. Gripping the cork between his teeth, he yanked his head to the right, swinging the bottle away from him. With a pop, the cork sprung free. Wedging his bottle of nectar between his right arm and his ribcage, he shook the other bottle upside down. As the parchment edged towards the lip of the bottle, he pinched it tight and gave a swift yank. Dropping the empty bottle, he unravelled the message. “Ha!” he laughed aloud, with scorn, as he read the inscription: “Attacked by pirates. Send help.” Snarling his nose, he shook his head. ‘Those stupid privateers thought this could save them?’ Scrunching up the piece of paper, he threw it over his shoulder. ‘They reached their end before the bottle even got here,’ he scoffed. ‘Bunch of useless landlubbers.’

Wading through the waters, he clambered onto a cluster of rocks. Rising from the wave’s ripples, he kicked droplets of water from his feet. Flopping down to sit, his stomach growled. Thumping it, he doubled up on the mound, gazing over the debris, being dragged along the sandbanks. Fragments of plank chippings floated to his right, as the current dragged them towards a towering rock formation. Tilting his head to the left, he gazed on at the rocked area, scratching a hand to his stubble. Thump. The ground vibrated. Twisting his head to the right, he lowered his sight to the shallowed waters. Thump. A wooden plank crashed into the rock he was perched upon. He cocked up an eyebrow, as he noticed a sheet of calico wrapped around something rectangular. Shifting his weight to his knees, he stretched down towards the calico pile. With a grunt, he clasped his fingers around the packaged and dragged it towards him. Shuffling around, he crossed his legs, lying the packaged in his lap. As he tugged the calico casing back, his brow furrowed. ‘A book?’ he frowned, as a dark, dampened, leathered book flopped into his hands. Stroking a hand across the cover, the leather crumbled upon his touch. Flipping the book over, four tarnished, metal squares fastened against the fabric – one near each of the corners. ‘Why would someone wrap a book up in calico?’ he wondered, as he fanned the pages. They were dry. Lines deepened on his brow. ‘How is the book dry?’ he wondered, as he flicked open a random page. ‘And the ink hasn’t run. How peculiar.’ He stooped his neck, as he skimmed over the pages and let out a long, slow hum. ‘Trying to hide something are we?’ he mused, as he flipped open the front cover. “Property of Captain H. Halakan,” he read aloud, stroking a hand to his stubble. ‘The privateer captain… this could be interesting.’ Raising an eyebrow, he propped his elbow upon his left knee, balled his hand into a fist and leant his cheek against it, as he skimmed through the captain’s book.

His stomach spiralled. His heart rattled against his ribcage, as his eyes raced across another page. Feeling a lump lodge in his throat, he swiped the next page over. ‘This is madness,’ he declared, as the pulse pounded in his temples. ‘They weren’t privateers…’ Dancing his eyes across the page, he came upon the words, ‘kill,’ ‘defeat,’ and ‘destroy.’ A shudder crept up his back. ‘They don’t deserve to fly the Castellus flag,’ he shook his head. ‘They’re no better than a brutal band of buccaneers.’ Snarling his nose, he glared at Captain Halaken’s swirly writing. ‘I’d have been dead if I stayed on their ship and that’s before docking in the king’s harbour. That captain was going to get us all killed.’

His nose wrinkled. Sniffing, an ashen, damp pine stench seeped into his nostrils. His face scrunched up, as he lunged forwards, letting out a whooping cough. Clambering to his feet, the gunpowder, clouded scent clung to the back of his throat. His eyes darted from right to left, as he cupped a hand to his forehead and scanned his surroundings. Smoke billowed out from a cluster of rocks, off to his right. Scratching a hand to the back of his neck, his heart leapt to his throat. He snapped Captain Halaken’s journal shut and stuffed it down the back of his trousers and threw his shirt over the book. Swiping his Charleston plank, he took one final scan around at his surroundings, before leaping onto the water.

