by Lari Don
She shoved Beth and Innes out of the way and walked towards the brambles.
But the stag was already free.
He was standing calmly by the brambles, with Rosalind, Beth’s little cousin, grinning beside him. “You were making lots of noise and scaring this poor deer, so I untangled him myself.”
She held up her hands. Her left palm was bleeding slightly. “Now I need a plaster.”
The stag nudged her with his nose.
Rosalind giggled. “Would you take me home, dear Mister Deer, so I can get a plaster from Auntie Jean? She could put plasters on your cuts too. We have plasters with kittens and plasters with space aliens.”
Innes sighed. “Doing good deeds is harder than I expected.”
Beth lifted Rosalind up onto the stag’s back. “I know. I’ve made a mess of one with a newt and one with a lark already.”
Atacama said, “In the old stories, heroes meet ancient crones or trapped animals in the first dozen steps of their journey, do good deeds for them, then get favours in return, but I didn’t find anyone who needed help.”
Molly pushed her damp hair out of her face and whispered, “Favours? I wonder…”
Innes said, “Molly’s right. Stone eggs are no use for anything. It would be much easier to do a good deed with a toolbox or a loaf of bread.”
Rosalind called, “Bye-bye, have fun with your rude deed game!” The stag stepped carefully away, with the waving girl balanced on his back.
Innes said, “Let’s split up, deliberately. Let’s each quest in a different direction: north, south, east or west. That’s the best way to guarantee I don’t try to drown one of you again, or leave one of you petrifying underground, though Beth, honestly, I would have dragged you out once I’d found an egg.”
“I know,” said Beth. “But who did you try to drown?”
Before Innes or Molly could answer, there was a sudden flash of light.
The stag bellowed and reared up. And Rosalind fell to the ground, screaming, right under a rowan tree, which had just burst into flames.
Chapter 23
Molly, Innes, Beth and Atacama ran forward together. They grabbed an arm or a leg each, and dragged Rosalind back to the shelter of the brambles.
Molly looked up. The rowan tree was burning, fast and fierce, in the rain.
Every branch was like a sparkler on fireworks night, spitting pinpricks of fire all along its length. The red berries shone black against the brighter flames, then shrivelled and fell to the ground, faster and harder than the raindrops. The trunk was covered in roaring flames, flashing yellow and gold and orange, then white hot.
The rain fell more heavily, sizzling and steaming as it hit the burning tree, but not dampening the cursed flames.
Innes held Beth in his arms, preventing her running back to the tree. “No! You can’t save it. Don’t go near…”
They all watched as the beautiful living tree died in the fire.
The stag had galloped off, frightened but unburnt, and Rosalind was struggling to get away from Molly and Atacama. She kept screaming, “I can feel my tree hurting. I have to help my tree!”
Beth murmured to Innes and he let her go so she could hug her little cousin. “I know, but you can’t stop it. The rain can’t stop it. Nothing can stop it. The tree is cursed, Rosalind. We’re all cursed. And we can’t stop it.”
As fire swallowed the tree whole, the twigs shrivelled and vanished, the trunk turned black and Rosalind screamed even louder. One long piercing scream of pain. Not fear, not frustration, but actual agony. The little girl sank to the ground, whimpering.
Beth whispered, “The curse burnt her too.” She pointed to a bright new burn, shiny red and raw, on the little girl’s throat.
Beth started to cry. “I wasn’t fast enough. I didn’t lift the curse fast enough to protect Rosalind. I’ve failed the woods and my family…”
Suddenly there were adult dryads everywhere. Uncle Pete yelling orders, the others throwing buckets of water and aiming hoses, not at the rowan tree, which was beyond help, but at the trees around it, to stop the fire spreading.
Aunt Jean picked Rosalind up and ran back towards their house. Beth said, “She’ll ease the pain, but Rosalind will have a scar forever.” And she sobbed into her hands.
Innes patted her shoulder. “We can’t help here. Your family know what they’re doing. Let’s get out of their way.”
