How to Stop a Witch

by Bill Allen

  “Ah, that lot. They hung around here patient enough for a couple days, but then one said something about their queen needing them, and off they went. You should’ve seen it. I never saw a body move so fast—let alone four of them.”

  “Great,” said Mordred. He stormed back through the gate toward the Great Hall, leaving the others to scurry after. The dark magician passed through the expansive room and into the antechamber, where King Peter’s staff of magicians waited in the shadows lining the walls.

  “Do these guys ever leave here?” Greg whispered to Priscilla.

  “I don’t really know. They’ve been here every time I have.”

  “What are we doing?” Kristin asked.

  Mordred scowled at the interruption. “I am hoping to be able to contact the spirelings from here.”

  “Why don’t you just send one of those apparition things like you and Nathan used last time I was here?” asked Greg.

  “That’s precisely what I intend to do. I’m just not sure they’ll be able to see it.”

  “Why not?” said Priscilla. “We all saw it fine when you did it with Nathan.”

  “Yes, well, Nathan is a magician. You were able to see me because he tuned into my signal for you. Had he not been there to act as a receiver, I’m sure you would have walked right past.”

  “Then how do you expect the spirelings to see?” asked Kristin.

  “Fortunately spirelings are not all as dull-witted as your average man. Or in this case, child. The Canarazas even count a few hundred mages among their race. If we can locate one of them, chances are good they will hear us.”

  “How exciting,” squealed Kristin.

  “I know,” Priscilla said. She squeezed Kristin’s hand while the two of them waited to see what the magicians would do next. Lucky glanced questioningly at Greg, who shrugged.

  Mordred settled on the floor, shut his eyes and concentrated on forming an apparition.

  “What’s he doing?” Kristin asked.

  “Could we have a bit of silence?” Mordred asked. His eyelids drooped, and his breathing slowed, as if he’d fallen into a deep trance.

  Eventually Mordred raised his head and stared at the center of the room before him, where the air suddenly shimmered and revealed a picture of two spireling warriors, ambling along a forest path at what to Greg would have been a dead run. They looked just like any other spirelings, short and stocky, with razor sharp teeth jutting out at all angles from their jaws, and each carried a heavy, double-bladed axe that was longer than the spirelings were tall.

  “Gnash,” cried Priscilla.

  “Shh,” said Greg and Lucky as one. Kristin shot them both a look that suggested they might try being a bit more polite to the princess.

  Mordred called out to the spirelings, but the two did not hear. Greg found this particularly surprising, as his previous experience with spirelings suggested the pair might have heard even without the apparition.

  Mordred called out a second time, and when again he got no reaction, his brow furrowed, and thunder began to rumble throughout the tiny chamber. A bolt of energy shot from the room and split the ground between the two spirelings’ feet. They jumped a full three feet off the ground and spun wildly, trying to look all directions at once.

  Again Mordred called out, and to Greg’s surprise, one turned to face the room. The spireling’s mouth dropped open, highlighting an intimidating array of teeth that caused Kristin to gasp.

  “What sort of magic is this?” asked the spireling, but then he took a second look and nodded. “Ah, another apparition. You are the human magician Mordred. We have seen you before.”

  “Gnash?” said Greg, amazed that Priscilla could have recognized him. But when the spireling did not respond, he tried a second guess. “Gnaw?”

  “Quiet,” said Mordred. “He can’t hear you. Besides, you don’t know him. He only recognizes me because his whole race shared your friends’ experience.”

  “Are you talking to the Mighty Greghart?” the spireling asked Mordred. “Is he there with you now? If so, I am honored. Oh, sorry. I did not introduce myself. My name is Gniblet. I am but a boy, but I am told I have more potential as a mage than any others of my hive.”

  Mordred nodded. “I have a message for your queen.”

  “She is with us now and always,” Gniblet told him. “State your message, please.”

  Mordred explained about Witch Hazel’s progress and the threat she posed to everyone on Myrth, whether they counted themselves among those who pledged allegiance to the king or not. He also told of the Amulet of Ruuan and how it must be reassembled if they were to stand any chance of defeating the witch. Gniblet listened intently, though something about the spireling’s expression left Greg wondering if he was really there at all. When Mordred finished, the spireling waited several seconds before replying.

