by Alex Bell
He rubbed at his temples with the tips of his fingers.
“Don’t worry,” Ethan said. “If any witch wolves come our way, I’ll turn them into wonky squish-squish frogs. I’m getting quite good at that now.”
“Yes, but you really ought to be trying to remember how to undo the spell,” Stella said. “Poor old Gideon is going to forget how to be a human if he stays a frog for much longer.” She fixed the magician with a stern look and said, “You are trying to remember the spell, aren’t you?”
“Naturally,” Ethan replied. “My every waking moment is consumed by it, in fact.”
“You’re such a liar,” Stella said with a sigh.
“Well, you won’t be able to turn a witch wolf into a wonky squish-squish frog, or anything else, for that matter,” Drusilla piped up.
Stella turned and saw that the little witch was perched on her broomstick, ankles slowly kicking back and forth. The jungle fairies were all settled in a pile on her lap.
“The curse that turns them into wolves prevents them from changing shape,” Drusilla went on. “They’re trapped as witch wolves for all time. For ever and ever and ever. Their souls are frozen in there, you see, and there’s nothing in the world that can change them back.”
Somewhere in the distance, a witch wolf howled once again—a long, low, mournful sound that made the hair on everyone’s arms stand on end. Koa whimpered, and Shay put his hands to his head with a groan.
Ethan and Stella were immediately at his side.
“It’s all right,” the magician said. “Even if they can’t be turned into wonky squish-squish frogs, they’re still just wolves.”
“They’re not exactly just wolves,” Drusilla began. “They can rip your soul right out of your—”
“Thank you,” Ethan snapped. “That’s very cheerful.” He turned back to Shay. “Look, didn’t we face frosties, carnivorous cabbages, ferocious outlaws, and rampaging yetis during the last expedition and live to tell the tale? A bunch of wolves aren’t going to be any problem to us.”
“That’s right,” Stella said. “And if needs be, I can freeze them.” She glanced at Drusilla and said, “There’s nothing to prevent witch wolves being affected by ice magic, is there?”
The witch shrugged. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t think we’ve ever had an ice princess on Witch Mountain before.”
They walked on—and before long the dark chasm opened out onto the cliff top.
“Well, would you look at that,” Cadi said.
The others followed her gaze and saw, to their dismay, that six witches stood right at the cliff top with their backs toward the explorers. Stella knew immediately that they were the ones the group had seen from halfway up the mountain—the witches who had sent the snow hands after them. This close, they were even larger than she had realized—six feet at least. Beside her, Stella felt Beanie shudder.
“Let’s go,” Shay whispered. “Before they see us.”
“No. Look,” Cadi said again. “They’re not real.”
Finally, Stella saw that the witches didn’t have legs poking out from beneath their coats, but broomsticks instead. And those weren’t fingers sticking out from the ends of their sleeves, but long, dead twigs, all brittle and black, like they’d come from a diseased old tree. The figures were hunched over more than they should be, and their pointed hats were crooked on their heads.
“They’re—” she began.
“Scarecrows, by gad!” Cadi exclaimed. “Not real witches at all.”
“They don’t look right,” Shay said. “We should leave them alone.”
But Cadi was already marching up to them. “I can’t believe I was taken in by a pile of dead sticks!” she exclaimed indignantly.
The others followed Cadi and peered up at the tall scarecrow witches. They had lumpy sack cloths for faces, black buttons for eyes, and slashed charcoal lines for mouths.
“Those are the scarecrow queen’s scarecrows!” Drusilla exclaimed. “And if they’re here, then the scarecrow queen herself is probably nearby too. She can smell children from miles around, you see.”
No sooner had she spoken than a witch came shuffling out from a nearby cave. She was dressed in a coat that seemed to consist entirely of crude little scarecrow dolls clumsily stitched together. Her hair ran in a long gray curtain down her back, and she carried a stick, which she pointed in their direction as she yelled in a croaky voice, “Intruders! Intruders!”
