Sacred Wind: Book 2

by Andy Coffey

  Chapter 30 – It seems our cover is blown

  ‘They’re gone,’ a startled Oriana said, rushing back into the bedroom. It was 7:30 am.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Theo asked.

  ‘Yes, Mildred on reception told me they left before dawn.’

  ‘I smell a rat, here,’ Cracky said. ‘I don’t know how exactly, but it would seem they either suspected something, or someone tipped them off. They’ll be halfway to Chester now.’

  ‘We’d better get moving straight away. I suggest we get breakfast to go,’ Theo said.

  ‘Hang on,’ Half-blind Ron said, with concern, ‘breakfast to go’ where? I want me breakfast in me bloody tummy.’

  ‘He means to take with us as we travel,’ Humphrey said, ‘You can put it in your tummy as you walk.’

  ‘Oh, well that’s alright then. I reckon we’ll be fightin’ afterwards and I’ll need to be stocked up good and proper so I’ll be at me best.’

  They hurriedly gathered their belongings and made their way down the stairs, only to see their path blocked by Mildred and Agnes. The two women cackled loudly and were now dressed in black. Worryingly they were carrying broomsticks, even though there was a vacuum cleaner in the corner.

  ‘Now, then, where are we off to so fast, my pretties?’ Mildred said, with an evil, toothy grin. ‘Best that you stay a while longer with us… and have breakfast, of course.’

  ‘Er, we’d love to,’ Cracky said, ‘but I’m afraid we’re likely to be late for the market in Chester if we do, and that really wouldn’t be good.’

  ‘Plib colliwobble wingy, glicky dongle, Oriana pub Millin Cackywacky’ said a cackling Agnes.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think you’ll be making it to the market today,’ said Mildred. ‘As Agnes just said, it’s in our interests and the interests of our friends that you stay put for a bit. I’m sure you understand… Oriana Oftsheared and Merlin Crackfoot, and, I believe, Prince Theo of Corwen, too!’

  ‘Okay,’ Cracky said. ‘It seems our cover is blown, but I’m afraid if you won’t let us leave of our own volition then we’ll have to force our way out. I am happy to pay for the room, of course.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Merlin Crackfoot. We appreciate your custom, but I’m afraid that the Three Witches of Ruthin are not to be tangled with. You are going nowhere,’ Mildred said, pointing her broom menacingly in Cracky’s face.

  ‘Fillip booglie plumpy bot,’ Agnes agreed.

  ‘May I point out a slight numerical discrepancy at this juncture,’ Humphrey said. ‘There appears to be only two of you.’

  ‘Ah, a talking dog that can count. Have you ever seen the like, Agnes?’

  ‘Numpty,’ said Agnes.

  ‘Our sister Gertrude is away on business, not that it’s any concern of yours. She is raising valuable funds in Llandudno by utilising her gifts of precognition to pass on important messages of future events to the rich and powerful… or anyone with a spare £1.’

  ‘You mean she’s fortune telling on Llandudno pier?’ Cracky said.

  ‘Er, we prefer to call it Precognitive Services, but yes, she is.’

  ‘However,’ Mildred continued, ‘we do not need our sister here to deal with the likes of you. It is widely known that you have no real penchant for magic, Crackfoot, so unless a member of your group happens to speak Ancient Welsh Witchenese, you will be powerless against our spells.’

  ‘Actually, I speak Ancient Welsh Witchenese,’ Humphrey said.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Mildred scoffed, as she cast a worried glance towards Agnes.

  ‘Nobblybits,’ Agnes agreed.

  ‘How can a mere dog have learned a language that hasn’t been openly taught for nearly 1,000 years, and whose words and meanings are kept a closely-guarded secret by the enlightened few? Those who speak it are sworn to secrecy upon pain of damnation to the Black Place of Our Souls for all eternity. How could you possibly have acquired knowledge such as this; from the back of a tin of dog food?’

  ‘Actually, I read the book that was in our room last night,’ Humphrey said.

  ‘Book, what book?’ Mildred said, as both she and Agnes stopped cackling abruptly.

  ‘It was called “Teach Yourself Ancient Welsh Witchenese”. I found it very enlightening.’

  Mildred’s face started to change colour; slowly at first, starting with a subtle pink shade, before developing into full-blown scarlet. ‘Agnes, what have I told you about leaving your things lying around! You see, this is what happens when you don’t tidy up after yourself, you silly, old crone!’

  ‘Viddly Sozzled’, apologised Agnes.

  ‘Anyway,’ Mildred continued, pointing a bony finger at Humphrey, ‘there’s no way you’ll be able to remember all the incantations and spells after one read. Well, not unless you’ve got a photographic memory.’

  ‘Actually, I have,’ Humphrey said.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Mildred, moving back towards the reception desk.

  ‘Bolloxicity,’ Agnes agreed.

  The two witches held their broomsticks at arm’s length, pointing directly at Humphrey. ‘Let’s see what you’ve got, then,’ Mildred hissed.

  ‘I suspect the rest of you should get behind me,’ Humphrey said. ‘This could get a trifle messy.’

