Hilda - The Challenge

by Paul Kater

  Hilda slapped the horse with the reins and it started pulling the cart. They moved out of the street. Hilda seemed in full control of the horse as well as their location, because without hesitation or faltering she maneuvered the horse and the cart through the city, also through the more busy parts.

  It took almost an hour, but finally they left the city and the crowds. Still relaxed, Hilda let the horse go along, making sure they would get to the spot where they had left the brooms.

  The sun was getting into setting as they arrived where they wanted to go. William unloaded the man who was still unconscious. He worried a bit about that, because he was sure that his punch had not been a hard one, but Hilda reassured him.

  "These people can't take much. Too much of the soft life, you know. Pretty convenient also, it is nice and quiet that way. So, sweet man, have you thought of a way to take our man along yet?"

  William had, and he thought the idea was pretty spiffy too. "Yes, I'm afraid we'll need some boards from the cart though..."

  He started to work on his plan, as Hilda watched what he was putting together. First he lay the two brooms next to each other. At the front and back he attached two boards, so the brooms and boards made a square. Then he attached one board in the middle, in the length of the brooms, so the whole construction looked somewhat like acatamaran.

  "Now, if we put our man on the centre board, and tie him to it, with ropes under his arms and over his legs, we should be able to airlift him out of here."

  Hilda stared at the contraption. Walked around it, pulling and jarring it. "You know... this might actually work. Provided our passenger remains calm."

  William smiled. "If we inform him that he will be offloaded immediately once he starts making trouble, I am sure he will cooperate. Unless these people who are trained by Lamador know how to fly without a broom."

  Hilda shook her head. "Without a broom they only fly straight down." She stood with William and put her arms around him. Looking up to his face she smiled. "You know, I never doubted that your plan would work."

  William pulled her close. "You, miss Jones, are a terrible liar."

  "And you, miss Smith, are the best friend I have ever had."

  Although it was late already, they decided it was best to tie up their prisoner and fly off as far as they could, away from Heraldion. It was a bit tricky to lift off, but once they were in the air it went quite well. They found that they had an advantage as they had been flying along together so much.

  As they were going along, the cook woke up. "Where am I? And who are you?"

  "At the moment you are with us, about one hundred yards over the ground, so you'd better lie still," Hilda informed him. "As to who we are: we are the people who are taking you away."

  "But you can't take me away!", the cook yelled, trying to get loose by yanking the ropes.

  "Hey, friend," said William, "did you hear what the witch said? We are high up. One hundred yards is far down, and you might regret the touching down part of the fall, so you will just lie still. And you are mistaken: we -can- take you away. The fact that we are doing it right now should be proof enough."

  "I learnt my magic from the Great Lamador," the cook tried. "I can take you on, both."

  "Yeah, sure, that is why you work in a kitchen, spinning spoons," said Hilda. "Go ahead and try if you want. Two against one. I like odds like that."

  The cook understood that he was massively outnumbered. "I object to this treatment. If Lamador hears of this-"

  "But that is just the plan," William interrupted the man, "he has to know about this."

  "You people are insane," said the cook.

  "He is," Hilda confirmed, "I'm local."

  44. The cook

  The cook, whose name was Bilgar, remained calm as long as they were in the air. Plain common sense told him that he would remain more alive that way. William had offered to loosen the ropes, at the same time tilting the strange flying contraption slightly. The demonstration convinced Bilgar that the ropes weren't such a bad idea after all.

  It became too dark to fly on with a good feeling, so Hilda took charge and landed the broomaran. They had flown quite far and had touched down on a desolate mountain meadow in Ringeholm. It took a bit of thinking how to keepBilgar safe, as it was obvious he would try to run off during the night with both Hilda and William asleep. Taking turns in sleeping was not the way to handle this, as they would have to be very awake the next day, flying their construction over the land that had arrows the size of trees flying at them.

  William was making a small fire and fixing some food, while Hilda disarmed the cook by making him hand over his wand.

  "William, look at this thing," she giggled as she held up the exaggerated big stickI'd almost think he is trying to make up for something."

  Bilgar blushed, which was not visible in the dark, but still it made him feel vulnerable.

  "Now, Bilgar," said William as a kind of stew was simmering in a black pot that floated over the fire. "Are you going to try and escape? It is a hell of a long walk back to Heraldion, you know that. Lots of nasty animals on the prowl also, out here, which would not invite me if I were a cook. I'd be using them for a meal, not becoming theirs."

  "I am not listening to you, you are not a magical person," the cook retorted. "One magical person can sense the magic in another, and there is nothing around you. It's the witch that does all the work."

  "Oh, really," William said. "Well, it looks as if you saw through our little ploy. Too bad in a way, but we got you anyway. " He turned to the fire with the floating pot again, shielding his front from Bilgar. He popped up his wand and whispered something. Hilda sensed what he was doing.

  A shadowy shape of impressive size moved along the camp, just outside the reach of the light that the fire cast. A grumbling sound reached the three people that sat near the fire.

  "What was that?" Bilgar asked, nervously looking at the disappearing shape, the grumble also fading.

