The Potioneer (Shadeborn Book 3) Read online

  “See for yourself,” the illusionist said, nudging her forward to inspect the rock.

  The milestones were so deeply entrenched into the ground that very few humans would have bothered to stop and inspect them. Lily had to crouch, resting one hand on the damp, snowy ground to read the inscription upon them. It was etched and weathered, as though the words had been there for thousands of years, yet Lily knew they had to be new as the snow that had fallen on Pendle that morning.

  Lemarick Novel, Lily Coltrane, January 1st.

  Lily straightened up, looking past the stones to the rest of the wild, snowy hill ahead. Again, she felt that little stab deep within her as the starkness of the place absorbed her vision, and the ground beneath her feet seemed to waver for less than a heartbeat. Novel leaned close to her ear once more, and Lily felt the shadow of his smile against her skin when he spoke.

  “Welcome to Pendle. Try not to trip on the cobblestones, first-timers often do.”

  Lily didn’t have time to ask ‘What cobblestones?’ before Novel was leading her forward through the mile markers. She had barely taken a step past them when the texture of the ground changed rapidly beneath her feet, soft snow vanishing to be replaced by hard, circular pebbles. The heel of her boot went down the gap between two stones, and she wobbled hard, her vision blurred with disorientation. She only found her balance because one hand was still locked with Novel’s, and she pulled on it hard to regain composure.

  When her head had stopped spinning, Lily found herself standing at the bottom of a long, narrow street which extended up the central path of Pendle Hill. It was decked in black and grey cobblestones, with three-storey houses lining either side of the thoroughfare. The houses were wooden, and Lily felt a nerdy sort of thrill that they might have been authentic to the time of Shakespeare, judging by their weathered beams and the familiar black and white stripes of Tudor architecture. The whole place seemed like an incredible illusion, gone one moment, yet there the next, and Lily realised eventually that Novel was waiting patiently for her to come back to the land of conscious thought.

  “This is the oldest place in England for our people,” he explained, “hidden away from human eyes, and accessible by invitation only.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Lily answered. And, though the village was full of stark, dark shapes and old, gothic twists, it truly was a rare sight to behold.

  “That’s our first port of call,” Novel said in a louder tone.

  Lily followed his pointing hand up the empty street, where a faded emerald sign was swinging by an invisible breeze. None of the chilly weather of the hill itself had permeated the hidden town, and Lily felt a warm flush of excitement overcome her as she navigated the cobbles towards the building. The green sign came into better view with every step, until Lily could make out all of the gilded words that glittered upon it:

  FORRESTER AND BAINES.

  Purveyors of fine books and antiques.

  As they reached the shop’s black-framed windows, Lily peered through the glass and saw a pair of eyes looking back at her. The eyes belonged to a small man with a balding head, who went back to his work a mere moment after acknowledging that he was being watched. Lily peered down to his hands, where she saw that he was striking a pose over a large and ancient-looking book. The bald man waggled his fingers with a flourish and a snap, and suddenly a torrent of what looked like water magic was spilling down onto the book’s pages. Instead of soaking them through, the book absorbed the power, and Lily felt sure she could see fine strains of ink swirling inside the pages as the magic was taken in.

  “This is a booksmith’s shop,” she said as she realised what she was seeing.

  She saw Novel nod in the reflection of the shop window. He too was watching the artisan at work, as he turned a page and imbued the new Book of Shade with yet more power.

  “The spells are imbibed, and the book itself chooses how to explain them to the reader,” Novel began. “It changes everything from language to grammar.”

  Lily furrowed her brow.

  “Then, do you see it in French in our book?” she asked him. “That is your first language, isn’t it?”

  “I used to,” Novel replied, “before you came along.”

