The Wizard In My Shed Read online

  On the way out, Sergeant Murray turned hopefully to Suzy. “Will you go out with me tomorrow night?”

  Suzy was so taken aback, she didn’t know what to say.

  “Erm … Mum’s busy,” said Rose, coming to her rescue. “We’re going to see the magician who won Britain’s Most Talented People.”

  Suzy looked surprised. But Sergeant Murray’s face lit up.

  “Jerabo the Great? In London?” he said. “What a good idea. We can all go. I’ll get us VIP tickets. My treat.”

  “Thanks, boss!” said a dozy-looking officer.

  “Not you, you cretin!” snapped Sergeant Murray, reverting to type. “I shall pick you up at five sharp, beautiful lady,” he continued, turning back to Rose’s mum with a woozy smile.

  “All of us?” asked Kris hopefully.

  “Yep,” said Sergeant Murray. “You, your friend here, Rose, maybe even your little guinea pig.” He laughed.

  From upstairs Rose heard a faint voice: “I’m fine thanks, don’t really like magicians.”

  “Pardon?” Sergeant Murray asked.

  “That’d be great. Thank you, Sergeant Murray,” said Rose quickly.

  “Please,” said Sergeant Murray. “Call me Leslie.” And he kissed Suzy’s hand, said “Adieu!” and skipped merrily away.

  “Wow, that was lucky,” remarked Kris. “We were let off AND got tickets to the theatre.”

  “Too right,” agreed Rose. “That’s what you call ‘two birds, one stone’.”

  “Which coincidentally,” said Merdyn, “is my favourite type of soup.”

  Rose was elated

  at the end of this day.

  Finally, her singing spell

  was just one night away!

  James Alexander De Selby was the first to find a clue as to the whereabouts and whenabouts of the missing warlock, Merdyn the Wild. He had been chosen specifically by Evanhart because he was a rebel, just like Merdyn. He had wild, white, wispy hair that he never brushed and a bizarre scientific theory that all space, time and matter were as one, and had been for ever, and for ever would be. (What a weirdo, eh? AS IF that could ever be true. He was as delusional as that oddball Einstein.) He was also a rather nice man, but sadly nobody knew that because they all avoided him and his bizarre ideas at all costs.

  It was a pleasant surprise then, when De Selby received the order from the King’s daughter asking him to come to the royal castle to help find a criminal lost in the Rivers of Time.

  As soon as he arrived, De Selby asked Evanhart if she had anything in her possession that Merdyn the Wild had touched.

  “He did maketh this for me on my birthday at the School of Alchemy,” Evanhart said, sadly, passing the scientist a beautifully hand-carved squirrel. “He was always making me something or another in the old days. This object is very precious to me because it is made from the same piece of wood as Thundarian, Merdyn’s staff—”

  No sooner had Evanhart uttered that last ‘F’ sound than De Selby picked up her precious squirrel, placed it on a metal plate and shoved it, unceremoniously, in the fire that was burning in the hearth.

  Evanhart could barely find the words. “What the … How dare thee!”

  “Sorry,” said De Selby as the squirrel turned to ash upon the plate. “Didn’t I sayeth that it would change shape?”

  “Change shape? ’Tis burned to a cinder!”

  “Granted, ’tis a little less … solid than ’twas,” admitted De Selby. “But ’tis still there, ha!”

  He grabbed a pair of tongs, pulled the squirrel ash from the fire and placed it inside a strange contraption he’d brought with him. It looked a bit like a pizza oven, except that it was covered with dials, levers and measuring paraphernalia, and pizza ovens hadn’t been invented yet.

  “I have broken the wood down into ash. Or to be more accurate, ‘mono-cubes’,” explained De Selby, and he gave a little giggle at the wonder of it, in the way only mad scientists who fully understand something mindblowing, that no one else gets, can. I will spare you the complex details, but it worked along the lines of what is now known as atomic tracing, whereby the tiniest fragments imaginable can be tracked to their origins, sometimes back as far as the BIG BANG, taking into account variables, high-density column constructions and bananagrams. But as I said, I’ll spare you that.

  Next, De Selby activated the machine by cranking a wheel on the side, much like the steering wheel of a ship. The bizarre device squealed and belched like a constipated piglet and the dials spun wildly. SQUERCH-THHHHPPPP-WHEE!