Sloshing through the shallows, he staggered towards the rock formation. He arched his back, scrunched his nose scrunched and threw his right arm across his face, as the smoke danced towards him. Thud-thud. His heart rapped in his chest. A lump leapt into this throat as he neared to cave entrance billowing with smoke. Sweat dripped from his brow. Swallowing hard, his chest shuddered. The smoke thickened. Creeping one foot in front of the other, he peered his head around the opening within the rocks. His stomach swirled. An amber glow hissed ahead. His eyes pierced wide. Retreating from the mouth of the cave, he pressed himself back against the rocks, as his heart hammered. His grip around the ‘Charleston’ plank of wood tightened, as he crossed it over his body. ‘You’d better work.’ The lines around his nose and mouth crumpled, as he glared at the thick chunk of wood in his hands. Gritting his teeth, he seeped in a deep breath. ‘This is it,’ he told himself, as his intestines knotted.

Hunched over his weapon, he ducked his head below the smoke level. Squinting his eyes towards the light, he shuffled forwards. His heart raced. His chest trembled. Swallowing hard, he snarled his expression, stepping deeper into the cave. Footsteps thundered towards him. He held his breath. “Aaarrrrrrgh!” came a war-cry to his right. Piercing his eyes wide, he tightened the grip around his wooden plank. Twisting his body, he swung the plank back, ready to lunge. “Wait!” cried a voice, as a glint of light shimmered off the blade of a meat cleaver, hovering over his head. Crouching, he jabbed his ship fragment at the towering man before him. “Easy! Easy!” cried the man, lowering his weapon. “Aye,” he beamed. “I know you.” Swallowing, he let out a shaky breath, lowering his wooden plank. “Yer the kid who saved me life, back on the Charleston.” Wafting the smoke from his face, he squinted towards the booming man before him. “Name’s Brandon,” he grinned, extending a hand out towards him. Prodding the left corner of his mouth up, the former prisoner of the Charleston clapped his hand into his acquaintance’s and shook it.

“Pete,” he nodded.

“Come ‘ere Petey,” beamed Brandon, pulling Pete into an embrace, thumping a hand upon the lad’s back.

“It’s Pete,” he mumbled, squeaking a breath, as his face plunged into the podgy man’s stained pits. Leaning out of their embrace, Pete twisted his head around to catch a glimpse of the face of his acquaintance. The man’s thick, dark hair scruffed out like a mane around his face. Pete’s eyes widened. ‘The man from the Long Tom,’ he realised, seeping a breath. Pete had seen him, back on the Charleston; he had helped him and another of Halaken’s crew with firing at the attacking wolf-headed pirate ship. As Brandon released Pete from their tight embrace, Pete glanced the man up and down. Puckering his brow, Pete observed that he, himself, was not the only member of the ship to suffer. His bellied companion had been stripped of the navy jacket that he had been wearing upon the Charleston. His white shirt was now yellowed, torn in several places and the buttons fastening the cloth at his bulging belly were missing. Mud blotched his face and his bare forearms.

The glowing ambers of the fire crackled and hissed beside them. Arching his head around his chubby companion, Pete’s eyes flickered from the dancing flames of the campfire in the cave’s centre, to the rocked edges surrounding him. He shuddered. A droplet of water trickled down the back of his neck. Rolling his shoulders, he shifted his sights to the shimmering stalactites above. Skimming his eyes around, moss crept across every crevice. Water glistened, swaying around the stalagmites cracking up from the ground.

Something sparkled. With a gasp, he flung his head around. Shifting his eyes from the campfire to his companion, his heart leapt to his throat. His eyes bulged as they fixated upon the cleaver that hung from Brandon’s hand. “Sorry I scared ya,” beamed Brandon with a shrug. “I was defendin’ meself, like,” he added, with a shrug. “I didn’t know if yer were one a them pirates.”

“They’re here?” gasped Pete, as his brow puckered. His heart raced. Tightening the grip of his ‘Charleston’ plank, he flung his head over his shoulder, eyes darting from right to left.

