The Brixen Witch (18 page)

“So then.” Rudi counted the steps on his nervous fingers. “I go out. He comes to find me. I offer the coin in exchange for my friends. But I can’t let him have it.”

The witch snapped her fingers. “A perfect plan.”

Rudi wasn’t so sure. “If he’s as powerful as you say he is, what’s to stop him from smiting me on the spot, taking the coin, and locking us all inside the mountain forever?”

She shrugged. “I suppose you’d best not get smitten.”

He scowled to conceal his fear. “This is
not
a perfect plan.”

“Have you forgotten already what you’ve learned? He cannot resist the coin, and yet he cannot abide its music. You must take advantage of his torment and indecision.” She drew the golden guilder from her pocket and laid it on Rudi’s palm. “This coin holds the last remnant of my magic. Without it, I am defenseless. I am truly putting my life in your hand.”

Rudi gulped. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Once more, he feared he was not equal to the task.

“You are Gussie’s grandson. I can think of no
better person.” She folded Rudi’s fingers over the coin. “Rub it between your hands, and it will sing. Its magic will give you some measure of protection, but not much. Whatever you do, bring it back to me, or all will be lost.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Best get going before the light wanes.”

And so, with the golden guilder in his pocket, his father’s best knife on his belt, and his heart in his throat, Rudi stepped out into the daylight.

He followed the path away from the tall crevice that marked the door to the witch’s cave. It ought to be easy enough to find again, at any rate.

The coin lay quiet in his pocket for the moment. Rudi hoped he would not need it. Not yet. First he wanted to find some clue to the whereabouts of his friends.

He scrambled on the mountain for what seemed like hours, though the sun remained high. There was no sign of the other children. No bits of cloth tied to the branches by the search party. Rudi wondered if he was searching on the wrong side of the mountain. But he dared not venture too far. He could not become lost. He continued on, keeping within sight of the crevice that marked the witch’s door.

Then, as he searched, Rudi became aware of a faint but steady noise: a rhythmic banging, as of rock against rock. It was not a sound an animal
would make, or the wind. He followed it, keeping quiet. He slid one hand into his pocket, ready to bring out the coin. With his other hand he grasped the handle of his knife.

Rudi followed the knocking sound to an outcropping of jagged rocks half-hidden by pine saplings. Warily, he stepped closer. Then, though the sun was hot, Rudi felt a breath of cool air coming from between the rocks.

Pushing the branches aside, he found a large crack in the rock as high as he was tall, and only wide enough to push his head inside, if he’d wanted to. But he did not want to. The cool air flowed out from the crack, and so did the banging. He’d heard that sound before, but he couldn’t recall when or where.

Rudi put his face to the crack. He held his breath. Then he called, “Hello?”

His voice echoed. He had found a cave.

The banging stopped. Now Rudi heard a faint rustling noise from deep inside the cave, as a creature shuffling in the dirt. Perhaps it was a badger, ready to attack.

Or the witch’s servant.

The rustling grew louder. Something was coming toward him.

Rudi backed away, ready to run.

Suddenly a face appeared.

“I KNEW you’d come, Rudi!” Susanna Louisa beamed out at him through the crack in the stone. Then she displayed the rock she held. “See? People can always hear me better when I knock with a stone.”

“Is it really you?” Rudi tried to keep his voice low, but he could not contain his joy. “Are you all right? Is everyone in there with you?”

Susanna Louisa nodded. “Everybody,” she whispered. “We’re faring well enough, except it’s cold and damp and I think it’s past lunch. We found some biscuits, but they’re dry as dust. There’s a spring, too, with clear water, thank goodness. Can you take us home, Rudi?”

“I hope so. We need to get you out first.”

“There’s no way out,” she said. “No way at all.
We’ve looked. We came in this way, but that nasty fiddler closed up the door, and now it’s nothing but a window. I don’t like that fiddler.”

Rudi gulped. “He’s not in there now, is he?”

“Oh, no,” said Susanna Louisa. “We’ve not seen him since he locked us in here. I hope I never see him again.”

“So do I,” said Rudi, though he knew it could not be avoided. He had no doubt the fiddler was somewhere close at hand.

“Is there anything else in the cave with you?” Rudi asked her. “Any other … provisions?”

Susanna Louisa shrugged. “There’s a whole pile of stuff, but it’s mostly useless. There’s a teapot, but it’s cracked, and anyway there’s no tea. There’s a good, strong rope, but no room for skipping in here. A basket of potatoes, but nothing to cook them with.” She wrinkled her nose. “Nobody likes raw potatoes.”

“The witch was right,” Rudi whispered. “Her magic is here too.” And then, to Susanna, “What else? Is the fiddle in there?”

“Oh, yes, it’s here. But that fiddler said don’t touch it. He said don’t make so much as a peep. And who knows? Perhaps he’s watching us. We haven’t touched the fiddle. We’ve been quiet as
can be. I even knocked quietly. We don’t like being stuck in here, but we don’t want him mad at us neither. He’s a mean one.”

“I know.” Rudi glanced around nervously. He turned back to Susanna Louisa with renewed urgency. “Listen to me, Susanna. All those things inside the cave—the teapot, the fiddle, the potatoes, everything—they’re magic.”

“The potatoes?”

Rudi nodded.

Susanna Louisa’s eyes grew wide. “I’m glad we didn’t eat them.”

Rudi laughed, and for that he was so grateful, he could have kissed her. But he only said, “Silly girl.”

“When can we go home, Rudi?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, trying to sound grown-up. “We’ll have you home and skipping rope in no time. I’m just … not sure how, yet.”

