Chapter 8
Fleeing the past
“Are you being serious? Nine hundred years?” Harmony gawped. “Nova spent all that time trying to get home? Well, you needn’t think I’m sticking round for that long.”
“You’re task is far simpler than Nova’s. All we require is that you open the way for her to return,” Belladonna revealed.
“But Nova can’t return,” Harmony corrected. “She’s dead… I thought you knew that? I didn’t get her letter until after she had passed.”
“Are you certain of this?” Leoracle gulped. His eyes were wide and glassy with grief.
“I’m afraid so,” she nodded.
“If Nova has perished then your fate is uncertain. Your purpose is…” Belladonna began to say before her voice faltered into silence.
“My purpose is what?”
Belladonna glanced from Harmony to Leoracle, gears of recognition turned in her mind. At last she clapped her hands together and called out in a shrill-shriek. “Articus! Come to, mummy.”
From the shadowed corner a creature appeared. The instant he stepped into the light Harmony went gooey-eyed. Articus was a plump, fluffy, ginger cat…of sorts. The feline’s breed was peculiar to say the very least. His most distinguishing features were a bushy tail, six pairs of legs and sizeable, neon-blue whiskers. The latter left a trail of cobalt sparkles as he trotted.
The cat nimbly galloped across the floor and leapt onto the table. He came to a rest in front of the old witch, yawned and immediately lay down; apparently he was exhausted from his excursion.
“He's adorable,” Harmony cooed. She reached out and tickled his chin, his fur felt warm and incredibly soft. “What is he?”
“The creature is a Wishkamog, a glorified pack-mule” Leoracle informed with a derisive snort.
“I’ll have you know that Articus is a very loyal and resourceful companion,” Belladonna spat, obviously offended with the lion’s appraisal. She ran her fingers down the cat’s back. “His talents are many. The primary of which is thus, he can unite his owner with any of their possessions, no matter the distance between…”
To Harmony's astonishment the cat’s back opened with a click, a hidden pouch lay inside. The witch inserted her hand into the feline-pocket and withdrew a long and slender, yellow stick.
Belladonna twirled the buttery-rod through the air. Harmony’s backpack, filled with the object she found in Nova’s cottage, appeared on the table. Harmony knew she’d left the bag inside Leoracle. He did not look best pleased about the removal method.
Ignoring the lion’s grumbling, Belladonna opened the bag and rifled through the contents. She removed the rope, the golden doorknob and lastly the silver medallion. The journal remained contained in the cloth.
The Rag Witch lifted the hoary chain and draped it around her neck. “I’ll care for this for now,” she smiled, tucking the silver disk beneath the neckline of her dress. She pushed the pale rope and the door handle toward Harmony. “You’re not the first girl Nova sent. Before you there was Scarlet, Jill, Gretel, Rapunzel and Goldeen. These five are your ancestors; The Red Ryders.”
Harmony couldn’t help but laugh. She quickly clasped her hand over her mouth, the response seemed entirely inappropriate. Controlling herself, she turned to the lion and asked. “Does she really expect me to believe this? My relatives are fairy-tale characters, all of who were sent into this world to open a magical doorway for an exiled, witch-queen?” Harmony chuckled.
“Belladonna speaks the truth,” he replied solemnly. “You are the first Red Ryder to enter Darkfern in five hundred years.”
“Supposing I believe you, why didn’t they open it then?”
“The sad truth is that each simply failed, succumbing to peril or distraction. Do not be mistaken, the path before you is fraught with dangers,” Belladonna warned. She fell silent as a thought stole her attention. When she spoke again Harmony felt a rush of hope. “But you have an advantage, they did not. Luckily for you the world at large has forgotten you exist; your fore-sisters have fallen into legend.”
“What does it matter? Nova is dead, so I don’t need to open the door for her. Look at that, I guess my fate is to go home after all,” she announced with a broad-smile. “Can you help me find The Webway please?”
“You can’t leave now,” Belladonna laughed. “You are Nova’s heir... In her eternal-absence, the crown belongs to you.”
“Give it a rest. Do I look like a queen to you?” she baulked.
Belladonna narrowed her gaze into a scrutinising-squint. “I see what you mean,” she agreed after a moment. The old witch raised her yellow wand and aimed at Harmony. A dense shroud of yellow particles jettisoned out the wand-tip and encircled Harmony before she could react.
For a few, startling, seconds the cloud of magic pulled and pushed at her body. A shimmer of light rippled out and the flaxen-haze vanished abruptly.
“There we go, much better,” Belladonna chimed happily.
Harmony felt a cold breeze, brush against her legs. She glanced downward and shrieked. “What have you done!”
Other than the red cloak, her entire outfit had been changed. Gone were her jeans, favourite sweater and trainers. In their place she wore a lemon-yellow dress. The bodice was strapped and plain, but the skirt was full and trimmed in a white lace. On her feet, a pair of matching heels threatened to hinder her chances of walking, let alone running away. She thought the outfit was more suited to a child pageant-contestant than a teenager. Harmony grimaced, unable to hide her disgust. “I can’t wear this… I’ll die of embarrassment if someone sees me. Where are my real clothes, please?”
“They have been disposed of. The mundaine clothing was hardly suitable attire. You must remain incognito, Harmony. Your life depends on it,” Belladonna informed.
“Incognito! You’re completely mental if you think I’ll slip under the radar in this garb?” she scoffed.
Uncaring of her remarks, Belladonna gestured with her wand toward Harmony’s head. “The hair will have to go too. Red is a symbol of your lineage. Hmm, let’s see…”
Harmony gasped as her fiery-locks changed to chocolate brown. Fighting back tears she said. “What about blonde? I always fancied being a blonde.”
