‘Can that really be the entrance?’ Milo asked.
‘Yes,’ Ephemia said, as the bats spiralled to the ground.
‘Strange. From the other side it looked enormous.’
‘It wasn’t; you were small. The Dream Witch shrunk you to fit into her spice grinder.’
The bats deposited their riders and flew to the top of the antechamber, where they hung by their feet from gnarly outcrops of rock. Leo held back as the friends approached the door.
‘How do we get in?’ Olivia asked.
‘Try the latch,’ Ephemia replied.
‘It’s as easy as that?’
‘The Dream Witch doesn’t get visitors. Why would she keep it locked?’
Olivia reached for the devil’s-head latch, taking care to keep her fingers underneath its chin. The moment she squeezed, the jaw snapped shut, the latch opened, and the iron door swung wide on its rusty hinges. Olivia heard the sound of bottles rattling on the wooden shelves within.
‘It’s all right,’ Milo called out to the children. ‘It’s me, the boy the Dream Witch sent to the castle. I’ve come with friends to set you free. And not just any friends: the Princess Olivia, her court mentor, and a Pretonian prince.’
‘This is a trick,’ said a little voice.
‘And a mean one,’ said another. ‘Princess Olivia is the reason we’re here. She doesn’t care about us.’
‘I care a great deal,’ Olivia said, feeling her way through the dim light. ‘It’s wrong that you’ve suffered for my safety. That’s why I’m here – to make things right.’
The bottles stopped rattling as the children pressed their faces against their jars to get a better look.
‘Is it her?’ one whispered.
‘Can’t tell,’ another whispered back. ‘I’ve only seen her once, up in that turret behind the bars.’
‘Have a closer look,’ Olivia said. She took the child’s spice grinder off the shelf and held it to her face. Inside, she saw a terrified boy in rags. ‘Don’t be afraid. I make you all a promise. In no time, my friends and I will have you home again, safe in your parents’ arms.’
‘The Dream Witch will kill you first,’ the boy said. ‘She wants your heart.’
‘She can want it all she likes,’ Olivia replied, with far more confidence than she felt. ‘But it’s mine, I’m keeping it, and that’s that.’
Foul gusts of wind blew in from the antechamber.
‘It’s her,’ Ephemia said. ‘She’s coming back. Hide.’
‘Where?’ Olivia panicked.
‘Here!’ Milo pointed to the coal staircase leading down to the witch’s spell chamber. Leo bolted down the steps.
Olivia returned the spice grinder to its shelf. ‘We mustn’t raise her suspicions. Everything must look the way it was,’ she whispered. ‘But we’ll be back to get you out as soon as we can.’ She and Milo disappeared down the stairs, Ephemia scampering at their heels.
No sooner were they out of sight than the Dream Witch flew in on her cleaver, the great owl on her shoulder. She hopped off at the grinder shelves. ‘What’s going on? Who opened the door?’
The jars rattled. ‘It wasn’t us.’
‘Then who was it?’ the Dream Witch demanded.
The cleaver reared up, as if to slice a row of the bottles from their shelves. The children shrieked.
‘No wait. Don’t tell me.’ The Dream Witch unwrapped her trunk from around her waist and sniffed the air. ‘Jasmine, and lemon, with a hint of mole pantry.’ She followed her nose to the top of the stairs. ‘Aren’t we the brave souls?’
The sorceress spun to the outer entrance of her lair. ‘Finitum transitorum nexit!’ She snapped her bony fingers: the iron door clanged shut. Its edges turned molten red and melded with the rock.
‘A perfect seal,’ the Dream Witch cackled. She turned to the coal stairs leading down to her study. ‘They’ll never escape me now.’
Betrayal
Olivia, Milo, and Ephemia dashed into the witch’s spell chamber.
Leo was already there, running in circles. Each time he neared one of the nightmarish murals, the creatures in the picture reared up as if to leap off the canvas. Then Leo screamed and ran headlong towards another and another and another: ‘Where-do-we-hide, where-do-we-hide, where-do-we-hide?’
Milo glanced in all directions. When he’d been shrunk to fit in a spice grinder, he could have disappeared behind a bundle of chicken’s feet, a basket of herbs, or up a hobnailed boot. Not now. ‘The shadows.’ He pointed to the end of the cavern.
