It was raining, so Tiffinstorm set up a weather spell to protect them while they slept.
“Whyissitalwaysmewhohastodoeverything?” complained Tiffinstorm, getting out a number four wand and taking a weather spell out of her spell bag. She batted the spell up in the air with her wand, and a nice little umbrella of wind sprang out of the end of the spell, hovering some three or four feet above them, and the rain poured over the edges in a waterfall.
So Wish and Xar slept far better than poor Bodkin that night.
They slept wrapped up in the middle of the comforting heat of a tangle of animals—the shaggy fur of the snowcats, the werewolf and the wolves, and the bear, keeping them warm. And curled around them all, in a protective way, was the great sleeping form of Crusher the giant. Longstepper High-Walker giants don’t need weather spells. They are waterproof. Their great bodies give off such warmth that the rain just bounces off them, turning into steam.
In the middle of the night, Xar could feel his appearance changing back from Bodkin-as-a-hob into Xar again. It was the same strange, unsettling feeling as it had been last time—very sick-making—and when he looked at his arms, he could see the fur gradually dissolving, leaving his own Xar-like skin beneath. He rolled over and went back to sleep again.
When Wish woke up every now and then, she could see that the snowcats were taking turns to keep awake. One time it was Kingcat keeping lookout, watching the skies above through the glass of the rain-washed spell. The next it was Forestheart. So she would fall asleep with the comforting drumming of the rain on the spell above, the desolation of leaving Pook’s Hill alleviated by the closeness of her friends.
Bodkin, don’t be afraid… thought Wish dreamily. We’re coming to find you.
About half an hour after Wish and Xar left Pook’s Hill, Encanzo and Sychorax set out in pursuit.
They had to share a ride on Encanzo’s snowcat, and there was a big argument about who should ride at the front and who should ride at the back.
They began the trip invisible, but by the time they set out, Perdita and her Wizards had made good the Magic protecting Pook’s Hill and the Witch attack was over. In their invisible state, they had to weave their way past several Witch corpses, which explained why the Witches had stopped their invasion. The Witches had now retreated to the treetops where they were chanting dreadful curses, like vengeful monkeys.
Sychorax and Encanzo rode without talking to each other, both of them grimly angry. Once they reached the scorched part of the forest, Encanzo turned them visible again. The broken stumps of trees were quiet, so quiet.
As Sychorax rode through the forest that she herself had burned to the ground, steadily growing in her mind’s eye with each leap of the snowcat were the remembered ghosts of trees that were heavy with the numberless leaves of the summertime. The memory of a much younger Encanzo riding by her side, and they were hunting deer perhaps, flocks of birds shocked up into the air as they raced past, out of control with youth, and the wind making them giddy by blowing straight into their brains, and the seemingly endless forest stretching out in front of them.
And then she blinked, and here in the present there were no trees.
Which was a shame, because when she stopped to think about it, Sychorax liked trees. The ashy remains of the tree stumps were making her feel uncomfortable and, irritably, she stared straight ahead so she didn’t have to look at them.
They rode until they were so tired they were in danger of falling off the snowcat.
And they made camp in the open air.
“Once you were a wild thing, just like me, Queen Sychorax,” said Encanzo bitterly, staring into the fire of many colors he had conjured up with his staff as they settled down for a few hours of sleep on the forest floor. “But it will be many years since Your Majesty camped out without your toothpick.”
“I am a Warrior,” said Sychorax, tossing her head. “We camp out all the time.”
This was a lie. It had indeed been a very long time since Sychorax had camped out in the woods without a richly embroidered tent, a feather bed, a tiptoeing lady to turn down the warm, dry covers and wish her a good night’s sleep.
But she was too proud to show that she minded.
“I am sorry I cannot offer you trees for shelter,” said Encanzo, pointing upward at the empty darkness. The bleak, cold rain was coming down very heavily now.
“Once, there would have been branches above us where birds used to sing,” continued Encanzo, “homes where the forest creatures lived… But they are burned, all burned, so that you Warriors can build your forts and your fields and all the THINGS you need to have—the knickknacks, that golden bracelet around your wrist…
“But I ask you, Sychorax, is it worth the freedom you have had to give up? The moon, the stars, the wind, you sold them for?”
Sychorax did not answer.
She WAS getting awfully wet.
Her bottom was definitely soggy. She thought she may have sat on a damp patch.
“Let me tell you a story,” said Encanzo, “of how twenty years ago my heart turned into stone.”
How the Boy Tor Became the Wizard Encanzo
“Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a young Wizard known as Tor, who fell in love with a young Warrior princess. Wizards and Warriors should NEVER fall in love, but the young Warrior princess declared she did not care for silly rules such as this one. The young Warrior princess promised she would marry Tor. She promised on her heart that they would run away together and find themselves a world where it did not matter where they came from, where Wizards and Warriors could love and live in peace.
“But the princess did not keep her promise…”
TOR’S SONG Never and Forever–Part 2
They told me careful where you love
But I did not listen
My heart was born when I met you, I got my second chance
Flying side by side together in a never-ending dance
Why should I listen?