A satisfied grin spread across Susanna’s face. “I know how! If all these things are magic, then I know how to get us out.” She hummed to herself.

Rudi blinked at her. He yearned to know more, but time was short. He would have to trust her.

“Do it, then. And when you do, be sure to take everything with you from inside the cave. As much as you can carry.”

“Even the fiddle?”

“Especially the fiddle. Will you tell the others?”

She nodded solemnly. “Anything for you, Rudi.”

His face burned, and he cleared his throat. “Once you’re all free, wait here until you hear music. And when you hear it, this is what I want you to do.”

He gave quick instructions to Susanna Louisa. “Can you remember that?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, nearly bouncing inside the cave.

“Good. I’m going now to try to distract the fiddler. Once you are out, remember to keep quiet until you hear the music.” And with that, Rudi retraced his steps toward the witch’s cave. If the witch was right, and the fiddler truly was driven by greed and vanity, his plan should work. At least, Rudi hoped it would.

After a few minutes walking, Rudi looked around once more. The witch’s servant had been too quiet. Rudi suspected that Susanna Louisa was right, and they were being watched.

It was time to find out. As he hurried down the path, Rudi pulled the golden guilder from his pocket and rubbed it between his palms.

For a moment there was nothing. Rudi wondered if he was supposed to tell it something, the way the witch had done. He whispered,
“Sing!”

And it did. The coin sang, and then it wailed, filling the air with piercing music.

Before he had gone ten steps, Rudi heard another noise behind him. An unmistakable grating growl
that blew down the mountain on a chill wind and became a screeching in his ears, as if in answer to the coin’s wailing.

The time had come. All would be won—or lost—in the next few moments.

Fighting the urge to drop the coin and cover his ears, Rudi ran down the path toward the witch’s door, with the fiddler on his heels. He jammed the coin deep into his pocket, and was grateful to find that its song was not muffled. He hurled himself over boulders and tore through brambles.

The screeching followed him, and though it was July, the wind blew as cold as January on his neck. He plunged onward, not daring to look back.

Rudi rounded a bend. Far ahead, at the crevice’s opening, was a sight that made his heart leap.

The search party.

They were milling about, rattling their weapons, such as they were. The men of Brixen were not hunters or bowmen. They were farmers and craftsmen and merchants, and they carried pitchforks and slingshots and knives.

Rudi uttered a cry of relief as he stumbled down the path toward them. Now he would have allies, and not a heartbeat too soon. Together they might yet have a chance to defeat the witch’s servant.

As Rudi drew near, Marco stepped forward and held up his arm.

“Stay back, boy! This is a dangerous place!”

Rudi skidded to a halt. He wanted to tell Marco,
Of course it’s dangerous! The fiddler is almost upon me! Can’t you hear him?
But he was so winded from running, he could manage only “huh?”

Then, as quickly as it had started, the screeching stopped. Rudi turned. The witch’s servant was gone, though the air remained as cold as winter.

Quickly, Rudi patted his pocket and said,
“Shhh!”
To his relief, the coin quieted its music, though it continued to echo faintly in his ears. Perhaps it was a phantom sound. Or perhaps the coin did not want to be forgotten.

Marco tugged Rudi closer. “We’ve found the witch’s lair. There’s a low door within that crevice. We need someone small enough to crawl inside, and you’re just the one to do it. Take this.” He held out an axe nearly as big as Rudi. “She’s got the children in there, I’ll wager. Once they’re safely out, chop her into a thousand pieces.”

Rudi’s breath stuck in his throat. He could only shake his head.

“No matter,” said Marco. “Then just flush her out, and we’ll do the rest.” The search party nodded and shook their fists.

“No!” Rudi gasped. “You don’t understand. It’s not the witch….”

“I can help,” came a voice from behind Rudi. “I
can help you destroy the witch.”

Rudi knew that voice. As if to confirm his fears, the air grew yet colder, turning his breath to white vapor.

“You again!” said Marco. “I’d know that motley shirt anywhere.” He shivered, from the sight of the man before him, or from the cold, or from both.

“Yes, it is I,” said the fiddler. A gust of wind blew, and then a spray of sleet, hissing on the sunbaked earth. “How else can I make amends for taking your precious children? I am but a servant of the witch, bound to do her bidding. But have no worries, for your children are safe.”

“Where are they? We want to see them now.” Marco stepped forward, swinging his great axe onto his shoulder.

The fiddler inched backward. “Certainly, good sir. You shall see them straightaway. Just as soon as this young fellow pays me what is mine.” He nodded toward Rudi, and his eyes gleamed. The sleet came down in sheets now, so that every man shivered and pulled up his hood.

Rudi only gulped and shook his head. Icy pellets stabbed his face. The coin lay quiet in his pocket and would stay there as long as Rudi had breath.

“What’s he talking about, Rudi?” said Marco.

“It’s the same payment as before,” offered the fiddler. “One golden guilder. He’s finally found it, good lad, and it’s in his pocket. Isn’t it?” He held out his hand.

Marco sighed. “Pay the man, boy, so we can get our children and go home.”

The fiddler took a step closer, his face barely able to contain his triumph. Rudi recoiled. The witch’s words rang in his head:
If he takes possession of this coin, all will be lost.

“Wait!” Otto pushed his way to the front of the group. “How can we trust this servant of the witch? I say bring out our children first.”

The fiddler stifled a sneer. “Very well,” he said. “They are inside the cave, with the witch.” He pointed beyond them to the witch’s door.