“Not too sure, like,” Brandon told him. “I ain’t seen ‘em, but that’s not t’ say they’re not hidin’ around these parts. They must ‘ave seen our ship crash. You must ‘ave seen the sight of it.” Pete nodded. “If I was them pirates, I’d be snoopin’ around… seein’ if there’s anythin’ of value ta loot. Dare say you’ve already had a look, ain’t ya?” Brandon asked. Shrugging his shoulders, Pete nodded.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t find anything,” mumbled Pete, rolling his eyes.

“Me either,” Brandon confessed. “Nothing except this choppin’ knife anyways.” Beefing out his chest, Brandon swung the cleaver about, slashing at the air. Staggering back, Pete shuddered. “Sorry lad,” Brandon muttered, lowering his blade. “Knew I needed a weapon,” he added. “The chef’s choppin’ knife’s all I could find,” he confessed with a shrug.

“Beats this,” Pete muttered, waving his ‘Charleston’ plank at Brandon.

“Woulda done ya better than no weapon, had ya been attacked,” Brandon told him. “Good on ya fer protectin’ yerself, like.”

Scratching his head, Pete paced around the cave. “So, are you the only survivor?” he asked Brandon, as the larger man tossed three more planks of wood onto the fire. Crackling under the heat, the wood snapped. Ash fluttered into the air. Wavering a hand in front of his face, Brandon let out a breathy cough.

“Dunno,” Brandon confessed with a shrug. “If you’re askin’ if I’ve seen anyone else, I’m afraid you’re the first I’ve ran inta.” Holding his hands over the blaze, Brandon rubbed his palms together. “I dare say Captain Halaken, along wiv some a the crew, made their way t’ the village, like, ya know, safety in numbers.”

“There’s a village!” Pete gasped.

“Yup,” nodded Brandon.

“Do you know how t’ get there?” asked Pete, nearing the fire.

“We j’st need ta follow the path through the forest,” Brandon told him. “Now that there’s two a us, should be a cinch.”

“You were waiting for me?” Pete frowned, turning towards his companion.

“Not you exactly,” Brandon confessed, running a hand across the back of his neck. “J’st a companion of sorts. I ‘ad hopes I wasn’t the only lost soul Halaken an’ the crew left behind.” Stretching his left leg over a cluster of stalagmites, Brandon waded through the rockpools to the farthest, dark corner of the cave. “Yer can’t go a wonderin’ strange grounds alone,” Brandon told Pete, arching his head over his shoulder. “Who knows what’ll jump out at ya.” Crouching, Brandon scooped up a handful of water. Splashing it in his face, the privateer vibrated his lips, as he shook his head. “Besides,” he muttered, as he scrubbed his face against his shirt. “With a weapon like that,” looking up, Brandon jabbed a thumb at Pete’s plank. “Yer gonna need all the help you can get.”

With the glow in the campfire fading, Brandon led the way out from the cave. As Brandon hunched over his blade, Pete rolled his stiffened shoulders. Returning to daylight, Pete squinted his eyes, as they adjusted to the brightness. Arching his head over his shoulder, Pete glanced back towards the protruding shipwreck. His eyes fixed upon the flock of seagulls feasting. He shuddered. A hand thumped him on the back. “Some a us weren’t so lucky, like,” muttered Brandon, as he caught sight of the seagulls’ feast. Pete’s shoulders sunk, as he lowered his sight to his feet. “Keep ya spirits up,” Brandon beamed. “It’s all a parta this game. The game a life. Some win. Others lose. You mister, ‘ave been given a second chance.” Looking up at Brandon, Pete smirked. “I suggest ya use it wisely.”

Arching around the sanded shoreline, Brandon led them towards the foliaged boarder. A forest of trees mounted over them. “Keep yer ears open f’ the sound a streamin’ water,” Brandon told him. “The river’ll lead us right t’ the village.” As they ventured deeper into the forest, Pete straightened his posture and arched his head around at his surroundings. Gazing up at the tree-topped skyline Pete let out a whistle.

‘A guy could get lost out here,’ he mused, prodding the left corner of his mouth into his cheek. ‘Might make a good hideaway.’ His smirk dropped. ‘Could also mean we’re being watched,’ he realised, feeling his insides knot. He snapped his eyes shut and seeped a breath, as something scratched his foot. Dropping his sight to the sanded ground, Pete wrinkled his nose at the cracked shells and chippings of rocks that littered the ground at his feet. Toppling to his right, Pete wavered his arms out for balance.

