Wand of the Witch (6 page)

"Wet's catch hew!" Cobweb said. "She's g-g-getting away."

Romy landed by her. Panting, the two girls began running after Willow. Branches slapped their faces and leaves crunched under their feet.

They ran through the forest for a long time.

"She's gone," Romy finally said. "We'll never find her."

Cobweb shook her head. "We'ww find hew. See how da weaves awe pwessed d-d-down hewe? See dat smudge of m-m-m-mud on dat bouwdew? She wan hewe. She's f-fast... but we'ww catch hew."

Romy got down on all four, lowered her head to the ground, and sniffed like a bloodhound. Her tail wagged. She straightened and nodded.

"She walked here," the demon announced. "I can smell her trail. Let's keep looking."

It was slow progress. Many roots, bushes, and boulders impeded their passage. Streams gurgled, full of slippery rocks. Sometimes they had to stop and climb over a fallen log, a towering boulder, or bramble. As she followed the trail through the forest, Cobweb thought about the other Bullies.
What will they think when they don't see us come home on time?

Soon the sun began to set. When it grew dark, Cobweb could no longer see the trail, and they had to rely on Romy's nose. The demon stopped every few feet, leaned down, and sniffed the earth. Then she'd wag her tail and run forward. The stars emerged and the sun vanished. The only lights came from their hair: Romy's flamed like a torch, and Cobweb's glowed softly like moonlight.

Romy whispered. "What if we walk right into the witch's camp and meet a thousand monsters?"

Cobweb clutched her bow tight. "Wet's be cawefuw. If we f-f-find da monstews' camp, we'ww spy on dem, den wetuwn to Buwwfiewd. Wet's not p-pick any fights."

Romy walked ahead, sniffing and wagging her tail. Cobweb followed her. Leaves crunched and branches snapped under their feet.
If there are any witches in the darkness, they'd hear us from miles away,
Cobweb thought.

It seemed like they walked for hours when Romy paused and said, "I smell grunters." She sniffed. "Ooh, and some cookies!"

"Cookies?"

Cobweb paused and sniffed. It
did
smell like cookies ahead—honey cookies with almonds, she thought. The sweet smells mingled with a stench like rot.

"Wet's pwoceed quietwy," Cobweb said. "T-t-tiptoe and d-d-don't make a sound!"

They inched forward, careful not to rustle any dry leaves or twigs. Romy pulled her hood over her head, hiding the fire of her hair. Campfires burned ahead; Cobweb smelled them and saw their soft light. She parted branches before her and saw a camp of creatures.

The young witch Willow stood over a cauldron, mixing its contents with a ladle. A hundred monsters surrounded the cauldron—warty grunters, long-toed slinkers, three-headed dogs with flaming eyes, reptiles with red horns, and many others. A dilapidated house rose behind them, cloaked in shadows.

"Boil and bubble," Willow chanted as she stirred. "Toil and trouble. I brew a poison of evil and pain!" She tossed powder into the cauldron, tightened her lips, and stirred with more vigor. "Curses and hexes, devils and spirits, poison this brew with your evil! Here I stir a potion of wretchedness."

Delicious smells of honey, roasted nuts, and baked apples wafted from the cauldron.

A grunter sniffed the brew. "Mmm, cookie dough!" he said. "
Grunt grunt
, can we eat this batch too?"

Willow growled and pulled her hair. "This is not cookie dough! This is a foul, evil poison. This is a brew of terror, of demons and ghosts!"

The grunter dipped his finger into the mix and licked it. "Yum yum, tastes especially sweet this time."

Willow seemed close to tears. She tossed the ladle aside, sat down with a groan, and covered her eyes.

"Cookies again. Every bloody time I try to create an evil potion, it comes out as cookie dough." She heaved a sigh. "Very well, I suppose you might as well eat this one too."

The monsters around the cauldron cheered and began to feast, smacking their lips and licking their fingers.

Cobweb watched with fascination from between the trees. "She's not m-m-much of a witch," she said.

Romy was wagging her tail furiously under her cloak. She was drooling like a hungry dog, and her stomach growled. Luckily, the monsters were too busy eating to hear.

"Cookies!" Romy whispered in awe. "I want some. Please please, can I go eat some too?"

