The Spell of Possibility

By Emma J Blythe

When Jake Finnegan accidentally creates a powerful spell, he and his sister Milly are transported to the Fae Kingdom, a mystical realm where clockwork creatures roam the sky and leprechauns make flying shoes. Caught up in a conspiracy threatening the realm’s Immortal Rulers, the children join forces with a popular magical newspaper to solve the mystery before the Fae Kingdom is destroyed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Nov 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781925353969

Emma J Blythe

Emma J. Blythe wrote her first story at the age of six and hasn't stopped writing since. While she loves all genres, children’s fantasy is her favourite as it reminds her of how magical childhood can be. She lives in Sydney with her husband, three children, two dogs, two fish and one cat.

Book preview

Chapter One:

Welcome to Trickery Hill

The day Jake and Milly Finnegan came to stay in a strange little farmhouse called Trickery Hill, a witching wind swept over the countryside. It blew in over the meadows, bringing flocks of white geese that swooped through the nearby town and disrupted the morning traffic. A freak snowstorm swept through the primary school at lunchtime and a box of cupcakes mysteriously appeared on the doorstep of the local nursing home. Later, when the sun set, ghostly pipe music could be heard drifting over the farmlands and out to the bush beyond.

It was after dusk when a battered black car drove down a dusty road just outside the little town. Jake and Milly were sitting in the backseat and Jake was frowning hard at the back of his Dad’s head. It had not, in his opinion, been a good day. He had told his Dad that he didn’t want to spend Christmas in the middle of the bush when he could be swimming at the beach back home with his friends. But of course, Cam hadn’t listened. They’d got lost twice, the iPad had run out of charge and Milly had told seventy-eight of the stupidest knock-knock jokes he’d ever heard. He’d kept count.

Just as Jake was thinking he’d really had enough of everything and everyone, Cam turned the map upside down for the third time and grinned at them both in the rear-vision mirror.

I think I’ve finally found it, he announced and turned down a bumpy driveway. Jake pressed his nose to the window as they drove through tangled shrub, past a lake and right up to a grassy hill – only, it wasn’t exactly a hill. It was also a house – the most unusual house Jake had ever seen.

It was built half underground, with a door and windows opening out from the hillside and rooms perched on top. There were also windmills, weathervanes, chimney pipes and water tanks poking out at strange angles. Jake thought it looked like a cross between a wombat’s burrow and a mad scientist’s laboratory. His heart gave a sudden, wild thud as he looked up the sign swinging above the doorway, which announced, Trickery Hill.

The car shuddered to a stop and Cam glanced back at Jake and Milly, looking sheepish.

Well, he said. Doesn’t it look great?

There was a moment’s silence then Cam added, Josephine said she cares a lot about the environment and recycling, you know. She said she built her house, um … mostly from what she found in the bush. I thought she was joking … but it looks like she … wasn’t.

Milly giggled, but Jake scowled. Apparently, they were going to spend Christmas with some old relative he’d never met – in a hole in the ground. He thought glumly of the busy beachside village back home and the seaside cottage where he’d lived ever since he’d been born. He loved everything about it. The broken step by the back door, the sprawling crab apple tree and the picket fence his mother, Emily, had painted a new colour every Christmas, right up until she’d died a year ago.

It’s not fair, Jake thought. I want to be back home, I want to go to the beach. I want to paint Mum’s picket fence for her.

As they climbed out of the car, a gust of wind swept over them, and Jake shivered. It was a prickly wind, the kind where you look twice at shadows and can’t help wondering if there’s something hiding behind the garbage bin. When they reached the front door they found it wedged open with a large round rock, and a piece of cardboard stuck under the brass doorknocker read, ‘Welcome to Trickery Hill. Out the back gardening. Please make yourselves at home.’

Cam chuckled. That’s the country way, isn’t it? Leave the doors open and everyone’s welcome. You two go inside and I’ll see if I can find Josephine.

Curious despite himself, Jake followed Milly inside, into a huge underground room lit by a skylight overhead. It was cluttered with books, cupboards, ornaments, wooden furniture, and … trees. Not just trees growing in pots, but trees actually growing through large gaps that had been left in the flagstone floor. Milly whistled.

Wow. Just … wow. She started wandering around the room, inspecting the objects and opening and closing the cupboards.

Jake didn’t reply. The room looked like someone had set up a second-hand shop in a garden nursery. He took a step forward and glanced up at a wall of mirrors. They were all shapes and sizes; some curved inwards and some curved outwards and one was even shaped like a musical note. One right in the middle was larger than all the rest. Jake stood right in front of it and looked at his reflection … messy brown hair spilling into dark-brown eyes, faded blue t-shirt and worn jeans.

He was about to look away when the Jake-in-the-mirror suddenly poked his tongue out at the real-life Jake. Heart thumping in shock, Jake clapped a hand to his mouth, which was closed. Had his reflection really just done that?

He peeked another look in the mirror, but this time his reflection just stared back, looking completely normal. Slowly, Jake backed away and fell weakly into a chair that looked like a tree trunk with the middle cut out.

