Willow Moss and the Forgotten Tale

by Dominique Valente

  The iron bar that ran along the middle of the door seemed to fold itself together, like someone crossing their arms. Then the door-knocker shaped like a witch’s hat turned itself into a mouth and stuck its tongue out at her.

  Willow blinked. ‘Rude! It’s not like you treated me any better, locking me up like that … and anyway I didn’t mean to make her disappear. I was provoked, and—’ Then, catching sight of Holloway’s raised eyebrows and Oswin’s wide eye peeping out of the carpetbag, she blushed. She realised that she was trying to justify herself to a building. Shaking her head at herself, she said, ‘Come on, let’s just get out of here.’ And they set out towards the Howling Woods, towards freedom, at long last.

  It was only later that Willow realised with a heavy heart that she’d left behind her broom, Whisper. But it was too late to go back, and besides she was sure that there was no way the tower would give it back if she didn’t give it its witch in return.

  7

  The Sudsfarer

  They walked for close to an hour.

  ‘If we go this way, it’ll take us to a small tributary of the Knotweed River, where I keep me boat,’ said Holloway.

  Willow swallowed. If what Pimpernell said was true, and the witch really did seem to know everything – like Willow’s ability, and the fact she had a kobold in her bag – then Moreg was gone, which meant that Willow was going to have to find Nolin Sometimes some other way. It couldn’t be helped. She figured the best place to start looking was where he’d been taken. Perhaps there was some clue left behind. She might even be able to find a plant that could help fix her magic. Now that she thought of it, if any garden could hold a cure, surely it would be his?

  ‘I need to get to Wisperia,’ Willow said.

  The old wizard’s eye fairly popped out of his skull as he twisted to look at her. ‘Lass, ya don’t want to go there, trust me!’

  ‘I have to, Holloway. My friend needs me – he’s in danger …’ She swallowed. She hadn’t had that many friends before, and after losing Granny – Willow felt her stomach clench at the thought of her, but tried to push the feeling away – she couldn’t, wouldn’t risk losing anyone else. ‘He’s counting on me.’

  It meant a lot to her, more than she could say.

  The wizard’s eye shone in the morning light, and he nodded. ‘I can take ya up the Knotweed, towards the Cloud Mountains.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Willow.

  ‘No problem. It’s the least I can do as payment for breaking me out. But, if ya come back with leaves for fingers, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.’

  Willow gave him a slightly strained smile. It was too late for that anyway, wasn’t it? She only hoped she wouldn’t make her magic worse by going back.

  It was past midday when they reached the edge of the thick forest where a river was bordered by reeds and grass. It smelt of salt and marshland.

  As they hacked through the bulrushes, they encountered the thick, cloying knotweed that lent the river its name. It was a creeping plant with rather delicate purple flowers shaped like bells.

  ‘Whatever ya do, don’t listen to the music,’ said Holloway as a tinkly bell chime began to play from the water. ‘It’ll lure ya under, to the merworld.’

  ‘Merworld?’ Willow breathed.

  ‘Yew don’ wanna go there, trust me,’ hissed Oswin, his shaggy head popping out of the bag. ‘Still got the scars.’

  Willow blinked, looking at the kobold in surprise.

  ‘Long story,’ he muttered. ‘Almost found meself married, like I don’ have enough troubles being the last kobold anyhow. They got teef like nails …’ He shuddered.

  Willow started to grin, not sure what to make of that, but, when the sound grew louder, she clamped her hands over her ears to block out the knotweed. Shifting the carpetbag to the crook of her arm, she waded deeper into the river until she was standing up to her thighs, her shoes soaked through and her teeth chattering from the cold. Still they kept going, their feet slipping on mud, which left them dirty and tired. At last Holloway led them to something large and bulky that was obscured by a small mountain of foliage, which he started to remove.

  ‘Me boat,’ he explained, his sea-green eye gleaming. ‘Had to camouflage it, in case someone tried to pinch it.’ He cleared the last of the debris, and Willow blinked in shock. It didn’t look like a boat.

