The spell amplifier was all pipes and keys, like a huge church organ that had been remodelled into a bazooka. The All-Seeing Eye began to play it, her ten fingers dancing on the piano keys that encircled the widest part of its body. The music that was formed was not like a piano or an organ; it was more like the twittering of birds, melodic and piercing.
‘The bottle, please, Emily.’
Emily handed the bottle to the All-Seeing Eye, who opened a tiny door at the tip of the spell amplifier. She poured in a few drops of deer scent, through a tiny, purple, glass funnel, then closed the door.
‘It’s ready. Now where do we send it?’
She checked the view through the telescope, as it automatically rotated into three different positions. She was seeing the positions of the hunters, the stag and, just to keep an eye, the ambusher, whose terrible profile and potential for evil was growing by the second. She turned to a small drawer unit which sat alone in the centre of the viewing platform. It was black as night and lacked even the dull gleam of the other surfaces. She rummaged through the drawers until she eventually found a magnifying glass.
‘Aha! Let’s check the wind.’
‘It’s a wind glass,’ explained Granny Annie to Emily, ‘it lets you see the wind when you look through it. It’s great really. Tonight, it’ll tell us which way the wind will blow our deer scent, so it’ll go straight to the big stag.’
The All-Seeing Eye looked through the wind glass, then checked through the telescope again. Then she went to the spell amplifier and keyed in coordinates she’d taken from the telescope.
‘There,’ she said, pointing to an area off to the right of the trap. ‘They’re heading straight towards the cave from our position. The stag is on the mountain up to the lt. The wind is blowing right to left, or east to west, if you want to be technical. So, if we put the deer scent to the right of the cave, the stag should smell it and come straight down in front of the cave and the hunters, on his way across.’
She was pointing out the locations as she spoke and Emily knew it made perfect sense. She and Annie nodded their approval. The All-Seeing Eye slowly twisted a dial on the spell amplifier. The bird song began to play and a low rumble came from the device. Tiny lights blinked around the top and a dark green vapour formed around the very tip.
‘That’s the smell coming out, Emily. You might be able to see it better with this,’ said the All-Seeing Eye as she handed Emily the wind glass.
Emily held the glass up close to her eye and the world changed utterly. It was like looking into a swirling fog. Nothing solid or heavy existed, there was only the infinite dance of tiny molecules, flying free of all bonds to liquid or solid. The air was alive, great rivers flowing across the sleeping landscape, with tributaries and tiny eddies forming where the earth dared to interrupt its flow. Emily could clearly see a great river of air flowing in from the sea and up the Shannon, across the fields near the cave and hitting the mountain, where it shot up high into the sky. She turned to look at the tip of the spell amplifier. The green haze was much more clearly dined through the wind glass, forming a needle, like a laser, which shot down into the valley. Emily followed its path and could see its impact in a dazzling flash of sparks in a small grove of trees. The energetic sparks of pheromone were whipped up by the breeze and carried quickly across the hunters’ path. It amazed Emily to see a smell being carried on the wind. Within a minute, it had reached the mountain.
‘They’re getting very close to the cave now,’ said Granny Annie, who had been using the telescope to keep an eye on Malcolm and the others.
‘I’m on full power now,’ said the All-Seeing Eye, who continued to make tiny adjustments to the spell amplifier.
‘This would be a good time for a prayer,’ said Granny Annie. ‘Pity I don’t believe in that carry-on.’
Emily closed her eyes and prayed.
Chapter 18: EVOLUTION
It had taken about one hundred million years for him to get to that point. Through the endless cycles of evolution, a small, rat-like mammal had survived the decline of the dinosaurs. The mammal thrived and quickly evolved. Branches left the original path, leading to the creation of creatures as amazing and diverse as dolphins and elephants. The branch of the stag was a strong one and his kind, though threatened, continued to survive and thrive in many parts of wild Europe, even Ireland.
