“I’m going to kill you!” Francie yelled. She knew her threat would not reach her brother’s ears. He was too far away. Even if he did hear her, he would recognise the untruth. But she really did want to punish him somehow.
She looked down at the distant green that was the ground. “That is, if I ever survive this,” she whispered into the wind.
All she had asked was whether he thought it possible for them to visit the Triple Peaks Mountain. It was far away, over by the coast. Papa said he had to return there for more training. Mumma cried but nodded her head in acceptance. His departure meant the family was fractured. Mumma spent her days at the shop, selling medicines, while Francie and Daniel were expected to care for the house.
Francie was part way through her chores and preparing to do battle with the old vacuum cleaner when she asked her question. Her little brother responded by dropping the potato peeler and the half-peeled potato into the sink. He rushed into the bedroom they shared. A couple of seconds later he returned to the kitchen, waving a stick.
He claimed the twisted piece of wood he held was a wand. He was going to be a great wizard, just like Papa. Francie knew Papa was not really a wizard; he was a pharmacist.
“Zabba Boo!” Daniel’s high-pitched exclamation reverberated in Francie’s ears.
The next few minutes blurred in her memory. The nonsense words were repeated several times, light from the kitchen window sparkled red and orange, and the vacuum cleaner transformed into a broomstick of wood and straw. As her hands clenched around the broomstick, the back door banged open and Francie was off, flying.
She opened her eyes after about two minutes and stopped screaming after ten. She needed all her energy for hanging on, and her throat was sore. Screaming had not fixed anything, anyway.
After what felt like forever but was probably 30 minutes, she saw the rocky formation called Triple Peaks Mountain. Although she had never seen the mountain before, she was in no doubt her brother had sent her to the right place. Bare rock pointed upwards from a base of emerald grass. The three grey spires were hundreds and hundreds of times Francie’s height.
As she stared at the spires, Francie tried to find a bit of logic in her plight. The journey should not have been possible. Her little brother was just a typical, obnoxious, little squirt. Magic was not real. Papa was not a wizard! He was a pharmacist. He prepared medicines. Daniel could not have sent her flying. This must be a hallucination.
Except that the experience felt very real and frightening. Her fingers were cramped from holding on so tight, her blouse was too thin for warmth in the constant, battering wind, and one of her slippers had fallen off. She watched it grow smaller and smaller as it fell until it was just a dot. Now her foot was cold.
The fact that she was flying was bad enough but the crazy broomstick she rode was even worse. The damned thing twisted and bucked as if wishing to rid itself of her. One moment she was able to get astride it, the next she would be hanging by her locked fists, far above the earth.
The broomstick then picked her up again, only to take her, plunging, spiralling, pointing downwards. The earth, sharp boulders, scattered grass and a terrified rabbit rushed up towards her.
With a sudden flick, the broomstick levelled off and flew sedately forward while Francie took deep, gasping breaths.
After the first scare, Francie understood the broomstick was toying with her. She was not going to crash into rocks or fall off onto the pasture below. She just had to hang on throughout the theatrics. Her terror subsided into a case of numb dread as the broomstick took her high into the sky again.
There were clouds ahead. They thickened and darkened as she flew towards them. She watched as they wrapped delicate tendrils around the highest of the three peaks. The sight caused Francie to whimper. Judging by the journey so far, she could believe the broomstick was planning to stay aloft until she got rained on. That, or the beastly broomstick would dunk her in the ice blue lake she spotted at the bottom of the peaks.
“I promise, I will never, after I’ve killed him, ever bully my horrible, little brother again,” she muttered.
The stone surfaces of the peaks drew closer. She was able to make out individual, sharp ridges that looked like they wanted to rip her skin from her bones. The broomstick wobbled, threatening to knock her against the rock.
“I promise I’ll never complain about having to do chores at home again,” Francie whispered.
The broomstick slowed, turned around in a complete circle then skipped between two outcrops of dark stone. All Francie could see was walls of rock.
“How will I get home before Mumma finds I’m gone? She will tell Papa and I’ll be in terrible trouble.” She cried.
The broomstick turned left and halted. Francie was almost catapulted off by the sudden stop. Directly ahead, was a cathedral-like archway and within it, a vision of the kitchen Francie had left. Daniel was sitting on the floor, crying.
“Can I just go through there and be home?”
After the journey she had been on, simply walking through the archway seemed too easy.
The broomstick was halted but Francie looked down and saw she was still a long way up from the ground. Her fingers refused to release the grip they had on the wooden shaft.
“I can’t get off!” She wailed.
It was then she realised there were no other people around. Papa was supposed to be here, and other pharmacists. Where were they? There were no buildings, only spires of cruel rock.
“Where am I?”
The voice, a man’s but made of cream, so unlike Papa’s rasp, came from within the archway, “Child, you are where you always wanted to be. Welcome to the Triple Peak Mountain School of Magic.”
“But. Who are you? Why can’t I see you?”
“I am Nazir Bruster, deputy principal of the TPM School of magic. You can’t see me because I am magically sending my voice to you from within the mountain.”
“But.”
“The school is inside. If you wish to join us, ask the broomstick to bring you in. If you want to go home, dismount and go to your brother. Oh, it is you with the magic, not him.”
Francie looked down again and saw she could just about put her toes on the ground.
“But. What about Papa? Is he here?”
“He is studying. He cannot be disturbed.”
“But.”
“Go home then,” the voice advised. “Speak nothing of this. Another opportunity will present itself. To your brother, you are lying, unconscious, on the kitchen floor. He fears he has killed you.”
Francie took a deep breath to calm herself and let the broomstick go. It dipped and backed out from between her legs. She walked on unsteady feet through the archway. Sudden, bright lights, red and orange, disoriented her again. She groaned.
“Francie!” Daniel was hugging her.
“I’m okay. I must have slipped and hit my head.” Francie hugged her little brother back. She would never tell him of the adventure but, maybe, one day, she could write it for him as a story of make-believe.
Liz Homes Author 