by Alane Adams
“Come on,” he said. “We’re near the edge of the woods. We can hide there until it’s safe to go find Jasper.”
Hugo waited for Fetch to jump first, then followed, tumbling in tall grass. The wagon rolled on. Suddenly, Fetch grabbed him by the collar and dragged him backward into the trees. The little green creature was much stronger than he looked.
Before Hugo could object to the rough handling, a pair of mounted soldiers thundered down the road and stopped the wagon.
The Balfin guardsmen yelled at the driver, who looked confused. They whipped off the tarp covering the pile of rotting kitchen scraps.
The two soldiers made retching noises as they poked the smelly heap with their swords, then replaced the tarp. The wagon driver threw his hands up and then cracked the whip over the horses and went on his way. The soldiers studied the trees, before climbing back onto their horses and heading back to the fortress.
“That was close,” Hugo sighed. “Now I have to get you to Jasper, so he can get you far away from this place.”
Fetch folded his arms. “I’m not leaving.”
“But you can’t stay here. If Hestera finds you, she’ll—”
“I know what she’ll do,” he said calmly. “You will deliver a message to Jasper to take to my master, His Highest of High, Odin himself.”
Reluctantly, Hugo pulled out his journal. “What’s the message?”
“It is secret.” Fetch held out one furry hand for the pad. He turned his back on Hugo and scrawled out a note. Then he folded it neatly into fours and held it out. “Triple swear, cross your heart, promise you won’t read it?”
“I triple swear,” Hugo said, crossing his heart three times. He tucked the note in his pocket. “Where will you go?”
“Oh, I’ll be around. You might run into me now and again.” Fetch saluted the boy and then scampered off into the trees, humming to himself.
Hugo trudged down the road into town. He made his way to the docks to Jasper’s ship. He found the sailor in the same spot, sharpening his knife. Ducking under the rigging, he climbed on board.
Jasper silently shook his head when Hugo opened his mouth to tell him the news. Instead, the sailor led him down below, shutting the hatch before gripping the boy’s arm.
“Well?”
“We found Fetch. We rescued him from the dungeon. Hestera was going to cut his head off.”
“If that’s true, then where is he?”
Hugo held out the note. “He said he was staying and for you to take this message to his master.”
Jasper snatched the note, bringing it to his nose to smell it. “Did you read it, boy? I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Hugo shook his head. “Fetch made me swear I wouldn’t.” The sailor nodded, tucking the note away. “Then I best be off since my passenger isn’t returning.” He opened the hatch, but Hugo called after him.
“Wait. You promised to tell us about Abigail’s magic if we helped you.”
Jasper turned, letting the hatch close. “That I did. I suppose you’ve earned it. That blue witch is special.”
“Is it because of her mother?”
The old sailor shook his head. “No. It was her father that changed her magic into something special.”
Hugo frowned. “But Balfins don’t have any magic of their own.”
“Lissandra didn’t consort with a black-hearted Balfin. She fell in love.” He said the last part with a touch of disgust.
Now Hugo was sure Jasper was lying. “That’s not possible. Witches don’t love anything. It’s written into their code. ‘A witch’s heart is made of stone,’” he quoted.
“Lissandra was different. She was always off wandering in the woods and gazing at the stars. I used to see her down here at the sea port, tossing petals into the water. That’s how this all started. A sailor washed up on shore one day with no memory of where he’d come from. Lissandra found him and nursed him back to health.”
Hugo wrote that down in his journal. “So her father was a sailor?”
Jasper held up a finger. “Not just any sailor. This one had powerful magic. I could smell it on him.”
“What happened?”
Jasper’s face closed up. “I’ve said enough for one day. A warning, boy. Abigail can’t reveal her magic is blue, or the witches will know she’s Lissandra’s child. She’ll be in grave danger, same as got her mother killed.”
“But she’ll get kicked out of the Tarkana Academy if she doesn’t pass Spectacular Spells.”
Jasper hesitated, then gave a short nod. “I reckon I can give her something for that. A reward for your help.”