As he stood calmly in a clearing on the lower slopes of the mountain, his brain pulsed rapidly. His body was a powerful mass of muscle and bone, with a strong heart pumping blood, ripe with oxygen, from his hoofs to his proud antlers. He was a chemical beast, driven, compelled to find a mate, relying on his keen sense of smell to pick up the chemical signals that would lead him to her. There. Again. The molecules of her smell reached his brain and lit it up like a Christmas tree.
The survival of the species depended entirely on the smell. The smell was everything. He raised his head to the moon and roared as if to say "I’m on my way, dear!" Then, with a mighty leap, he was off, down the mountain at a gallop, homing in on the smell of his mate.
Chapter 19: A TWIST IN TIME
It was hard going, alright. Rivers of sweat rolled down their backs and the chill of the night was but a memory now.
‘When are we going to reach this cave, Roger?’
‘Not too long now, Mal. It’s just through those trees up ahead.’
‘I’m starving and tired and we haven’t even seen a deer yet.’
‘Not giving up, are you?’
‘No. I suppose I just moan a lot.’
‘Not to worry. I’ve been doing this since I was four. I shot my first rabbit when I was six. I’ll get a deer one of these days, you wait and see. Watch yourself here, it’s a bit tricky.’
Too late. Malcolm’s ankle slid into a furrow on the ploughed field they were crossing. When it reached the bottom, there was a stone waiting, which forced Malcolm’s foot to twist at an angle that wasn’t within its normal range.
‘Oww! I think I’ve twisted my ankle!’
‘Dad! Dad!’
‘Sssshhh, Roger. I think I hear something up ahead. What is it, son?’
‘Malcolm. He’s twisted his ankle.’
Farmer Blue handed his rifle to one of the men and rushed back to Malcolm, who sat on the ground rubbing his sore foot.
‘Can I see? Where’s it sorest?’
Farmer Blue gently massaged Malcolm’s ankle, then twisted it very slowly. Whenever Malcolm said "Ow" was registered in his mind. After he checked Malcolm’s pulse, he declared that it was a bad twist, but not broken.
‘That’s the end of your hunt, Malcolm. Sorry.’
‘Tut,’ tutted Malcolm, ‘I don’t want to ruin it for the rest of you.’
‘Not to worry. I don’t think that stag is coming out tonight. Unless...’
He stood suddenly and turned to face the mountain. He cupped a hand to his right ear and listened intently. He pointed towards the mountain.
‘He’s coming. This way. Firing positions, lads, we might get a clear shot. Roger and Malcolm, stay down and stay quiet, okay?’
‘Okay.’
Malcolm felt a giddy excitement overcome the throbbing pain in his ankle. He and Roger squatted low, keeping a good view of the proceedings. In front of them, a few metres nearer the trees in front of the cave, the men lay low, guns held in propped arms. They looked just like snipers in a war movie, thought Malcolm. One by one, they pulled back the bolts on the rifles, then pushed them forward, sending bullets into the barrels, ready for firing with just a flick of the safety catch and a squeeze of the trigger.
Malcolm heard the noise now, like a crashing object hurtling through trees. It sounded more like a grizzly bear and Malcolm felt a little pang of fear, for the first time that night, but not the last. He looked at Roger who gave a huge grin in return. Then they both fixed their attention on the trees, watching for the slightest movement, the tiniest glimpse of antler.
Chapter 20: ACTION STATIONS!
Af
ter Granny Annie’s update call, the coven swung into action. Sandwiches were made and strong tea was brewed, then they all sat down at the great table to decide what to do. After a brief, worried discussion, it was agreed that half of the witches would fly to the scene of the ambush and keep an eye on everything. For these witches really could fly on broomsticks, Grannies Smith and Annie had lied to Emily about this because they didn’t want her to be totally overwhelmed. This surprise would come later.
The other witches set up an incident room on the table. A computer, with connection to the witch internet, was set up and a witch began trawling through the files of "Suspicious People", holding a sketch that Granny Smith had drawn from Emily and Malcolm’s descriptions of the strange man on the train. She held the sketch beside the screen and clicked through the facial pictures on the computer with astonishing speed. A large board was placed against the wall and on it were stuck maps, pictures and snippets of information, all of which must somehow be tied together if Malcolm was to be saved.
