The Little Mage: The Last Mage, #1

By J. L. Jerard

Sophie's world has been turned upside down. 

 

MAGIC IS REAL. ANIMALS CAN TALK. And everything she thought she knew – even about herself – was wrong.

 

Her life in tatters and desperately alone, she has no idea how to use the magic flowing through her veins. And when the animals that befriend her need it most, will her new powers kill or cure?

 

Can she find her place in this strange new world? 
 

Can she become everything her friends need her to be?

 

And will anyone accept her for who she now is?

 

 

 

The Little Mage is Book One in The Last Mage Series, and the debut novel of J. L. Jerard, author of Earth Magic and Quest

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. L. Jerard
• Release date: Jan 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9781739589806

Book preview

Chapter One

SOPHIE REFUSED TO open her eyes.

If she kept them shut, then maybe, just maybe, she could pretend she was safely tucked up in her own bed. She could pretend that the last forty-eight hours hadn’t happened at all and that her world had not disintegrated; that she wasn’t in an ancient, freezing cold cottage on a remote mountain; that the only family she had left weren’t two complete strangers that had seemed to despise her at first sight.

Sophie bit her lip. Maybe that wasn’t completely fair. Aunt Maggie had smiled at her when they had been introduced. She’d even attempted a conversation on the long journey from civilisation to this bleak corner of the Welsh valleys. Sophie had been too ill to make much of an effort. Too scared of her uncle, as he glared at her in the rear-view mirror.

Uncle Albert had made his feelings clear from the start, though why he hated her so much was a mystery. Sophie was thirteen years old, excruciatingly shy and always polite. She hadn’t even realised she had an aunt and uncle until they turned up to claim her. What on earth had she ever done to him? Her stomach churned with fear at the thought of seeing him again. There was just something so chilling about him. And it was obvious that Aunt Maggie was scared of him too.

Sophie shivered and fought back a sudden wave of tears. Self-pity serves no one. Her mum had told her that often enough, usually when Sophie was grumbling about moving house... again.

She pushed her mum’s beautiful, smiling face from her mind; she’d cried all night, her heart aching with loneliness and grief and she could feel it now, tugging at her, dragging her down. She fought back, pushing her mum away, swallowing her grief and focusing as she always did (when it felt like she’d hit rock bottom and she had no-one to turn to), on cold, hard facts.

Aunt Maggie was weird.

Uncle Albert hated her.

Her mum was gone forever.

Life as she knew it was over and keeping her eyes closed like some pathetic eight-year-old wasn’t going to change a thing.

Slowly at first so as not to antagonise the migraine that had been splitting her skull apart for days, Sophie opened her eyes.

Squinting, she registered the sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains, transforming her room; its thick, yellow rays bleaching away the clash of blood orange skirting and salmon pink walls. Even so, there was no hiding the fact that her tiny new room - like the rest of the old stone cottage - was dismal and reeked of damp.

‘Finally! You’re awake,’ rasped a voice by her ear.

Leaping out of bed in a tangle of pyjamas and duvet, Sophie dived to the far end of the room, the back of her head thudding against the bedroom door as she turned to see who had crept up on her whilst she’d been sleeping.

Her eyes widened with shock.

Sitting on her bedside table was a rat; the biggest she’d ever seen. Its claws were like lethal weapons and its thick, scaly tail coiled around its hind legs. Staring at her with beady eyes, it opened its mouth, revealing razor-sharp, yellowing teeth.

‘Are you...’

‘Don’t bite me!’ squealed Sophie, groping for something to defend herself with. Her fingers closed around her hairdryer, and she brandished it in front of her, hoping she looked braver than she felt.

‘I’ve seen a wind-maker before, you know,’ said the rat. ‘She has one - the lady of the house. What are you going to do... blow me to death?’ It sat back on its haunches and rocked with laughter, its enormous belly rippling.

‘Don’t bite me! Please! Wait...’ The colour drained from Sophie’s face and her hand shook so violently she almost dropped the hairdryer. ‘I can hear you? You’re talking?’

‘Yes?’ The rat cocked its head to one side, a puzzled expression on its neat, whiskered face.

‘I’m talking, and you understand me?’

‘Yes. Look, are you alright?’ The rat leapt from the table and bounded towards her.