The nearest scarecrow immediately whirled around, grabbed a handful of Cadi’s robes with its long twig fingers, and lifted her clear off the ground. The others watched in horror as the creature leaned close to Cadi and a hissing voice came out, even though its charcoal mouth didn’t move at all.
“Turn back!” it said. “Turn back!”
“All intruders will be eaten by scarecrows!” the witch shrieked gleefully. “All of them!”
Cadi gave a yelp of alarm and thrashed around in the scarecrow’s grip, punching and kicking at it, but the creature held her at arm’s length and she couldn’t reach its scrawny body.
Ethan threw a spell at the scarecrow, but it must have been cast with a protection charm of its own, because the spell simply bounced back. Drusilla hastily conjured up a gingerbread man, but this simply ran up to the nearest scarecrow, who snatched it up and crushed it into a shower of crumbs.
Stella grabbed the first heavy object she could find from her bag—which happened to be her telescope—and ran up to the scarecrow. Being careful to avoid the outstretched fingers of the one next to it, she began pummeling Cadi’s captor on its back and legs, as far up as she could reach. One of the other scarecrows pointed a broomstick at the ground, a spell shot from it, and the next moment, cold snow hands unfurled and gripped Stella’s ankle.
Ethan threw fire magic at them just as Shay whipped his boomerang from his bag and sent it sailing through the air. It cut off the scarecrow’s hand in one clean sweep. The scarecrow let out a dreadful squawk, and Cadi fell to the ground in a shower of broken twigs. Stella pulled her foot free from the crumbling snow hand, grabbed Cadi’s arm, and dragged her back, out of harm’s way. The scarecrows didn’t pursue them as they retreated. Their broomstick legs appeared to be driven deep into the ground, pinning them there. All six scarecrows shook their arms and wailed up at the heavens, but remained right where they were.
The witch gave a furious cry of her own and began to advance upon the junior explorers. Before she could reach them, however, the jungle fairies flew about her in a flurry of leaf tunics and spiky hair, taking aim with their slingshots and pelting her all over with stink-berries.
The witch howled, which unfortunately meant that the next stink-berry to go flying went straight into her mouth. It must have tasted as awful as it smelled because the witch really did kick up a fuss then, shouting and screaming something terrible before turning around and racing back into the safety of her cave.
Seizing their chance, the explorers ran from the scene as fast as their legs could carry them. They’d been running for some time when they finally reached a snow-covered plateau. Here, they paused for a moment to catch their breath, leaning over on their knees and gasping until they could breathe easily again.
“Some hunter you are,” Ethan finally snapped, glaring at Cadi. “You might have gotten us all killed.”
“Sorry,” Cadi said, holding up her hands. “You’re right—it was a stupid thing to do. Thank you for helping me.” She turned to the jungle fairies, who were strutting about and looking pleased with themselves. “Thanks to you guys, too,” she said. “You were wonderful. Bravo.”
“That was a close shave,” Stella said. “But we’re all in one piece.”
Now that they had calmed down a bit, the explorers examined their surroundings. There was a signpost in the middle of the plateau with dozens of little signs attached to it, all pointing in different directions. Myriad paths led away from it—all different colors, from purple to black to pink to glittering g
old. Stella thought that the snow somehow hadn’t landed on them to begin with, but as soon as they stepped on the first one, they realized that the paths themselves were actually warm—so warm they could feel it through their snow boots.
The jungle fairies were quite delighted by this and immediately started laying down the monogrammed hankies Beanie had given them, using them as beach towels on the hot stone. One of them even started optimistically fashioning some kind of umbrella out of a toothpick and a banana skin. Stella hadn’t seen a single banana the whole time they’d been on the expedition, so she wasn’t sure where that had come from, but there was no time to wonder about it as they set off to examine the post.
Some of the signs pointed toward things the explorers had already come across, such as the Balloon of Death and Madness or the Forest of Enchanted Broomsticks. Others were unfamiliar and ranged from terrible-sounding places, like the Pit of Spikes and the Poison Shrivel Caves, to rather nice-sounding spots such as the Fizzy Sherbet Fountains and Iced Spiced Gingerbread Street.
