She sighed. Even if she made it back home, and even if she saved Burrfield, would she remain a fluff ball forever? Romy seemed to enjoy her new form, but Jamie was a warrior. She needed to wield swords, to wear armor, to fight her enemies... not roll and bounce and squeak. If anyone could help her, she thought, it was Neev. He'd know a spell to cure me, or know where to find such a spell.
She was about to start rolling home when Romy screamed behind her.
"Ahh! Monsters! Monsters, Jamie!"
Jamie spun around, expecting to see grunters, slinkers, or some other beasts. Instead she saw....
"Wood elves!" she whispered in awe.
A dozen stood before her. They were short, slender people; the tallest stood shy of five feet. They wore leggings, tunics, capes clasped with silver acorns, and tall boots. Silver blades and quivers of arrows hung from their belts. Their ears were pointy and so long, they rose like antennae. Golden stars, moons, suns, and other symbols glowed upon their foreheads.
Romy began rolling away. "Run, Jamie! Monsters!"
"Get back here, Romy. They're not monsters. They're elves. Come see."
Shivering, Romy rolled back and settled by Jamie. The elves stared at them curiously. One walked forward, a young man who wore a green cape and hood. He was the only one not armed with blade or arrow; instead he held a green and golden wand. A star glowed on his forehead.
"You've met Madrila," he said.
Jamie nodded (at least, as much as a furball could nod). "You've seen her curse before."
The young elf patted her fur. "My name is Rowyn of Clan Birchroot." He turned to Romy and smiled. "And we are not monsters, but elflings. Wood elves, as you call us. We're smaller than the high elves of the north, and not as skilled with magic, though I think we know enough magic to cure you."
A second elfling stepped forward. She held a silver, leaf-shaped dagger. Her hair was red, her eyes green and fiery, her face freckled. She wore grey leggings and a green tunic, and a sun with seven rays glowed on her forehead.
"Rowyn, this is dangerous," this elfling said. "They could be the witch's spies. This could be her plan to find our clan."
Rowyn placed a hand on her shoulder. "Ellywyn, I trust them. We watched them for an hour on the water. They spoke of Burrfield, not of dark magic; they are humans from the west, and no threat to us."
Ellywyn's eyes flashed. "Humans too are a threat. They cut down trees to build their farms. They dry rivers. They—"
"I'm not human!" Romy said. "I'm a scary evil demon of terror!" She roared, but it sounded more like a squeak. "Jamie is human, but nobody's perfect, and I've never seen her cut a tree or dry a river. Though a few times, she did step on my tail, so I wouldn't trust her entirely."
The elflings looked at one another, eyebrows raised. Ellywyn sighed.
"Fine, Rowyn," the elfling girl said. "We'll take them to see your grandfather. Maybe he can cure them. But if they do anything suspicious...." She swung her blade near Jamie; the rush of air ruffled her fur. "I'll cut them in half."
The elflings began to walk between the trees. Jamie and Romy rolled along with them. The forest grew even thicker as they left the river behind. The roots rose ten feet tall, mossy and twisting. Burrows filled the trees, housing creatures that peered with shiny eyes. Dry leaves carpeted the ground, vines dangled, and curtains of moss swung. Where the branches parted, rays of light fell, dappling the forest.
After what seemed like hours of walking, the elflings stopped moving, and Rowyn announced: "Welcome to the Clan Birchroot."
Jamie looked around her. She saw nothing but more forest. The trees rose just as twisted and mossy here. Lichen swayed, wisps of mist floated between the branches, and a stream gurgled.
"Is this your home?" she asked.
Ellywyn, the elfling with the red hair and fiery green eyes, pointed her blade at Jamie.
"Our secret home," she said. "Tell no one, or I'll cut you."
"What could I tell of? I see nothing but more trees, more moss, and...."
Her voice died and she gasped. Eyes were peering from a tree! When she looked closer, she saw a figure crouched among the branches. An elfling girl! She was holding a bow and pointing an arrow below.
Jamie looked from tree to tree. She thought she could see more elflings. Their clothes blended into the trees, and their eyes peered from between the leaves.
One elfling leaped down from the trees, landed in a patch of dry leaves, and walked toward them. She wore a grey dress that ended with a hem of green triangles. Her skin was brown like the tree trunks, her eyes purple, and her hair long and silvery like moonlight. A half-moon glowed on her forehead.