  “What happeneth now?” asked Evanhart, fascinated.

  “I am not entirely sure,” said De Selby. “’Tis the first time I have used it, if I’m honest.”

  “What—” Evanhart began.

  At that moment, there was a loud DING, DING, DING. De Selby grabbed a magnifying glass and thrust it between the hot plates of his machine. Then he ran out of the door and down the corridors of the castle, shouting, “It worketh! It worketh! My mono-cubal tracing machine worketh!”

  Minutes later the King and Jeremiah Jerabo were witnessing for themselves the jumping, oscillating instruments on De Selby’s strange machine.

  “But what does it all meaneth?” asked the King.

  “It meaneth,” explained the scientist, trying to contain his excitement, “that we have a trace on Merdyn the Wild. In fact, in all my testing, I have never had such a strong reading. And I think I knoweth why …”

  “Go on,” said Evanhart eagerly.

  “The ornament thou did giveth me to burn was carved from the same wood as Merdyn’s famed staff, Thundarian, was it not?”

  The King’s daughter nodded.

  “Well, that would explaineth it!” enthused De Selby. “Not only is Merdyn alive, he must be using his staff elsewhere in time.”

  “’Tis impossible!” spat Jerabo haughtily. “I did throweth the staff down the well myself. At the court hearing.”

  “Ah. Then he must be somewhere in the future,” the scientist deduced. “He must have realised he was in the future, returned to the well and pulled it out.”

  “There we are then,” said the King. “He is found!”

  “Not quite,” warned De Selby. “He could still be fifty, a hundred, a thousand years in the future. We needeth to narrow it down much more. But I’m confident I can do it.”

  Evanhart felt a flutter of excitement rising within her. Merdyn was still alive!

  “Well, my dear,” said Jeremiah. Ever since their engagement he had taken to using endearments such as this whenever he could, much to Evanhart’s annoyance. “So soon we can be married.”

  “After thou have used thy spellbook to go and retrieve him as promised, of course,” the King added.

  Jerabo forced a smile. “Nothing would giveth me greater pleasure than to put right this wrong of mine.”

  A delighted Evanhart squeezed the scientist’s hand in gratitude. “I thank thee, good De Selby,” she said. “If Merdyn is returned, we shall see thou art handsomely rewarded. Forty pieces of gold, no less.” And with that, she and the King swept from the room.

  Jerabo made as if to follow them, then stopped. “I’ll be right there, darling!” he called after Evanhart. “I shall just talketh timings with my good man De Selby.”

  As soon as they were alone, Jerabo’s tone changed. Gone was the false jollity, suddenly he was all business.

  “Tell me, De Selby. Let us say we getteth an accurate reading. Once I landeth through the Rivers of Time, how easy will it be to find Merdyn? It’s important I am not caught … unawares.”

  “If I were thee, sire, I would posteth a notice on a local billboard, advertising thy arrival,” said De Selby. “Or perhaps in the future, they will have more advanced levels of communication.”

  “What do thou mean?” asked Jerabo, confused. “Like a pamphlet, or town crier1?”

  “Oh, much more advanced than that, sire,” said De Selby, becoming animated. “If my theory of mono-cubes is correct, then
in the future people will sendeth messages through the very air!”

  “What, like … by pigeon or something?”

  “Smaller than that, sire!”

  “By sparrow? Blue tit?”

  “Sire, even smaller than that – and invisible,” said De Selby. “They may have communication devices that enable thee to speak to the whole country all at once. The whole world, even!”

  The penny dropped for the devious wizard. “I see,” said Jerabo slowly. “So, if I were to advertise my arrival on whichever communication device they have in the future, I wouldn’t have to find him at all …”

  “Exactly, sire,” cried De Selby, excited. “Merdyn will findeth YOU!”

  “Yes!” yelled Jerabo, joining in the enthusiasm. “And when he cometh to me … then I will kill him!”

  De Selby froze. “Erm … I beggeth thy pardon, sire?”

  “Oops. Did I sayeth that out loud?”

  There was a split second while the two men looked at each other. De Selby made a mad dash for the door. Jerabo was too quick, however, whipping a knife from underneath his tunic and pressing it to De Selby’s neck.