‘Yes,’ Olivia echoed. ‘Find a crack in the rock wall.’
They fled past the witch’s writing table and spell books, towards her monstrous portrait.
‘It’s alive!’ Olivia gasped.
‘Yes,’ Milo said grimly. ‘It’s made of snakes, beetles, and toads all pinned to an oak board.’
Ephemia sent the creatures a thought – We’ll rescue you, too, little ones.
Milo spotted a rock crevasse to the right. ‘In here.’
Leo elbowed past him. Olivia and Milo squeezed in after. No sooner were they out of sight than the Dream Witch sailed into the room on her cleaver.
‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ the sorceress sang, as her owl swooped around the ceiling. ‘You can’t hide. I don’t even have to use my nose. Your thumping hearts give you away.’
Leo gulped. ‘There’s no reason all of us should get caught,’ he whispered, and shoved Milo and Olivia out of the crevasse with his boot.
‘What have we here?’ the Dream Witch cooed. ‘A princess, a peasant, and a mouse.’
The owl flew at Ephemia with a screech; the little mouse leapt to safety in a cranny between the spell books.
‘Don’t worry, Doomsday, you’ll catch her yet,’ the witch cackled.
‘Shame on the both of you,’ Olivia exclaimed. ‘You’re nothing but bullies, preying on innocent children and woodland creatures.’
‘Hoo hoo,’ the owl laughed coldly, and settled on the Dream Witch’s shoulder.
The sorceress scratched its ear. ‘Hoo hoo, indeed. Who-who are you to lecture me, Princess? Who-who to escape me, peasant? And who-who to continue to hide, my little Pretonian rascal? Yes, I mean you, Prince Leo. Show yourself.’
Leo slid from the crawl space, sweat dripping from his fingertips.
‘Your heart’s pounding more than all the others combined,’ the Dream Witch mocked. She glided towards Olivia.
Olivia clutched her pysanka and held it before her. ‘Stay back.’
The witch stepped back. ‘Never mind, I can wait. The door to my lair has been sealed into the rock. Your only other escape is to leap into my murals, and be torn apart by the visions within.’
Inside the dreamscapes, the mantis clacked its mandibles, the mole scurried in its pantry, and the marsh monsters slapped their tentacles, as if eyeing lunch through a glass window.
‘Sooner or later you’ll all grow hungry,’ the Dream Witch continued. ‘Then what? Which of your friends will betray you for a chance to escape?’
‘I will!’ Leo exclaimed. He grabbed the pysanka from Olivia’s outstretched hand and ran towards the sorceress.
‘Stop!’ Olivia cried.
She and Milo tried to catch him, but the Dream Witch tossed them back with the wave of a hand.
‘That was fast,’ the witch said to Leo. ‘I thought you’d at least wait for a tummy rumble.’
‘Why?’ Leo asked, stopping ten feet short. ‘You made me a deal in the woods. You said if I destroyed the pysanka, you’d give me more treasure than my father has ever seen.’
‘Traitor,’ Olivia shouted.
‘Sticks and stones,’ Leo sneered back.
‘Very well, then,’ the Dream Witch smiled. ‘Destroy it.’
‘Not so fast,’ Leo said. ‘I’m not stupid. As long as I have the pysanka, you can’t hurt me. But once I destroy it, who says you’ll keep your promise?’
The Dream Witch splayed her fingern
ails across her chest. ‘You don’t trust me?’
‘Take me to your treasury so I can see my prize,’ Leo continued nervously. ‘Once I have it safely in Pretonia, I’ll smash the talisman into a million pieces.’
‘You’re quite the negotiator, aren’t you?’ the Dream Witch said.
Leo puffed out his chest. ‘Oh yes. I’m brilliant, despite what Father thinks. But I’ll show him. With my new wealth, he’ll love me and I can do as I please. First thing, I’ll make Uncle clean our stables.’
‘Come then, let’s see your reward,’ the Dream Witch said. ‘Just spare me a moment to take your friends’ hearts.’
‘No,’ Leo panicked. ‘I don’t want to see. I don’t want to hear. I don’t want to know.’
‘A coward to the end,’ the Dream Witch said darkly, ‘afraid to look at the cost of their treasure?’
Leo flushed. ‘Take me away. Now.’