“We’d better find ya some shoes, boy,” Brandon observed.

“I’m okay,” Pete muttered. Pulse pounded up his leg. “I’m okay,” he repeated with a shrug. His stare hardened. “It’s only a cut,” he muttered to his companion. “Worse could happen,” he added with another shrug. “And probably will,” he mumbled, flickering a glance over his shoulder.

Slashing his blade through branches and bushes, Brandon led them deeper into the forest. As the rhythmical rocking and seaweed stench of the sea faded, Pete’s shoulders relaxed. Fluttering his lids, he took a long, slow breath. Dampen, musky barks and sweet dew grasses wafted up his nostrils. A soothing buzz of bees hovered from a nearby birch tree. Striding deeper through the forest, Pete’s eyes flickered from tree to tree, examining the barks, as the black and grey birches faded into golden maples and blossoming oaks.

Pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Pete held his breath. His eyes widened, as his ears pricked up. Gushing hissed to his right. Twitching his head, he nudged Brandon’s side. “The river,” Pete announced, straying from the path. “I can hear it.” Pete raced towards a mound of rocks and began clambering over them.

“Careful!” Brandon called, as he stumbled after him. “Careful!” he projected again, watching as Pete staggered down the other side of the rocks.

Parting the privet that lined their path, Pete arched his head back towards his companion and nodded. As the larger man passed through the parting, his eyes widened. “Aye, we were right,” Brandon muttered. “Should lead us straight ta the village,” he told Pete, as he crouched down at the stony strand. Passing through the privet, Pete perched alongside his companion, at the pebbled edge of the riverbank.

“So what’s at the village?” Pete asked, as he gazed ahead at the thickened bushes that they were yet to traverse. “What good will it do us?”

“Well, there’s an inn,” Brandon told him, as he plonked himself down on a rock. “It’s a called the Wreck-Age. When Halaken came to, he woulda gathered any survivors an’ headed straight there.” Pressing a hand to the captain’s journal tucked down the back of his shirt, the pulse pounded at Pete’s temple. “If he ain’t there, we’ve gots Garrin we can rely on – he’s the innkeeper. Lovely fella, Garrin. He’ll lend us a room an’ let us send message t’ the king about what happened,” Brandon continued. Seeing Pete’s eyes widen and his brows slant together at the mention of the king, Brandon added, “Don’t you worry none, Petey. I’ll make sure t’ put in a good word fer yer wiv King Charleston, like. You saved me life, Petey. Fer that I’m eternally grateful.”

“It was nothin’,” Pete shrugged, sinking his palms into the pebbles, as he stretched his arms back behind himself. “So, you’ve been here before?”

“Aye,” Brandon nodded. “As a matter a fact, I have. There weren’t no pirates, no shipwreck or the like,” he assured Pete, giving him a nudge. “We docked in the village harbour. ‘Ad t’ pass on information a do with smugglers an’ the likes. Pirates ‘ad been stealin’ the isle’s supplies an’ passin’ ‘em off as their own once they docked inta Castellus.”

“You knew?” Pete raged, snarling his nose, as he spun his head towards Brandon. “About the pirates, about the captain’s orders to kill, defeat and destroy anything that crossed path – without a second thought.”

“N-n-now how’d you know ‘bout that?” stuttered Brandon, scratching a hand to his neck.

“You’re not privateers,” spat Pete, jabbing a finger at Brandon. “The lot of you are no better than the band a pirates that were hoping to blast you outta the sea,” he raged. “You’re not king’s men. You’re blood thirsty, heartless killers.”