“No. The colour I picked will do you just fine,” Belladonna snapped.
“You look beautiful,” Leoracle purred.
Harmony was on the brink of explaining why that statement was both offensive and untrue when an explosion shattered the calm. Following the calamitous-sound, a swell of screams and cries flowed in through the open balcony. The scent of smoke, flame devouring timber, filled the air.
“What's happening?” Harmony cried.
Leoracle ran onto the balcony and looked over the edge. He turned and shouted. “Nocturna’s minions are here! We are under attack! Belladonna, protect the girl!”
“I will get her to safety. Quickly Harmony this way,” the ancient witch called. She gestured for Harmony to follow.
Harmony snatched up her backpack, stuffing the rope and doorknob into the cloth-confines, before racing to catch up.
Belladonna, Articus scooped under one arm, tapped the wall with her wand. The façade melted away, flowing like molten wax.
The old witch stepped through the gap and into a circular room beyond. Harmony followed her in and the two stood shoulder to shoulder. The space was minute, and its purpose was not at all clear to begin with.
Belladonna pressed a crystal, mounted to the wall. At once the floor beneath them shuddered and then it began to descend. Harmony felt her stomach lurch as the elevator plummeted rapidly.
“Are they attacking because of me?” she asked.
“Most likely, yes. It’s to be expected. You are a great threat to The Queens. They will not stop until either you or they are dead.”
“Because they think Nova’s sent me?”
“Precisel
y, but neither queen has seen your face. To all but a few you are just another, untrained witch. You are faceless, an advantage we must exploit.”
“But I’m not a witch, untrained or otherwise,” she mumbled under her breath.
The witch-nonsense was becoming boring. Nothing they had said convinced her she possessed and magical ability. She knew the blood in her veins was mundaine. This was an unchangeable-truth, whether she liked it or not.
“So, Nocturna is a relation of mine too, I suppose?” she commented. Internally, Harmony chastised herself for ever wishing she had a larger family. The fulfilment of the wish was not really what she had in mind.
Belladonna laughed and shook her head. “You share blood with, Nocturna, Mistress of Torment and Shadow, but do not mistake her for family...”
“Torment and shadow? Hmm, I’ll not hold out for a birthday card from her then?”
Belladonna ignored the quip. Her tone was worried. “Raise your hood, girl. The cloak will hide you from the howlers. When we exit, stay close to me. I will guide you to safety.”
Harmony just had time to lift the hood before the lift ground to a halt. Belladonna pushed door open and stepped out, wand raised.
Under the cloak she followed the old witch out of the elevator. They emerged onto a grassy slope; a long, gentle decline which ended at the bank of a wide river. All around howlers fought with Belladonna’s forces. Arthro, the stout grasshopper-men, fought alongside humans wearing armour fashioned from metal plates and clusters of amethyst.
Harmony recognised one of the combatants. Sir Barnabas dove through the air and mounted a howler. With a cry of fealty he ran the nightmare-mutt through with his sword. Triumphantly, he disappeared into the warring-throng with sprightly-leap. She made a mental note to be extra polite to him should their paths cross again.
Harmony followed Belladonna as they weaved through the battle. A howler leapt toward them. A second later he was impaled on the spear of a brave knight. As the knight saluted Belladonna he was overcome by two more beasts. The wolves savaged him until he lay deathly-still. With the man dead they turned on Belladonna.
An arrow whistled past Harmony. The archer’s aim struck the closest howler. The mutt dropped to the ground without as much as a dying-yelp. The second wolf looked to his fallen ally. The howler snarled and then he advanced on Belladonna.
The Rag Witch raised her wand. A volley of fireballs erupted and hurtled toward the encroaching wolf. The creature dodged with and closed the distance. In nightmarish-teeth he seized the hem of her dress and dragged her to the ground. Belladonna kicked out at the howler with her spiked heel. She scored a direct hit in its eye. The rabid-dog whimpered but did not relinquish its brutal grasp.
In a moment of stillness Harmony glimpsed, through the bloodshed, a small boat moored to a jetty in the river. This was her chance to escape. She looked at Belladonna, struggling against the monster.
The old witch looked to her. “Help me!”
Harmony turned her back and ran. If she gave aid to Belladonna then her chance to go home would be squandered.
Harmony held fast to the cape’s hood, the magical properties were the only thing keeping her safe. She sprinted down the slope, running past men swinging swords and howlers biting back. Unnoticed she arrived at the boat and jumped in.
She quickly untied the mooring and pushed off. The fast flowing river caught the little boat in its current. She glanced back up the hill. Belladonna was charging towards her. The elderly enchantress was shouting orders at her, gesturing toward the river bank with a stern expression.
Harmony waved and smiled, glad to see the back of her. She couldn’t hear a word the old-dear was saying anyway; the river was much too loud. Still smiling she turned back around to face the river’s flow.
Articus, Belladonna’s wishkamog, was sitting on the bow of her boat. He meowed and narrowed his eyes.
As the vessel drifted further away Harmony breathed a sigh of relief. Despite the cat’s presence she was free and hopefully heading toward home. She never wanted to set eyes on the witch or the lion, ever again.
Her only focus was finding The Webway. Belladonna was mad to expect a child to save them all. No, Harmony wanted to get back to reality as quickly as possible.
The first thing she needed was directions. She had no idea how far Leoracle had taken her or how big Darkfern was. Suddenly she felt rather lost and afraid…
The Darkfern Lexicon Book 2 - Sanctorium Page 9