  Mildred and Agnes started to twirl their broomsticks in a clockwise motion, their eyes turned upwards as they entered a trance. Then they began to speak in unison. ‘Icky wicky, doggfluff, button flappy wappy. Inflamus waggy bum, benotahappychappy!’

  They brought their broomsticks together and a ball of fire about six-inches wide appeared in the air. It rotated wildly for a few seconds and then headed straight for Humphrey’s tail. However, with dazzling speed, Humphrey raised his paw in the air and said ‘Creatchen cooly pooly!’ From out of nowhere, a torrent of water cascaded over the fireball sending it crashing to the floor, leaving nothing but a steaming pebble.

  Chagrin made a guest appearance on the faces of Mildred and Agnes. They were not used to being thwarted at their own game, not least by an English Cocker Spaniel with an in-depth knowledge of Ancient Welsh Witchenese. ‘We must combine our strength more,’ Mildred whispered to Agnes. ‘We must let loose the Squattybum.’

  ‘Digglypoos,’ Agnes said, looking very concerned.

  ‘Yes, I know it’s dangerous, but desperate times call for desperate measures.’

  And with that, Mildred started the incantation, as both she and Agnes raised their broomsticks. ‘Booduddle miffy, clocky wockle squiffy, bendy woo, fiddledy doo, icky wicky wiffy!’

  Above the broomsticks the air seemed to go black as coal, swirling intensely. A menacing howl issued from the blackness, which now had the appearance of a tunnel leading to the bowels of a dark and not very nice place.

  ‘I know this spell,’ Cracky said. ‘They’re calling forth the Squattybum.’

  ‘What on earth is a Squattybum?’ Oriana asked.

  ‘It’s a very dangerous and very, very smelly demon. It would appear you have unnerved them a fair bit, Humphrey.’

  ‘So it would seem. I wonder if they’ve read the appendix about Squattybums,’ Humphrey replied.

  As the howl drew ever closer the air as filled with an awful smell. Wisps of putrid smoke began to seep out of the tunnel, tumbling to the floor and swirling like a mad, smelly, swirly thing. ‘Concentrate!’ Mildred screamed at Agnes.

  Then, in a flash from within the acrid smoke, it appeared; a small black, hairy creature with three arms, four legs, three eyes, two noses and an awful lot of very sharp teeth. It jumped up and down, dripping green saliva, and unleashed a hellish scream at the Humphrey.

  ‘As a matter of interest, have you ladies read the appendix on Squattybums?’ Humphrey said.

  ‘Appendix?’ said Mildred.

  ‘Appledicks?’ echoed Agnes.

  ‘Yes, the one that contains the counter-spell.’

  ‘Counter-spell?’

  ‘Cummyrummy-splot?

  The Squattybum was poised and ready to pounce. It w
as waving its arms around rabidly, spitting awful-smelling sputum in every direction. ‘Here, let me enlighten you,’ Humphrey said, wagging his tail. ‘Turny-wurney, Squattybum, pointy-wointy tickletum. Stinkygone smelloposies, nibbly-wibbly wiffy toesy-woesies!’

  ‘No!’ Mildred screamed.

  ‘Numpty!’ screamed Agnes.

  The Squattybum stood stock still, as if someone had given it a really good slapping for being so smelly and rude. Then it started to gnash its teeth together involuntarily, whimpering as it did so. Its horrid smell vanished and was replaced by the tender fragrance of flowers, which really seemed to upset it. And then it started to sniff; one nose after the other, its eyes looking this way and that, as if it were trying to detect the direction of the smell that seemed to be for its nostrils only. The source of the smell was coming from Mildred and Agnes.

  It dived on Mildred’s feet first, nibbling wildly at her toes before jumping towards Agnes to provide an equal dose of wild nibbling. As both witches screamed and ran around the room in a vain attempt to escape, Humphrey calmly turned to Cracky. ‘We should perhaps go now. I suspect our would-be kidnappers will be indisposed for several hours.’

  Cracky looked at him and smiled. ‘I think your friend Aiden would be very impressed, Master Humphrey.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Well, I hates to say it, but you’re not bad for a dog,’ Half-blind Ron said, as they made their way back to the main road. ‘Mind you, I’ll still scratch your bloody eyes out if you try and nick me breakfast, whenever that’s going to be.’

  When they reached the main road there was a signpost with an arrow pointing right that read ‘Ruthin 2 miles’.

  ‘Can I suggest we walk into town and get a taxi,’ Cracky said. ‘Hob and Nob will be virtually in Chester by now, so I think our only option is to discard any pretence of being incognito and simply head straight for the palace.’

  ‘But how on earth will we get in?’ said Captain Marmaduke. ‘Once Blacktie finds out we’re trailing them, there’ll be guards at every entrance.’

  ‘Well, we could have the advantage of surprise. Hob and Nob may assume that the witches have dealt with us. And we may have some assistance when we get there,’ Cracky said, cryptically. ‘Let’s just hope fortune, and the gods, are on our side.’