  “We are already well aware of much of what you say. As you know, Ruuan shares his spire with us. We regret to admit, it looks as though the witch even used our passageway to gain access to the dragon, though we were unable to sense her presence.”

  “Hazel is a very skilled magician,” Mordred said.

  “You mean witch,” corrected Gniblet.

  “An orchid by any other name.”

  “Queen Gnarla would also like you to know that the human you call Nathan has already come to us to retrieve our section of amulet. He left with it more than a week ago.”

  “Then your trip to Gyrth really did work,” Lucky told Greg.

  “He also warned us you would need our help soon,” said Gniblet. “What is it you desire?”

  “We’d like you to rally your hive and meet us at the castle,” said Mordred. “If you have any tricks up your sleeves, you should bring them along. We’ll need every advantage at our disposal when we confront the witch.”

  “We do not have sleeves,” Gniblet told him, holding out his arms to give an unobstructed view of his chain-mail vest. “Queen Gnarla is already aware of your trouble. She and the rest of our hive left for your castle the day before yesterday. She wants me to inform you that she will be there late tomorrow. She apologizes for the delay, but wants you to know that it is unavoidable, as she needed to make a side trip along the way.”

  Greg could barely restrain his excitement. Even one as powerful as Hazel would be hard pressed to fight the entire spireling hive. But then he remembered Simon’s prophecy and realized the good news meant little toward his own fate.

  “Excellent,” said Mordred. “We will be anxiously awaiting your arrival.” He ended the apparition a bit abruptly in Greg’s mind, but then the magician had never been particularly gifted in social graces. “Very well. Next I suppose we’ll need to go retrieve the dragonslayers. Do you have everything you need?” he asked Greg.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We can cut off a lot of time by traveling though the Enchanted Forest, but it’s still a long trip. We’ll be gone about a day.”

  “Whoa, you’re not talking about actually hiking to Marvin’s house? Why not just use another apparition?”

  Mordred laughed, but not in a happy way. “You expect those dolts to spot an apparition? They’d be lucky to spot a dragon on their doorstep.”

  “Doesn’t sound lucky to me,” said Kristin.

  “It is, if the dragon’s about to spot you,” Greg muttered.

  “Get your things,” said Mordred. “We’ll leave straight away. That will put us in the dark within the Enchanted Forest for only a short time.”

  “You’re not seriously thinking of traveling through the Enchanted Forest at night?” Greg said, remembering his horrific experiences there. The peculiar forest seemed to have a will of its own, opening wide to lure travelers deep inside but then closing the trail behind them as they walked, forcing them to its center. There a path might clear if another person stepped up to the edge to be lured inside, but more likely the trail would lead toward something horrifying, like one of the many hungry monsters that waited inside.
<
br />   “Enchanted Forest?” said Kristin. “That sounds pretty.”

  “Oh, it can be,” said Priscilla, and the two girls started chattering among themselves while Greg argued with Mordred about the wisdom of willingly marching to their deaths.

  “We won’t be marching to our deaths,” Mordred said. “At least, I won’t be. Most creatures of the forest, dim-witted as they might be, are smart enough to sense when a magician is in their midst. I expect they’ll leave us alone.”

  “But monsters were always attacking us when we were with Nathan,” Greg argued.

  “You weren’t in the Enchanted Forest then. Those woods are different than most. The creatures there respect magic, as they are immersed in it every day. They know no other way.”

  “What about the trails?” asked Lucky. “They won’t clear unless someone happens to step up to the edge of the woods on the other side.”

  “Yes, well, again you boys are showing your ignorance. Magical plants are far more sensitive to a magician’s presence than all but the most clever animals. I’m confident the vines will be quick to pull out of our way, as well.”

  Greg hoped the magician was right. He tried not to contemplate what might happen if Mordred wasn’t. “Even without monsters, how can you say we won’t be in the dark long? It takes all day to cross that forest.”

  “Ah, not if you know the shortcuts.”

  “But there’s no way to go but to follow the trail it shows us.”