  “What is the meaning of this, sire?” sputtered the poor eccentric scientist, frightened for his life.

  “Seeing that the toad is out of the pond, dear boy,” Jerabo said menacingly, “thou may as well hear it all. There has been a change of plan. From now on, thou will doeth exactly as I say. Not Evanhart. Not the King. ME. Do thou heareth?”

  “No. NO!” De Selby protested. “I would rather dieth than goeth against the King!”

  “The reward the King is offering is forty pieces of gold,” said Jerabo. “I will give thee four hundred.”

  De Selby had a little rethink. “Go on …”

  “On top of that, thou will become Royal Scientist to the King himself, with thy very own study and lodgings right here in the castle. How does that soundeth?”

  “That soundeth … nice,” croaked De Selby.

  “Good.” Jerabo let him go. “Here is the plan. Thou art going to find out exactly when Merdyn landedeth in the future. I will then goeth through the Rivers of Time and get rid of him. While I am gone, thou will telleth Evanhart that thy machine got it wrong and that Merdyn was dead all along, blah blah blah. Then when I returneth, empty-handed but heroic, Evanhart and I will be wed and we’ll all liveth happily ever after. Except for Merdyn, of course. But who cares about him, eh, De Selby?”

  “Right.” The scientist gulped. “And the King will maketh me his Royal Scientist because …?”

  “Because I will be King!” replied Jerabo gleefully, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Did I not mention that after I marrieth Evanhart, I will killeth the King and becometh King myself?”

  “I don’t recalleth that bit,” said de Selby.

  “Actually,” Jerabo admitted, “thinking about it, I should have added the King to the list of people who won’t liveth happily ever after, shouldn’t I, ha ha!”

  “Ha ha!” De Selby laughed along nervously.

  “I meaneth, the ‘me being King’ bit is the BEST bit, really,” went on Jerabo, smiling from ear to ear. “Which is why we must be together in this, my dear De Selby. Merdyn must die! He is the only one powerful enough to stop me, thee see? The one question left is … will thou helpeth me?”

  Now, you must remember that the year is 511. It’s the Dark Ages, OK? In those days, Kings came and went like hedgehogs in the garden. Half the time nobody even knew who was King at all, so De Selby could just have agreed there and then and we shouldn’t be too harsh on him. But as it happened, De Selby was a decent fellow, and so was reluctant to get involved in regicide.

  “I supposeth I’m with thee,” he stammered. “’Tis just … I feel a shrew uncomfortable helping with acts of murder—”

  SHWING! Jerabo pressed the knife against De Selby’s lips this time. “Shhhhhhh, my dear De Selby. Before thou answereth, I wanteth thee to meet somebody …”

  The terrible wizard lifted up his tunic and showed De Selby a keychain on his belt. Except on the end of the keychain, instead of a key, was a tiny peasant man hanging upside down. He waved at De Selby. De Selby, not knowing what else to do, waved back.

  “This is the last man who did turneth me down,” Jerabo said coldly.

  The tiny man looked up at De Selby with a sad, upside down expression.

  His eyes full up with weary hate,

  he spoke four words: “I’d do it, mate!”

  Note

  1 Believe it or not, instead of twenty-four-hour news channels, in the Dark Ages, a man would simply stand in the middle of a town and “cry out” what had been happening recently. He was known as a town crier. Imagine that as a way of letting people know the latest developments on Celebrities Love Islands!

  Rose was awoken on Saturday morning by a strange sound coming from the front garden. Music . Was it an ice-cream van? No. Someone was singing; a man with a very deep voice. Whoever it was couldn’t sing very well. It reminded Rose of men who sang karaoke in pubs.

  Bubbles was awake too, munching on some hay.

  “What’s that noise, Bubbles?” Rose asked.

  Bubbles stared at her blankly.

  “Bubbles? Hello?”

  Nothing. Rose wracked her brains. Had she offended him? She couldn’t think how.

  She decided to deal with Bubbles later. What was that noise? It was getting louder by the second. She got up, walked on to the landing and looked out the front window.