"Who do you bring to Clan Birchroot?" she asked Rowyn.
"Hello, Noelyn. I bring Romy, a demon of the underground, and Jamie, a human of the west. The witch Madrila has cursed them, and turned them into these balls of fur. I will bring them to Grandfather Snagglefoot; he's wise and can cure them."
Noelyn stared at Jamie, her eyes deep and glowing, like dusky sky strewn with stars. The elfling archer nodded.
"Very well. May our magic cure them, and may the witch soon fall."
Rowyn began leading them between the trees. As Jamie bounced beside him, she noticed that nests filled the trees, holding elflings. Other elflings peaked from hollow logs or between roots. Small gardens grew between some trees where the sunlight fell; she saw gourds, cucumbers, and strawberries. They live like the wildlife, Jamie thought. She wondered what it must be like—to have no walls around you, only trees, and no roof over your head, only branches. The air smelled so fresh here—the smell of trees, water, leaves, growing things. This was a good place, she thought. A place of life and health.
I bet nobody here prints nonsense in dumb newspapers, Jamie thought. I wish I were an elf from Glaswood Forest, not Jamie the outcast girl from Burrfield.
Rowyn led them to a great tree, so wide three men could not hug it. Its roots rose like a temple, a dozen feet tall, forming twisted columns. Golden leaves carpeted the forest floor here, several inches deep. Sun beams sparkled.
"Welcome to Old Oak," Rowyn said solemnly. Beside him, the redhead Ellywyn clasped her dagger to her breast. Noelyn, the archer with the silver hair, tightened her grip on her bow. The golden charms on their foreheads glowed stronger here.
This is a holy place to them, Jamie thought.
"Come inside," Rowyn said and stepped between two roots. He vanished into shadow.
Jamie bounced after him. She was wide in fluff ball form, but most of her girth was her fur. She squeezed between the roots and found herself rolling down a tunnel. Romy rolled behind her. The air smelled of moss and mud here, but it was a good smell, Jamie thought. Roots twisted around her and mushrooms grew. Soon they reached a chamber under the tree, roots and earth forming walls around them. Jars of fireflies glowed in alcoves. Jamie saw a rug, an armchair, and shelves with wands, scrolls, and vials.
An ancient elfling sat before them. His white hair grew down to his knees. His nose was as long and pointy as his ears. He gazed at them with round, brown eyes and smiled. He had only three teeth, and when he smiled, countless wrinkles turned his face into a raisin.
"Well hello there, the demon Romy and the human Jamie."
Jamie wasn't sure how he knew their names, but felt it impolite to pry.
"Hello," she said.
Rowyn stood by the old elfling and introduced him. "This is my grandfather, the wise wizard Snagglefoot. He leads our clan. If anyone can cure you, it's him."
Romy bounced. "Nice place you got here, Snagglefoot," she said. "Do you have any marbles? How about a deck of cards?"
The old elfling struggled to his feet. He grabbed a twisting cane and hobbled toward her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a marvellous marble. It was blue, green, and tan, and looked like a round map. Clouds seemed to swirl across it.
"Ooh... pretty!" Romy said. "Can we play? I don't have hands anymore, though... just fur."
Snagglefoot tossed the marb
le into the air, where it floated and spun. He drew his wand from his robes and uttered a spell. When he touched the wand to Romy, her fur flurried, as if a gale blew against her. She squealed and laughed, as if he were tickling her. She began to spin like the marble that floated above. Magic flowed around her. Smoke rose, and suddenly a demon crouched where the orange furball had been.
Romy's wings were wrapped around her like a cocoon. She unfurled them slowly, flapped them, and gasped. She was a demon again, her skin red, her hair woven of flame, her fangs and claws bright. She wagged her tail, reached up, and grabbed the marble.
"Mine," she said.
Snagglefoot chuckled and turned to Jamie. He touched his wand to her, and goodness, it did tickle. Jamie couldn't help but squeal and laugh too. Her fur ruffled, and she began to spin wildly. She saw streaks of light, strands of magic, and puffs of smoke. Her fur vanished, and soon she knelt on the floor, a girl again. She wore her old leggings, breastplate, and cloak, and carried her sword over her back. She stood up, her knees shaky, and stood beside Romy. The top of her head only reached the demon's shoulder.