The Dream Witch tossed back her head. ‘Vamamos vamimus treasuratus.’ She snapped her fingers. Instantly, Leo was floated up the stairs, magically transported through the solid iron door, and whisked to her treasury.
The Dream Witch tucked her nose around her waist. ‘I won’t be long,’ she said to the friends. ‘If you get bored, think on the horrors to come.’ With that, she hopped on her cleaver and vanished.
Milo gritted his teeth. ‘What do we do now?’
‘I have a plan,’ Olivia said. ‘Follow me.’ She ran up the staircase, Milo at her heels.
Ephemia stayed behind. She sniffed around the spell books. ‘You were mine, once. Remember? Oh, what has the Dream Witch done to you? What has she made you do?’
Odours of old potions clung to the parchments. Ephemia’s whiskers twitched.
Memories stirred.
Treasure Forever
Leo found himself on a solid gold platform high above the ground. Below, a field of treasure extended in all directions as far as he could see. Mountains of golden goblets spilled onto banks of marble urns overflowing with rubies and diamonds. Jade sculptures of peacocks faced armies of bronze stallions. Fountains of agate, amber and lapus lazuli shot jets of emeralds and pearls into the air. And every inch between was thick with gold coins.
Leo shielded his eyes from the glare of the glitter. ‘Mine. All mine,’ he exulted.
‘You’re pleased?’ asked the Dream Witch, hovering on her cleaver.
‘It’s more than I ever dreamed of,’ Leo confessed. ‘Now, all that’s left is for you to bring it to my father’s court.’
‘Your father’s court?’ The Dream Witch scratched her head with her nose. ‘I’m afraid that’s not part of our bargain.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Leo said smugly. ‘But if you don’t, I won’t break the pysanka.’
‘Fine by me,’ the witch replied. ‘Now that it’s no longer near the princess, why should I care?’
Leo blinked. ‘Because . . . because . . .’ he stomped his foot. ‘Look, if you don’t help me, how am I to get my treasure home?’
‘Who said anything about going home?’ the witch said innocently.
Leo’s heart beat a little faster. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean no more than I say,’ the sorceress smiled.
She waved her hand. All around, gold coins rose up from the ground. They clinked and jangled in the air, swirling around the platform like leaves in a windstorm. They began to whirl higher. Before he knew it, Leo found himself in the eye of a golden tornado.
A coin nicked his ear. A dozen clipped his legs. Leo dropped to his knees and shielded his head with his hands. ‘Stop! Make them stop!’
‘As you wish.’
The Dream Witch waved her hand again and the coins fell from the sky in columns. They circled the golden platform and melded into the bars of a cage. Silver plates spun up into a roof. A diamond rope and a brass bar attached themselves as a swing.
Leo struggled to squeeze between the golden bars, but they were too tight. His body began to itch and prickle. Spines sprouted from his flesh. Yellow feathers burst from his face and neck, and out of the elbows and ankles of his armour. His fingers disappeared. His toes turned into claws. He hopped around his cage in terror.
Let me out. Let me out, Leo screamed. But all that escaped his beak was a frantic chirp.
‘Yes, sing to me, my little canary,’ the Dream Witch cackled. ‘Sing to me in your gilded cage. You dreamed of treasure forever, and you shall have it.’
The Final Nightmare
Olivia and Milo ran up the staircase into the grinder room.
‘We’re back, like we promised,’ Olivia called out.
They each took a bottle off a shelf and went to unscrew the lids.
‘What are you doing?’ cried the girl in Olivia’s jar.
‘Taking you to your parents.’ Olivia grunted.
‘No. Put me back. The Dream Witch will be angry.’
‘Don’t worry. You’ll be home before she even knows you’re gone.’
‘I won’t, I won’t. She’ll catch us and grind me up.’
‘If you stay, she’ll grind you up anyway.’
‘The princess is right,’ a voice from another jar chimed in. ‘Last week I lost my toes. Next time, maybe my legs.’
The other jars agreed: ‘It’s our only chance,’ one said. ‘Take us too,’ said some others. ‘Hurry,’ from all.
But speed was impossible. The lids of the grinders were screwed tight.
‘There’s too many bottles to hold in our arms,’ Olivia whispered to Milo, ‘but the Dream Witch will destroy everyone we leave behind. What do we do?’
