War Bird

9. Things Ain't What They Used To Be.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" 

I turn. The room I have stumbled into is small and dim, more like a dirt cave. A large bed with rumpled white sheets takes up most of the room. One of the healer girls is standing by the bed, her hands spread over the very still form of the man lying in it. She's about my age, but taller than me, with very long brown hair tied back in a tight braid.

"I'm sorry!" I wheeze, as pounding begins on the door behind me. "I just, I didn't..." and then I start to cry again, but these are tears the like of which I ain’t never cried before, hot and fat, splashing down on to my clothes. I sink to the floor. "I can’t believe I’m stuck here!”

"Oh, dear, hold on.” She leans over the man and mutters something over his face, then quickly hurries to crouch beside me. "What's going on?" Her accent is funny. It goes up and down like music, her ‘R’s long soft burrs. I don’t know where she’s from but she’s the kindest face I’ve seen in this place and for some reason this makes the tears fall faster. Jenks and Turnbull are banging on the door even harder now, the wood buckling under their weight.

"I just want to go home," I eventually manage to say.

"I know," the girl says sweetly. "We all do. Being at war is no fun but it's our duty."

"It might be your duty, but it's not mine!" I splutter, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. 

"I’m sorry?" The girl leans back, sounding a little cooler.

"I'm not meant to be here," I explain. "Miss Ever says my friends and I were sent here by a Sorcerer to learn a lesson, but I don't know what she's on about. I can’t believe half the stuff-I mean, magic! Spells! They aren’t-" I break off, I can’t say again how tapped I’m feeling at the moment and I bury my head in my knees. Tears soak my jeans.

"Let's start at the beginning,” she says. “Look at me.” I lift my head and nod. “My name is Grace Fairweather. You?"

"Marla True."

"True?" She swallows and her eyes flutter so quickly it’s like I imagined it. She knows that name alright. "Oh, I see. And... you’re in trouble?”

"I'm from the future. Two thousand and twelve!" I snap. Grace sags back to her heels and lets this information sink in.

"Well the bit about the Sorcerer sending you here makes a lot of sense then," she says. She stands up and reaches out a hand. I take it, rise to my feet.

"I've just told you I'm from the future and you don't seem all that bothered," I say. She smiles gently and returns to the side of the man in the bed, who I notice is naked and so skinny I can actually count each of his ribs. There is just a thin sheet covering his groin and that is drenched in sweat. His eyes are closed but his breathing doesn't sound good- it’s fast and shallow. His skin is a sickly yellow, with large beads of moisture all over it. 

Something catches my eye. What the? I blink. At first, I think it's a tattoo but it's moving, all around his body. All I can think is, it looks like some kind of green insect, but with long tentacles, traveling around his chest, swirling up his neck and playing along his jawline, then spinning around his nipples, before zipping down his stomach and coiling around his thighs. Grace points at it. "This is a rogue Ratim Fistuca spell."

"I don't speak foreign."

"Ratim Fistuca means 'Speeding Beetle'. It’s Latin." Grace extends her arms, fingers spread. "Dreadful spell the enemy have come up with. It treats your body like a playground, soaking up all the magics, getting bigger and bigger, racing around your body until it's drained all your powers. Then it leaps from that body to the next one, and on and on...Once it has all the energy it can carry, the beetle returns to its owner- the one who cast the spell- and transfers all the stolen magic to them."

"Sounds bad," I say.

"That it is," Grace agrees, completely calm. She plucks the air above the man as if playing a harp. I look on as the man twitches in time with her movements and every so often he gasps faintly. It's amazing. She's not even touching him, but he's reacting to what she’s doing.

"What's his name?" I say, just as I hear urgent shouts from outside. Jenks and Turnbull are calling for the key to the door.

"Private Arthur." Grace ignores the commotion from the corridor. She flexes her fingers. "He's a Hawk."

"A what?" Hawk. That’s what Green-Eyes was called by the soldiers who found me. 

"I have to concentrate now." Grace closes her blue eyes and takes a deep breath. I step back. Nothing happens at first, but then a pale white light grows from under her hands. The air is suddenly full of a burning smell, but it isn't unpleasant. It's old, like a flowery scented candle and it reminds me of Nana, who died when I was four. It's soothing, but at the same time, energising. Grace is muttering under her breath, but I can't hear the words. She opens her eyes and they look different, in fact, they look like Bridget’s did, right before she sent us here. The light from her hands grows and surrounds Arthur, winding around him like a gentle, transparent blanket. His body lifts up in the air and hovers. At the same time the green beetle freezes on Arthur's torso, the tentacles waving faintly. Grace opens her mouth and whispers something, placing a delicate hand on his forehead. Just then, the lock thunks and the door flies open. Jenks and Turnbull march in, their angry faces dropping when they see Arthur's floating body.

"Oh, Miss Fairweather, I'm terribly sorry!' Jenks quickly says. "I didn't realise."

"It's quite alright," Grace tells him. "I've just finished the sedation spell.”

"Right. Well. You need to come with us," Jenks says to me, grabbing my arm. "We're to take you to the Cage." I try and pull away from his grasp but he's ready for me and he doesn't let go.

"The Cage?" Grace says. "Oh, come on, isn't that a bit much?"

"She tore up Miss Ever's office," Turnbull replies, taking my other arm. "She's not meant to be here. She needs to be in lockdown whilst the Commanders work out what to do."

"You did what?" Grace raises her eyebrows at me and oddly, I feel like I've let her down. "You're lucky Miss Ever didn’t tear your head off!" She lifts her chin. "Come on, let's find out what's going on." And with that she walks out of the room, head high. The two soldiers follow, frogmarching me in front of them. 

"Jenks," I say. "What's the Cage?"

"Jail, Miss," he says. "We're putting you in jail."