WELSH MAGIC: EPISODE #2
(Updated Weekly Each Friday)
“They said it was a giant spider.” Emmanuel Naidoo stretched his arms out. “As big as a car.”
Rhian bit her lip. Emmanuel came from South Africa and his accent was lush. His ability to communicate with and control plants had impressed even the Druidic council and thus he was the envy of the school. Apparently one of his ancestors was a tree or something.
“Bigger than that mate, I heard, more like a van.” Lewis Davies leaned back in his chair. A Welsh lad through and through, his family hailed from Fishguard. His power was less impressive than Emmanuel’s, but still cooler than hers. The great-great-grandson of a siren, he could manipulate sound waves to either attract or repel his targets.
Free period was the highlight of her day, sitting in the great library with Gretchen and some other year tens. They were a diverse group, and so they often referred to themselves as the mini-UN. They’d usually spend the hour sat in a circle chatting, gossiping and the like. Sometimes Katie joined them. But not today.
“It’s mad,” said Afia Phillips from London, she was a psychometric, could touch an object and tell you its whole history. “I ain’t ever heard of spiders that big, not in this country.” Funnily enough, her family supposedly came from a Ghanaian spider deity.
“It’s not natural, spiders eating humans.” piped Sabina Begum staring down at her Mary Janes. She was from Cardiff, but her parents both came from a line of Bangladeshi song-weavers. She could supposedly control creatures with her songs. Not that anyone had ever witnessed it. Sabina lacked the confidence to sing in public.
“I’ll tell you what’s not natural yeah?” Lewis narrowed his eyes. “Locking us up in this place. Cancelling visiting day, an all that.”
“It is for our protection.” Emmanuel crossed his arms.
Rhian and the others exchanged glances.
Lewis shook his head. “Don’t be fooled mate, it’s to protect their arse, and that’s it.”
The ancient yew door creaked open, and in walked Alaric Strumbottom, with his thick wavy hair and killer smile. He was well fit, easily the best looking bloke in year ten and a telepath — so he knew it. Pretty much all of the girls in her year, and a small portion of the boys, were gaga for him — Especially Gretchen.
“Look who it is.” Rhian elbowed her friend.
“Shush.” Gretchen glared back.
Another boy was with him. One she’d never seen before.
The door banged closed.
“Who’s that?” Rhian whispered to Gretchen as Alaric pointed to a shelf of books.
The new kid was tall with styled black hair. He turned and saw her staring at him. He tilted his head and smiled.
Rhian’s pulse quickened. There was something about him. She couldn’t look away. She smiled back.
“Careful.” Gretchen squeezed her arm.
Rhian pulled her attention back to her friend.
“He’s a new student,” Gretchen whispered. “His brother’s a popular star in Korea or something. They both have a magnetism ability, heard he used it to hypnotise the Headmistress to make her grant him super-late admittance.” Gretchen frowned. “I wonder what Alaric is doing with him… anyway, apparently his Nan was a gumiho.”
“A goomi what?” Rhian laughed picturing those mushrooms from Mario.
“Don’t you pay attention at all in mystical history? It’s a shape shifting fox that bewitches men and eats their livers.”
Rhian wrinkled up her nose. “Gross.”
“Seriously Rhian, you need to start paying more attention or Welsh will be the least of your problems.”
Rhian saluted Gretchen two fingers and narrowed her eyes.
“Alaric, Joo-won,” Afia waved to the boys, “come here, pull up a seat.”
The pair looked to each other and then back to the group.
“Pleasure, Afia.” Alaric smiled.
Rhian swallowed as they made their way over. Gretchen sat up straighter, there was a space next her where they’d surely sit.
The library door creaked opened again and clapped shut.
“Oh well isn’t this just bloody perfect.” Gareth Harris sneered. He was the resident Welsh nationalist and strongman. Imbued with a supernatural strength, he claimed to be related to the ancient kings of Dyfed recorded in the great Mabinogion.
Alaric pulled a seat next to Gretchen but didn’t sit. “What’s that then, Gareth?”
“All you foreigners.” he dragged out the last word.
“You what, mate?” Lewis raised his voice.
Gareth snorted and pulled a flyer from his rucksack.
They were hardly all foreigners, just Emmanuel really. The rest of them were British, but that didn’t matter to Gareth. He only considered Lewis to be native. He didn’t even view Rhian as Welsh. A ‘turncoat father with an English trollop mum’, was how he’d described her rich Welsh heritage.
Rhian’s hands grew warm. She gripped her chair.
“We’re just trying to have a good time and relax,” said Afia. “Maybe you should try it sometime?”
Alaric and the new kid, Joo-won sat down.
Joo-won looked to Rhian with an eyebrow raised and flicked his gaze toward her lap.
She looked down to see slivers of smoke rising from her seat. Rhian let go of it and shook her hands blowing on then.
“Sitting around plotting more like.” Gareth turned and pinned up his paper onto the library event’s board.
“What are you on about?” asked Lewis. He looked to Emmanuel and rolled his eyes.
“You expect me to believe you don’t know?” Gareth nearly shouted. He glared at Alaric. “Yes, I know where I am, and no I won’t calm, stay out of my head you poof.”
“Alright now, that’s enough then,” said Lewis. “Air your grievances or get out.”
“We got a spider slag right here” he pointed to Afia, who jolted up from her seat. Emmanuel rested his hand on her arm and whispered something to her, she sat back down.
“Yes that’s right, sit down.” Gareth glared. “You think it’s a coincidence that it just so happens a giant spider is making his tea with our classmates?” He shook his head. “Why am I even bothering, you’re probably luring them out to her.”
“You think a student is behind the disappearances?” asked Gretchen.
“Think?” Gareth crinkled his forehead. “Try know, Luv. Someone is clearly taking out the competition and it’s most likely one of you lot.”
“Competition for what?” asked Emmanuel.
“The Owain scholarship, of course.” Gareth turned toward the door. “And just so you know, enjoy it while it lasts, me and mine are in talks with the council to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again.” He exited.
Rhian stood up and stomped over to his flyer. Naturally it was in Welsh. Her nails dug into her palm.
Gretchen followed. “What does it say?”
Rhian tore it off the board and handed it to her.
“Welsh schools for the Welsh. A plea to make The Crymych School of Druidic Sorcery a Welsh medium school, with all courses taught in the official language of the Druids, Welsh. This change applies to all teaching tools, texts, and applications. Preferences for scholarships and aid to be given to those with deep familial ties to Wales and a mastery of the language. Show your support at the next school board meeting… What bullocks.” Gretchen handed it back.
Rhian crumbled it up and focused her rage into her palm. The paper burst into flames. “Tosser.”
Still, what if what he said was true. Rhian’s body went slack. She glanced over at her mates and frowned. Could one of them really be a murderer?
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Diolch! (That’s Welsh for thanks. 😉)
