Heart of the Staff - Complete Series

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Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 65

by Carol Marrs Phipps


  “Yes, so I do,” said the woman with a warm smile. “I make it my business to know the names of all those who enter my realm, Fuzz. I'm Mary, the White Witch. And you do indeed know me as well in another form.”

  “The only witch I've ever known was Ugleeuh, known to some as Bailitheoir Cailli, and it was not a pleasant experience.”

  “Yes, I knew her, too,” said Mary with a sigh. “She was my very worst enemy, perhaps my only enemy. She trapped me in another form from which I've only just now escaped. Don't you know me Fuzz?” She turned to him with her long lashed eyes.

  “Rotundra?” he said with a gulp of astonishment. “Can it really...?”

  “That was me. That was indeed the name I bore in shame.”

  “Shame? Bore, yes. But what could possibly have been your shame? We all bore Ugleeuh's curse.”

  “Absolutely. And thank you, dear Fuzz. But I'm the powerful White Witch. I shouldn't have fallen prey to her, yet she took me by surprise with that broom of hers. What a way to discover the Great Staff. My shame was rooted in my vain complacency, secure with the idea that my magic was far stronger than hers. Look at how much suffering it caused.

  “And Fuzz,” she added suddenly with narrowed eyes. “Whatever happened to that nice little supper by candle light we were to have after Rose and Lukus escaped from the forest?”

  “Well... Ro...Mary,” he said with a dry swallow, “I've been right busy, don't you know. And my friends here...”

  Mary threw her head back with warm laughter. “You dear soul, Fuzz! I'm so vicious. I'm just teasing. I quite understand. Please don't be offended, but my pursuit of you was just another part of the curse Ugleeuh put upon me. I find nothing wrong with you at all, but as you can see, I'm not a bear at all. And when the rest of her magic fades and you are an ordinary bear, you won't think twice about me.”

  “But Fuzz isn't...” said Myrtlebell, as Fuzz stopped her with a strategically placed pleading expression.

  “...I'm afraid Myrtlebell here refuses to think of me as the ordinary bear which I most assuredly am.”

  “I quite understand her feelings,” she said. “Now, I would like for you to enjoy this.” With a grand curtsey and a sweep of her arm, she laid before them an entire feast. “Now, I'm off to see just where those two demon sorceresses have gotten to.”

  ***

  “There's the Sea Sprite,” said Rose at the sight of their ship, as hovering gulls eyed them for handouts. “I really do love sailing and the fresh clean smell of salt air.”

  “That's because you, dearest sister, don't spend the entire voyage in your cabin with your dainty chin in a bucket, wiping away your beard of puke, like the more unfortunate of us,” said Lukus with a shudder.

  “Here's the dock, Lukus. Why go further? Grandfather and I will let you know how we found things.”

  “No, no. I'll be fine. Maybe I've adjusted to sailing after the last trip. Let's go,” he said, urging Starfire up the vessel's ramp without hesitation.

  Rose and Razzmorten dismounted and followed him on board, leading their unicorns.

  Hubba Hubba and Pebbles flew at once to the top yard of the mainmast and settled in, obviously feeling quite at home, as a bevy of terns hovered briefly to look them over before swooping away to places low over the water. Pebbles gave herself a shake and sorted through some flight feathers as Hubba Hubba strutted back and forth, running his beak along the length of the yardarm.

  A burly crewman came forward to see to the needs of the unicorns. Lukus dismounted and followed as the sailor led the mounts away to the stable in the hold and bedded them down. Soon they weighed anchor and set sail.

  Within an hour, Lukus was sitting on a cot in his berth, bucket between his knees, wishing he had followed Rose's suggestion to stay in Niarg.

  ***

  “How could we have lost the trail?” hissed Spitemorta, her eyes darting about as Nightshade sauntered through the brush.

  “I'm not sure,” said Demonica. “There were clear tracks leading out of the creek. We saw them. Then not only did we find the path, but we could easily follow their tracks along it. Now we merely step off the path because we thought we heard them, and when we try to go right back onto it, we can't find the barest trace of it. That path is wide, and I do have some skills in the woods. We simply are not lost. Now, I know you said that this... Myrtlebell, is it...?”