  It looked like an ENORMOUS copper bathtub with silver feet. The bridge, though, appeared to be made from several large, round cauldrons held together somehow by magic to form, quite frankly, the weirdest boat Willow had ever clapped eyes on. The copper glinted and gleamed in the sunlight. Jutting skyward was a copper weathervane topped by a large figure of a whale that had turned a blueish green over time. Willow forgot for a moment that she was bone-cold or covered in mud as she gaped at it.

  ‘It’s not traditional,’ said Holloway, clearing his throat at her silence.

  ‘It’s brilliant!’ said Willow.

  The tops of the old wizard’s cheeks turned rosy with pride. ‘Made it meself,’ he said, beaming.

  Holloway offered her a gloved hand so that she could get aboard, using a set of steps that had been buried in the marshland too. Then he untied what looked like a collection of old handkerchiefs knotted together, with a massive blue-green copper kettle attached to it, which had acted as an anchor, and climbed aboard himself.

  As soon as he did so, a wind from nowhere began to stir, and a set of similar yet tiny copper kettles threaded above the helm lit up like a string of fairy lights.

  Willow looked around in amazement. The bath-boat reminded her a bit of her brief experience in the Ditchwater district in the city of Beady Hill where home-made houseboats had lined the waterways, though she hadn’t seen any quite like this.

  ‘Welcome aboard the Sudsfarer.’

  Faint music began to play from an old harmonica that was sitting on a battered wooden drum. It sounded a little tired as it gave a feeble sort of hoot.

  ‘Got rusted,’ said Holloway, picking it up sadly. Then, after pulling off one of his gloves, he touched it. It immediately turned to bright, shining copper and began to play in a livelier way that made Willow’s foot tap in response, despite the fact that she was wet and cold.

  ‘That’ll do,’ he said to the harmonica, and the instrument fell silent with a slight duh-dum for Willow, who grinned widely.

  While Willow was still marvelling at this, the wizard laid a hand on the large copper wheel inside the helm and said, ‘Up the Knotweed River, Sudsfarer, all the way to the Cloud Mountains.’ Then he winked, and put his glove back on.

  There was a giant lurch and the bath-boat began to scuttle forward like a giant copper hippopotamus as it made its way towards deeper water.

  ‘Oh NOOOO, oh, me greedy aunt!’ moaned Oswin, a paw covering his eyes as he turned a sickly shade of green like cabbage soup.

  Willow gasped. ‘The legs move!’ She stood by the lip of the bath-boat and peered down, watching them in fascination as they trundled in the water, and the bath-boat started to swim against the gentle current the deeper it went. Holloway cast a sail made of several patchwork quilts, which gusted to life, and they began to hurtle up the river at breakneck speed.

  Holloway grinned like a proud parent as the wind blew back his straggly hair. ‘Traded Rubix Grimoire for the charm that brought it to life – turning it from a simple bathtub-boat into this. Wasn’t cheap!’ he shouted, pointing at his glass eye.

  Willow paled, clutching the side of the bath-boat for safety as it hurtled across the water. She knew Rubix Grimoire – she was her mother’s friend, and the guardian of Willow’s friend Essential Jones. Rubix was a witch who specialised in charms, and took the craft very seriously, even living in a strange star-shaped home. ‘You gave her your EYE?’

  From the carpetbag there was a loud gasp.

  Holloway shrugged. ‘It wasn’t doing me much good. C’mon,’ he said, motioning for her to follow him, and Willow saw to her surprise a small wooden door
leading to a whole area beneath the deck that she hadn’t noticed till then. She turned to follow him, taking a firm hold of the side with one hand and clutching the carpetbag in the other. Oswin was still staring after the wizard from the hole in the bag in horror.

  ‘That’s jes mad,’ he whispered.

  Willow couldn’t help but agree.

  She was distracted, though, from the tale of the wizard’s eye as she made her way carefully down a set of copper steps to the cabin area and started to feel rather green. ‘I might be sick,’ she said as the world started to spin.

  ‘Hagsbreath! Apologies,’ said Holloway, who gave the side of the boat a tap with his fist. ‘Slow it down there, boat, we have guests. Easy does it.’