Sophie tried to shrink further back, but her bedroom door stood firm.

‘I’m sorry if I startled you,’ it said, jumping onto her shoulder and pulling at her hair. It inspected her scalp as she sat, wide eyed and frozen to the spot. Sophie made a strangled, whimpering sound, which it ignored. ‘Did you bump your head very hard? Only you seem confused?’

Much to her relief, the rat let go of her hair and jumped back, a worried look on its whiskered face.

‘I... I just mean that you’re talking and I’m talking. We’re talking together.’ This was ridiculous. She was babbling like an idiot. Sophie took a deep breath. ‘You’re a rat. I’m a human. This just isn’t possible. You can’t be talking to me, and even if you were, I couldn’t understand you!’

‘Bless me!’ said the rat. ‘This is all new to you, isn’t it? Don’t you know who you are? ... what you are?’ It shook its head, amazed at Sophie’s blank bewilderment. ‘Never even heard of the Old Language... never used it before now? Well, blow me down! But not with the wind maker if you please.’

It laughed again and punched her arm with a leathery paw. ‘Rest assured; I mean you no harm. Honoured to meet you, in fact. The thunder rolled, the lightning struck, and the Magi returned to the Mountain... just as the scrolls predicted! I didn’t believe it at first, but here you are!’ Its black eyes gleamed with excitement. ‘Now then, first things first. My name is Whiskers. And how shall I address you?’

‘Sophie... my name’s Sophie.’ She pushed the hairdryer to one side, reached up for her dressing gown and slipped it on, somehow feeling safer in its soft folds.

‘Your earth magic must be very weak or else you’re a late bloomer,’ said Whiskers, pacing around the room. ‘No matter - if you speak the Old Language, you must be a mage. The Magi are the only humans left that speak the common tongue.’

Sophie’s brain whirled with a myriad of conflicting thoughts. She should shoo him away. Or run away. Rats had big teeth, and this was a gigantic rat. But... he was talking to her, for goodness’ sake. And there was something so gentle in his manner; if he wanted to hurt her, he would have done it by now.

Besides, this was just a dream. It had to be.

‘We’ve a lot to discuss.’ He stopped pacing and stared at her nose. ‘Maybe we should continue this conversation over a pot of tea? My missus makes the best tea this side of the Black Forest. It’s breakfast time, so there’ll be plenty of delicious things to eat.’ He glanced at Sophie’s room and gave a grimace of distaste. ‘I can promise you it’s much warmer and cosier than this place, and I’d be very pleased to introduce you to Rosie and the kits.’

Sophie blinked. Just like that? He had met her five minutes ago, and he was inviting her back to his? She could barely get a word out of most people - back when she used to bother trying - let alone an invitation to their house.

Her tummy grumbled.

She couldn’t seriously consider going, could she?

This was madness.

Her life had fallen apart and now she, too, was disintegrating; her mind separating from her body like paint bubbling away from a wall. Nothing made sense. She was in a strange place, living with even stranger people... and now a talking rat was inviting her back to his for a cup of tea.

Was he even real?

If it was a dream, it was insanely realistic. She pinched herself, but the rat was still there; his teeth were just as long and just as sharp; and he was still looking at her expectantly.

‘Where do you live?’ she asked, stalling for time.

‘The workshop,’ he said, gesturing in the direction of the ramshackle building that stood next to the cottage, ‘but we’ll go the back way through the field. Wouldn’t do for the HuMans to spot us. We’d be dodging rat traps for weeks!’

‘Maybe I shouldn’t? If they see me...’

‘They’ll be in a bed for ages,’ interrupted Whiskers, his voice laced with contempt. ‘We’ll have you back well before they wake up. Going the back way is an extra precaution we always take, no matter what the time of day. Hu Mans aren’t the only beasts a rat has to be mindful of.’

Sophie took a deep breath. Real or not, she could follow the talking rat to goodness knows where or freeze until her aunt and uncle got up - whenever that would be. She glanced over at the storage heater and noticed a cable hanging in front of an empty cavity where a socket should be. It wasn’t even wired in! That did it. Did they seriously expect her to hang around here in this chest-freezer of a bedroom?

Besides, it would be fun to see where the rat lived. And you never knew... this rat could talk! Perhaps it stole food from her aunt and uncle? Human food. And she was so very hungry.