They walked to the edge of the woods.
There was plenty of clear space for sitting under the trees, but they huddled close together, Atacama leaning against Innes, Molly with her arm around Beth, the toad crouched at their feet.
“Rosalind is far too young,” said Innes, “to feel that pain, to bear that scar. It’s not fair.”
“None of it is fair,” said Molly. “We’ve all been cursed. Not just the five of us. Rosalind is cursed too. So are these trees, and the fish in your rivers, Innes. We aren’t just trying to lift the curses for ourselves. We have to lift the curses for everyone. We can’t do that if we keep arguing and fighting and racing against each other. We have to lift the curses together.”
“A noble sentiment,” said Atacama. “But Mrs Sharpe will only lift one curse. Between us, we have five. We have to be rivals. We have to compete against each other.”
“Mrs Sharpe can only lift one curse,” said Molly. “But if we work as a team, we can lift the other four curses ourselves.”
Beth stopped sobbing. The shouts and crackling behind them in the woods emphasised the silence in the air around them.
“Lift the curses ourselves?” Beth asked, quietly.
Molly nodded. “You might not have noticed all the things we’ve learnt this week, because you’ve known about curses all your lives, but on my crash-course beginner’s guide to curses, I think I’ve learnt enough to lift most of them myself.”
They all stared at her, then demanded: “How?”
“Before I tell you, we have to agree that we’ll work together from now on, that we won’t sabotage or attack each other any more.”
Beth said, “Yes! I can’t lose any more trees, I can’t let anyone else I love burn and scar. And I wouldn’t even have a stone egg if it wasn’t for you, Molly. So yes, I’m back in the team.”
Atacama said, “I agree too. We completed the farmhouse task together, but on our own we’re each failing the good deed task. I’m happy to be in a team again.”
They all looked at Innes.
The kelpie shook his head. “I must put my family and my rivers first. I can’t waste time or energy helping anyone else. I have to do this on my own.”
“That’s a shame,” said Molly. “Because I can see a way to lift your curse that will only succeed if someone else does it.”
“What? Tell me!”
“No. Innes, you’ve given me very little reason to trust you. So I won’t tell you – any of you – the ways to end your curses, unless you promise that we’ll work as a team until all our curses are lifted or broken or defeated.”
Beth took Molly’s hand. “I’m in. I promise I will work with you until we are all free of our curses.”
Atacama nodded. “I promise I will work with all of you, until we are all curse-free.”
Molly looked at the toad. “I admit I don’t know how to lift your curse yet, but I’ll try, if you tell us what it is.”
The toad stared at her, partially inflated its throat as if it was about to croak, then shook its head, turned its back on its former classmates and crawled awkwardly out of the woods.
Innes laughed. “The toad is leaving because it has no faith in you, Molly Drummond. The toad doesn’t believe that a girl who didn’t even know about magic a week ago can suddenly lift curses. You hardly know anything about our world. Why would we put ourselves in your hands?”
Molly grinned. “And with all your knowledge, how’s this task going for you, Innes? The stag that a four year old freed while you were arguing? The fish who’s now in a horse trough swallowing a ring y
ou accidentally crushed while trying to drown me? Or the thing with the chickens. What was the thing with the chickens, anyway? Tell us about the chickens, or promise to work with us and I’ll tell you how to lift your curse using someone else’s stone egg and someone else’s good deed.”
“But I have to use my own stone egg!”
“What? The stone egg you couldn’t have stolen without Beth’s rope?” She looked round at everyone. “You do realise we haven’t been working separately at all, we’ve been helping each other the whole time, deliberately and accidentally. Innes got us into the Stone Egg Wood and I got Beth out, then Atacama got me out…”
“And you saved my life,” said Innes softly. “Warning me about the moon, pulling my hoof out of the salt. Whether or not I believe you can lift our curses, I suppose I owe you for saving me.” He sighed. “So yes, I promise. I promise to work in Molly’s team until we are all free of our curses. NOW tell us your plan.”