‘This isn’t just about Malcolm,’ said Granny Annie to those who had chosen to analyse the information, just as the loud whooshes from outside confirmed that the flying squad were on their way to the scene of the potential crime, speeding low over the sleeping countryside. ‘This is also about little Roger Blue, who’s in danger too. And it’s about those other missing kids. And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if this was about our poor, dear Edna as well. Like, where is she?’
There was no answer. The remaining witches diligently analysed their information, made phone calls, listened to the wind and the trees, spoke to the sleepy birds outside and, of course, began to chant a variety of spells. The table also got involved, describing in more detail the area near the lake that held such fear for the trees. It was pinpointed on a map.
‘That’s where the old mine was,’ said Annie. ‘Sure, wouldn’t that be a perfect hiding place?’
‘Got him!’ exclaimed Lola, turning from the computer screen with a big smile on her fair face.
The other witches gathered round the screen. It definitely was him. The screen image was of a heavy face with a beard like a tangled gorse bush. His eyebrows flared up to frame small, beady eyes that had a powerful focus, like he could see you from the computer screen. His nose was rough and flat, like it had been broken more than once. His mouth was pure evil, thin and clever, it seemed to be repressing a smirk.
‘What does it say about him?’ called the table, by now feeling just a little bit left out.
‘His name is Seamus Mór, also known as Big Seamus, also known as...’
‘As what?’
‘As Mad Seamus with the Evil Eye. Not good. He’s been reported in a few different parts of Europe, but his last sighting was in Ireland, down in Waterford. It says here that he was chased out of the county for stealing lambs. His track record is worse, though. He’s been accused of doing evil magic resulting in the death of a family of four in Belgium. Also accused of causing a flood in France that wiped out half the wine crop.’
‘That is a crime,’ said a witch with a glass of red in her hand.
‘It gets even worse,’ continued Lola, ‘he’s been accused of trying to kidnap a child in London. The International Witch Police want a word with him on that one.’
‘Where’s he from? Is there any reason for his awful behaviour?’
‘It says that he was a schoolmaster up until ten years ago. His school closed down because there weren’t enough children to be taught. That must have driven him mad, because he has no history bore that.’
‘Where was his school?’
‘Blackwater, just the other side of the mountain.’
‘It’s him alright. He must be kidnapping children as some sort of revenge.’
‘Most likely. Now what information about this character will help our sisters and the children? God, I wish I believed in prayers.’
With renewed vigour, they returned to their task. This identification was a breakthrough and Mad Seamus’s profile was emailed to all and sundry, witches, police, witch police and newspapers. If the witches couldn’t sort out this guy, and he was an evil handful, maybe the mortals could help out. They were generally a nuisance, but witch pride couldn’t get in the way of this case.
Chapter 21: THE AMBUSH
They lay in wait, quiet, still. Malcolm’s ankle was throbbing again, the adrenaline having worn off. The sound from the trees to their left grew louder and a mighty stag appeared. On the edge of his cover, he stopped. He sniffed the air and detected the hunters, whose smells travelled on the same breeze as the smell of his prize. But her smell was stronger. So he ran. Across the open field he thundered. Ahead, he saw a clearing in the trees. This was where he knew she must be.
‘Here he comes lads. Safety off,’ whispered Farmer Blue.
The hunters gently eased the safety catches off and each was ready to send an ounce of red hot lead powering through the air to destroy the vital organs of the massive stag. Roger elbowed Malcolm in the ribs. Malcolm turned, startled. Roger had his forefingers in his ears and nodded to Malcolm to do the same. Malcolm did so, just in time, for then the firing started.
The stag’s bravery was matched only by his luck. As he single-mindedly raced to his goal, bullets whizzed past him. Most hit only leaves and twigs as they sped uselessly into the trees behind. Others hit the ground well away from the stag, lifting plumes of dirt and stones. One or two hit rocks and ricocheted noisily into the sky.
Malcolm almost wet his trousers when the shooting started. He had no idea that rifles were so loud; definitely much louder than on TV. And he was so close! He watched as the hunters calmly aimed, fired, reloaded, aimed and fired again. Over and over. A quick glance at the stag. He’s fine. Really big, but really fast, too. After another second, he was gone, into the trees and out of sight.