  Spitemorta nodded.

  “...This Myrtlebell has no magic, but could you be mistaken?”

  Spitmorta shook her head.

  “Well, the path was clearly erased. Someone is using magic. Perhaps the bear is a wizard. Razzorbauch changed himself into a dragon. Maybe the bear is Razzmorten. Who knows? Just 'cause I've not seen him change himself, doesn't mean he can't.”

  Spitemorta rolled her eyes. “Grandmother is ranting,” she thought. “She has moments when she must be having fits of lunacy. How about her calling me off the throne for a wild goose chase after an artifact that exists only in her mind?”

  ***

  Fuzz pushed back from the White Witch's feast and patted his stomach. “It's been a good long time since I've sat before a spread like that. I suppose I get to be a stuffed bear after all.”

  “Oh, go on,” said Myrtlebell. “But you are right, it was indeed sumptuous and wonderful.”

  “Yea,” said Edward, piping up. “All 'cept for the spinach and the Brussels spouts.”

  “Ah, but that's Brussels sprouts, my lad,” said Fuzz, “and you'll grow to love them in time.”

  “No I won't,” he said decisively, as he wrinkled up his nose and shook his head from shoulder to shoulder.

  Myrtlebell took his hand and led him off to a recess in the grotto where Mary had said they could wash up for bed. She was astounded to find water already in the onyx bath tub. “So isn't this a treat, Edward? And can you believe? It's exactly the temperature you like it, and she left well over an hour ago.”

  Edward was already squatting down in the basin to splash around and pretend that his floating cake of soap was a sail boat. “I love baths in warm water,” he said, making the cave echo with his voice. “But how'd it get warm, Momma?”

  She looked around the small cubicle and shook her head. “Must be her magic.”

  “I like that White Lady Witch,” he said with a nod, “But I thought Witches were mean and dressed all dark-like.”

  “Truth is, sweetling, so did I. So I reckon we both learnt something.” She smiled at his delight as she bathed him. At last she dried him with a towel fluffier than any she'd seen in any castle and hugged him before helping him back into his underclothing.

  “I'm sleepy, Momma,” he yawned.

  “Yes, I expect you are, young man. Go say goodnight to Uncle Fuzz and then off to bed with you.”

  Directly she had him tucked into the little pallet the White Witch had fixed, and he was asleep at once. She stood and admired him, feeling most grateful that Mary appeared when she did. She shuddered at the thought of what might have happened to them by now if she hadn't. She gave herself a good stretch and found Fuzz on the setee staring into the empty fireplace.

  “I'm pretending there's a fire, don't you know,” he said, looking up with a very serious expression. “It's not hard to do after a supper like that.”

  She gave him an odd look as she sat on the braided oval rug before him.

  Oh, we wouldn't dare light one,” he said. “Who knows who would smell the smoke.

  “And by the way, Myrtlebell, I'm leaving in the morning.”

  Chapter 59

  Yann-Ber huddled miserably in the dank, rat infested hold of the cargo ship, Fragan and nursed his broken arm and nose. As bad as his injuries were, they were only a distraction from the endless pain he had lived with for the past seven years from the curse of boils Demonica had put on him. Merely her name caused him to tremble with a dark rage. He had risked much to bring her the very news about the Great Staff which she had long sought. Two of his men were executed as spies in Goll
and he had narrowly escaped himself.

  “Wife!” he cried with a groan of exhausted anguish. “Had you had acted like one, I'd not have needed to seek solace in the arms of another. I even felt horribly guilty. And it was just the one time.” He sank back against the stowage of creaking kegs lining the hull. “Demonica. You earn your 'cursed name.” He sat up with veins standing out on his neck and forehead. “You ugly, ugly queen of the demons. Alas! I can't even find a name rotten enough to fit you. There's nothing horrible enough to call you that even feels good coming out of my mouth.”

  From the time he had set sail from Arabat Enez, after Demonica's trained marmouzien had thrown him out, he had come to realize that the one thing he wanted more than death was her fall. Her way of being merciful damned him to another year of suffering her boil curse without even the reprieve of suicide. His boils were now spreading to his internal organs, causing pain worse than anything he had endured so far.