Milo pointed to two large wicker baskets in the corner, one filled with chicken’s feet, the other with entrails. ‘We can carry them in those.’
They tossed the offal aside and filled the hampers with the jars. Just as they were done, the Dream Witch’s merry song echoed up the tunnel beyond the antechamber.
For my spells a special must
Boys and girls all ground to dust.
But for perfection of my art
I need a little princess heart.
Milo grabbed a hamper. ‘Run.’
Olivia tucked the last jar under her neck, grabbed the second hamper and raced Milo down the coal stairs. The baskets swung wildly. The children squealed.
‘Sorry,’ Milo said. ‘Close your eyes. Pretend you’re on a swing.’ He and Olivia burst back into the study.
‘Ephemia,’ Olivia exclaimed, ‘what have you discovered?’
‘Not much,’ Ephemia replied. ‘I can smell a shape-changing spell in that red book over there, but it’s too scared to open at the incantation. In fact, the entire library is scared. The witch has cracked some of their spines, ripped their pages . . .’
The leather covers trembled.
‘Never mind,’ Olivia said to the books. ‘Perhaps you can help us when we defeat the witch.’
‘If,’ Milo said.
‘When,’ Olivia declared.
A shriek from the top of the stairs shook the cavern. Chunks of coal fell from the ceiling.
‘She’s here. We’re going to die!’ cried the bottles.
‘No, we’re not,’ Olivia said. She ran to the witch’s writing desk. ‘Milo, do you remember the spell-words the Dream Witch used to transport you to my armoire?’
‘How could I forget? Transitorus vitissimo. It’s what she said to send me and what she taught me to say to bring you back.’
‘Perfect,’ Olivia said. She grabbed the owl’s quill, dipped it in the witch’s inkwell and began to scribble a picture of her parents’ bedroom on one of the bat-wing parchments.
‘WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN MY SPELL-FOOD?’ the Dream Witch raged above.
‘Milo, hide the baskets. Ephemia, prepare an ambush,’ Olivia said, drawing furiously.
Ephemia dived into a mound of herbs, as Milo tossed a dirty sheet over the hampers.
‘Sniff them out, nose,’ the Dream Witch commanded. The sound of her hobnailed boots echoed down the coal stairs.
‘Olivia, hide,’ Ephemia pleaded.
‘I can’t! I haven’t finished drawing yet!’
‘Please.’
Too late. The witch’s nose snaked in from the stairwell. The Dream Witch followed, Doomsday on her shoulder.
Olivia set down her quill and rose to greet her foe.
‘So there you are, Princess,’ the Dream Witch crowed. ‘I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since your christening. You were stupid to enter my world.’
‘How could I stay safe in my castle and let you grind the kingdom’s children?’
‘Conscience has a cost,’ the witch sneered.
‘What do you know about conscience?’
‘Enough to know it’s lost you your life and destroyed your parents. So tell me, how shall their promise be fulfilled? Do I pluck out your heart with my fingernails? Or should my nose tear down your throat and rip it from your chest?’
The nose coiled, ready to strike.
‘I think your trunk should tear itself apart,’ Olivia said. ‘Ephemia, now!’
Ephemia leapt from the mound of herbs to the writing desk. In a single bound, she sprang into a flying double-somersault, landing on the witch’s nose. She gave it a bite.
The Dream Witch howled and swatted her face, as Ephemia scurried into her left nostril and up the trunk, tickling with every paw pad. The witch went wild. There was no way to itch. She slapped her nose against the cavern walls, whapping up a storm of coal dust. The nose let loose a mighty sneeze but Ephemia held fast to its forest of hairs, and kicked and scratched with her claws.
Doomsday came to the witch’s aid. He dived at Olivia. Milo threw a skull at his head. It clipped the owl’s left shoulder. The bird screeched away, nursing its wounded wing.
In all the confusion, Olivia seized her chance. She grabbed the inkwell and splashed its ooze across the witch’s face. The muck sizzled and steamed on the Dream Witch’s eyes: Her vision blurred; her red coals blackened.
‘Olivia, the witch’s portrait, look!’ Milo cried. ‘What’s happening to her is happening to it!’
Olivia glanced at the far wall. The mosaic wriggled in frenzy. Shells of red paint fell off the toads that were pinned for the picture’s eyes.
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