Curse of the Night Witch

by Alex Aster

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “That thing might not even work,” she said, then firmly shook her head no.

  “Come on,” Tor said, steering his crestfallen friend away. He had some money in his backpack, but the sweets stand was ridiculously overpriced, and who knew what else they might face on their way to find the Night Witch? He had to save his currency for an emergency.

  Melda was busy studying the map. “Mrs. Libra told us that the Zealite know-all is the queen’s adviser. So, to find him, I’m guessing we have to go there.” She pointed straight up, which would have been strange if there hadn’t been a building situated there. The city of Zeal was laid out in the shape of a spiral cone that resembled a hermit crab shell. The castle made up its point, a swirling tower that reminded Tor of a narwhal.

  It looked so far up. Too far up.

  To get there, it seemed like they would have to walk around and around the spiral roads of the city. Getting to the top could take hours.

  Like the courtyard, the spiral path to the tower was covered in stands, selling everything from super-bubble gum to enchanted lamps that lit up each time a specific person entered a room. Engle managed to stop at almost every booth, asking, “How much?” to each vendor, though he didn’t have a single dobble in his pocket.

  After a while, it became harder and harder for even Tor to focus on the reason they were there in the first place. The markets proved to be the ultimate distraction. He kept seeing trinkets Rosa would have loved, like a tiny paper bird enchanted to sing songs, or a paintbrush that drew pictures straight from a person’s mind.

  A group of children ran down the path, narrowly avoiding running into Tor. They held tiny sticks lit with fiery sparks that made popping sounds. Before the spark could reach the end, the kids raced to the edge of the street and threw their toys over the side. A moment later, there was a boom.

  A bird made of fire appeared, a sparkler come to life. It flew over the crowd, just above their heads, feathers coated in flames. By the time it reached the opposite side of the city, it had disappeared in a puff of ash.

  Tor turned and caught Melda looking amazed, her mouth hanging open. She caught his gaze, and her expression promptly melted into a frown. “It’s dangerous, you know. All of these enchantments running wild all over the city.” Melda nodded toward Engle, a few stands away. “He thinks this is a game.” She faced Tor again. “This is a nightmare.”

  Nightmare.

  Just yesterday, he had thought class was a nightmare. Now, he realized he’d never known the meaning of the word.

  A sharp jab to his ribs brought his attention back to Melda. “Tor,” she was saying. “Tor, who is that?”

  He looked up to see a group—no, a procession—heading their way. At the front was a tall, grasshopper-thin man who wore the most glorious gold wraps he had ever seen, made of silk so pure it looked like running water.

  The people at the surrounding stands bowed, eyes to the ground. Tor looked to his left, where a group of children had kneeled. He noticed they were shaking, terrified.

  Engle had his back to the approaching procession, still arguing with a vendor over the price of a multiplying muffin, when the man in gold planted a hand on his shoulder.

  Tor gritted his teeth. This could not be good.

  Surprisingly, he watched Engle break into a smile, say a few words, nod several times, then gesture toward his stomach. Melda sighed. After a few exchanged laughs, Engle turned around and motioned toward his friends. “Come on,” he said, and they hesitantly walked over.

  The man in gold turned and greeted them with a smile. He reached out his hand, and when Melda shook it, Tor noticed how carefully he studied her arm, like he was searching for her emblem.

  “I’m Zeal’s know-all, Jeremiah,” he said brightly, and Tor raised his eyebrows. If the know-all dressed like this, he wondered what the queen wore.

  The hesitation left Melda’s brow as she broke into a relieved smile. “Of course,” she said, nodding. “Of course you would know we were here.” Tor didn’t know why, but he was slightly annoyed at the awe that colored her tone.

  Jeremiah grinned. “Yes, well, I do have my sources in the city. Come now, you’ve come a long way to find me.” He motioned for the trio to follow, then turned around. Five guards flanked him on each side, moving as if they were connected by string. They wore full suits of armor, the metal reflecting all of the hues around them.

  As they were led to the center of the spiral city, toward its stone core, Melda grinned at Tor, clearly convinced Jeremiah was the answer to all of their problems. Engle looked ready to burst from excitement, which likely had to do with some promise of food.

  But Tor was reluctant. He didn’t know how he could possibly trust someone who worked so closely with the puppeteer queen. Still, he resolved to keep an open mind. They had come a long way to find him, after all. They needed him.

