Watford Tales

Dreamcatcher

Simon

After breakfast I wander forward in the airship and look into the control room. There's a bunch of round glass dials on a big polished wooden dashboard, whirring around, a lot of buttons, and a big round captain's wheel, like you'd see on a sailing ship. I watch it for a few moments. It's making tiny little adjustments, all by itself.

Amoun's wife, Fatima, is sitting in a large leather captain's chair with Ebb's Mum beside her. They're both staring intently out the window. There's a dense cloud of magic around them that I can sense, rather than see. The air smells of garlic and green herbs. Amoun is standing at a chart table, studying a map, but he looks up when he sees me standing at the door, smiles and gestures for me to come over.

He hands me a large magnifying glass and I study the chart below. Without the glass it looks like an ordinary map. Through the glass I can see the landscape in exquisite, breathing detail. If I lower the glass closer to the map I can focus in on anything I want. I focus in on a village. There's cars and lorries driving around, kids in a play park. I focus on a cow outside the village, in a meadow, chewing its cud. It's like Google Earth, except everything is more detailed and happening in real time.

"Where are we going?" I ask Amoun.

He points to a spot on the far edge of the map, by the ocean. When I look through the glass I see a lonely hotel, pale, washed out pink, up on a bluff, looking out to sea. He peers through the glass with me and points to a window on the third floor.

"That's where they are keeping the child," he says.

"Mordelia? How do you know?"

He looks over to where Mrs. Petty is sitting beside his wife and nods. Mrs. Petty is staring out the window of the control room, her eyes focussed ahead of her, her hand gripping Fatima's arm. I guess somehow she is communicating with her and directing her where to go.

"What's the plan, anyway?" I ask.

"We're going to parachute down to the woods outside the property and move in quickly, before they have a chance to rally against us. We're going to split into two groups. One group will attack the front of the building, by the road." He lowers the glass so it hovers over the hotel, and I see the narrow, tree lined drive leading to the front. "A second group is going to go around by the seaward side and try to get the child out."

"Won't they see us coming?" I ask. I look closer through the glass and see the tents lined up in rows on the front lawn of the hotel. Goblins milling about. "It looks like they're getting ready for us."

"Well, yes," says Amoun. "Their spies saw you gathering at the Grimms last night. But the dirigible is magically concealed. They won't be able to see us as we approach. Hopefully that will give us an edge." Amoun takes the glass from me and peers nervously at the lawn of the hotel. I'm not afraid of goblins but there are an awful lot of them.

"Look," I say quietly. Through the glass I see him. The Mage. David fucking Weir. My dad. He's wearing a long flowing green cape, a brown tunic thing and boots to the knees. His usual stupid Robin Hood get up. He's wandering among the goblins, talking first to one group, then the other. By his side is a figure in a black nylon jacket and Doc Martens. Nicodemus!

"I want to be on the seaward side," I say. "I want to be part of the rescue party."

He nods at me thoughtfully. "We'll be gathering in the salon in a few minutes for a final strategy meeting. We'll break up into groups then."

We stand together and watch our enemies preparing for our arrival through the magnifying glass.

"I have something for you," Amoun says, laying down the glass. He reaches into his coat pocket and takes out a small leather packet, tied with twine. Curious, I open it.