Jinx

by Sage Blackwood

  “That’s crazy. I’ve been in the Urwald”—Reven paused to count—“ten nights, and I haven’t lost any limbs yet.”

  “You haven’t. But somebody has. Or will.”

  Reven shook his head. “Superstition. Why do you keep staring up into the trees?”

  “I’m looking for a tree house,” said Jinx. But he didn’t see any, and that meant he was going to have to camp out. He hoped it wouldn’t start raining again.

  “I stayed a couple of nights in clearings,” said Reven. He wrinkled up his nose in disgust. “They expect you to pay money to eat their rotten, wormy food and sleep in the straw in their smelly houses. And to be surrounded by ignorant, suspicious, inbred—”

  “We are not!” Jinx snapped. “Take that back.”

  “No offense intended.” Reven sounded surprised. “I can see you’re not one of them.”

  “I am too one of them,” said Jinx. “There aren’t any tree houses. We’re going to have to stop here.”

  He found a stick and lit the end of it. The magic was much easier outdoors than it had been in Simon’s house. “Here. Go gather some firewood—dead wood—but don’t go too far, and don’t you dare touch a living tree!”

  Reven just stared at Jinx, looking suddenly frightened. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Make that fire. Are you some kind of magician or something?”

  “Yes.”

  They heard a scream. A girl’s voice, panicky and cut off suddenly.

  “A damsel in distress!” Reven grabbed the torch out of Jinx’s hand and took off running down the path.

  Jinx looked at the vanishing light, sighed, and ran after him. When he caught up to him this is what he saw.

  The darkness was a seething mass of wolves. There was no sign of the girl who had screamed, but Reven was in the midst of the wolves, surrounded. He was waving his torch at them and yelling “Back, beasts! Aroint thee!” Something large and gray with wings—several somethings—formed a flapping mass attacking a huge creature that Jinx couldn’t see clearly. The air was full of howls and barks and grunts, and smelled of blood and filthy fur.

  “Jinx! To me!” cried Reven.

  Jinx looked around frantically for something else to make into a torch. He saw a dead branch sticking out of a tree and, thinking an apology as loudly as he could, broke it off and set the end on fire. Then he swung the blazing, crackling torch at the wolves, trying to get to Reven, who he couldn’t help thinking didn’t really deserve Jinx’s help.

  The wolves pressed close but stayed out of the way of the flames, and Jinx made his way to Reven. They stood back to back, surrounded by wolves.

  “Okay, I’m to you. Now what?” Jinx tried to sound as sarcastic as Simon would have in the circumstances.

  “Perhaps if we moved forward, swinging our torches—”

  “They would move backward, and then when we were far enough apart, they’d move in between, and I wouldn’t be ‘to you’ anymore.”

  “Er. Right. Well, you can set things on fire by magic?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Then can you set the wolves on fire?”

  “No!” said Jinx. “I mean, yeah, I could, but that would be really cruel.”

  Reven made an exasperated noise. “Well, if you don’t, they’re going to be really cruel to us, I swan.”

  Jinx considered the idea briefly. He imagined the wolves running away from the fire, but they wouldn’t be able to get away no matter how hard they ran. He imagined the smell of burning fur and flesh and—no. And they would set the trees on fire. And the Urwald would not forgive that.

  “Can’t do it. Think of something else.”

  “Excuse me, I have an idea.”

  It was a girl’s voice. Jinx looked all around.

  “Up here.” The voice came from one of the trees. “I had some furies in my basket, and as soon as they’re done attacking that werebear over there, they might drive the wolves away.”

  “Er,” said Jinx. It didn’t sound like much of a plan. He looked at the wolves all around him, their eyes glowing in the torchlight. The torch in his hand crackled and spat sparks. These torches were not going to last forever.

  “Fear not, fair maiden! We shall save you,” said Reven.

  “Shut up. She’s talking about saving us,” said Jinx. He called up to the girl. “Can you tell the furies to chase the wolves away, then?”

  “Nope. Furies won’t listen to anyone. Hang on.”

  There was a sound of climbing overhead. The wolves growled.