So she did.
Chapter 24
Molly smiled. “I’ve picked up a few clues about lifting curses from Mrs Sharpe’s workshop.”
She heard a new noise above the shouts and the crackling, and turned to look. Crows were swooping up and down in the pillar of smoke from the burning tree. One crow in the centre was diving and pirouetting and crying out in happiness.
“Curse-hatched,” whispered Beth.
“If we work together, they won’t be dancing next October,” said Molly. “Because the clue to lifting Beth’s curse was in one of Pete’s answers to the homework questions. Remember he said there are still descendants of Meg Widdershins living locally? If we can find them and ask one of them to forgive the trees, that should lift the curse. If they enjoy these woods, like most locals do, they should be delighted to help.”
Beth frowned, then nodded. “That’s worth trying.” She glanced up at the increasing number of crows above the tree, which was collapsing into a pile of charcoal.
Molly said, “Atacama, when you were cursed, your attacker stole something from you, but you can replace it yourself. You lost your riddle, but you still have the answer, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said the sphinx.
“So why not come up with another riddle for that answer? I know you can invent riddles, because you riddled Beth and Innes for me in the tattie field. Write your own new riddle and neutralise the curse.”
Atacama flicked his tail. “But isn’t that cheating?”
Molly shrugged. “Cursing you when you were just doing your job was really underhand, so I think finding a creative way round the curse is completely fair enough.”
The dryads behind them were leaving because the fire had burnt out and the other trees were now safe. The screeching of the crows seemed even louder.
Molly lowered her voice and everyone leaned in closer. “We’ll have to be a bit sneaky to lift Innes’s curse. It was Atacama who gave me the idea, saying that in fairy tales if you do a good deed for someone, they owe you a favour. So, let’s do a good deed for the fairy who cursed your dad, Innes, then in return ask her to lift the curse.”
Innes looked at her. “That’s actually a smart idea. But she won’t let a kelpie near enough to do a good deed.”
Molly nodded. “That’s why you need someone else to lift your curse. One of us can use our stone egg to help her and ask the favour. It should probably be me, so I can charge my stone egg with a good deed. Then after we’ve lifted your three curses, I’ll ask Mrs Sharpe to lift mine.”
“Ha!” said Innes. “So this is still about you winning, about you getting the prize.”
“No, it’s about all of us getting our curses lifted. It’s about not leaving anyone out.”
“I think it’s a great plan. Four great plans,” said Beth. “But we can’t stay here because…” She pointed upwards. “The crows have spotted us!”
The cursed-hatched crows were no longer swooping above the destroyed tree. They were flying in a loose circle over the field nearest the edge of the woods, whirling closer and closer to where the four teammates were sitting.
“They don’t know we’re planning to lift all the curses ourselves,” whispered Atacama.
“But they do know we stole their stone eggs,” said Molly.
One of the crows flapped down to the ground, landed, then walked towards them with jerky steps.
Then the rest swooped down. All the crows started to stride towards the edge of the woods, their sharp black beaks jabbing and stabbing the air as they advanced.
Molly and her friends stood up and took a few paces backwards.
“Let’s get to my house,” said Beth. “We can lock ourselves in.”
“Then we’ll be trapped inside,” objected Innes.
They looked at hundreds of crows silently marching towards them.
Beth shouted, “We’ll be safe inside! Run!”
They ran.
***
They slammed the front door behind them, followed Beth into a large living room, ran to the nearest window and looked out at an army of crows. The black birds were standing still and silent, staring at the dryads’ house.
“What’s going on?” asked Uncle Pete.
“Just a few crows,” said Beth. “Nothing to worry about.”
“But no one should go outside just now,” said Innes.
“Shut all the doors and windows, and light a fire in the fireplace to close off the chimney,” added Atacama.
Beth ran round the house, slamming doors and windows, while Uncle Pete knelt down to build a fire.
Molly said, “What about the toad, out there with all the crows?”