  It was with this attitude that Tor followed Jeremiah through a large gold door.

  The doorway opened into a contraption that resembled a giant’s cage. The box was big enough for all of them to fit inside and made completely of shining steel. As Jeremiah and the guards shuffled in, Tor held his friends back from the entrance, a worried look on his face.

  The know-all smiled. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “We can’t be expected to walk all the way to the castle tower, can we?” He threw his arms up dramatically. “This is simply a more…efficient way of getting there.”

  Tor had to admit that his explanation made sense. He also knew that with ten armed guards present, they didn’t seem to have much of a choice in the matter.

  So he stepped forward. Once they were all through, one of the towering men promptly closed the door behind them, then reached toward a lever. Before Tor could ask what it was for, the large guard pressed down on the handle with all of his might, and they were off, shooting up like they had been thrown from a catapult.

  Tor felt as though all of his organs were being thrown around his chest like fruits in a juggler’s hands. His nails dug into his palms so forcefully he wouldn’t have been surprised if they drew blood. He closed his eyes tightly, head spinning.

  When they finally came to a stop, Engle was still screaming. Melda looked a ghastly shade of green.

  Jeremiah smiled again. “You must get yourselves together,” he said, rubbing a wrinkle out of his sleeve, then straightening his spine. “You’re about to meet the queen.”

  “The queen?” Tor sputtered. He had assumed they were simply going to visit a library or the know-all’s study.

  “Why, of course. No one is allowed inside the tower without meeting her first. It’s simply protocol. And I wouldn’t cross her for the world.”

  “Of course,” Melda replied merrily, though Tor noticed she had regained a bit of her previous hesitancy. Everyone knew of the queen’s reputation. She could do to them what she pleased. The fact that Tor’s mother was a chieftess meant nothing—they were in Aurelia’s territory now.

  The cage emptied out into a long hall that stretched in front of them in endless carpet. The walls were covered in paintings bigger than Engle and Tor stacked together, and they all had the same subject: the queen. Her long hair looked so blond it was almost white, and she wore an array of gold dresses that puffed up and out just like Tor’s father’s famous pastries. Their fabrics were laced with precious gems. Tor wondered how she possibly walked in gowns so heavy.

  “Isn’t she lovely?” the know-all asked, turning around to judge their expressions. They all nodded ferociously in reply.

  Soon, they reached a pair of tree-sized doors. It took all ten guards to get them open just a crack…

  And there she was.

  The queen sat on a spiky throne made of the inside of a giant geode, her dress spilling around her in a stream of melted gold.

  She looked up, her pouty mouth twisting into a smile
. “Children!” she cried. “You’ve brought me children.”

  The know-all stepped forward and bowed so low his forehead almost hit the floor. “Yes, my queen. These are our visitors.”

  She snapped her fingers, and two guards, who had been standing at attention along the throne room’s walls, hurried to the queen’s side. Tor hadn’t even noticed them when they first came in—their rich, gold uniforms so perfectly matched the textured gold wallpaper they had appeared to be part of the room itself. The guards gripped beneath her arms, and lifted her out of the chair, her heavy gown making it impossible to stand by herself.

  “Visitors, hm?” she said, tapping a finger against her chin. “So many options.” She started to laugh. “Shall I make you dance right off my marvelously high balcony? Fight each other to the death with the ruby-crafted swords from my collection?” She smiled merrily. “Come a little closer, won’t you?” They didn’t move an inch. One of her eyebrows rose. “No?”

  The queen lifted her arm, and like their limbs were suddenly attached to strings, Engle, Melda, and Tor found themselves stumbling across the room toward her throne. When they were at Aurelia’s feet, she dropped her hand, releasing her control. But not before Tor caught a glimpse of her emblem, two rings around her left wrist exactly like his had been, except gold instead of purple.

  Sparks of anger traveled up and down his body. Those few moments under the queen’s spell had made his stomach drop, his throat go dry. He had never felt so empty. So powerless. He had sensed Jeremiah meant trouble, and now the know-all had brought them right to a demented ruler, served up like a fine meal on a silver platter. They couldn’t run, that was for sure. Queen Aurelia had proven she could simply drag them back if they tried.