“Ooh, I’m going to go to Iced Spiced Gingerbread Street!” Drusilla piped up at once. “That sounds smashing!” She gave a shudder. “I don’t fancy being chased by any more incensed witches, or their scarecrows either, thank you very much. I’m sorry, everyone, but from here you’re on your own.”
At the mention of the word “gingerbread,” one of the jungle fairies gave a dry heave, which immediately made Nigel spit in irritation. Stella thought this only fair, since no one wants a jungle fairy being sick on their back, after all, especially when they’re so frightfully noisy about it.
“Good luck with your witch hunt,” Drusilla said. “I hope you catch up with your father before a witch gobbles him up.” And with that she plucked a hair from her head, passed it to Cadi, and then waved good-bye before grabbing hold of her broomstick and zooming off in the direction of Iced Spiced Gingerbread Street.
Cadi and the explorers watched her go and for the first time realized that the peak of the mountain was actually in sight. It rose sharp and black and jagged in the air, with snow scattered about in patches.
The next moment Stella spotted a stray confetti vulture hopping off down one of the paths.
“Look over there!” she cried, pointing it out to the others. “It’s a confetti vulture!”
Everyone turned to look.
“What path is that?” Shay asked.
It was bright orange in color and was made from hundreds of tiny bricks. Embedded between some of them were black cats, bats, toads, and cauldrons.
“It’s the path for Witch Village,” Cadi said, pointing at the sign.
Just as she spoke, the confetti vulture lost the last of its magic and keeled over on the snow, fluttering limply.
“Witch Village it is, then,” Shay said.
“Is it safe to just go walking straight into Witch Village, though?” Beanie asked, fiddling with his wooden narwhal anxiously. “Won’t it be full of witches?”
“We’ll just have to deal with that when we get there,” Stella said. She knew it wasn’t much of an answer, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Yes, it was dangerous, but they had already been slowed down by the witch and her scarecrows, and they couldn’t delay going after Felix another moment longer.
As the explorers walked toward the village, Stella wondered what kind of awful place Jezzybella might live in. Visions of haunted castles, freezing bat caves, and savage dungeons filled her mind, but she tried to push these away. They just had to concentrate on getting there for now. Still, the closer they got, the more terrible the thought became. Stella couldn’t help thinking of the nightmares that had tormented her for years—the screaming; the shuffling, burned feet; the blood droplets scattered scarlet over the snow. She had never wished more fervently to be home, warm and safe with Felix, in her whole life.
It didn’t take them long to reach the village, and they smelled it before they saw it—a heavenly mixture of spiced gingerbread and hot fruit punch. They came around the corner and were met with a collection of the most crooked buildings Stella had ever seen. There were wonky thatched cottages, leaning towers, and twisted shops selling all kinds of things. The cobbled high street was made from hard candies, and a fizzy sherbet fountain fizzed and frothed in the center.
As they had feared, there were, indeed, quite a few witches hurrying to and fro—but they didn’t look much like the angry one the explorers had just encountered. Most of them were pleasant-looking old ladies who wore their hair neatly arranged in buns tucked beneath their hats and wore outfits similar to the one Drusilla had worn: black dresses, pointed hats, striped stockings, and buckled shoes. There wasn’t a scarecrow coat in sight. Some of the witches carried broomsticks, while others had cauldrons swinging from their arms. Stella noticed one or two with a bat, or a toad, or a newt balanced on their shoulder or curling around at their feet and realized the animals must be the witches’ familiars. Stella could tell they were no ordinary animals, because every one of them wore a pointed black hat.
The first witch that passed them stopped immediately. To Stella’s surprise, she was a kindly-looking old lady, with a hooked nose and twinkly blue eyes. She carried a cauldron with a raven in it. The bird wore a pointed hat and gazed over the rim at them with bright, beady eyes before squawking amicably.