  “Ow! My torch has gone out. Have you got another?” said Reven.

  “I’ll just run and get one, shall I?” said Jinx. There was not an inch-wide opening in the ring of wolves. “Here, let me relight that one.”

  “There’s nothing to relight. It burned down to my fingers and I—oof!”

  Something heavy landed on them from above. Jinx fell to his knees and dropped his torch, which went out. Then the air was alive with wolves and great wings flapping, and there were howls and groans and screams and screeches and more smells of blood and terror. Jinx stayed huddled on the ground with his head down and his eyes closed.

  “I think it’s over,” said the girl, right beside him.

  Jinx opened his eyes. He couldn’t see much, but in the moonlight he could make out the forms of Reven and the girl. And no wolves.

  “They’re gone,” said the girl. “I thought that would work. The furies were charged to protect me, so if I was in danger from the wolves along with you—well, I thought it might work,” she finished proudly.

  Jinx felt around for his torch, found it, and lit it again.

  He looked at the girl in surprise. Her cape and hood glowed red in the torchlight—this was the same girl he’d seen in the Farseeing Window. But up close, she didn’t look quite like he’d imagined her. Her hair was not noticeably golden—it was the color called dirty blond. Or maybe it was just dirty. Certainly it was lacking in the curl department, and her eyes were brown instead of blue.

  “My mother gave me the furies. She said to open them only in an emergency. Well, they’re gone now. My name is Elfwyn.”

  Reven took her hand and bowed over it. “And I am Reven, your faithful servant, fair maiden.”

  Elfwyn beamed at Reven.

  “He’s a robber,” said Jinx.

  “And this is my stout companion, Jinx,” said Reven.

  “I’m one of the people he’s robbed,” said Jinx. “We’d better build a fire before those wolves come back.”

  They gathered deadwood and built a large blaze in the middle of the path. Jinx took off his boots and socks, stepped just off the path, and dug his toes into the humus.

  “What are you doing?” said Elfwyn.

  Jinx said nothing for a minute, concentrating. He had never tried to tell the trees anything before, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to do it.

  “You should put your socks on, at least. You’ll catch your death,” Elfwyn said.

  “I’m trying to tell the trees we don’t mean any harm building a fire and that we’ll put it out when we leave,” said Jinx. “And your babbling doesn’t help.”

  Elfwyn shut up, and Jinx focused on trying to think like a tree, feel the world like a tree, and talk like a tree. He felt the hum of the nearby roots murmuring to each other. His eyes flew open in surprise.

  The fear, the terror that the trees had—whatever it was they were afraid of—it was no longer approaching from the west. It had arrived.

  Where? Jinx thought frantically at the trees. What?

  He didn’t know if the trees heard him or not, but it was all they could talk about. Fear, terror, death. A horrible creature—it was here.

  “You can come and eat, even though you’re not very nice,” said Elfwyn.

  Jinx was very hungry. He moved toward them. Then he stopped and looked up into the trees. No good—he couldn’t see anything in the dark.

  We’re safe as long as we st
ay on the path, he thought.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Reven held a loaf of bread up, offering it to Jinx.

  “Yes,” said Jinx.

  He tore a piece off the loaf and chewed, still looking all around him.

  “Don’t you want any stewed apples?”

  Elfwyn had cooked them in a little pot that she’d had in her pack. She spooned some onto Jinx’s bread.

  “Thank you,” said Jinx, lest Elfwyn accuse him of not being nice again. He was, too, nice. She was the one who was nowhere near as sweet and respectful as he’d imagined her. “The trees are afraid of something,” he said. “There’s some kind of monster out there.”

  “How do you know?” said Elfwyn.

  He explained about the trees talking through their roots.

  “You can understand trees?” said Elfwyn.

  “He’s some kind of magician,” said Reven.

  “Like a wizard?” Elfwyn at least looked a little bit impressed.

  “I’m just learning,” said Jinx modestly. “But the trees have been talking about something huge and dangerous moving in from the west for over a week. And now they say it’s here.”

  Elfwyn and Reven looked all around.

  “I was attacked by a werebear,” said Elfwyn. “He was huge and dangerous. And then there were those wolves.”