Milly darted back over to Jake, grinning. Isn’t this cool, Jake? Milly said. It’s as good as a junk yard!

Jake was still catching his breath. What kind of a place was this anyway? There had to be some kind of rational, scientific explanation for what he had just seen in the mirror. Only he couldn’t think of it right now.

So instead, he snapped, That’d be right. Dad’s taken us away from a summer at the beach to stay in the weirdest place he could find.

Milly rolled her eyes. It’s not the whole summer, Jake, Just till after Christmas. And you’re being really dumb. I think the house is awesome.

Jake felt a stab of annoyance. "Her house is built into the ground, Milly. And it’s, well, it’s just weird. It’s not as good as being back at home." He slumped into the tree-chair, ignoring the fact that it was surprisingly comfortable.

Milly snorted and sat down beside a crumpled piece of cloth that had been left lying under a table – a table, Jake noticed, which had legs made of old biscuit tins glued together. A moment later she smoothed the cloth out over the floor.

Hey look at this, Jake, it’s got cool pictures on it. What do you think they mean?

Jake glanced over. The piece of cloth Milly had found looked like a small, round tablecloth. An image of a compass was printed in the middle, and it had a slim needle and little pictures at each of the compass points. Below the word North was a small cauldron, and South had a musical quaver. West had a picture of an open book, and East had a treasure chest.

When Jake shrugged, Milly absent-mindedly traced her fingers over the cloth. I don’t see what’s so bad about being here, she said. It might be fun.

Jake didn’t reply. He couldn’t really explain it; only, it felt like they were leaving Mum behind for good by coming here for Christmas. Like realising all over again that she really never was coming back. But he wasn’t about to say that to Milly.

And you don’t have to be such a pain about it, she went on. You’ve been annoying all day. We’re here and that’s that. Going home now just isn’t possible.

Jake found his gaze drifting back to his sister. He didn’t notice the large silver compass on the cloth was suddenly trembling. He didn’t see the wall of mirrors glimmering or that the sky outside was changing from purple to orange to gold. He didn’t realise the strange tingling over his skin was actually – magic.

All Jake could think of were Milly’s words. Going home now just isn’t possible. But why wasn’t it possible? It should be.

Life, Jake thought, could be pretty darn unfair. Things you really wanted to happen, never seemed to happen, ever. And things you didn’t want to happen usually did – like coming here. Like the fact Mum was gone forever and Dad never listened to him at all.

Well it should be possible, Jake said in a loud, annoyed voice. "It should be. I … I wish, I really wish, that a lot more things were possible. It’s stupid always being told they’re not. If I could, I would make all those things possible."

Zap!

A blaze of brilliant white light shot from the cloth circle and right up to the ceiling. Milly screamed and leapt to her feet as the needle on the picture of the compass started spinning.

What’s it doing? she cried as Jake jumped to his feet.

Transfixed, they watched as the cloth disappeared suddenly – just like it had been sucked away by a vacuum cleaner – and there, in its place, was a dark, shadowy hole. For a moment, everything was still. Then Jake’s stomach dropped. Something was climbing out of the hole. Something with two hands, arms, a body and legs – a person – a very peculiar person.

He jumped right through the hole and into the room, staring at Jake and Milly and seeming almost as surprised as they were. He was tall and thin, with very pale skin, a shock of white hair and an enormous white moustache. He wore a suit and a top hat, had a pile of papers tucked under one arm, quills stuck behind his ears, and coloured ink bottles perched around the rim of his hat.

Well! the man said in a shocked voice. How very, very odd!

For one moment, Jake wondered if everything that had happened so far at Trickery Hill was actually part of a very vivid dream. But then Milly pinched his arm, which hurt a lot more than it would have done in a dream.

"Jake! Are you … do you see him?’ she gasped.

The man puffed out an unhappy breath of air. Well I would certainly think so! What a silly question! I am, after all, standing right in front of you both. Now please be of some use and tell me where I may find a Jake Finnegan.

The back of Jake’s neck prickled. Th … that’s me, he said. Why are you looking for me?

The man frowned. Because, young mortal, you have managed to create a spell. He sounded quite disgusted.

A what? Jake’s mouth fell open. How? What do you mean?

The man tapped an impatient foot on the ground and his ink bottles rattled. A spell. A word-spell to be exact. A wish, a charm, an enchantment, whatever you want to call it. As for how, well you’ve probably gone and wished for something, haven’t you, with absolutely no respect for how magic works.

Jake swallowed hard. Um … sorry. I didn’t know. I don’t know … how magic works at all.

The man sighed deeply. Well that’s as may be, but now your spell exists, and we’ve got to deal with this unimaginable bother.

I still don’t quite understand, Jake said slowly as his mind spun. Who are you? And what spell have I – created?

The man’s moustache twitched importantly as he announced, I am Scriber. Sir Edmund Scriber the Third, Warden of Word-Spells, Cardinal of the Western Tower, Chief Servant of Lady Ravensworn. May her three heads live forever! And as for your spell, young mortal, I shall have to check my list … Scriber lifted the side of his hat with one ink-blackened finger and a rolled up parchment sprung out. It