‘Well... um... OK then. Yes, please.’

Whiskers nodded, then turned and ran. Bounding first onto the bed, then the bedside table, he launched himself into the air and plunged through the gap in the curtains. The window was still shut, but when Sophie hauled the curtains aside, she saw the tip of his tail disappearing through a hole between the window and the old stone wall.

No wonder the storm that had raged during the night (so perfectly matching her mood as she shivered in the freezing cold, lumpy bed) had seemed so loud.

Puffing, her face red with effort, she dragged the bedside table over, clambered on top of it and hoisted herself onto the windowsill. Whiskers was drumming his claws on the ledge, watching her through the window. She pulled it open, crawled out, and sat next to him.

Below them was a rough concrete path with breeze block steps leading up to a lawn. At the far end of the lawn was a tree-lined bank of grass, and beyond it, a steep field leading to the forest of fir trees at the top of the mountain.

It was beautiful - in a rugged, wild kind of way.

Whiskers pointed a gnarled claw at the drop from the window to the path below. ‘It’s all in the mind. Deep breaths, you’ll be fine.’ He winked.

Sophie hesitated. The rat gestured to a window at the other end of the long, thin cottage where her aunt and uncle lay, still sleeping. It was encouragement enough. She swung her legs over the ledge, closed her eyes, and flung herself forward. It was more a fall than a jump, and her skull connected with a sickening thud against the wall of the raised patio. Groaning, she rolled over and peered back up at Whiskers.

Horrified, he leapt down to the path beside her. ‘You’re bleeding! Are you OK?’

She nodded, her brain still catching up to her skull and the throbbing in her head making her feel sick again.

‘Why did you close your eyes? If I’d bundled you in a bag and thrown you from the window, you’d be in better shape! It’ll all be my fault when Rosie sees. It’ll be Why did you tell her to jump Whiskers? What were you thinking, Whiskers? She’s a HuMan; everyone knows they don’t move very well.’

Sophie blushed.

‘I’m fine!’ she retorted. ‘And anyway, it was my first try.’ Grinning, she traced the outline of the gash with a finger. It was really happening. This was real pain. And it was real blood that was trickling down her forehead.

With a despairing shake of his head, Whiskers scampered up the breeze block steps to the garden.

Sophie followed him across the grass and up the steep earth bank, but when she jumped down into the field after him, she caught her leg on a barbed wire fence hidden from sight amongst the thick tangle of undergrowth. Howling in pain and surprise, she fell headlong into a patch of nettles, rolled out as quickly as she could, and lay on her back. A burning rash appeared across her legs, arm, and face.

Definitely get dressed before you go out next time. What were you thinking?

Whiskers stood nearby with paws on hips, watching her with a bemused expression.

When she’d recovered, they dashed across the field, negotiated another barbed wire fence and stood at last behind the workshop. It looked even more derelict from behind, with walls of the same corrugated concrete as the roof of the cottage, and rotten window frames. Sophie squeezed the ledge of the nearest window, and water oozed out of it. It was sodden.

‘So, you live in the workshop, then?’ she whispered, rubbing a dock leaf Whiskers had given her over lumpy, rash covered limbs. ‘I’d have thought my aunt would go nuts if she found out?’

‘I didn’t say in the workshop,’ Whiskers corrected, gesturing to a crack underneath the back door. ‘We live under the workshop. This is my home, and you’re very welcome here!’ Beaming with pride, he beckoned for her to follow him as he squeezed through the crack and disappeared into the darkness below.

Chapter Two

SOPHIE BENT OVER to inspect the hole. She could wedge her hand in, but not very far. Of course, she couldn’t. She was a human. Not a rat.

Bitterly disappointed, she staggered over to a tree stump and sat down. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she shivered, wrapping the damp dressing gown around her and picking off blades of grass with trembling fingers.

Whiskers poked his head out of the hole. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘Hurry up, will you? Rosie and the pups are dying to meet you.’

‘I can’t,’ she replied, shrugging as if it was no big deal.

‘Of course,’ said Whiskers, squeezing back out of the hole. ‘You’re new to all this. You’ve had no training in the ways of the Magi—none at all.’

Sophie struggled back to her feet and kicked at the thick