  Sergeant Murray was standing on the front lawn, serenading her mother with a song. It sounded like “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston, but Rose couldn’t be sure. Whatever the song was, he was singing it with great passion, bordering on mania.

  As he hit the last notes, Suzy leaned out of the upstairs bedroom window with an awkward grimace on her face. “Thank you, Leslie! That will do! Very good!” she shouted. While she was enjoying the attention from Sergeant Murray, she was finding it a little weird too.

  “Fare thee well then! See you tonight, my sweet!” shouted Sergeant Murray, prancing merrily off down the street.

  Repairing his Pontiac in the driveway next door, Dion watched the sergeant depart too, with an odd look on his face.

  Rose pulled on some clothes, tamed her frizzy hair into a ponytail, grabbed Bubbles and went to see Merdyn, who was working feverishly in the shed, mixing up some kind of potion. There were bubbling pots and glass flasks on every shelf and strange mixtures stacked up in her mum’s Tupperware collection against the shed’s back wall.

  “Are you working on my singing spell?” asked Rose hopefully.

  “All in good time, impatient one. I have tonight’s battle to prepare for first.”

  “Oh, and I think Bubbles has stopped talking and I don’t know why?” Rose added.

  “The pinecone spell only lasteth a few days,” said Merdyn. “I suspect it has run out.”

  “Can you renew it? I kind of miss him.”

  “Heaven forfend, child!” Merdyn answered irritably. “Singing spells? Pinecone spells? I am a warlock! I have no time for such whimsy.”

  He shook the bottle he was holding. Inside, the liquid turned blue to red to green, then went as clear as water. The air sizzled suddenly, and Rose could have sworn she saw sparks.

  Merdyn’s face lit up as if he’d just created pure gold. “I’ve done it at last!” he announced with vigour. “The disenchantment potion – the trickiest, most feared spell in the land! I am so clever! With this, I shall rendereth Jerabo powerless, seizeth his spellbook and returneth home! Now to practise …”

  Rose followed as Merdyn strode out into the back garden. It was perfect timing as Suzy was just heading into town. Rose had managed to persuade her to go to the hairdressers before their night out to the theatre – if only just to get the chocolate wrappers out of her hair. The plan was to get Merdyn warmed up for tonight’s wizard-versus-warlock duel while Mum was out. Rose felt a little uneasy about Merdyn’s
battle that evening, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

  Kris had found himself a deckchair and was ready to watch the action from the patio. He would usually have been at work on a Saturday morning, but since the shopping mall had been closed down he was determined to enjoy his new-found unemployment. Merdyn, however, had other ideas.

  “Get up off thy backside, thou scobberlotcher1! I needeth both of thee to assist. In fact, ideally I could do with three of thee.”

  “Good job I swung by then,” came a voice from the side of the house.

  Rose looked up in surprise. It was Tamsin.

  “Wouldn’t want to miss fireball training now, would I?” Tamsin grumped, trying to be cool. Nonetheless, she crossed the lawn to stand beside Rose with a small smile.

  Merdyn put them all to work straight away.

  First, he made them run across the lawn with garden implements raised above their heads. Kris ran with a spade. Merdyn swished his robe, pointed Thundarian, chanted “GELIDA GLACIA FROSTORA!” and – * ZZZZFRING!** – cast an ice spell that encased the blade in a block of ice. It was so heavy that Kris dropped it, and the ice shattered across the patio. Rose looked at Tamsin gleefully. WOW! This was going to be FUN.

  Tamsin and Rose were next. They ran in zigzags across the lawn, holding up a rake and a pitchfork. BOOSH! Merdyn hit Tamsin’s rake with a fireball. She chucked it aside quickly, where it set fire to Rose’s favourite pear tree.

  “Worry not. Merdyn the Wild is here to save the day!” said the warlock with a grin. He pointed Thundarian at the tree, causing torrential rain to pour down around it in a perfect circle, dousing the flames.

  SHWING! Next Merdyn threw an invisible lasso around Rose’s pitchfork and pulled it back towards him. He had planned to catch it in his hand, but it missed – CRASH! – and went straight through the shed window.

  “Oi!” shouted grumpy Mrs Arden three doors up. “Keep it down over there!”

  “Bit rusty,” murmured Merdyn. “This is why I need the practice!”