  “Ankou ki take you, Demonica!” he growled, kicking out at some boxes which in turn toppled onto his boil swollen leg, making him wail with pain. “Very well, witch. You force me through another year of this pit-born pain? I'll use it to see you get your due. Wizard Razzmorten will be most interested to hear what I have to say. Oh yes.” He closed his eyes and rocked back and forth with the pain. “Razzmorten is very likely to reward me for this information. He's the world's most powerful wizard of this age, after all. He might even lift your stinking curse. At the very least, he'll surely help me die.”

  A large rat appeared from amongst the tumbled boxes and began tentatively sniffing at his leg. He kept his eyes on the rodent as he stealthily felt through the junk to his immediate right. “At least my putrid stench is good for something,” he thought. He smiled as his fingers closed about a three foot long wrought iron rod, for he was very hungry. At once he came down hard upon the creature's head, knocking out an eye. He grabbed it up quick, just as it began wriggling violently. He stared into its terrified good eye. “You should thank me, rat. I'll make your suffering brief and your ending quick.” Then he bit its head with a mighty champ as he squeezed it furiously with his trembling good hand.

  With his stomach churning instead of gnawing, Yann-Ber realized how very exhausted he had become. He picked away rat hairs sticking to his lips. When had he last slept? He tried to count back the days, but it was useless. One day was much the same as the next in the hold of the Fragan, the only place the captain would allow him passage. Fury briefly surged through him, making him forget his exhaustion. He was seized with thoughts of revenge he might take on the man, but at once saw how it all was. He had been allowed on board, and if he actually did do something vengeful, he would only end up in chains. Then how would he get even with Demonica? No. Vengeance on the captain would not work.

  He slumped back against the kegs, squeezing his eyes tight in order to push away the feelings of disappointment. Despair was a luxury. It could keep him from completing his mission. His furious hatred, driven by his relentless pain would give him the strength and endurance he needed. He would not fail.

  His smile made him yelp. “All the faintest pleasures condemned!” he wailed, as stinking green and yellow pus ran down his face from the ruptured boil, dripping onto his clothing. He clenched his teeth. He would ignore it. His clothes were already so saturated with the putrid discharges of his many pustules that one more hardly mattered. He resigned himself to the arduous voyage and at once was engulfed by the fatigue of one who has gone without sleep far beyond what is wise or normal. Perhaps this time he could sleep. His pain usually prevented it until he collapsed. He closed his eyes and knew no more for some time.

  ***

  “Here Lukus,” said Rose as she stepped into his berth, “I brought you some tea and some broth. Grandfather says you need to keep taking fluids so you won't get dehydrated while you're waiting for your sea legs to sprout.”

  “Thanks,” he said, with a bleary eyed smile. “Tell Grandfather I appreciate it. Just set them down on the table there. I'll get to them when I can manage.”

  “Grandfather also made me promise to stay with you until I saw that you'd followed his orders,” she said as she scooted her tray amongst the disarray on the table.

  “Orders, aye? Does he think we're still children?”

  “He just knows you.”

  “Oh my. Thanks.”

  “Well, I was about to give you something else that was sure to make you feel better, but I've half a mind to keep it until you've had your broth and tea.”

  “You aren't planning on popping me in the eye the way you did that morning in Ugleeuh's cabin, are you?” he said, peering at her tightly fisted hand.

  “That's an excellent idea, but I'm afraid that all I have here is an Elven message globe. It's almost scary. It flew right up to Grandfather when he was taking air up on deck and told him it was for you. Look at it.” She opened her hand to reveal a globe of opal about the size of a grape. “It's enchanted. He says it will give you your message when you tell it to.”

  Lukus closed his eyes as the floor came to the bottom of a gentle descent and pitched up under his feet, riding the waves. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes to stare at the tiny sphere in her hand, then reached out for it. “I promise to take my fluids as soon as I try this, aye? You're surely as anxious to see what happens as I am.”

  She handed it to him at once. A gull gave a shrill cry as it swooped by, outside the door. The floor began sinking again, causing his head to reel. He hesitated. “It's 'way too early for the baby. I hope everything's all right. I sent my retainer back to Soraya with a letter to let her know where we were going. Perhaps she or some of the other Elves have some information about the fading magic in the Peppermint Forest.”