  "Oh, probably one of the beasts that roam around here. No problem as long as we keep the fire burning, they don't like fire," Hilda pitched in.

  "Remarkable that this one even came so close," said William as he handed a plate of food to Bilgar and then one to Hilda.

  The cook stared at the small mound on the plate. "What is this?"

  William grinned. "Well, since it has no proper name, we'll call it food."

  Hilda was already shovelling it inside her, and said she liked it.

  Bilgar, clearly used to more refined dishes, ate it as if there were sharp sticks in it, but he did finish what he had been given.

  William leaned back to the fire, to add some wood to it and made another shadow roam around their small circle. Bilgar stared at the shape. This time it was less big, William had made a lion, including the growl.

  Hilda and William lay down to rest.

  "But what about the fire?", Bilgar asked. "What if it goes out? Won't the animals then come closer?"

  "Yes, there's a chance of that," Hilda agreed, "maybe one of us wakes up and puts more wood on the fire. Can't promise that it's me, I am really tired." She snuggled up to William. "Oh, Bilgar? I put a nice little spell on the brooms for tonight. If you want to try and fly off, do warn me. I really want to see you try. Sleep well." The sound of a hyena-like animal came from afar.

  Bilgar lay down, close to the fire and the stack of wood Hilda had inflated from the luggage they carried. The sound spooked him.

  The next morning, Hilda woke up William by gently shaking him. As he came around, Hilda pointed to Bilgar who was still with them. The cook was sleeping, in a sitting position, a piece of wood in his hand. The fire was still burning, the stack of wood almost depleted.

  "That last howl you made last night really frightened him," the wicked witch whispered in William's ear.

  "That I made? I thought you did that," he whispered back, confusion on his brow.

  "I didn't." Hilda sat up and looked around while worry wandered within her.<
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  The environment however was peaceful, quiet, serene even. They had landed on a high mountain. The view was stunning: to the north there were giant forests, with enormous trees, brown and red. To the south lay a great plain with several settlements, dark brown blots in a sandy painting of many shades of yellow. To the west, where they had come from, the grass-covered mountains continued their rising and falling, while to the east the land of king Walt was waiting for them. It was also the direction that presented most danger to them. The trip down here had not been too bad, but now the brooms were stuck together and they had a passneger, although the two were quite certain that Bilgar would not give them a lot of problems.

  Hilda made some food and tea while William woke up the sleeping cook. "Bilgar, food. We're leaving soon.

  "What? We're still alive? Good!" The hostage told William he had stayed awake through most of the night, feeding the fire so the animals would not be feeding on them.

  "Good show, Bilgar. Here's your breakfast. No delaying, we're about to go up and away."

  Soon they were indeed up and away. Bilgar had insisted on being tied to the broomaran. The first leg of the trip went without many incidents as it was still nice and early and not many guards were on their stations yet, or so it looked. After about half an hour though, William saw the first small tree being shot at them. Good thing about this one was that it was aimed poorly, even Hilda was ashamed of it.

  "There is no challenge in avoiding something like that," she muttered.

  "What's going on?", asked Bilgar who was trying to see what was going on.

  "Shut up," the other two told him. More humongous arrows were coming at them, and those were aimed much better so they needed all their attention to stay clear of the large objects.

  "Come on, tell me what happens!", Bilgar demanded, making wild movements. For some reason he was keen on watching impending doom come closer. It also meant that Hilda and William had loads of problems keeping the brooms with the added wood in a stable flightpath.

  This time the link from Willaim to Hilda came in handy as it had never done before. The wicked witched nodded, said: "I got us", and then William let go of his broomstick and whacked Bilgar into oblivion.

  Shaking his hand, he said: "Damn, cooks have hard heads." Then he was back in the race of avoiding the big arrows.

  Some of the moves they had to make with their broomaran were so violent that the wood that held Bilgar complained loudly. At one time a ominous cracking sound made the both of them swallow.

  "This is not good," said Hilda, "this is very much not good."

  Somehow they managed to make it to the kingdom of Lorn without being shot down, and there they could breathe easy again.

  "Want to stop and chill for a moment?", William asked Hilda.

  "Yes, a stop would be a good plan, although I can't understand why we would call up a cold wind. I'm not that hot, you know."

  "Okay, I'll explain that later. Let's find us a nice place to touch down."

  Ironically enough, the place where they landed their broomaran was near a family of shepherds who looked at the strange construction touching down. The shepherds came closer, to have a look.

  William whopped Bilgar another one, to make sure the cook would remain unconscious during their time on the ground.

  "Good day," said the woman that was in the small group of shepherds that approached them. "We hope you can forgive our curiosity, but we have never seen a flying arrangement like yours before. Will you accept some water, and bread and cheese?"

  Both Hilda and William were grateful with the simple food. It tasted great, and with Bilgar enjoying small stars or so, there also was not commenting on it.

  The shpeherds saw the unconscious cook strapped to the boards, but did not dare ask the reason for this awkward way of transportation. After all, these were magical people, and they had their own rules and standards for doing things.

  As they were getting ready to fly on, William had the feeling he should pay the shepherds some money, if only one silver piece. Hilda picked his intention up and said: "We thank you for your hospitality."