Cobweb shook her head. "No, Womy. I'll b-b-bake you some at home tomowwow, okay?"

Romy's drool dripped onto the forest floor and her stomach gave another growl.

A shriek tore the forest.

The monsters around the cauldron froze, and Willow's face paled. The young witch's eyes widened and she trembled.

"Willow!" came a shriek from the house.

The witch shut her eyes and began to mumble; it seemed to Cobweb like she was praying.

"Willow, what are you doing?"

A second witch stormed out of the house behind the campfire. She was young, tall, and beautiful, with golden hair and blazing green eyes. Her black robes swished around her. The firelight painted her face red.

Willow straightened, gulped, and said, "Uhm... hello, Madrila. I'm... I'm preparing a poison for the Bullies—something so deadly, they cannot survive it."

Madrila!
Hiding behind the trees, Cobweb gasped. So here was Dry Bones's long-lost daughter. Here was the witch who wanted her father avenged and the Bullies dead. Here was the woman who had sent grunters to kill them. Cobweb reached for an arrow.

I should kill her now,
she thought.
I should shoot an arrow into her heart.
And yet she dared not. A hundred monsters stood here. If she killed Madrila, those monsters would swarm across the forest, find her and Romy, and kill them. Cobweb forced herself to release her arrow.

"Willow, you made cookie dough again!" Madrila shouted. "When will you learn to be a proper witch? When will you learn to be more evil, for heaven's sake?"

Willow sniffed back tears, but managed to puff out her chest. "I
am
evil, Madrila! I can be as evil as you. If you'll just teach me, maybe some really evil spells, I can—"

"You must earn your spells," Madrila said, interrupting the younger woman. "What happened to the slinkers you took to Burrfield?"

Willow trembled. She looked around, as if searching for an escape route. Finally she swallowed, lowered her head, and said meekly, "The Bullies killed them. I'm sorry, Madrila. We fought them well, but...." She winced as if expecting a blow.

Madrila only stared silently. Her eyes were ice. Finally she spun around, stormed back into her house, and slammed the door shut. A lock clanked.

Willow stood outside, trembling for long moments. Finally she sighed, lay down by the campfire, and curled up.

"Looks like another night outside for me," she said quietly. "At least I have you for company, my dear monsters."

The creatures, however, seemed not to hear her. They were busy fighting over who got to lick the cauldron. Willow sighed again, hugged her knees, and seemed to fall asleep.

"We've seen enough fow n-n-now," Cobweb whispered. "Wet's go home and teww Neev and J-J-Jamie what we weawned."

Romy was looking at the empty cauldron ruefully. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away, nodded, and the two Bullies began heading back home.

Chapter Five

A Good Year for Pitchforks

John Quill stood outside the walls, holding an oil lamp. He stared down at the dead monsters—furry things with weasel noses, sharp claws, and toes the length of their torsos. He shook his head ruefully.

Oh, Bullies,
he thought.
Will you never learn to stop your senseless monster slaying?

Leaving the bodies, he stepped back through the gates into Burrfield. As he walked down the street, he began planning tomorrow's article. He smiled as he imagined the Bullies reading it.

"You will learn, Bullies," he said to himself. "You will learn that brawn cannot win every battle."

That Scruff was a beast of legendary strength. That Jamie was a runt, but skilled with the blade. Neev was a powerful warlock, Romy an evil demon, Cobweb a deadly archer.
Warriors,
Quill thought in disgust.
All they know is how to fight, how to kill.
He snorted.
I might have skinny arms, and no skill with weapons, but I too am strong. I have the strength of words... and words are deadlier than any weapon.
He allowed himself a small, tight smile.
I will be Burrfield's newest hero.

He entered his print shop. Dawn had not yet risen, and his assistants slept on the floors. Quill took his boxes of letters—each one was printed onto a metal cube—and began arranging them in printing plates. As he worked, his smile grew.

* * * * *

Scruff woke up, stretched, and shuffled outside to grab some tea leaves. The paperboy rode by on his donkey, waved, and tossed a
Gazette
onto his feet.

Scruff knelt, picked it up, and howled in rage.

He stormed back inside and slammed the newspaper onto the table.

"More rubbish!" he said.

