Young Writers Society

Chapter V – It begins…

Once again, Night shed her dark mantle over the earth, and the Wraith resumed its journey. With the sun safely down, and the moon a mere sliver in the sky, it resumed its journey. For Rupert was right. It was going to Sandroyd. It did indeed intend to steal the boys’ power of the Music from them. But it would not do it in the many which he expected. For, subverted to evil doing as it might be, the ex-musician could still remember how to use stealth, and it realised that it might not be the best option for it to just come striding into the school. It realised that there were several powerful Musicians present, and they would do anything to prevent a Wraith just walking up and knocking on the door.

It would have to be careful. It was time to practise its art. Reaching into the Music, it came to War, and passed through its main use without activating it. For War, as did Purity, had a subliminal tune, which skilled Musicians, or the evil Wraiths, could activate and put to whatever strange task they needed it for. For the War-Music could cause the user to change shape into something else at will.

Slowly, quietly at first but gaining power and sound, the Wraith began to hum. The tune was a harsh, discordant sound, but there was a smooth, powerful, tune underlying the main one that could not normally be heard. The Wraith concentrated on this. Soon a black whirling cloud hovered in front of him, its shape vaguely humanoid. It had studied its victims shape long and hard, flying in his spirit form over its site of residence. Once it had assumed the humans shape, the Wraith would come to the mans’ house and dispose of him quickly and quietly. It knew that the man was not married, and there would be no-one to notice his departure if the Wraith acted quickly. It had been practising the art of Words and Laughter, and it thought it was ready. It stepped into the cloud, and the humming abruptly stopped. The cloud intensified, streamers of black heading out, into the night.

Back in Shaftesbury, the power caught a dog escaped from its kennel, and it immediately grew three feet in height and length. Red fire burned in its eyes. It would now serve the evil purpose of the subverted Musicians until it was destroyed.

In a small village on the other side of the river, the power caught a pub, and shortly after black cloaked shapes streamed out and into the houses nearby. Others ran into the woods, seeking blood; fresh blood.

The Wraith chuckled inwardly. It had not expected this to happen, and at first it had been deeply shocked, but now it was merely pleasantly surprised. He had caused more evil to enter the world, further shifting the imbalance. It had never shape-shifted before, but there was a first time for everything.

The creature strode out into the night, for all aspects now an ordinary human being. Its dark blue eyes sparkled with what appeared to be humour. Those who got close enough to discover that it wasn’t would never be able to tell anyone.

It covered the distance at speed, at one with the night, full of dark intent. It reached the beginning of the Westland downs shortly before dawn and, finding a convenient hollow, lay down to rest and wait out the day. It could wait. It had always been able to wait, no matter how close the victim, how tempting the power, it had always known Patience, and Patience had proved to be its ally. The Creature knew that it would serve no purpose, except to weaken him further, to journey in the Sun. Anyway, it was only another five miles to the mans’ house, and then only one mile to the School. And then it would feast on the blood of the boys. It could already taste the warm flow of the Music entering its body through the red liquid. Oh, yes, the Wraith could wait.

Chapter VI – Confusion…

Rupert finally drifted off to sleep at about three in the morning. He had Music Appreciation the next day and if he wasn’t rested than he would most likely not even be able to get past The Music of Life. Then again, maybe that would be a good thing. It would mean that he would not have to feel the pressure of the Fifth intruding upon his powers. It would mean that he could bury his fears in a pit of normality.

Once again he awoke at Dawn and went to the window. But today was not one of the halcyon days of the past week, but rather a day of rolling clouds and of dark desires. The birds were not singing. Never before had it been so depressing the day after the great celebrations of the 19th June. Yet this day was only celebrated in Music circles, which meant that Sandroyd did not really celebrate it at all. Rupert shuddered at this depressing thought. Today really was a day for the downtrodden and pessimistic. He barely cared any more. The weather matched his mood, dark and brooding, a prescience of storms to come.

Suddenly a wave of nausea rose to engulf him, as if his spirit was trying to shuck its skin and fly away. He resisted for a few seconds and then he allowed it to happen calmly. He flew over the woods and the playing fields, over the downs and the pastures full of sheep huddled against the biting wind, until he came to rest at a place not seven miles from the School. At first he noticed nothing special and was preparing to force his spirit to return to its body when he saw something stir in a hollow next to the hedge. He curiosity piqued, he walked, or rather floated, over and looked down into the dell. He stared. Mr. Jones was sitting there, mumbling to himself. Rupert gasped and his teachers head snapped up.

“Who’s there?” came the sharp riposte.

Rupert did not reply. Instead, he hurried backwards and tripped over a stone lying in the field, such was his hurry to leave. For some reason Mr. Jones scared him. What his teacher was doing unnerved the boy badly. It was not natural for him to be sitting in the middle of the field.