The sailor fished out a pendant from inside his tunic, lifted it over his head, and passed it to Hugo.
An ancient jade-green stone hung from a tarnished silver clasp.
“It’s a sea emerald,” Jasper explained. “A gift from my father, Aegir. If she calls on its magic, she can turn her witchfire green.”
Chapter 15
The best part of Endera and her two rotten friends having detention was that Abigail was free to meet Hugo in the gardens after school. When her last class ended, she skipped down the path to the jookberry tree, pigtails bouncing.
She peered up into the branches. No sign of Hugo. She sat down to wait, wrapping her arms around her knees.
“My, how you’ve grown.”
Abigail started. A woman was sitting next to her on gracefully folded legs. Pale blonde hair fell down her back. Her gown was white, but it was her eyes that drew Abigail. They were a milky color that made her gasp.
The woman smiled. “Yes, I know I look quite strange. I am Vor, goddess of wisdom. And you are Abigail.”
Abigail didn’t know what to say. “That’s right. What . . . what do you want with me?”
Vor smiled and lifted one hand. A white dove flew down from a tree and landed on it. She stroked it gently.
“You are like this dove, Abigail. Still bright with hope and goodness.”
She blew on it softly, and the feathers began to change, fading from snowy white to gray, then darkening until it was black as night. Its body grew thicker and its beak longer until it had become a raven. It cawed harshly at Abigail.
“But the world can change you if you let the darkness in,” Vor said. The goddess lifted her hand, and the raven flew off, wheeling into the sky with a chorus of angry caws. She turned her sightless eyes on Abigail. “You mustn’t let the darkness win.”
Abigail rested her chin on her knees for a long moment. Something about Vor’s words rang true.
“Whenever I recite the Witches’ Code, I feel it chipping away at me,” she said quietly. “As if it’s trying to remove the parts that feel things. I don’t like it.”
“Then fight it,” Vor urged. “Don’t become like the others of your kind.”
Abigail’s head came up. “How? If I want to be a great witch, I have to learn to be like them.”
“You can be a great witch who is also merciful and kind. You can choose to be different here,” she placed her palm lightly on Abigail’s chest, “where it matters.”
Abigail’s heart ricocheted. “What if I don’t want to be different?”
Vor withdrew her hand. “That is for you to decide.” The woman rose nimbly. “Odin sent me to offer sanctuary to you—a chance to grow up away from this place. Or you can stay and let the darkness grow in you. I see both paths ahead. Neither is easy, and the hardest one of all is to fight against those that would make you into their pawn. Think it over carefully.”
Vor’s form shifted, and in her place a dozen white doves took to the sky, winging into the bright blue.
Abigail held her breath until the last dove disappeared from sight, then blew it out in a long exhale. Leave the Tarkana coven? Fear sent cold shivers up her spine. She couldn’t imagine life away from this place. As awful as it was at times, it was still her home.
Branches rustled overhead, and Hugo tumbled awkwardly onto the grass next to her.
“You’re here!”
he exclaimed. “I’ve been so worried about you. Was everything okay? Did Madame Vex punish you?”
Abigail turned, giving him a faint smile. “No, I turned the tables on Endera, and she ended up getting detention. They don’t know how Fetch escaped, and no one’s talking about it.” She hesitated to tell him about the visit from Vor. It felt too private to share, even with Hugo.
“I have news about your magic,” he burst out.
“Really?” Excitement kicked in her chest. “You know why it’s blue?”
“Not exactly. Jasper’s sure your mother was Lissandra, but he said you didn’t get it from her.”
“That can’t be. It’s not as if a Balfin could give me magic, silly.”
“Your father wasn’t a Balfin.” He told her Jasper’s story of the lost sailor.
“My father was a sailor? Where is he now? Does he know about me?” Her words tumbled out.
“Jasper wouldn’t say, only that he had powerful magic. He said you can’t let anyone know your magic is blue, or they’ll know you’re Lissandra’s daughter, and you’ll be in the same danger she was.”