  “You think the trees would be afraid of those?” said Jinx.

  “No,” said Elfwyn.

  “I’ve been walking west to east,” said Reven. “I haven’t seen anything. Well, a couple of werewolves. And I think I saw an elf through the trees.”

  “This feels like something worse than that,” said Jinx. It was hard to put into Urwish what the trees had said. But some of the trees were seven feet thick and hundreds of feet tall. Anything that would frighten them had to be pretty horrible.

  Something struck him as odd, though. “How did you get attacked by a werebear? What about the Truce of the Path?”

  “He tricked me into leaving it,” said Elfwyn. “He told me to climb a tree to get away from the wolves. He said he was a woodcutter named Urson. He followed me for days, and he wouldn’t leave me alone, and he kept trying to get me to leave the path.” She looked around. “What happened to him, I wonder?”

  She picked up a stick, lit the end in the fire, and started toward the place where Jinx had seen the furies attacking something.

  “Don’t leave the path!” Jinx barked.

  She turned around. “Do you always talk to people that way?”

  She stepped off the path. Jinx muttered one of Simon’s favorite swear words—hadn’t he just told her there was something nasty out there?—and followed her. Reven came with them.

  “This is where the werebear was,” said Elfwyn. “I guess he ran off.”

  Jinx was looking all around in the darkness for the trees’ fear, but he spared a glance at the scrabbled, bloody ground. There was a big ax lying there. Jinx picked it up. As soon as he had it in his hands he felt better. The ax might not be a match for the thing the trees were afraid of, but it was better than nothing.

  “Let’s get back on the path,” he said.

  “Maybe we should take turns keeping watch all night,” said Reven. “That’s what they do in tales.”

  “Yeah,” said Jinx. “I’ll go first.”

  The other two rolled up in their blankets and settled down to sleep. Jinx sat by the fire with the ax in front of him. The fire burned and crackled. The smell of woodsmoke reminded him sharply of home, which he’d left only a few hours ago, but it seemed longer. Right now, if he were home, he might be in Simon’s workshop, both of them ignoring the time and the cycle of day and night—no, he’d forgotten all about Simon’s injury.

  Still, the thing was, Jinx could’ve been safe at home now, not sitting in the dark watching for a creature so awful the trees were afraid of it.

  Not that he was afraid, he told himself.

  His new companions were both wrapped up in blankets like cocoons, apparently asleep. Reven’s pack was under his head. Jinx wondered if his four farthings were in it. Carefully and quietly, he slid his fingers toward it.

  Without opening his eyes, Reven snaked a hand out of his blanket-cocoon and grabbed Jinx’s wrist. Then he let go. Jinx got the message.

  Jinx threw a few sticks on the fire, then opened his eyes and saw that they had already burned down. This was no good; he was falling asleep. It was time to wake Elfwyn.

  She got up muzzily, and he wrapped up in his blanket and lay down. The ground was hard and cold, and the breeze on his face and the rustle of dead leaves across the forest floor (and maybe other things, like scurrying feet) kept him awake. Even when he was three-quarters asleep he was still listening for the thing the trees were afraid of.

  He became aware of a distant thump, clunk, thump, clunk. He sat bolt upright. “That’s a witch!”

  “I know that,” said Elfwyn. “Calm down. Go back to sleep.”

  “But there’s a witch coming!”

  “I’m sure she won’t bother us.”

  “Don’t you know anything at all about witches?”

  “Yes, I do, actually. My mother was training to be a witch, before she decided to get married instead.”

  “Oh,” said Jinx. He stood up and unwrapped himself from his blanket. “Well, I still think we should hide.”

  “You mean leave the path?” said Elfwyn.

  “I can do a concealment spell,” said Jinx.

  Reven had woken up. “I’d like to meet a wicked witch.”

  The thumping grew louder. Jinx wasn’t going to conceal himself if the others weren’t afraid. He looked at the ax on the ground. He’d feel safer with the ax, but he’d be more threatening. He decided to leave it where it lay.