  Mordred met Greg’s eye. “I suppose you’re right. The forest is the only one that needs to know the shortcuts. We just need to follow whatever paths it opens for us. As I said, we shouldn’t be more than a few hours each way.”

  “Nice,” said Lucky. “I wish we’d had you along when Greg and I set out to fulfill the first prophecy. Could’ve saved us a lot of trouble. When do we leave?”

  “We?” said Mordred. “King Peter insisted I take this one,” he said, motioning toward Greg. “He said nothing about you.”

  “But I’m Greg’s lucky charm. I’ve been keeping him alive throughout all his adventures.”

  “So you’re to blame.”

  “You don’t like me much, do you?” said Greg.

  “I don’t like you at all,” Mordred answered without hesitation, “but the truth is I’m glad you’ve kept yourself alive thus far. If you had gone and gotten yourself killed, it could have had terrible repercussions on the last two prophecies.”

  “Stop, I’m getting all teary-eyed.”

  “As long as you keep yourself alive a little while longer, I’ll be happy,” Mordred continued. “But not too much longer, of course. We don’t want to disrupt this latest prophecy.”

  Greg felt his stomach lurch.

  “Then you’ll be needing me,” Lucky told Mordred.

  “I want to go too,” said Kristin.

  Mordred rolled his eyes. He turned toward the girl and opened his mouth as if to speak.

  “Of course you’re going,” said Priscilla. “I’ll want someone to talk to.”

  “Neither of you is going,” said Mordred.

  “Of course we are,” said Priscilla. “You work for my dad, remember?”

  Dragonslayer Roundup

  Mordred wasn’t happy about the delay, but the children insisted on gathering bedrolls into packs for the trail, just in case something went wrong and they were forced to spend the night outdoors. Priscilla even prepared one especially for the magician, and while normally Mordred would have scoffed at the idea of needing to take something as mundane as a pack, he accepted it once Lucky reminded him that Nathan had advised against using magic.

  Greg took the opportunity to grab a few brief minutes of sleep, since his trip to Gyrth had left him the only one without a good night’s rest, or in this case, three nights’ rest. Lucky woke him up to give him a proper hero’s tunic for the trail, and by late afternoon the group was headed across the castle grounds toward the edge of the Enchanted Forest.

  “Look at those trees,” Kristin cried as they approached the woods. “They’re beautiful.”

  “We’ll see if you still think so in a minute,” said Greg, and while Kristin didn’t understand at first, she caught on pretty quickly once she stepped closer, and the trees slithered out of her way.

  “They moved.”

  Even though Priscilla had witnessed the sight hundreds of times, she squeezed Kristin’s hand and squealed.

  Mordred growled and headed into the woods.

  Greg was relieved to find Mordred was right about the monsters avoiding them. And about the trees. While normally the path would have closed in behind them as they came, today it remained clear, both ahead and behind, long after Mordred announced they had crossed the halfway mark.

  Still, Greg thought it best to keep his eyes open. The first time he traveled these woods, he and Lucky ran into an ogre just minutes from the southwest edge of the forest. Exactly where they were headed now.

  After a while Greg let Rake out of his pack, and the shadowcat scampered about, investigating each moving tree root with great interest. Within a couple of hours, darkness settled in, and Greg found that keeping his eyes open for danger had little effect. He wondered if Mordred planned to continue walking blindly through the dark, or worse yet, if he planned to camp within the forest.

  “We don’t have time to stop,” announced Mordred.

  Greg couldn’t say the announcement disappointed him.

  The magician held up his staff and stared at it. Greg and the others stared too. For a moment, the darkness of the forest seemed to press in on them. Greg was straining so hard to see that he nearly jumped into Lucky when the tip of Mordred’s staff burst into flame, illuminating the trail around them.

  Priscilla looked horrified. “Nathan said you’re not supposed to use magic.”

  “This is one time where urgency overrides precaution,” said Mordred. “If the monsters in this forest saw us wandering about without light, they might question whether I was able to use my power. Believe me, it’s better for us all if they maintain their fear. Come. We still have far to travel.”