"I was taller before," Jamie lied, daring to hope. If he could turn her from a fluff ball back into a girl, couldn't he give her another seven or eight inches? Was she doomed to spend her life under five feet, a waif of a girl, her sword nearly as long as her entire body?
Snagglefoot placed a wrinkled hand on her shoulder and smiled. Jamie realized that he stood just as tall. When she turned around, she saw that Rowyn, the young wizard elfling, was her height too. When Ellywyn and Noelyn entered the chamber, Jamie realized that they were even shorter.
And yet they're proud, and strong, and warriors, Jamie thought. Maybe being so short wasn't too bad. She wished suddenly that she were an elfling too. Nobody would call her a runt here. They would call her a great warrior.
"Thank you, Snagglefoot," she said to the old elfling. "We owe you our lives. When the witch Madrila cursed us, we didn't know if we'd ever see our true forms again."
"Tell us of Madrila," Snagglefoot said. "Tell us all you've seen, and all that you know. She has long tormented us elflings, sending her creatures and her curses to our clan."
Jamie spent a moment speaking of fighting Dry Bones, Madrila's father, and how the witch now craved revenge. She talked of the grunters, and the animals in the basement, and of Willow the apprentice.
"She's after more power," she finished her story. "If she conquers Burrfield, and if she trains Willow to be a second witch, she'll threaten the entire kingdom."
The elflings looked at one another in the light of the firefly jars: Snagglefoot, old and wizened; Rowyn, a young wizard with somber eyes; Ellywyn, her silver dagger held high; Noelyn, of silver hair and purple eyes, clutching her bow. They seemed to talk with their eyes, an entire language that needed no words.
Finally Snagglefoot nodded. "We will send you aid."
Jamie nodded and clutched Moonclaw's hilt.
"Thank you, Snagglefoot," she said. "With an army of elflings, we can defeat Madrila. We will destroy her forces and kill or capture her."
The elflings looked at one another again. Ellywyn tightened her grip on her dagger. Rowyn and Noelyn held hands.
"No army," Snagglefoot said sadly. "We are small, humble folk. We have no armies like the high elves. Our blades are smaller, and we build arrows for guarding our realm, not attacking another. I will send with you three champions: Rowyn, my grandson, who wields a wand; Ellywyn, of fiery hair and fiery temper, who wields a blade of pure elfsilver; and Noelyn, our eyes in the night, an archer of pure aim. They will protect you on your way, Jamie of Burrfield. They will fight alongside your sword."
Jamie looked at them. Was that all? Only three? Suddenly her eyes burned. How could they defeat Madrila with so few warriors?
"But Snagglefoot, I saw many elfling archers in the trees. Send them with me! Send them to battle."
The old wizard shook his head. "They are simple folk, Jamie of Burrfield. Most have never shot their arrows at a living thing. They have gardens to tend, younglings to raise—"
"So do the people of Burrfield!" she said.
"And yet you are here with us, not with your people," Snagglefoot said. "Why is that, Jamie of Burrfield?"
She opened her mouth, but found no words. How could she tell him about John Quill, about the angry mob, about being outcast and lonely? She sighed, lost for words.
Noelyn approached her, eyes soft. The fireflies glimmered against her silvery hair and brown skin. The archer hugged Jamie, kissed her forehead, and whispered, "I will fight by your side, Jamie of Burrfield. Ellywyn and Rowyn will fight too. We will win together."
Jamie shut her eyes. She remembered seeing Lenore dead, slain after fighting Dry Bones at her side. She remembered hugging the bodies of her parents. She remembered all those who had died fighting black magic and evil. What if these elflings died too? It would be too much to bear, she thought. But still she nodded.
"I will be proud to fight by you," she whispered to them. "May our blades shine bright, our arrows fly true, and our magic light the darkness."
Noelyn smiled, teeth bright. "Now eat and sleep, Jamie and Romy. Night falls and the trees whisper. Tonight we rest. Tomorrow... we march to war."
* * * * *
Neev ran up Friar Hill, the wind stinging his face. He gritted his teeth and his heart thrashed.
This is the place, he remembered. This is where Dry Bones murdered my father. And this is where I'll kill his daughter.
Burrfield burned behind him, aswarm with grunters. Madrila stood atop the hill, hands raised and showering black magic. Her robes billowed, and her face was ghostly white. She laughed, fingers crackling with electricity. Twenty grunters surrounded her, holding jagged blades.