Farmer Blue jumped up, excited, adrenal gland pumping and breath catching. The other hunters got up and prepared to follow the stag, each exclaiming in colourful language how big and fast he was. It seemed the unanimous opinion that this was the biggest stag any of them had ever seen, or even heard of being seen in those parts.
‘What about Malcolm, dad?’ asked Roger. In the excitement, Malcolm’s twisted ankle had been forgotten.
‘Right. This isn’t good. Would it be okay for you boys to wait in the cave for us? Do a brew and we’ll keep after the stag for a few minutes. Would that be okay? We’ve never come this close to one so big.’
His face was pleading with Malcolm. Farmer Blue was like a big child, who wanted to stay up late on Christmas Eve so he could catch a glimpse of Santa Claus. Some would say that he should have put the child’s welfare first, but how was Farmer Blue to know that an evil kidnapper lay in wait?
‘It’s okay,’ said Malcolm. You go ahead. We’ll wait. I want to see the cave anyway.’
‘There’s a good lad. Can you manage him, Roger? Have you got all the bits and pieces in your backpack?’
Roger nodded and the men were off, running towards the trees where the stag was last seen. Malcolm put his arm over Roger’s shoulder and they slowly made their way towards the cave.
‘Did you see the size of him?’ said Malcolm.
‘He was big all right. Like your man on the Munster Rugby logo.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ laughed Malcolm. ‘Did you see the All Blacks match last week?’
‘Oh stop,’ said Roger. ‘I want to keep my memories of ‘78.’
‘I remember it well.’
‘Them were the days.’
Chapter 22: GOOD LUCK, BAD LUCK
Emily couldn’t believe her ears. The plan to lure the hunters away from the cave had worked a treat, but thanks to Malcolm and his stupid, twisted ankle, the boys were walking straight into the trap.
‘What do we do? What do we do?’ she asked anxiously.
Granny Annie had gone pale. She and the All-Seeing Eye became downcast when Malcolm twisted his ankle. It was almost as if they knew this w
ould cause the plan to backfire. This was worse than bore. The boys were on their own and the evil presence still lurked nearby.
The All-Seeing Eye looked through the telescope and focused on the bearded man. He stood behind a tree a few metres from the cave entrance. He had seen the commotion with the stag and a hunter’s bullet had, unluckily, missed him by a whisker. He saw that the boys were on their own and smiled to himself. It was a thin, nasty smile, like a crocodile’s expression bore it grabs a baby gazelle. Or two.
‘I’ll call the girls, see what they’re up to,’ offered Granny Annie. She just wanted to be doing something.
‘Emily, can you please keep an eye on this man?’ asked the All-Seeing Eye. ‘I’ve an idea that just might work.’
Emily took the telescope and eyed him closely. Again, he seemed to sense that someone was watching and glanced furtively into the bushes around his position. Then he disappeared as she saw the boys, who were almost at the cave entrance.
‘They’re nearly there!’ she called.
The All-Seeing Eye, who had gone downstairs, raced back up with another little bottle in her hand. She poured a few drops into the spell amplifier and focussed it on the cave entrance.
‘Where is he? I need a clear shot.’
‘I don’t know. He disappeared once the boys came into view. What are you doing?’
‘I’m going to try some sleeping potion on him. It might knock him out for a few seconds. I don’t know from this distance, it’s not as powerful as the deer scent. We’ll try, but I need a clean view of him.’
‘There he is! Coming out of the cave!’
‘Ready...’
‘No, wait! Here are the boys. They’re going into the cave.’
‘I’ve got to try.’
In the next instant, everything happened at once. The sleep bomb detonated, in a slow, lazy poof of gas. The All-Seeing Eye fired her sleep potion at the cave entrance. As Roger and Malcolm fell to the dirty cave floor, without even having had a chance to put on a pot of tea, the All-Seeing Eye’s spell amplifier picked up the sleep gas and sent it to her. She stepped back from the machine and looked at Emily with a smile on her face.