With a swishing sound his spirit flew on silver wings back over the wood and into his dorm. He saw as he descended into his body, in a moment of unreality, the eyes of his corporeal open and for a moment he was seeing the world from two angles.

Disorientated, he climbed back up onto his bed, mulling over what he had just seen. There was no question about the fact that it had been Mr. Jones he had seen sitting in the hollow, he could feel his power emanating as strongly as it always had. It had to be him. Yet that did not explain why he had been sitting in the middle of a field at six thirty in the morning. Rupert mulled over this fact as he lay in his bed, but eventually he dismissed it, reasoning that Mr. Jones was a Musician of the highest order, a follower of the Sixth, and he would have been out there for his own good reasons. Yet, deep inside himself, Rupert was not satisfied with his explanation. Why had his teacher spoken so sharply when he had looked up? Was it fear in his voice?

* * * * * *

Sitting in the dell, Mr. Jones laughed, a deep, rich, mellow laugh full of merriment. He was happy. Slowly he returned back to his house, unlocking the door and taking off his coat in one movement. He loved his life. He loved teaching the boys, he loved the power he felt; he was full of joy.

The sun finally broke through the clouds just as Mr. Jones left his house to begin the walk down to Sandroyd. The clouds were rolling apart, the sun a beacon of brightness fairly high in the sky. The day that had looked to be so unpromising to Rupert looked as if it was going to be a scorcher just like the one before.

Briskly the teacher set off through the tranquil woods, striding past all the little flowers and woodland creatures, the oaks and the ashes in their groves, the young beeches planted by the woodsman ten years ago. Life was everywhere.

“This will be the first to fall under the Evil. What can I do? All my senses are alert, ready for someone to combat me, but who will dare? For I was the one who turned down the High-Musicianship.”

Eventually, he reached the school and strode into the staff room. The teachers were soporific, barely looking up when he entered into the room. He sat down with a sigh. This room stifled him. The closeness of it all, the teachers all lying on the various easy chairs. He hated it. His body longed for the woods and the fields of his home. He longed for the day to be over, and yet it had barely begun.

“Mr. Jones, it’s time for the lessons to begin. Come on, man!”

Slowly, wearily, the music master lifted himself up and walked to the door. Slowly, wearily, he opened it. Slowly, wearily, he walked down the corridor and finally into the classroom where he was to begin his teaching.

Sitting in the classroom, Rupert saw his teacher enter and breathed a sigh of relief. It was obviously a dream, all that nonsense about sitting at the window and seeing the bad weather. “Look outside!” he thought inwardly. “The weather is just like yesterday!” And yet it had seemed so realistic. He put the thought behind him and concentrated on the lesson and the power of the Music.

As he touched the Music of Life, he gasped in amazement; it was pulsing as of old, the weakness and corruption gone from the first. Still breathing quickly, barely daring to hope, he arose through the next three layers, and they were also back to normal, their melodies strong and vibrant.

Mr. Jones spoke.

“Now I want you all to enter the Music of Beauty. Let yourselves revel in its sound, its melody.”

Rupert complied, feeling the cool wash of the magic over him. He was flying in a sea of stars, the sound an all-consuming wave. The music was strong, irresistible, reaching into the very depths of his soul, cleansing all in a blaze of green fire. Rupert urged himself on, staying for once in the first layer, amazed at the Music. It was so beautiful! As the music continued unerringly towards its greatest point, the intensity increased, until Rupert was almost crying. He could see the beauty.

Suddenly, the music reached its climax in a burst of green fire, the top note purging away all of Ruperts doubts. It carried him away, awash on its power. He was sobbing now, too immersed to care, too happy to notice everyone else was as well, except Mr. Jones, who was sitting unmoved.

But slowly, he felt his magic begin to drain in an unpleasant way, and he relinquished his hold on the Music. He came out of his trance, saw the other boys doing the same, and hastily sat up straight on his chair. He glanced up at the clock. The lesson was over anyway.

Mr. Jones stood up, his eyes sparkling again, the dimness and awkwardness of the beginning of the lesson disappeared. And yet, he hurried out of the room. Rupert walked after him and saw him wiping his eyes in a corner. He turned round immediately he saw his teacher composing himself and walked back up the corridor pretending he hadn’t seen anything. It was nice to know the Mr. Jones had human feelings as well, that he could not resist the power of the Music.

The rest of the day passed slowly, Rupert and Edmunds time taken up with games and ordinary lessons. But after that they were finally at a loose end, and they naturally did what they were best at. After collecting their friend Ben Fuller, another talented boy with use of the first two layers of the Music, they went down into the chapel and played on the organ. For the next hour, the chords of Bach, Handel and Mendelssohn echoed around the school, possibly for the last time before the tranquillity of the schools' life was ruined by the evil, wherever it was now.[/pre]