"Hello, Neev Thistle!" she called down to him. She pointed a finger at him, and green lightning flew. Neev cast his own spell, and blue magic shot from his fingertips, parrying her attack. Sparks showered and kindled the grass.
"We killed your father!" he shouted as he ran uphill toward her. "We'll kill you too."
She snarled and hurled a fireball at him. Neev shouted a spell and raised a blue force field. The fireball crashed.
"Grunters!" Madrila screamed, voice shrill. "Kill them."
The monsters ran downhill. Their red eyes blazed. Their maws opened to scream, baring fangs, and their blades swung. An arrow slammed into one, and it crashed down. As Cobweb nocked a second arrow, Scruff swung his mace, killing a second grunter.
A red shard of magic flew toward him, shaped as an arrow. Neev sprayed green fire from his fingertips, knocking the arrow aside. He uttered spells furiously and shot a bolt of blue lightning. Madrila laughed and parried with a bolt of her own.
Scruff screamed. Neev glanced and saw a grunter biting Scruff's shoulder. Cobweb was stabbing it with her dagger.
Madrila shot glowing blue spiderwebs. Neev shot a bolt of magic, but it passed through the web and missed Madrila. The web slammed into him, wrapped around him, and he fell.
Neev struggled but couldn't free himself. Grunters surrounded Scruff and Cobweb; the two fought back to back, faces grim. Laughing, Madrila walked downhill. She stood above Neev and placed her foot against his chest.
"Ready to die, boy?" she whispered, smiling crookedly. She aimed her wand at him.
Neev grabbed a rock and tossed it. Madrila's eyes widened when the rock hit her shoulder. Struggling out of the webs, Neev leaped up and punched, but she grabbed his fist. She snarled, crushing his hand, inhumanly strong. Her teeth were bared, her eyes wild; she looked like a rabid wolf.
"You will die," she hissed. She uttered a spell, and lightning flowed from her hand into Neev.
He screamed. The lightning burned him, twisted inside him, and made his knees buckle. He fell, writhing and shouting in pain.
Focus! Focus, Neev. Summon your magic. Ignore the pain. Fight!
Whose voice whispered inside him? Was it his own voice? His Father's?
; Neev! Neev, I love you. Please, Neev, don't die.
It was Romy's voice, he realized. He looked for her, his vision blurry. He couldn't see her. He only saw Madrila's face, twisted in rage; the grass and trees burning; Scruff and Cobweb bleeding and surrounded. Lightning crackled across him, and smoke rose from him. But Romy did speak to him—Romy whom he loved, who loved him, whom he could whisper all his secrets to as they cuddled at night. She was innocent and pure. He could not leave her alone in this world.
Madrila laughed. Though the pain suffused him, drenching him with sweat, Neev began to utter a spell. Madrila inhaled sharply, eyes widening. Bull horns sprouted from Neev's head. A fireball flew from his hand and slammed into Madrila.
The witch screamed. She released him and fell, her magic vanishing. Neev doubled over, hugging himself and trembling. From the corner of his eye, he saw Madrila struggle to her feet. Get up, Neev! Fight. Fight!
He struggled onto his knees, pointed his fingers at Madrila, and shot a lighting bolt. It hit her chest and knocked her back. She flew several feet and crashed down.
Grunters came racing uphill. There were dozens, maybe hundreds. Their howls tore the air, and the firelight painted them red. Their fangs and claws were white as shards of bone.
"Neev, we have to get out of here!" Scruff shouted. Green blood covered him, and his mace still swung.
Cobweb ran and pulled Neev to his feet. "We have to wun! T-t-too many gwuntews!"
Neev nodded and they began running downhill. Madrila was screaming behind them; she was wounded but still alive. Monsters filled the night. In every direction he looked, their eyes shone, their claws lashed, and their fangs bit. Soon he was running through the streets. Fire rained from the sky, and bodies lay in gutters.
"Out of Burrfield!" Neev shouted. "This town is overrun."
"Neev! Neev!"
The voice came from down the street. He looked into the darkness and gasped. A woman stood there, wreathed in fire, her hair aflame. No, not a woman, but a demon! Romy! A lump filled Neev's throat. He couldn't stop tears from stinging his eyes.
"Romy!"
He ran forward. She ran toward him. They crashed into each other's embrace, and she began kissing him, trembling and weeping.
Wand of the Witch Page 11