“The toad coped fine with the crow attack at Cut Rigg Farm,” said Atacama.
“Anyway,” said Innes, “the toad decided not to be part of our team.”
Aunt Jean looked in from the kitchen. Behind her, lots of adult dryads were cleaning up after their fire-fighting operation. “Is everything alright?”
“Crow trouble,” said Pete. “Those crows who dance in the smoke every year.”
“They’re curse-hatched crows,” said Beth, “kept alive by the energy of curses. They’re sort of part of our homework. Don’t let the crows in and don’t go out.”
As Jean turned away, Beth asked, “How’s Rosalind?”
“Asleep. I cooled the burn and gave her a herbal infusion to help her sleep. It hurts, but she’ll recover. We all do. The trees don’t.”
Beth said, “Our homework should stop the trees ever burning again. Come on, up to my room.” Beth led the others upstairs, but Molly knelt down by Uncle Pete as he fanned the fire.
“Excuse me, can you tell me who Meg Widdershins’ closest descendants are?”
He frowned, then said, “The closest local one would be Doreen Drummond.”
Molly’s breath caught in her throat.
Uncle Pete continued, “I believe there are family down south as well. But none of the Drummonds are witches nowadays. I doubt they even know about the connection. Humans aren’t usually proud of burnt witches in their family tree, so they don’t pass the story on to their children and grandchildren.”
Molly dragged in a deep breath of smoky air. “I can see how that would happen. The family, not knowing… about a witch ancestor… It would be a shock, wouldn’t it? A nasty surprise. Not something anyone would want to hear.” She sighed. “Thank you for telling me.”
Uncle Pete nodded. “How long do you think these crows will be outside? I want to check on my own trees. They must be nervous after the fire.”
“We’ll try to get rid of them soon…”
“I’ll have a cup of tea, then.” He stood up and left the room.
Molly stared into the fire, watching the tiny cheerful flames. She heard voices throughout the house. The deep rumbling of adult voices in the kitchen, the gentle murmur of her friends upstairs.
Were they her friends? Would they still be her friends once they found out what Uncle Pete had told her?
The flames in front of he
r were taller and fiercer already.
She stood and walked to the window. She saw hundreds of crows, standing still like sentries in the fading evening light. But one crow was strutting and preening, showing off in front of the others. A crow with a flaming orange sheen on its right wing. That must be the dryads’ curse-hatched. The crow born from the curse cast by Molly’s own ancestor. How could she possibly admit that to Beth?
Perhaps she shouldn’t admit it now. Perhaps she should keep quiet until after they’d lifted a few other curses. Perhaps that would be easier, and safer.
Or perhaps not speaking up now would mean the others never trusted her again.
She walked slowly to the stairs and climbed up even more slowly.
She found a door with ‘Beth’s Room’ painted on it. Each letter was formed from a different kind of flower. Molly didn’t recognise most of the flowers, just the bluebells of the B and the roses of the R.
“You’d think I’d know more about flowers and herbs, if I’ve got a witch in the family,” she muttered.
She pushed the door open.
Atacama was curled on the bed, Beth was sitting on a beanbag and Innes was looking out the window.
She heard the kelpie say, “Let’s hope Molly’s smart ideas work by remote control, because we’re stuck here.”
“No, we aren’t,” said Beth. “We just have to find a way past the crows. And that’s not impossible. Nothing is impossible, according to Molly anyway.”
This feels impossible, thought Molly. Then she took a deep breath.
They all turned round, smiling at her, pleased to see her.
“Beth, I need to tell you something, so please don’t yell or throw things at me until I’ve finished. Ok?”
“Of course. What is it?”
“I just asked your Uncle Pete about Meg Widdershins’ family. So we could lift your curse.”
“Oh, thanks. I was going to ask later, once we’d decided whose curse we’re tackling first.”
“Yours has to come first, Beth. Because… because I’ve just found out that… Meg Widdershins, Margaret Wilkie, was my great-great-great… however many greats… grandmother. I’m her descendant.”