“What’s this, then?” the witch asked, looking them up and down. “How on earth did you manage to get past the witch gate? Never mind the flying sharks and biting pumpkins and whatnot? I mean, what’s the point in us putting all these things there if they’re not going to keep nosy children away?”
The raven squawked in agreement.
“We’re not nosy children,” Beanie told her. “We’re explorers.”
“But you’re not supposed to be here,” the old witch almost wailed. A couple of passing witches heard her and stopped to see what all the fuss was about.
“Are these explorers?” one of the new witches exclaimed. “But why have they come here? Surely they know that Witch Mountain is too perilous for exploring?”
“I thought the hunters said that to everyone they met, including the explorers’ clubs,” the third witch said. “To keep their prices high, you know.”
Cadi blushed. “Well, everyone has to earn a living,” she said.
“We don’t mean any harm,” Stella said. The explorers were already starting to inch away. “We’re just looking for my father. As soon as we find him, we’ll go home.”
“But—” one of the witches began.
“And we’ll write a fearsome Flag Report,” Shay added. “Telling everyone about what a terrible place Witch Mountain is.”
“Just see that you do,” the witch with the raven huffed. “We’ve made a great effort to keep people out. Is it too much to ask for a little peace and quiet in your retirement?”
“Absolutely not,” Stella said. “We’ll be gone before you know it.”
The explorers hastily took their leave before the witches could question them any further. As they moved away from the center and into the outskirts, the streets became darker and narrower, and the shops looked like they catered to those looking for hexes and curses and evil magic. The explorers started to avoid looking in through the windows in case they saw a rat nailed to the wall, a pile of warty toads, or a barrel of poisonous apples. Everything smelled of damp and rot and grease.
The witches shopping here were distinctly less kindly-looking too. If they acknowledged the explorers at all, it was to mutter about how visitors shouldn’t be allowed on Witch Mountain, and the only thing children were good for was eating, and it was a shame it was generally frowned upon to hex people in Witch Village.
They all became rather eager to get out of the village as quickly as possible, but unfortunately, the streets had become quite mazelike, twisting around and around on themselves, veering off into little alleyways and side streets, all filled with the same unsavory shops.
“We’re going around in circles,” Eth
an said eventually.
“No, we’re not,” Cadi said. “I’m sure this is the way out.”
“I recognize the mask in that window,” Ethan said, pointing at a nearby shop. “I noticed it the first time because of how snarly it is. Nigel noticed it too. He spat at it. Look.” He pointed at what did, indeed, appear to be a large trail of camel spit running down the filthy window.
Right on cue, Nigel spat at the head again, and the big glob hit the window with a splat. A moment later a man came hurrying out of the shop. He had a bent back and was almost entirely bald, and he seemed very irritated. Stella thought he must have had some goblin blood in him, because his ears were slightly pointed and his eyes were huge.
“Can’t you control your camel?” the man demanded. “Why do you even have a camel here anyway? It’s absurd and I won’t stand for it! It’s an outrage! I’ve worked too long and too hard to build up this shop only to have camels come along and spit at it.”
“I don’t see what difference it makes,” Ethan said, “given that the window’s already filthy.”
“We’re very sorry,” Shay hurried to apologize. “We’re lost. We’re actually trying to find our way out of the village. Perhaps you could direct us? We’re looking for a witch called Jezzybella.”
The shopkeeper stared—his eyes becoming even larger in his face. “No one goes to Jezzybella’s house,” he said. “No one. There’s a frightful thing living there.”
“Do you know the address?” Stella asked eagerly. “It’s really very important that we see her.”
The man was already shaking his head and backing away from them into the shop. “Mad,” he muttered. “You’d have to be mad to go there. Jezzybella has a dangerous taste in pets.”
“We already know about the vulture,” Stella said.
“I ain’t talking about the vulture, girl.” The man grunted.
Stella wondered whether he had meant the poisonous rabbits, but before she could ask, he said, “Look, if it’ll get you away from here, then just follow the path around the corner, turn right, and then right again. That’ll take you out of Witch Village.”