Chapter 30

Horsetongue

‘That is one hell of a view,’ Justin declares.

‘Even worth the mini-bus trip from hell,’ Dean agrees. Ravi just wheezes.

We can see for miles across the Brecon Beacons National Park. There is nothing except hills, waves of yellowish grass striped with sunlight. It looks like something from Aliya’s world, in an age before the landscape was chopped up by electricity pylons.

It looks like the sort of place to find nature spirits. If I can even bear to try. I’m not sure I can take another failure. My insides are coated with volcanic ash, the taste of defeat. Aliya isn’t supposed to fail. She’s a magical horse-girl, and me? I count it as a success if I can eat lunch without getting tomato ketchup on my t-shirt. How can I possibly succeed if Aliya can’t?

Mr Anthwaite, the leader of the Outsiders Club, comes up beside us and says, ‘It makes you think of a simpler time, doesn’t it?’

What can you say to that? I mean, why were things simpler just because they were long ago? Seriously, Aliya’s life is way more complicated than mine. Shamans and cursed dreams and elementals…

‘It’s easier to think, up here,’ I conclude.

‘Up here, it’s easier not to think,’ Dean disagrees, which, for him, is actually quite profound.

On the way back to the activities centre, I get ‘lost’.

I know the way—but I need some time alone. Some time to do what I came here for. And I definitely don’t want an audience for that.

At the bottom of a steep valley, I find a noisy stream. The chattering sound of the water reminds me of Ripple. This is the place, for sure. Water elementals are the chattiest, so I know they’ll come and help me. Sliding down a muddy bank, I balance on a rock where the water splashes into a pool. Prepared this time, I pour some mineral water into the stream.

‘Hello, spirit of the waters,’ I say. Every atom feels alive with possibility. After an electric moment, I continue, ‘I’m a shaman. I guess you haven’t met one of those in a while. But…I’m here.’

The river’s only voice is the gentle burbling of water over rocks.

It’s okay. Move on.

There are lots of trees that look likely. Big, old storybook giants leaning over the water. I pour an offering onto the roots of an oak, and say, ‘Please.’

Browning leaves rustle on the branches.

‘Please, I need your help. If you want something in return, just ask. I’ll do anything.’

The bark is cold when I place my hand on the trunk. There is a sluggish energy, like a distant heartbeat, flowing up from the roots. Like it has been sleeping for centuries.

Further up the valley, a majestic beech decked out in autumn colours offers me hope. I pour out the last of my bottled water.

‘There has to be someone here,’ I say. ‘Please. I’m not asking for myself: my sister needs you. Modern medicine is failing her.’

Nothing.

Air elementals have more freedom to move around; they will hear me and know where I can find all the others. I struggle up the bare slope of a hill, the last light of the short autumn day pushing long shadows before me. The sky is huge.

Neck craned back, I say, ‘Spirits of the air, I’m begging you. Of all the places you could be, please be here.’

Cold wind buffets me, pressing my jacket tight against my chest. They’ve come! But there are no voices in the wind. Only winter’s chill.

‘Just talk to me, damn you!’ I shout to the sky.

The silence mocks me. Either there are no elementals here, or I’m not a shaman. Or, I’ve made Aliya and her whole world up, and my mental health is on very shaky ground. Take your pick of any of the above. And the prize is—failure.

• • •

The next morning—the last day of the trip—we go pony trekking.

We’re huddled up in the cobbled yard outside a stable building, a dozen kids and two teachers, waiting for the horses. Well, ponies.

When the staff start leading the animals out, I realize just how much of a difference there is. I always thought horses and ponies were basically the same things, but ponies are tiny compared to the horses I’ve ridden. Aliya’s ridden, I mean. These are like a Smart Car instead of a Jag. But hey, even driving a Smart Car sounds cool.

The pony trekking guy gets us to spread out so he can lead the animals over to us. I stick close to Ravi because he looks terrified. He’s done well this weekend, but all this outdoorsy stuff is clearly not his cup of tea. I’m given a little brown-and-white patchy pony and told to hold the bridle. Ravi’s is all brown and looks a bit pissed off. I think he can tell that Ravi’s scared because he keeps trying to pull away from the hand on his reins.

Suddenly, Ravi’s pony rears up, and it doesn’t look so little anymore. It is towering over our heads, its sharp hooves slicing the air. Ravi is underneath it with this look on his face like ‘Didn’t I tell you this was a bad idea?’—and I don’t think about it, I just know what to do, as if—no, because—I do this every day. I duck right into the horse’s side, reach up and grab a handful of mane behind its ear, tugging him gently but firmly down as I call ‘Arrasai.’ Like magic, he is immediately still, leaning into me as though he knows me, trusts me.

As Ravi blinks at me in stupefied wonder, the instructor, looking kind of pale, hurries over. ’I’m so sorry, boys,’ he says. ‘They are usually so friendly. He must be feeling off-colour today; I’ll take him back to the paddock and find you another pony to ride.’

‘No way will I ever in my life get on one of those,’ Ravi says flatly.

But I can’t wait. It is familiar and not; this pony is nothing like Meera, doesn’t have any of her fire, and the saddle feels like a strange interference. But I’m glad of it by the end of the day when all my leg muscles are stiff and sore. My brain is telling me this is familiar, but my body doesn’t agree.

All day, I can’t stop thinking about how one word could immediately calm that animal. I spoke to him in his own language, and he understood me. That seems commonplace to Aliya, but to me it’s huge. It’s proof: Aliya is real. She taught me something that no one else in this whole world knows. All the things that live in my imagination could become true. There are no limits to what is possible.

The elementals of this world may still be hidden from me—they may even be dead, the victims of progress and pollution. But I’ve found something equally important. Inner fire. What we need to break through the barriers and dream deep.

Aliya’s already got that passion—she just can’t see it yet. I need to make her understand how amazing it is to be her. That she has the power inside her to make a difference, if only she’ll accept it.