But now I’m
Waiting
For the knock on the door
When SHE will come
Forever waiting
And waiting…
And waiting.
Closing
My eyes until SHE comes back
Longing
For the knock on the door
When SHE will come…
Forever waiting
And waiting…
And waiting.
“I had responsibilities, duties!” interrupted Sychorax. Encanzo carried on as if she had not spoken.
“She took the Spell of Love Denied and the love died in her heart… She wrote a letter to the Wizard boy saying she did not love him and she never had. Meanwhile, Tor waited many long weeks in the appointed waiting place. He got the letter. He read it, refused to believe it. A hut grew around him and the sprites in the forest felt so sorry for him, they brought him food and water. They called him ‘the Wizard-who-waits.’
“I will take you inside that hut now. Look at him, the poor young Wizard-who-waits,” said Encanzo bitterly.
“Two long years he waited,” said Encanzo. “Until he realized… she was never coming back. And THAT,” said Encanzo, “was when the young Wizard turned his heart into stone, and became the Wizard sitting before you now. The Wizard Encanzo.”
There was a short pause as Encanzo came to the end of his story. Queen Sychorax swallowed hard… and then Encanzo thrust his staff into the ground and he muttered a few words, and a weather spell rushed out of the end of the staff forming a protective canopy over where Encanzo was intending to sleep.
“I can extend the spell to cover you as well, if you like,” says Encanzo.
Queen Sychorax put her pretty little nose up in the air.
“Humph,” said Queen Sychorax. “I do not need your spell. We Warriors are not afraid of a little rain. We are made of tougher material than that.”
“Suit yourself,” said Encanzo, shrugging, wrapping himself in h
is cloak and falling asleep under the protection of the spell.
Queen Sychorax settled underneath a little tangle of burned and broken brambles. It took a while for her to fall asleep in the pouring rain. It was going to be a miserable night for Queen Sychorax.
And it may be uncharitable of me as a narrator, and I really shouldn’t comment…
BUT
I think…
I think…
I feel sorry for her, even though she has brought this on herself.
NOW… I do not want to alarm you, dear reader, of course I do not.
But I have to tell you, it would be truly remarkable if three children, a flying door, four snowcats, various wolves, a werewolf, a bear, two adults, numerous sprites, and a humongous Longstepper High-Walker giant were able to leave Pook’s Hill without even ONE Witch noticing, even if they were invisible at the time.
The fact is, although Perdita and Hoola and Elfrida and the other teachers were able to fight off the Witches and make the learning place safe by sealing up the hole in the Magic made by the Enchanted Sword, there were other Witches who had noticed the exit of these three separate parties while the fight was going on.
And they were following.
They did not want anyone to notice, so the Witches were pursuing, not in the air, but on foot, or rather using their folded-up wings as if they were legs, scuttling in between the burned trees of the broken forest.
They had used the opportunity of the hole made by Bodkin to attack Pook’s Hill, because there were things in the learning place that they wanted.
But why were they now choosing NOT to attack the various parties on the quest to find the Nuckalavee?
We are about to find out why…
16. The Beach of Shoes
When Bodkin woke up, cold, shivering, the transformation medicine that turned him into Xar had worn off, as had any residual excitement. Maybe there was some bit of Xar that was still left in there when he had briefly taken over Xar’s body. But whatever mad impulse had taken him over, it was now gone.
He looked down at his arms, skinny as weeds.
He wasn’t even a hob anymore. He was just Bodkin… an extremely ordinary Assistant Bodyguard who had betrayed the trust of his princess.
Bodkin was used to being alone, even when he was in company.
But for the first time in his life he really was completely…
ALONE.
With shaking hands he took out the map that he had torn from the Spelling Book that showed him the way to the Nuckalavee. The path that led through the burned forest was shining bright on the map, which meant that he was heading in the right direction. The path ended somewhere called the Beach of Shoes, and opposite this beach was an island called the Isle of the Nuckalavee.
There was a warning on the bottom of the map, saying in big dark letters:
DON’T FORGET TO
TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES.
But there was no time to wonder what that might mean.
Bodkin drank a glug of water from his water bottle. He was sick with hunger, but the burned forest contained no food and he couldn’t return now. He had to go on, riding on Nighteye’s back, all the while taking terrified glances up at the sky above, scared that at any moment he might see a Witch, even though Witches weren’t all that keen on flying during the daytime. The broken trees didn’t provide much camouflage.
Bodkin arrived at the Beach of Shoes very late in the evening, hungry and thirsty, and so terrified by the sight of the distant island of the Nuckalavee, crouching like a dark predatory creature on the horizon, he fell asleep on Nighteye’s back and Nighteye had to carry him on, in a dead faint, to the edge of the water.
He woke up again at the brink of the ocean, waves breaking on the shore, looking out at the island. Bodkin shivered and thought, I have to do this, for HER… I have to prove that I can be a hero too, even if I will only be a dead hero… Maybe if I’m a dead hero, she’ll at least forgive me.
Nighteye swam out to the island, with Bodkin, who could not swim, holding on to her tail.
What am I doing? thought Bodkin. Some hero I am. I can’t even swim.