“Aye,” Brandon sighed, deflating his shoulders. “Cap’in Halaken may ‘ave got carried away wiv his orders, like,” he confessed, lowering his head. Sifting his hands through the pebbles, Brandon let out a long sigh, before continuing on with his confession, “He was under strict word from King Charleston not t’ let word slip what we were up to – didn’t want Castellus panickin’ over pirates.” Having scooped up a pile of stones, Brandon clambered to his feet. Lunging his right foot forwards, the large man snapped his wrist back and flung one of the stones into the river. It bounced twice before sploshing into the depths of the riverbed. “Truth is,” Brandon went on, as he skimmed another stone. “We were off ta Barkton Versulin with trade, ‘cept it was more information for protection, like – we tell them about the pirates, they help us defend tradesmen… only we never made it.” Punching his fists into the ground, Pete bounced up, gabbing a palmful of pebbles.

“What now?” asked Pete, stretching his arm back. Flinging a pebble forwards, it bounced once, before plopping down to the bottom of the river.

“Gotta give it a little more wrist,” Brandon told him. “Like this.” Taking another stone in his right hand, Brandon snapped his wrist back. As he flung his arm forwards, Brandon’s wrist flicked the shingle towards the river. Scraping the skin of the water, the shingle hopped against the surface twice before sinking. Pete nodded at Brandon as he placed a pebble into his left hand, before shifting is weight forwards onto his left leg. Stretching his wrist back, Pete held his breath before snapping the stone forwards. Brandon exhaled a whistle, as Pete’s pebble shot through the air, skipping over the surface of the river three times, before making a splosh. “Impressive,” Brandon beamed. Slapping a hand to Pete’s back, Brandon chuckled, “Yer a natural.” The smile drained from Brandon’s face, as he glanced down at the pile of pebbles in his hand. His shoulders drooped, as he let out a sigh. “What’s next?” Brandon muttered, continuing with their conversation. “Who knows,” he shrugged. “Guess we find out when we get there.” With a nod, Pete sprinkled his assortment of stones back to the sanded bank and shot his head upstream. Humming, Brandon nodded. Swiping his blade from the ground, the large man grunted, as he plodded one foot in front of the other.

Traversing along the river’s edge, Pete poked a finger towards a line of coloured fabric flapping in the distance. “We could do with swiping some new clothes,” Pete announced.

“New clothes, yes,” Brandon nodded, pulling at his slashed shirt. “Stealin’, no,” he added, flashing his companion a firm glare.

“It’s not stealing if there’s no one there,” Pete smirked. “Besides,” he added with a shrug. “We’ve got no coin. We can’t trade anything.”

“True,” Brandon muttered. “But that doesn’t justify stealin’.”

Further upstream, a collection of coloured fabric flapped in the breeze. Stretching from the golden maple in the distance, three strands of string stretched across the river and knotted around a grand oak. An array of admiral blue, ash and boysenberry capes, jackets, dresses, shirts and stockings shuddered against the wind. As Pete and Brandon neared the coloured clothing display, Pete’s eyes flickered between the fabric, eyeing up what would best suit him and his companion. “That black jacket might fit you,” Pete suggested, jabbing a finger up at a padded, coal-coloured, tailed jacket.

“True,” agreed Brandon, tilting his head to one side. “Still doesn’t justify stealing it,” Brandon warned, as he stood in front of the jacket, eyeing up the embroidery details on the cuffs.

“No one’s here,” Pete told him, with a shrug, turning back to Brandon, as he neared a large oak tree. “It’s not stealing if no one sees ya. Besides, who keeps such a vast array of clothes, all in different sizes, way out here, in the middle of nowhere? For all we know it’s free for any lost adventurer to take, when they’re in great need and right now, we are those lost adventurers in great need.”

“I guess,” Brandon muttered, as his hands hesitated towards the garment. Retracting his arm, Brandon ran a hand to the back of his neck, feeling is intestines spiral in a circumbendibus.

Whilst Brandon fought with his conscience, Pete strode towards a pile of sacks slumped against a large oak tree. Flickering a glance up at the tree’s bark, Pete’s eyes widened. His lips parted. Etched into the centre of the bark was a circle, with five lines scratched across it, forming a star. To the left, a crescent moon clung to the edge of the arch. Staring, his vision blurred. Reeds rustled beside him. Shuddering, he broke his gaze with the bark and spun around towards the rustling reeds. His eyes widened. His lips parted. Perched on the top of a cluster of calico sacks, sat a pair of black, leather, soled shoes. “Wow,” he breathed, feeling a smiled poke into the corner of his mouth. ‘Just the thing I need,’ he thought, swiping them. “Hey Brandon!” Pete called, turning to his companion. “Look what I-” A branch cracked behind him. Flinging his head over his right shoulder, Pete’s eyes shot wide open.