  He wasn’t quite smiling, but the air of amusement was sparkling in his eyes as he turned away to enter the shop. Lily followed eagerly, hearing a service bell ring overhead as she and the illusionist passed through the small, cramped doorway of Forrester and Baines. The booksmith continued to work patiently at his station in the window, but another figure stood farther into the shop in an eager, attentive pose. The shelves of ancient books curved around and above him, so much so that the middle-aged man amongst them looked ready to be crushed in an avalanche at any given moment. Still, he was happy enough, his brown eyes bright between folds of fine, silvery wrinkles.

  “Ah, Monsieur, good morning!” His exclamation was hoarse, as though he was holding his voice back for the sake of the craftsman in the corner. “And Miss Coltrane, my goodness. It is a rare pleasure that you should grace our humble establishment as your first port of call in Pendle.”

  The little man stepped forward, parting his wringed hands to take hold of both of Lily’s. He held them only a moment, then bowed his head politely and resumed his place beneath the arch of books. He looked about to speak again, but Novel cleared his throat loudly to cut him off.

  “I’ve come to see Forrester, Baines, not you,” Novel said plainly.

  The little man called Baines frowned, and Lily felt a twinge of awkward sadness for him.

  “That’s all anyone ever says nowadays,” Baines replied quietly, “and I was so looking forward to meeting Miss Coltrane.” He looked at her again, eyes narrowed like the appraising look of a proud and wizened grandparent. “Oh, my dearest girl,” Baines began, “you have missed so much of our world. Surely I can interest you in something here to compensate?”

  Baines reached behind him with pure instinct, and a book flew out of the arches and shelves, making the whole structure wobble. It was a thin tome with a pure white cover, and it landed in Baines’s palm just as he flattened it before Lily’s waiting gaze.

  “The Tales of the Glassman, perhaps?” the bookseller said with a glint in his eyes.

  Novel snapped his fingers, and the little white book shot away into the dark recesses of the shop.

  “There’s quite enough nonsense floating around in the world without adding that, thank you,” he chided. “Forrester, Baines. I want to see Forrester now.”

  Baines cowed at the harsh words, and Lily wanted to slap Novel’s arm for being so rude. But she was new to Pendle, and new to the whole world of shades and their hierarchies, so all she did was offer the small man a sympathetic smile as he turned and wove his way through the stacks. Lily heard the creak of a distant door, and then there was only the faint rumble of the booksmith’s magic behind her. She watched Novel straightening his greatcoat and smoothing back his fine white hair, marking the tense way he sucked his cheeks in as he waited.

  “What are the Tales of the Glassman?” she asked.

  Novel cocked his head thoughtfully, then waved the question off.

  “Oh, just fairy-tales that shadeparents read to their children,” he said glibly. “Utter nonsense, of course. My father never bothered when I was small, and Mother, well…”

  Lily inhaled deeply, for this was the first time Novel had said the ‘m’ word since his mother’s vanishing act in the summer.

  “Mother and I used to laugh at them tremendously, ridiculous as they were,” he continued, swallowing hard, “but of course, that was a long time ago.”

  There was a moment of deep and heavy sadness in the air, and Lily realised that, once long before her time as a darksider, Mother Novel must have been a real parent to the man Lily loved. They had spent centuries together before Lily was even born, and it was hard not to blame herself for the fact that Mother had finally been driven over the edge when Novel chose his new love agai
nst his own blood. It was harder still to see the obvious pain and conflict that graced Novel’s pale features as he stood silently in the book shop. But, as Lily reached out to touch his arm and comfort him, a creak announced the return of Baines the bookseller.

  “The great lady is ready for you now,” Baines said, bowing his head once more.

  When Novel stepped forward, Lily followed, but he halted quickly and looked back at her with silent apology.

  “It’s one at a time, I’m afraid,” he explained. “Forrester is one of the oldest living shades in existence, and she’s rather frail. Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”

  Baines leapt out of Novel’s way as the illusionist carved his path through the books. Lily watched him disappear between the mounds, heard the creak of the door, and then found herself smiling awkwardly at the strange little bookseller, who was waiting by her side. Baines beamed from one hairy ear to the other, and Lily had absolutely no idea what to say in response to his expectant smile. Fortunately, she didn’t have to speak, for Baines had a mission in mind, and he held out his hand flat, as he had before.

