Gonmoch

I knelt on the wooden floor of the tower, choking on air. The blood was loud in my ears.

Fen knelt by my side. "You did fine," she whispered, and her breath was warm and sweet in my ear. "Just fine. I’m glad you’re here."

I let myself be guided to a chair. The cushions were crispy-dry and marked with old spider nests. The wooden floor sounded hollow, then more solid as I moved towards the far end of the tower, the end furthest from the drop.

Fen spread herself across the chair next to me, leant over and briefly squeezed my hand.

Llandred was already lounging. He had taken the largest seat, but he more than filled it, elbow bent, chin resting on the back of his hand, blue eyes intense.

Esten picked up a broom and began sweeping dead leaves into a pile in the corner. The broom handle came up to his shoulders.

"Aren’t you going to let the peasant do that?" asked Llandred, a twinkle in his eye.

Fen glared at him. Esten shrugged and went back to sweeping. When he had finished, he scooped the leaves up with a dustpan, stuck his arm out of the hole without looking and deliberately dropped the leaves down into the pit.

I perched on the edge of the garden chair, trying to ignore the queasy feeling in my stomach. A hot wave of shame passed over me.

"I’m sorry... about all that," I gasped. I didn't want to look at any of them. They were bright and brave, and I was a snivelling coward.

Llandred waved his arm as though dismissing the thought. "You did alright," he said. "For a lowly goatherd."

Fen leaned in and whispered. "You did fine."

Llandred opened a small pack. Inside was an earthenware bottle of sweet-smelling liquid, some hard flat cakes "for dipping", apples, assorted tableware, and a bag of Gonmoch, which turned out to be spiced nuts soaked in sugar brandy and baked dark brown in the oven. There was only one mug, so we shared, taking turns to pass it around the circle. When the mug came to me, I sipped it, and it was the sweetest thing I had ever tasted.

"How is your seeming, sister?" asked Llandred.

"I've been practising," said Fen, grinning. "Don't tell mother."

She held her hands in front of her, and the globe of light flickered into existence between her palms. Small splashes of fire pinged out of the ball and plopped down onto the wooden floor.

"You shouldn't do that," said Esten. "If Mother knew, she'd be furious."

Fen ignored him. "Hold out your hand, Tam," she said to me.

I lifted my hand up to her, the good one with all the fingers.

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

I hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Aye, I trust you," and I felt the warmth of that trust stretching out to her. I think she felt it, too, because she looked up at me, surprised.

"Don't let it be real, Tamberlyn," she said, leaning in. "It's only real if you let it be real."

I stretched out my hand, and the ball of light bobbed towards me. The light was blinding. It fizzed with sparks that popped like water on pitch. Globs of fire tumbled from it, kindling small blue fires that burned into the timber, then disappeared, leaving no mark.

"Remember, it’s not real. You can’t let it be real." Her face was aglow, the hot light of the ball almost eclipsing her own light.

"Are you ready?"

"Wait a minute, ready for what...?"

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But it was too late. The globe darted towards me, brushing against my outstretched fingers. The pain was extraordinary. The flesh melted and ran down my wrist like wax. The finger bones curled white, then charred black and ashed white again. They filled with fire and cracked open like sticks of charcoal. A smell of frying bacon and unswept fireplaces filled the air.

I stared at my outstretched hand in horror, but she was close by my side, whispering in my ear.

"Don’t let it be real. It’s only real if you let it be real. There’s no pain, see? It doesn’t hurt. Move your fingers."

I concentrated and wiggled my fingers. The smouldering sticks obeyed me, curling and uncurling. The fire hovered about them as though waiting for my instructions. She was right, there was no pain. I blinked, and the illusion was gone. The flesh reformed, and my hand was whole again, though whispers of flame still clung to the fingertips.

She spoke softly into my ear. "I’m sorry. I had to know if you were strong enough."

"It hurt so much."

"Did it, though?"

I thought back, trying to recapture the pain, and found it was gone so completely it was as though it had never been at all.

"It’s only real if you let it be real," she said.

"You know, I should probably be angry with you right now. You might have warned me."