  The black shadow of a witch in her butter churn came hopping into view. Elfwyn stepped forward into the middle of the path. Jinx stayed near the ax in case he had to grab it in a hurry. Reven kept well behind both of them.

  The churn came to a stop in front of Elfwyn.

  The witch was a young one, Jinx saw in the firelight, not so warty nor so hairy as Dame Glammer. The grin she gave Elfwyn was very Dame Glammer–like, though.

  “What’s this, then?” said the young witch, looking down at Elfwyn. “Not afraid of witches?”

  “No. I’m not afraid of witches,” said Elfwyn.

  “Not, eh? Then you’re not the smartest girl in the Urwald, are you?”

  “No, I’m not,” said Elfwyn, looking petulant.

  “Not? And whose not-the-smartest girl are you, then?”

  “Berga of Butterwood Clearing’s.”

  “Oh, a witch’s brat!”

  “She’s not a witch. She gave it up.”

  “And where are you going?”

  “To see my grandmother.”

  The witch appeared delighted at this. “Are you! And won’t she be pleased to see you! Dame Glammer hasn’t had a child to eat in months.”

  “Dame Glammer is your grandmother?” said Jinx, surprised.

  “Yes. I’m too old to be scared by stories like that,” Elfwyn told the witch.

  “More fool you. And what about your boyfriends? Are they going to see Dame Glammer too?”

  “They haven’t told me where they’re going.”

  “Well, if you want to find Dame Glammer, go that way three days.” The witch pointed ahead of her, to the west.

  “Thank you,” said Elfwyn.

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t be camping so close to the Troll-way,” said the witch. “No matter how many boyfriends I had to protect me.”

  She grinned at Jinx and Reven. Jinx glared at her. Her grin turned into a cackle of laughter.

  “I never saw three such helpless little ducks trying to make their way through the Urwald! I certainly haven’t the heart to cast a spell on you. Smells like you’ve had three too many cast on you already. And you’re going to Dame Glammer’s house, hah! Like mice climbing into the cat’s basket.”

  �
�She’s my grandmother,” said Elfwyn.

  “Well, you can’t pick your relatives. And how did you get that nasty curse slipped to you, dearie?”

  “It was done by an evil fairy at my christening,” said Elfwyn.

  The witch chuckled gleefully. “An evil fairy? Really? An evil fairy?”

  “Yes,” said Elfwyn.

  For some reason the witch seemed to find this hilarious. She laughed so hard that the butter churn nearly capsized. Then she pushed her stick into the ground, and the churn hopped off down the path.

  15

  Unexpected Meetings

  Jinx wanted to ask Elfwyn what her curse was. But he could see it irritated her to talk about it, and he was afraid of being accused of not being nice. Real girls were clearly a lot more touchy than imaginary ones.

  “Did you have a spell cast on you?” he asked Reven, instead.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of from witches,” said Reven, ignoring the question. “They’re all talk.”

  “Simon says that anyone who isn’t afraid of witches is a fool,” said Jinx. He guessed Reven didn’t want to talk about the spell he was under. Well, Jinx knew what the third spell was—the one Simon had done on him.

  “Witches do eat children, I think,” said Elfwyn. “But only the really wicked ones, and you hardly ever meet that kind. And, you know—very small children.”

  “You think it’s not so bad if the children aren’t big?” said Jinx.

  “Well, no, of course not, but—”

  “You’re going to Dame Glammer’s house?”

  “Yes,” said Elfwyn.

  “I’m going there too,” said Jinx.

  “Is she your grandmother too?” asked Elfwyn.

  “No, but—” Jinx decided he didn’t want to explain about his lost magic. “She’s a friend of Simon’s.”

  “Who’s Simon?” Reven asked as they settled down around the fire and Jinx stirred it to life. None of them felt like going to sleep again.

  “The wizard I work for.”

  “I’d really like to meet a wizard,” said Reven. He opened his mouth as if to say more, then stopped, looking confused. “I could—he could—” he stopped again. “I mean, I just think it would be amazing to see a real wizard.”

  “If you stick around the Urwald, I’m sure one will turn up,” said Jinx. He turned to Elfwyn. “I kind of mostly know the way to your grandmother’s house.”