  And the boat obliged, decreasing its speed to a smooth, leisurely pace.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Willow gratefully, though it took a moment for her stomach to settle. Then she was able to appreciate the downstairs area more.

  It was surprisingly spacious. There was a small galley kitchen with gleaming copper pots, pans and kettles. At the back of the kitchen was a window, beneath which was a small wooden table. A little way along the galley was a small sitting area with two armchairs, one blue, one green, with multicoloured patches on the arms. Between these was a small copper card table that was set up with a pack of brightly coloured cards spread across its polished surface, and right at the back of the boat was a separate cabin, with a curtain for a door, behind which was a small bed.

  Holloway took a kettle from a rack above an old fat stove and carried on their conversation from above as if no time had passed. ‘It was a clouded eye, the one I gave her. So, to be honest, she did me a favour.’

  Willow frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Couldn’t see properly out of it. It turned everything grey and, well, cloudy. Me mood too – like the world became miserable whenever I looked out of it. I used to wear an eyepatch just so that I could see and feel things normally. Luckily, it came out easily – it wasn’t like a regular eye. It just popped right out after a bit of fiddling … Made this squelching sound, though, that was a bit alarming.’

  Willow and Oswin both made horrified faces. To be honest, until then Willow hadn’t wondered how he’d got his eye out.

  ‘Anyway,’ carried on Holloway, not noticing their dismay, ‘now I see all the colours of things, no clouds at all. I’d say that’s worth it!’ He beamed.

  Willow could see how that might be possible. It couldn’t have been fun to have every day seem clouded.

  ‘But why did Rubix want it?’ she asked. ‘Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing a person would have a use for.’

  ‘Beats me,’ said Holloway. Then, running a gloved hand through his hair, he shrugged and said, ‘But why does a witch do anything?’

  ‘Practical makes perfect,’ said Willow, thinking of Moreg and how she always seemed to be a few steps ahead of everyone else.

  Holloway gave her a puzzled look. ‘What’s that?’

  Willow shook her head. ‘Just something a witch once told me.’

  ‘Nutters, the lot of ’em,’ muttered Oswin from within the bag.

  The queen looked up as her servant arrived. He looked different, changed somehow. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes, and he was thinner than he had been. The queen noted this with some interest.

  The servant held her gaze. ‘The witch has arrived. She is with your wraiths …’

  The queen sat back in her throne, satisfied. ‘That is good news indeed. You have done well.’

  The servant hesitated.

  The queen narrowed her eyes. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I-I just worry this seems …’

  ‘Wrong?’ asked the queen.

  He nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘The fate of the world depends upon this. You know that. You knew it when I asked you, and you know the rewards,’ she said, waving a hand. A smaller throne appeared by her side.

  He frowned and the queen said, ‘You will have a place here. A home.’

  He nodded. It was what he’d wanted for so long. He turned to leave, adding, ‘The girl is on her way.’

  The queen looked satisfied at this. ‘See that she is.’

  8

  A Conspiracy of Ravens

  Willow had just come back from the end cabin, where she’d changed into dry clothing, when it started to rain, the sound heavy on the copper roof.

  Holloway got excited. ‘Grab a pot – hurry!’

  Willow did as he suggested with a puzzled look on her face. ‘What? Why?’

  ‘No time to explain! Quick,’ he said, opening up the window in the galley kitchen and leaning far out with a pot to catch the rain. ‘C’mon,’ he said, and Willow fetched a blanket from the armchair (no point in getting wet again, she reasoned), and put it over her head before she stood on the table and shoved a copper kettle out of the window. It didn’t take long for the pots to fill and, when they brought them back inside, the old wizard’s lined face was lit up with happiness.

  ‘We’ll be able to make rain biscuits with this! Best ship’s biscuit around,’ he promised.

  Willow blinked. Rain biscuits? She shot a look at Oswin, who was peering at them from the green armchair where he’d set up camp, a blanket tucked up to his chin. The kobold shook his green head and whispered, ‘The gizard’s lost the plot.’

  Willow blinked. It did sound a bit impossible. ‘Erm, Holloway, how will we make biscuits with water?’