“Oi!” croaked a wrinkled man, with grey hair, crouched over a wooden cane. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Run!” Pete yelled. Throwing one foot in front of the other, Pete raced towards Brandon, who was already wearing the charcoal, claw-hammer tailed jacket. A smirk prodded into Pete’s cheek, as he spotted Brandon. Throwing his head over his right shoulder, Pete glanced back at the frail man.

“You’ll rue the day you stole from me, sonny,” raged the elder, jabbing his walking stick in Pete’s direction. “You’ll rue it.”

Having clambered over a mound of rocks, to escape the wrath of the man they stole from, the pair scrambled further upstream, before stopping to rest along another pebbled patch of the riverbank. “I knew we shouldn’t a stole ‘em,” Brandon wailed, shaking his head, as he paced back and forth.

“What does a frail, old man need an oversized jacket for?” asked Pete, as he sat on the ground, lacing up his new shoes. “You could fit three of him in it easily – no offence,” he added, flicking a sheepish glance up at Brandon. “It suits you, by the way,” Pete told his companion, as he leapt to his feet.

“Thanks,” grumbled Brandon, prodding the right of his mouth into his cheek, with a failed smile. “I, er, I got yer this,” mumbled Brandon, holding out a navy-coloured cape. “Afore I knew we were actually stealin’, like.”

“Wow, thanks,” Pete breathed.

With his new cape on his shoulders and his leather shoes laced on his feet, Pete took the lead, as the pair strode along a grassy path. A smirk swept across Pete’s face and he chuckled to himself, as the image of the raging old man flickered to the front of his mind. Glancing down at his shoes, his smile stretched across his face. “You know,” Pete began, as he wiggled his toes. “I think these are the comfiest shoes I’ve ever owned,” he declared to his companion.

“Shame they’re stole,” Brandon scoffed.

“Hey! It worked in your favour too,” professed Pete. “You got yourself some new threads.”

“Yeah,” Brandon grumbled, rolling his eyes. Stretching his arms out, the larger man tugged at the sleeves of his new jacket. “And they don’t fit.” Yanking at the front of his jacket, Brandon held his breath, as he tried to pull the button towards the buttonhole. “Serves me right,” Brandon grumbled under his breath.

“Cheer up,” chuckled Pete, hiding a snigger at Brandon’s expense.  “Would you rather turn up to the village all scraped up and draw attention to yourself?” Scrunching his nose, Brandon shrugged.

The pair trudged on in silence. Pressing a hand to his knee, Pete’s footsteps steepened. Gravel crunched beneath the soles of his new shoes. Inhaling a slow, deep breath, Pete belched out a whooping cough, as a thick sooty-ash scent clung to the back of his throat. Thumping a hand to Pete’s back, Brandon let out a chuckle. “Yer alright?” asked Brandon.

“Yer,” Pete wheezed, thumping a fist at his chest. Wrinkling his nose, he arched his head towards the tops of the treeline. “Smoke?!” he gasped, jabbing a finger up as wisps of sooty smoke swirled into the sky.

“Bet it’s a chimney,” Brandon told him. Cupping a hand around his right ear, Brandon eased forward. His eyes widened. “Can you hear it?” he hissed.

“Hear what?” Pete shrugged.

“The sea,” Brandon gasped. Pete’s brow furrowed. “We made it.”

“The sea?” Pete repeated, scraping a hand through his hair. “You mean we’re back where we started? We’ve come full loop?” he cried, clawing a hand at his curls.

“No,” Brandon breathed, as a grin prodded into the corners of his mouth. “It’s the harbour… the village…” Racing on, Brandon parted a bramble of bushes. Scrambling through them, a breath escaped Pete as his lips parted.

- Josie -