Bodkin and Nighteye landed on the Isle of the Nuckalavee, and Nighteye shook off the water like a cat. Bodkin felt rising determination as he put a hand on the hilt of the Enchanted Sword and pulled down his visor.
Before him were the sands of the beach, and the waters of the ocean were running into a dark and dreadful cave, open like the jaws of a monster. The Cave of the Nuckalavee. Bodkin felt his heart shrivel within him as he looked at it.
But I got here on my own! I can do this! thought Bodkin. I’m stronger than they think I am!
He tried to pull out the Enchanted Sword, but for some reason it would not budge from its scabbard. It was stuck fast, as if it were glued there.
By the whiskers of werewolves! thought Bodkin. I’m not even strong enough to draw the sword!
But Bodkin made himself put one foot in front of the other, even though it felt like each foot was made out of lead.
Bodkin stopped suddenly.
Feeling he’d forgotten something.
What was it?
What on earth could it be?
He looked down.
I’ve forgotten to take off my shoes!!!
Bodkin’s eyes closed and his head slumped gently to one side.
Snore!
He tipped forward, facedown in the sand.
There was a terrible high-screeching noise from behind and above, like the sound of swooping furies. The sound of many, many scrabbling feet on the sand, panting furiously, running toward the intruders.
Nighteye gave a terrified yowl, her fur all on end. She picked up the fallen Bodkin and ran into the Cave of the Nuckalavee, the unconscious Bodkin dangling from her mouth, like a cat carrying a kitten.
And goodness knows what awaited them in there.
No, I don’t think Bodkin was quite ready to perform a quest all on his own.
Wish and Xar and their companions arrived at the Beach of Shoes the next morning, so early that the sun was not yet up.
They had lost track of Bodkin for a bit, and it took the snowcats a while to pick up his scent again. When they finally reached the Beach of Shoes, Wish and Xar found a small log boat hidden in a reed bank that they would be able to use to cross the sea to the island of the Nuckalavee. They hid the Enchanted Door under branches and leaves.*
Many of the rocks on the beach had sprite-writing that gleamed in the light of the moon scrawled all over them.
The sprite-writing said, quite politely,
PLEASE TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES…
And then added, more ominously,
…OR ELSE…
“You have to take your shoes off,” explained Caliburn, “out of respect for the sea and the impossible quest. Then you become the shadow men and women, the shoeless ones, and only when you return are you allowed to put them back on again.”
Obediently, Wish and Crusher took off their shoes. Xar wasn’t wearing any shoes anyway because he had left the Learning Place for Spectacularly Gifted Wizards dressed as a hob.
Crusher walked ahead a few steps and carefully laid down his shoes in the grass at the edge of the beach.
And for the first time the children noticed that all along the outer perimeter of the shore, higher than the tide could reach, was a line of shoes patiently waiting for their owners to come back. Some of them had been waiting a long, long time. Their leather was wind-battered, storm-eaten, half-broken, and buried in the sand. Others looked perkier and more hopeful, as if their owners had only just taken them off and were about to return.
“Not very many people come back to collect their ssshooessssss…” squeaked Bumbleboozle in nervous alarm.
Ariel’s eyes gleamed green and then red. “Particularly when you conssssider these are the shoes of some of the greatest Wizards in the wildwoods…”
They couldn’t find Bodkin’s shoes, so they weren’t sure if he had gotten there
before them.
Crusher picked up the small boat, carefully carried it across the beach and put it gently in the water. The others followed in his giant footsteps.
There were will-o’-the-wisps flying right out of the bogs and onto the beach in a glorious firework display, singing and taunting and pulling the hair of the sprites.
Will-o’-the-wisps are mean little faeries that sprites hate even more than pixies. At least pixies are only mischievous. Will-o’-the-wisps willfully lead unwary travelers to their doom.
“Don’t you DARE go after the will-o’-the-wisps, sprites!” shouted Xar, shaking his fist. “I’m warning you all! Pay no attention!”
But it was very hard to ignore the impudent little creatures, and their eerie song sent a chill into Wish’s soul and made her swallow hard. Whatever was over on that island must be very, very scary indeed.
“The Nuckalavee!” sang the will-o’-the-wisps. “The fools on their way to the Nuckalavee…”
The Fools on Their Way to the Nuckalavee
Care-less, love-less, heart-worn, soul-blast?
Come this way…
Thought-less… shoe-less… hope-less?
Come this way…
Love is weakness…
Love is kindness…
Love is childish…
Love is thoughtless…
No more second chances
No more silly dances
LOVE is weakness… so
Come this way…
“Take no notice. Don’t look back until we’ve got in the boat,” said Caliburn, all of a fluster.
Crusher tied a rope to the front of the boat and they all jumped in. The giant waded out thigh-deep, and then he gave a great shiver of “it’s cold!” before holding his nose and launching himself into the sea in a great breaststroke, sending backward waves that nearly overturned their boat.
The day turned to a warm night, and the swimming giant pulled the boat after him along the path of the moon, heading out to the island of the Nuckalavee with the sprites singing overhead.
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