  To her surprise, the wizard began to laugh, slapping a knee in his mirth. ‘Not water, lass. Rainwater. And rainwater that has bounced off the Knotweed River – which is particularly delicious, you’ll see. The weed might be deadly if it strangles ya, but it tastes great.’

  Then he started rooting around in the cupboards, bringing out a big mixing bowl, flour and something that looked like powdered butter. Next, taking a copper spoon, he started to mix everything in with the rainwater they’d collected. ‘Well, don’t just stand there gawping – make yourself useful. First rule of the sea: no idling.’

  And Willow grinned as she helped him to shape the dough into large, spurgle-sized pieces before they popped them on to a baking tray and into the oven. Half an hour later, the fresh scent of rain and something sweet like vanilla perfumed the air.

  Twenty minutes after that, Willow placed a piece of warm golden biscuit on her tongue, and her eyes closed in bliss. It tasted sweet, and fresh, like a rainstorm mixed with honeysuckle. ‘That’s amazing,’ she said.

  ‘Yep,’ said Oswin, who’d been drawn to the kitchen by the promise of food. He stood on the counter to gather up six of the warm biscuits, which he shovelled into his wide mouth, treating them all to a rare, cat-like grin. ‘Very tasties.’

  ‘Old sailor recipe,’ said Holloway. ‘We’ve all had to learn to make food virtually from air or water when we’re out at sea.’

  As the afternoon drew on, Holloway leant back in the green armchair with a smile on his old, worn face, a cup of pepper tea steaming in his hands, and said, ‘Nothing tastes as good as freedom.’

  ‘Mebbe chocolate cake,’ considered Oswin. ‘Wiff sprinkles.’

  When they looked at him, he shrugged. ‘Wot? I means … almost as good.’

  Holloway snorted, then looked around him with a puzzled look on his face as he picked up his mug. ‘Where’s the spoon?’

  Willow’s heart started to thud.

  ‘Ah, here on the floor. Never mind,’ he said. Though, seeing her ashen face as he sat back up, he asked, ‘What’s wrong?’

  Willow swallowed. ‘I-I thought for a moment that I’d made it disappear.’ She explained about what had happened with the spoons in her village, and that it was because of her, though she had no idea how she’d done it.

  ‘Ah,’ said Holloway. ‘Ya know, I’ve been thinking about this problem you’ve been having with yer magic, and I wondered if maybe you’ve considered that it’s something else?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Willow asked.

  �
�Well, ya say that yer ability has always been to find lost things, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t make sense. I mean, first of all, ya seem perfectly healthy to me. No cough or sniffle, right?’

  She nodded. ‘I had a little cough, but that’s been gone for weeks. I think it might be because I went to Wisperia.’

  ‘You’ve been there before?’ exclaimed the wizard, sitting up in surprise. He looked at her more closely, perhaps to see what sort of a person she really was. As Granny Flossy had said, only those who were mad or desperate went there … and she had been desperate to find the missing Tuesday.

  ‘Yes,’ said Willow, and she explained a little about meeting Nolin Sometimes and the dragon, Feathering.

  To her surprise, Holloway shook his head. ‘I doubt it was that to be honest. People only tend to get magical maladies from Wisperia when they start experimenting with the forest, or spend too long there. A day or two wouldn’t do much. I think—’ Then he paused and gave a small shake of his head. ‘Never mind. Not me place really. Maybe I imagined it.’

  ‘What?’ asked Willow. ‘You can tell me.’

  Holloway pursed his lips. ‘Well, for it to play up like that … There’s only one thing I’ve ever known that can do that to a person.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Grief.’

  Willow felt sudden tears prick her eyes. There was a long moment in which she didn’t say anything – couldn’t say anything. Her eyes filled, and Holloway looked like he wanted to go back in time and erase his words.

  He bit his lip. ‘I’m sorry, lass. I said it wasn’t me place – I’m an old fool at times. You just look really sad sometimes is all.’

  Willow shook her head. ‘No, you’re not a fool, Holloway. I-I … I lost my Granny Flossy recently.’