Romy and Cobweb crowded around him, peeking at the newspaper. Emblazoned across it appeared the headline:

"BULLIES FOR BUCKS MURDER A UNICORN FAMILY"

The article stated that a family of forest dwellers, almost certainly peaceful unicorns, were found dead outside Teasel Gate, which the Bullies had been guarding. Spiderling arrows filled them, and they bore wounds the shape of Romy's pitchfork.

"I'm famous!" Romy announced when Scruff read them the part about her.

The rest of the article explained that the unicorns had only wished to bring peace, love, and rainbows to Burrfield... things the Bullies obviously hated.

'The only thing the Bullies love is blood,' the article concluded. 'In this reporter's opinion, they should be locked in Fort Rosethorn's dungeon and forever kept from harming another soul.'

Scruff had just finished reading when the door slammed open. Need and Jamie rushed in; they had been out guarding the walls. Their faces were red, their breath heavy, and their hair wild.

"The natives are restless," Neev said between pants. He slammed the door shut behind him and locked it.

"There's a bloody mob on our heels," Jamie said and drew her sword. She snarled and held the blade before her.

Soon Scruff could hear hundreds of boots thumping, people cursing and screaming, and torches crackling. He peeked out the window and gasped. A mob was racing up Friar Hill toward their house. They held torches and pitchforks.

Romy snorted. "My pitchfork is much nicer.
Theirs
aren't decorated with ribbons and hearts."

John Quill led the mob, Scruff saw. The printmaker was the only one not cursing or shouting; he walked with a small, smug smile on his face.

"Fools!" Scruff said. He lifted Norman, his spiny mace. "If they break in our house, I'll club them. We risk our lives defending them, and this is what we get?"

Soon the mob reached the house. They trampled over the garden, smashing the pots of herbs, vegetable lattices, and flowerbeds. They began to pound on the door, waving their pitchforks.

"Murderers!" one shouted.

"Demon worshippers!" another called.

Peeking out the window, Romy shouted back, "There's nothing wrong with worshipping me! I deserve it."

Fists pounded on the door, which began to crack.

"Get out of Burrfield!" shouted a man. "You don't belong among decent folk."

Scruff peeked through the window's shutters and saw John Quill smirking, hands on his hips.
That does it,
he thought. Rage blazed inside him.
My father fought and died to defend this town. I fight for this town. My family fights for it. I won't let Quill get away with this.

He swung open the door and rushed outside, knocking people over. He howled and swung his mace around, breaking pitchforks and torches. His cries shook the hill.

"The ogre!" somebody cried. "Kill him!"

Fists and pitchforks began flying his way. Scruff knocked them aside and ran toward Quill. The printmaker's smile vanished. He began to flee, but Scruff caught his shirt, spun him around, and shook him.

"You slimy weasel," Scruff growled. "How dare you turn these people against us, people we've fought to protect? Aren't you ashamed? Romy and Cobweb are new to this town; how dare you welcome them this way?"

Quill was pale and shaking, but managed to snarl. "Romy? Cobweb? The devil and the creature, you mean. Those... those
things
don't belong in Burrfield among decent humans. You married a monster. Your brother is all but married to a demon." He shouted to the mob. "My friends! Kill this beast. Kill all the Bullies!"

The mob stormed into the house. Scruff heard the other Bullies fighting inside it. Cobweb screamed and even Romy wailed in fear. Fists grabbed Scruff and pulled him off Quill. Boots kicked him, and a pitchfork stabbed his leg. He howled and swung his fists blindly, trying to hold off the mob.

"Cobweb!" he cried. "Cobweb, I'm coming for you."

He tried to make it back to the house, but legs tripped him. He fell, and a dozen people piled up atop him. He shook them off and punched anything that moved.

"Cease this!"

The voice rang across the hill. Lord Bramblebridge's voice! Scruff breathed in relief. The bulldoggish Lord of Burrfield would put an end to this. When Scruff turned his head, he saw Bramblebridge huff and puff up the hill, swinging his arms. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his orange moustache bristled with rage. Thirty soldiers marched behind him, wearing armor and holding drawn swords.

"My lord!" Scruff said. "I—"

"What the blazes is going on here?" Bramblebridge shouted. "Bullies, I have had enough of your mayhem. Enough, I say!"