  Greg hadn’t eaten since sharing a few nibbles of stale bread with young Nate and his father in Gyrth. “Do you think we could stop for dinner?” he asked.

  “Certainly,” said Mordred, “but you probably won’t make much of a meal.”

  “Oh,” said Greg, “maybe we should just keep moving.”

  Mordred chuckled. “Maybe so.”

  “I’m hungry too,” announced Kristin.

  “Me too,” said Lucky, though he was always hungry and probably didn’t need to tell anyone.

  Princess Priscilla slipped her knapsack off and dug around inside while she walked. She pulled out some finger sandwiches she’d taken from the kitchen and offered them to the others, but clearly the tiny morsels were designed more for display than for satisfying hunger.

  “I have some chewing gum,” Kristin said. “Sorry I don’t have more, but I’ve been watching my figure lately.”

  “Watching it do what?” asked Lucky.

  Kristin frowned at the remark, but Greg knew Lucky wasn’t joking. He probably had just never heard the expression.

  “How much farther?” Kristin asked Mordred.

  “A couple hundred miles. Don’t worry,” he said, after seeing her reaction. “The magic of the woods will make it feel much shorter. We should be out soon.”

  Greg grunted. He doubted they’d be out of the woods at all, as long as they were on Myrth.

  As the minutes ticked away, and the southwestern edge drew near, Greg became more and more concerned about the ogre he and Lucky had run into the first time they attempted to pass this way. But as Mordred predicted, they saw no monsters of any kind the entire way. Eventually Greg noticed stars above and realized they had emerged from the forest.

  “We made it,” said Priscilla.

  “Of course,” Lucky said, obviously believing himself responsible.

  “It didn’t seem that bad t
o me,” said Kristin. “So the trees moved around a little. I don’t see what the big deal was.”

  “Be thankful for that,” Greg told her.

  “It was nothing,” Lucky told them both.

  “You’re slowing down,” Mordred called over his shoulder.

  Greg spotted the glow of Mordred’s staff outlining his black form and rushed to keep up. He didn’t mind the harried pace. He was plenty anxious to leave the Enchanted Forest behind, and just as anxious to see the Greathearts—well, all except Norman, anyway. The retired dragonslayer had a dreadful habit of sharing one gruesome story after the next, and each one alone was enough to leave Greg afraid to so much as walk outside.

  Come to think of it, Norman’s eldest son’s continual boasting over his successes as the greatest dragonslayer who ever lived could get quite annoying too. And the best thing Greg could say about Norman’s youngest son, Melvin, was that recently the boy had stopped trying to kill him.

  So really Greg was just anxious to see Edna Greatheart, Norman’s wife. Her role as a mother to Marvin and Melvin seemed to spill over to Greg, and on this strange world, where danger lurked behind every bush, Greg was grateful for the reassurance she provided.

  It took another hour to reach the Greathearts’ tiny shack, as the trees in this area were just stupid, non-magical trees that wouldn’t know a magician from a troll in the ground and couldn’t have moved to reveal shortcuts even if they’d wanted to. Greg was glad to see Edna answer the door, even if the look on her face suggested she was strongly considering slamming it shut again.

  “Oh, dear,” she said. “Norman, they’re here.”

  “You’ve been expecting us?” said Mordred.

  “More like dreading, but here you are, just the same.” Greg and Priscilla exchanged curious looks.

  “Aren’t you going to invite us in?” Priscilla asked.

  Mrs. Greatheart looked as if she never realized she had a choice in the matter. It bothered Greg she took so long to decide. “Yes, of course,” she finally said. “Where are my manners? Do come in, Highness. Norman, where are you? I said they’re here.”

  Now retired, Norman Greatheart had once been the greatest dragonslayer Myrth had ever known, though he’d paid dearly for the reputation. He now wore a patch over one eye and walked with a shifting limp. And the sounds his bones made. Why, the only time Greg had heard worse crackling was once at the movies, when the entire family behind him couldn’t seem to break into their bags of chocolate mints. Norman was the human equivalent of a scrapheap, although Greg would have bet on the scrapheap as the more likely of the two to be responsible for the sounds that rapidly approached from behind Edna.