  “Fates, Lukus! You're killing me with suspense.”

  Lukus gave a greenish grin. “Please show me the message,” he said, feeling strange to be addressing an orb the size of a hazelnut.

  From the depths of its translucence, a glow enhanced its opalescent flashes, which vanished in a swirling haze that suddenly became the moving image of his beloved Soraya. She smiled and fondly patted her burgeoning belly. “I got your letter, Lucas dear. As you can see, I've grown even since you last saw me. All is well. Great-Grandfather Neron says the baby will be a boy.

  “He also says that you need to be very cautious in the Peppermint Forest this time, since even though the fading magic itself is in no way dangerous, he has reason to believe that there is treachery afoot. So do be careful, my love. I want you back in one piece. I truly wish I could be there with you, but,” she glanced down at herself and looked up with a smile, making Lukus feel as though she were looking him right in the eyes, “it isn't possible just now. Remember that I love you. Give Rose and Grandfather Razzmorten my regards.” As her image faded she added, “You need to set down the globe and stand back. Good bye.”

  Wide eyed, he parked it on the corner of his tea tray, and at once it rose up, hovering and shot off through the open window of his berth.

  “Wow! What do you think about that?” he said.

  “I've never even heard of message globes before, Lukus. I agree, they are quite amazing,” she said, picking up the tray and tea things and pushing them at him.

  Lukus shook his head as he obligingly took the tray. “Not the globe...of course it was the exact color of her eyes. No Rose, I'm having a son.”

  “It is difficult to believe,” she said, “but I think it is absolutely wonderful, Lukus. I can't wait to see what he looks like. Do you think he'll look like an Elf?”

  “You know, until you said, I hadn't given it a single thought, and I also have no idea, whatsoever. But truth to tell, it doesn't matter to me in the least. His looks will come from the love Soraya and I share. That's all that counts.”

  “Lukus. That's a beautiful sentiment. I'm really happy that you and Soraya found each other.”

  “And find each other we did. You know, Rose, you say how you think you're doome
d to be an old maid after James went sour, but I'm certain that you're going to find the right fellow someday, and maybe right soon, and be just as happy as Soraya and I are.”

  Rose was taken by surprise. “Perhaps, brother dear,” she said, quickly hiding behind a scowl, “but I'm not so certain I even want a husband.” And before he had a chance to debate with her on that account, she had spun on her heel and was out the door.

  “Oh, yes you do, big sister,” he said after she had vanished. He sat down heavily on his cot and then realized that he had not felt like throwing up for a good several minutes.

  ***

  “Well, Grandmother, what do we do now?” said Spitemorta, wheeling Nightshade around to stand restlessly in the leaves, snapping sticks under his hooves. “We've no trail to follow and no clue at all to where Myrtlebell, that bear or the Heart have gone. And I simply can't afford to spend endless amounts of time on a wild goose chase. After all, I do have two countries to run and a little boy who shouldn't be long without his mother.”

  “What of James then, my dear?” said Demonica as she snapped off a branch to get it out of her way. “Are you married to an incompetent? Is he merely decorative?”

  “What my husband may happen to be is certainly not your concern,” she said with a thrust of her chin, as Nightshade snorted and flapped his ears. “And had you bothered staying around to raise the child you bore, you might understand why a small child might need his mother.”

  “Come now, Spitemorta. How does letting a nanny take care of your child from sun to sun qualify you as a doting momma? Since I've been your son's nanny, I know for a fact that you haven't spent more than ten minutes with him on any given day, except for his birthday, when you gave him twenty minutes of the thirty which you scheduled for him.”

  “That's certainly a lot more than you ever gave Ugleeuh,” said Spitemorta as a large flock of grackles wheeled in, clacking and rasping, to settle in the crown of a great oak nearby.

  “I daresay you cared more for your mother than you are willing to admit. I find that right interesting, since she gave you away to strangers the very moment you were born. Even I didn't do that. Furthermore, when I left, Ugleeuh still had her Father. You told me that you never even knew who your father was, until the moment of his death.”

 

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