Abigail threw her hands up. “Then I’m finished.”
“Not yet.” He held out a silver chain with a large emerald dangling from it. “This can save you.”
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “But what does it do?”
“It’s a sea emerald. Jasper says if you wear it, you can use its magic to change the color of your witchfire to green.”
Her eyes lit up. “Let’s try it then.”
She put the necklace on and put her hands up, drawing them in a circle, feeling the energy build. She thrust her palms forward, releasing it.
Sure enough, the witchfire that sputtered out was emerald, even brighter than Endera’s.
“It works!” she shouted, jumping up and down with joy. “Now I can pass my Spectacular Spells exam!”
Hugo grinned. “There’s something else. Fetch didn’t leave.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “He wouldn’t say. He had me take a note to Jasper for his master, Odin.”
“Why does a powerful god like Odin want to spy on the witches? We need to know what was in that note.”
Hugo fidgeted, looking uncomfortable.
“What is it?”
The boy’s face grew red. “Well, I triple promised Fetch I wouldn’t read the note, and I didn’t.”
“But?” she prodded.
“But I didn’t promise I wouldn’t try to discover what he wrote.” Hugo pulled out his notepad. He took his pencil and began lightly rubbing the edge of the lead back and forth across the page.
“What are you doing?” Abigail asked.
“You’ll see.”
Hugo’s tongue stuck out between his teeth as he worked. A faint line appeared and then another.
When the paper was completely covered in shading, he held it up for Abigail to see. The pencil sketch had revealed words.
What do you suppose it means?”
“No idea. But we’re making progress. We know your magic came from your dad. That’s something.”
“That’s true. Thank you, Hugo.” Abigail clasped the sea emerald, eyes dancing. “I’m off to find Madame Arisa and pass my Spectacular Spells exam. Wish me luck!”
Chapter 16
Autumn had come and gone, dropping the temperature and leaving a layer of frost in the mornings. Life at the Tarkana Academy was much easier now that Abigail could use her magic. She was passing all her classes and had quickly risen to Madame Arisa’s top student in Spectacular Spells. She and Hugo still met under the jookberry tree when they could, although they hadn’t learned anything new about her magic.
With Yule Day fast approaching, Endera led the firstlings with the highest marks, closely followed by a witch-ling named Portia, the most beautiful firstling in their class. Abigail was catching up, but unless a miracle happened, she wouldn’t have a chance at winning Head Witchling.
She followed a throng of girls into their Animals, Beasts, and Creatures class. Her ABCs instructor, Madame Barbosa, reminded Abigail of a cat. She could swear the teacher even had thin whiskers under her nose. And when she was happy with a student’s work, she purred softly.
Abigail sat next to Minxie, ignoring Endera’s glare. The girl still hadn’t forgiven Abigail for getting her detention. Endera’s anger put a small smile on Abigail’s face as Madame Barbosa took her place at the front of the classroom.
“Today we will be learning how to charm a wild creature. There is a hierarchy of creatures the Tarkanas have created. The lowest is the rathos, then shreeks, sneevils, the Shun Kara, and of course, the mighty Omera.”
She held up a drawing of an Omera. Wings spread wide, its sleek scaly body was black as night, and its pointed beak was lined with razor-sharp teeth. A spiked tail curved over its back, ready to strike a death blow.
“The mighty Omera cannot be tamed by any but the strongest of witches. They will as soon tear the flesh from your bones as allow you to ride them.”
Abigail raised her hand. “Have you ever seen a viken?”
Madame Barbosa froze. Her mouth opened and closed. “Abigail Tarkana, why ever would you ask such a thing?”
Abigail shrugged. “I heard about one in a story.”
“Vikens don’t exist—at least, not anymore. Centuries ago, before the Tarkanas ran the coven, our ancestor Vena Volgrim created one. But it was deemed too vicious for even a Volgrim witch to handle, and the beast was put down.”
Madame Barbosa dabbed at her forehead with a silk handkerchief, then pasted a smile back on her face.