  “Have this one on me,” he said, “and don’t tell the Monsieur you’ve got it.”

  The little white book of fairy-tales came flying out of the stacks, zipping in a zig-zag through the air until it landed in Baines’s palm again. He held it, waiting as patiently as ever, and Lily’s mind raced with a thousand polite ways to decline his offer. Yet, as she gazed at the pale book and its embossed cobalt title, she felt that urge of instinct rise within her. She reached out, taking the little tome by its corner, and Baines shifted his hand so the volume fell into her grip. It was cold, and light as air to touch.

  “Most shadefolk find it enlightening,” Baines said with a cheeky smile, “except for the Novels, of course. You’ll beg my pardon, Miss Coltrane, but they do have a tendency to think they know everything.”

  Lily had to admit that that much was often true of her boyfriend, and she exchanged a knowing look with the strange little man. She held the book before her in both hands, looking it over with a newfound fascination. This was a book that her father ought to have read to her, if he had bothered to stick around and be a father at all. She wondered how different it might have been to be raised in the House of Schoonjans instead of her little terraced place in Colchester, with the mother who always watched her warily from the corner of one eye.

  “Thank you,” Lily told Baines. “This is very generous.”

  The booksmith in the window gave an abrupt cough which made Lily jump, and a second later she heard the creak of the door at the back of the shop. Lily shoved the little white book into her handbag swiftly, and smiled brightly at Novel when he emerged between the ancient tomes. He ran a hand through his hair in an irate fashion, then let out a small, sharp sigh.

  “I’ve explained our situation to Forrester,” he revealed, “but that’s all. She won’t give me any advice. She wants to give it you, and you alone.”

  Lily balked. It hadn’t occurred to her that she really had much to do with the Pendle visit, since Novel was so experienced in all the ways of the shadeborn. Now, she glanced towards the hidden path in the books which led to the creaky door, and a thousand uncertainties rattled through her brain. She had no idea what she was supposed to say, or do, yet she was expected to take audience with one of the oldest magical beings in the world. When she looked to Novel for support, he had that gleam of understanding in his eyes. He leaned forward and planted a warm kiss on her cheek.

  “She’s a grand old bird,” he said, “you’ll be fine.”

  And Lily believed him. She began to make her way through the hefty stacks, trying not to inhale the musty air when she brushed against the bookshelves. She knew that she must have been out of sight of the others when Baines spoke again in his hoarse tone, yet Lily heard every word of the brief conversation as she approached the tiny, brown door at the very back of the cluttered shop.

  “You’re a very lucky man, Monsieur,” Baines remarked, “to find a girl like that.”

  As Lily’s hand reached the doorknob, she heard Novel’s small and simple answer.

  “Thank you. I know.”

  The Diamondblade

  Forrester’s room was brighter than the shop-front, owing to a pair of golden voiles that covered a large window on the far wall. Beneath that wall, Lily spied a large and luxurious bed, and in front of that there was a grand old rocking chair made of deep, dark wood. In the chair sat the lady herself, with wrinkled hands folded in her lap, and a smile so sweet and wide that Lily felt as though she might have been visiting her grandmother.

  “Come closer, child,” the woman said in a light and sunny tone, “my eyes are not what they used to be.”

  A footstool was prepared before the rocking chair and Lily moved cautiously over the old ornate rug to reach it. Before she sat down, she made an awkward little bow to the old shade, who returned it with the incline of her small, aged head.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lily stammered, filled with a nervous reverence.

  “I am the Lady Forrester, keeper of knowledge and treasures,” Forrester replied. “It appears that you are in dire need of help, Miss Coltrane. A great darkness has been cast upon your bright soul.”

  Lily’s heart sank at the words, and she nodded. She made to sit down on the stool again, but this time it was a noise that stopped her. Over the sound of her own nervous heartbeat, she hadn’t noticed the faint humming in the background, but the longer she spent in Forrester’s room, the louder it became. Lily put a hand to one ear, pressing on her earhole to see if it was in her head, but the noise was high-pitched and intense as ever when she let go. It was starting to make her skin break out in goose-pimples.