  The shepherds smiled. "It is always our pleasure to share what we have. We wish you a good day."

  "Thank you. You too," said Hilda, wiggling her eyebrows at William who understood. No paying. It would be offending to the nice people.

  The magical couple lifted off again, Bilgar still in the land of sorcery dreams. The passage over the kingdom of Lorn was calm and quiet, the red soil and trees a welcome sight and a promise that they would be home soon.

  Bilgar had regained his awareness again and was complaining about a sore back, sore arms and sore legs. On William's friendly request if he should put him out of his misery once again, the captured cook responded with a growl and remained silent. Hilda sensed that the man applied some magic to make his stay on the wooden board a bit more comfortable, which was fine with her.

  45. And now it's our turn

  After landing the broomaran, they untied Bilgar. As the cook rubbed his wrists, he looked around. "So this is where you live. Very nice area. Bit quiet though, I guess."

  William undid the excess boards from their brooms and Hilda removed the chains from the house.

  The house let out a sigh of relief. "You really took your time, didn't you?"

  "Oh, how cute, an ancient talking house!", exclaimed Bilgar.

  "Who's this?" The house was not eager to allow entrance to someone that called it 'cute'. After all, standing came with age.

  "This is in some weird way family of Lamador," said Hilda.

  Bilgar frowned as he heard that. "Who told you that? And I was family. His niece divorced me."

  "Good for her," said Hilda.

  "That is a nasty remark, witch," said Bilgar.

  "I know. But I'm good at that. So now off with you." She shoo'ed him away with her hand.

  "What?" Bilgar stared at her, then at William, not understanding a thing.

  Go. Leave. Go home to Heraldion, or wherever you want to go. Oh, here, you may need this." Hilda took his large wand from her pocket. She waved her own over it a few times, then handed it back. "It won't be any good for big magic for a week, but at least you have your big wand again." She had a big smile on her face as she talked, making William grin.

  "Do you know what the punishment is for magical castration?", Bilgar said as he stared at his wand that was rendered mostly inoperative.

  "Do you think we care?", asked William who stepped in front of the angry cook sorcerer.

  William was a lot taller and wider than the cook. "What we care about is the way your big sorcerer is abducting witches from this country. And if he thinks he is the only one who can do that - well, I think we have just proven that we can take people away also. And we hit home, on the side of his family. Divorced or not. Now you go away, unharmed. Contrary to what your big Lamador does to the less powerful witches he kidnaps."

  Bilgar put his fists in his sides. "The Great Lamador would never do something like that! I know him."

  "Sure," said Hilda, "you know his nice side, since he does not want to get into trouble with his family. We know of at least three witches he took away. We don't know what became of them so we fear the worst."

  "How can you know they did not leave by themselves?", Bilgar demanded to know, his in-law family pride taking the lead.

  "We found a Grizble at one of the places. A young witch did not return home after an evening with friends. One was taken from her home with force, the house shows that. Signs of voluntary leave, right?"

  "I don't believe that." Bilgar looked angry at the accusation, even if it did not involve him directly.

  "Believe whatever you like. But now you are free to go home. Heraldion is that way, I suggest you first head to the village and find a place to sleep. Perhaps there is someone who can take you along on a cart tomorrow," said Hilda.

  Bilgar was close to fuming. "You take me from my kitchen, knock me out, tie me to a piece of wood
and drag me over 3 countries to send me home after this? Are you insane?"

  "As I already said, I am local," said Hilda, "and William here is the insane one. But he is very good at it. So now you know it all. This is all you will get to hear, and therefore I advise you to walk to the village quickly because the darkness here falls fast and we are not going to tell you what scary animals live in the forests here."

  William put an arm around Hilda's shoulders, and standing together like that they saw the dismayed sorcerer walk off.

  "Bilgar? The village is that way," Hilda corrected the man, who looked back in anger where she was pointing and then changed course.

  "Are there scary animals in the forest?", William asked.

  "No." She chuckled, turned around and they went inside, their brooms following them.

  When the door had closed, Hilda wrapped herself around William and rested her head against his shoulder. "You are really insane, William. And what worries me is that I like it. We dragged that man over three countries just to let him go again. And it was fun, despite the Ringeholm soldiers shooting at us. And the crappy place to sleep."

  They went to get some food from the kitchen and turned in early. Eventually, they slept...

  With the remains of breakfast still on the table, William studied the original challenge Hilda had received. "I'm not going to use that style of handwriting," he declared. "My own paw will have to do, and otherwise he'll have to hire a specialist."

  "That's fine, William. He'll be able to read it." Hilda stared at the tip of the quil as William was writing on the piece of paper that lay in front of him. It was obvious that he was not used to writing this way, she grinned, but he gave it his best. He had messed up several bits of paper already, to get the hang of it, and now the writing was for real.

  As he finished, he blew over the still wet ink and handed the paper to Hilda. "That should be it. What do you think?"

  Hilda looked at the paper. "To the sorceror Lamador," she read out loud. "Shouldn't that be Great Sorcerer?"