“Enough talk of ancient beasts. Let us first conquer the simplest of creatures. Observe.”
She whipped a black cloth off a cage. Inside, a hissing shreek gnawed at the bars, its wings unfurling. Red eyes glared at them as green spittle dripped from its open mouth.
“Never touch shreek spittle,” she warned, putting on a pair of gloves. “It can burn like acid. Now, to tame this shreek, I must use my charm spell.”
Madame Barbosa held up a hand, waving it in front of the winged rodent. “Melly onus, stella kalira.”
The shreek stopped hissing. Its red eyes glazed over, then turned black as its pupils dilated.
She opened the cage and lifted the creature out, setting it on the table. “Fetch me that chalk,” she said, pointing.
The shreek dutifully flapped over to the board. It took the chalk in its beak and returned to drop it in her hand. She rubbed her knuckles over its head and then put it back in the cage.
Madame Barbosa unveiled another wild shreek. “Who would like to try?”
Hands shot up.
“Endera, why don’t you have a go?”
Endera smugly got up and took a stance, holding her hands in front of her.
“Melly onus, stella kalira.”
The shreek kept on hissing and spitting at her.
“Try again, dear,” Madame Barbosa said. “Louder this time.”
“Melly onus, stella kalira!” she shouted.
The shreek stopped hissing, slowly folding its wings.
“Now open the door. Careful not to touch it.”
Endera reached out and gingerly undid the latch. The shreek hopped onto the lip of the cage, waiting for instructions.
With a sly grin, Endera said, “Go fetch her.” She swung around, pointing right at Abigail.
Abigail sat up straight, not sure she had heard correctly. Before she could hide, the shreek was circling her head, diving at her face, grabbing at her with its claws.
She screamed, batting at it and sending it flying across the room. The shreek careened into a large cage, knocking it off the table and breaking it open. A dozen shreeks flew out. Soon the room was filled with screeching shreeks and screaming girls.
Madame Vex barged into the room. “What is the meaning of this? This is the second time you’ve disturbed my Magical Maths class.”
Her fist shot in the air, and a blast
of crackling witch-fire shot out, sending the shreeks squealing for the safety of the cages.
She whirled around to glare at the class.
“What kind of firstling can’t handle a simple shreek? I should send you all back to the Creche this instant.”
Madame Barbosa swept forward. “There, there, Madame Vex, we’re just learning our first charm spell. I’m sure they can do better.”
“I’ll expect them to prove that.”
“What about a competition? To see who can bespell the most powerful creature?” Madame Barbosa purred.
“Yes, a competition,” Madame Vex said. “We will send them out into the swamps to capture and tame a creature.”
“The swamps?” Madame Barbosa’s hand fluttered nervously. “Isn’t that . . . dangerous for a firstling?”
Madame Vex snorted. “This unruly bunch seem able to handle anything. We can use the challenge to weed out the less capable ones.”
“What kind of creature?” Portia asked.
Madame Barbosa spread her hands. “Anything that lives on this island. We will have a showing in, say, three days?” She looked at Madame Vex.
The headmistress nodded. “The remainder of your classes will be canceled until the competition is over. The witchling with the most powerful creature will earn enough credits to be declared Head Witchling for her class for the rest of the year.”
The girls began whispering excitedly to each other, visions of the Head Witchling pin dancing in their eyes.
“But be warned,” she held up one finger. “Failure to capture a creature will result in immediate expulsion.”
That silenced the chatters.
A mixture of dread and excitement thrummed through Abigail as class was dismissed. Getting named Head Witch-ling was like being named the most popular girl in school. She had a vision of herself swanning into the Dining Hall wearing the gold pin and having all the girls clamor to sit with her.
All she had to do was go into the swamp and—a sudden wave of fear washed over her. Go into the swamp where the viken was? She shifted uneasily in her seat. She should warn Madame Barbosa about the beast. The girls would be out in the swamps alone. But if she said something, Madame Barbosa was sure to tell Madame Vex, which was bound to lead to more questions.