  “Something wrong, dear girl?” Forrester asked.

  “Um…” Lily stuttered. “That noise. Can’t you hear it?”

  Up until that moment, Forrester’s eyes had been encased in deep wrinkles. Now, her brows rose up and two blue irises gleamed, so bright they were almost white.

  “Where is it coming from?” the ancient lady questioned.

  Lily looked around, holding a hand behind her ear to locate the noise. It seemed to be coming from her right, where a grand dresser in the same dark wood as the rocking chair stood against one wall. It had various cabinets and shelves, with plates, clocks and ornaments on display, but set within in its centre was a case of glass. And, in the case, there lay a long, slender sword.

  “It’s coming from that,” Lily said, her gaze unblinking.

  She approached the sword, fascinated by its white gleam, and it occurred to her that it had not been forged in metal. Though the hilt was made of silver and wrapped in old crimson bondage, the blade itself was sparkling like a gemstone. It was perhaps two feet long in total, and shaped like the broadswords Lily had studied in her time exploring King Arthur on her history degree. The hum of the sword filled her ears so much that nothing else could penetrate her mind, and Lily stepped closer and closer to the shining blade, one hand reaching out to feel the glass which encased it.

  Before she had even touched it, the glass case shattered.

  “Oh my God!” Lily exclaimed at once. The humming in her ears had died at the sound of the shattered glass, and she looked back to Forrester with a helpless, wide-eyed expression. “I am so sorry! I don’t even know what happened.”

  The great old shade simply smiled.

  “I do, dearie.” she revealed, “Help me out of this beastly chair, would you?”

  Lily did as she was told, taking the old lady gently by one arm. Forrester was barely half of Lily’s height, and the young woman had to crouch to lead her over to the place where the glass had shattered. Forrester stepped with sandaled feet onto the broken shards, and showed no sign of caring when they crunched beneath her flimsy soles. She extended one bony, wrinkled finger towards the gemstone blade where it lay within the broken case. When Forrester touched it, it glowed bright white in the spot where her finger conne
cted, but only for a moment.

  “Go on,” the old shade urged, “now you.”

  Lily followed her directions, reaching out just as Forrester had to touch the blade. She flinched the second before she made contact with the sword, just in case the priceless artefact exploded at the touch the way its case had. Instead, the blade lit up white in the spot where her finger connected with it. But then, the white light spread, and the entire length of the blade illuminated to blinding proportions. Lily’s eyes stung, and she had to let go of the sword to be able to see again.

  “You’re the diamondchild,” Forrester mused.

  Lily rubbed at her eyes, then inspected the gemstone blade again.

  “Is that what it’s made of?” she asked.

  The old shade nodded, her wrinkles increasing gleefully.

  “This is the Diamondblade,” she explained, “I should say, the original Diamondblade. Most people who come here think it’s a copy, but it isn’t. This is it, and it has been in my care since I was about your age.”

  In shade years, that meant centuries, and Lily nodded in fascination.

  “You said you were the keeper of treasures?” Lily asked. Forrester nodded her tiny head. “This sword… It’s a beautiful thing.”

  The old woman took Lily’s hands in her own, gripping them tightly. Forrester’s eyes shone pale and wide as she spoke with newfound strength.

  “It shall be thine, diamondchild,” Forrester said, “but not yet. You’ll come for it, when you need it.”

  And with that, the old woman puttered off towards a dressing table beside her bed. Lily stood, dumbfounded by all that had happened in the strange golden room. She was pretty sure that Forrester had basically given her the Diamondblade, and she had no clue whatsoever as to why, except that it lit up brightly, and that Lily’s April birthday made her the right gemstone match for it. Lily watched as Forrester scribbled away on a piece of paper, then almost toppled over in her excitement when she tried to reach Lily again.