I glared at her and she stared right back, bright as the new day, breathless with exertion.

"It was a good illusion, wasn’t it? You felt it like it was real. I’ve been practising."

"Why didn’t you say what you were going to do?"

She frowned. "It never occurred to me. Are things not better when they are surprising?"

"You are strange."

"Says the boy with half an ear and his lip split in two like an animal."

I rubbed my face, self-conscious for a moment, but only for a moment. I flexed my hand. Sinuous curls of flame arced between my fingers. The effect was mesmerising.

"I’m still on fire."

"Ha, you can keep that for a while if you like. I won’t mind it. Do you want to play?"

She held up her hand to me, and I raised my palm to meet it. The tiny flames leapt from my palm to hers and back again, warm as mice. Llan raised his hand too and so did Esten. The little flame passed around the circle, from hand to hand, back to me.

"That was dangerous, Fen," said Esten.

"Pah," said Fen. "I knew Tamberlyn could handle it. He's one of us now."

"What just happened?" I asked.

"That was magic on the edge of illusion," said Esten "It’s only an illusion as long as you don’t let it be real. The minute you let it change something, then it becomes real magic. Real magic makes the world break."

"He means," interrupted Llan, "that if you'd freaked out and jumped in the pit or something, the illusion would have become real, and the magic would have bounced back and hit our little lady Fen right in the face."

"What would have happened to me if I had run away?" I asked, but I already knew the answer.

There was a little curl of heat still flickering around one finger. As I watched, it began to brighten.

"Oh, you would have lost your hand," said Esten, matter of factly. "Fen would have lost something of greater value, who knows what. The world would have been fair again. Magic is like that, if you mess with one thing, you always break something else. That's why we don't tell Mother. But, you know, you're a goatherd, so I guess Fen doesn't care about that too much."

"Esten! It's not nice to talk like that!" said Fen.

I could still feel the heat on my fingertips, sputtering and dropping fat sparks.

"I've only got one good hand," I said, holding up my left hand with the missing fingers. I suddenly felt rather cold.

"Yes," said Fen, "but you didn't run, did you?"

"But you didn't know that. What if I'd fallen in the pit?" The excitement was fading now, leaving behind a dull horror at what might have been, and still the flame on my fingertips was burning, brighter now and hotter, then very hot, and suddenly it flashed out, and there was pain, real pain, not illusory.

Esten was staring at me.

"You didn't fall Tam,” said Fen. “Why are you worried about what might have been?"

But Esten was still staring at me. He reached out one long hand and touched my finger. There was a little red place there. A tiny blister.

“You’ve messed up, Fen,” he said.

The room seemed to darken. It was as though the shadows began to crawl out of the walls and the cracks between the floors. I felt a coldness that had not been there before, a coldness that mirrored the burn on my finger, settled across my heart and snuffed out the heat that had sustained me.

"I think I'd like to go now," I said.

Esten got to his feet and pressed a hidden switch. A hatch on the side of the tower swung smoothly open.

"Esten!" yelled Fen.

"What? He said he wanted to go.”

"Oh," I said. It was obvious now. Climbing the pit had been nothing but a silly show. "We could have just come in by the door."

"Oh, please don't go, Tam," said Fen. "It was just fun, that's all."

The sharp pain in my hand seemed to suck the heat out of my heart. I stumbled as I stood. I half fell down the steps onto the grass.

I found my way back across the garden without her help. She trailed behind me, telling me not to take things so seriously. I held my broken hand, the one with only two fingers. I touched my face and remembered my parents falling away, into the crushing mess of mud and branches.

The tunnel was still open in the wall. I ducked and walked inside. It seemed larger now I was leaving.

"I would have loved you," she said as I was slipping inside. I hesitated for a moment, but only a moment.

"I would have loved you!" she screamed down the tunnel after me, her voice suddenly ugly, "What a fool I was! Why would anybody ever love a mashed-up, crippled little boy like you! Never come back! I never want to see you! Never come..!"

Then the door closed, and I was back in the real world, under the real moon, squeezing my own hand, and my face was wet with tears.