  They had to be smart, strategic. Everyone had a weakness.

  Judging by the countless paintings in the hallway, Tor knew the queen’s weakness must be herself. He bowed down low, then lifted his head. “Queen Aurelia, we are on a great quest and are here to seek your unmatched guidance and blessing.”

  Engle and Melda caught on quickly and hurried to bow down, too.

  Her chin lifted just a smidge. “Is that so? I am very familiar with quests, you see. And I do have endless resources…” She squinted her caramel-colored eyes. “What is the purpose of your journey?”

  “We aim to find the Night Witch.”

  The room became silent as a tomb.

  And the queen looked suddenly very interested.

  “The witch?” She leaned forward to such a degree that Tor wondered how she didn’t fall. He supposed her gown acted as a counterweight.

  He swallowed, wondering if the queen’s reaction meant the story of the white-haired child could possibly be true. “The Night Witch.”

  The queen did not so much as blink. “And what is the purpose of your visit?”

  He looked back at his friends, unsure of how much to reveal. Melda stepped forward. “We would like her to undo a curse.”

  The queen grinned, as if instead of curse Melda had said carnival. “How fun,” she said, smacking her hands together and making them jump. “Well, what do you say we make a little deal?” She motioned toward Jeremiah. “I just so happen to have the best know-all in all of Emblem Island. He will give you the information you need to find the witch. And the tools you will require if you wish to survive the journey.” Tor heard Engle gulp next to him. Aurelia regarded her nails, which looked as if they had been dipped in some sort of honey-thick dye. “Generous, I know.”

  Tor tried his best to look older, more mature. Shoulders set back and chin raised up. He knew enough about Aurelia to realize she wasn’t doing anything out of the goodness of her heart. “And in return?”

  “In return…” The queen smiled like there was a secret tucked between her lips. “I would like you to kill her for me.”

  Melda gasped. “Why?”

  Aurelia raised her eyebrows, as if the answer was obvious. “She’s a threat to my power, not to mention a danger in general. Many believe she is just a fairy tale. But I assure you, she is just as real as you or me.” She sighed and regarded her nails again. “And killing her would really be a service to all of Emblem Island.”

  That might have been the truest sentence the queen had uttered. If such a person really existed, and the queen claimed she truly did, their island would be a far better place without the Night Witch around.

  Still, as bad as she was rumored to be, Tor had never wanted to kill anyone. Even a person who had cursed him. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t. But it seemed as though the queen would not be giving them much of a choice.

  “Unless, of course, you would prefer I make you spin in circles until your ears bleed, then take that one’s pretty blue eyes for my own?”

  Tor stepped forward before the queen could raise a finger. “No, we’ll do it.”

  Aurelia’s lips curled over her front teeth. “Excellent.” She shifted her attention to Jeremiah. “Would you be so kind as to direct them to your study?”

  He bowed. “Of course, my queen.”

  She batted them away. “Be gone.”

  * * *

  The know-all’s study was much more organized than the hermit’s hut. Which, in truth, was not much of an accomplishment. Instead of piles, the room featured shelves built right into the walls, each filled with a collection of trinkets and books. Glass cases sat in the middle, and Tor guessed they housed Jeremiah’s most prized relics.

  A gold-woven basket held dozens of scrolls, positioned vertically, with gems on their hilts. The know-all pulled out one with a sapphire top, unfurled it, made a few grunts that ranged from approval to wonder to surprise, then tapped at a spot. “This is where the Night Witch lives,” he said.

  Tor frowned. The know-all was not pointing to a specific place, but a large, dark, tornado-like hole that covered about a tenth of Emblem Island, beyond where Mrs. Libra’s map even reached. The area was as big as twenty villages put together. And, unlike the rest of the page, nothing sat inside it, no city names or words. No castle from the last Book of Cuentos story. It was so bare the cartographer had chosen that exact location for the map’s key, which held dozens of symbols meant to help the user distinguish a tree from a river.

  It was the unknown parts of the island. The miles no one had written about.

  “Um…could you be a bit more specific?” Melda said.

  The know-all snapped the scroll closed with a satisfying click. “I’m afraid not. No one has actually found the Night Witch and lived to tell the tale. We have a hintling of where she might be, of course, but not an exact location. There are limits to even my knowledge.” The man’s tone dripped with regret, but Tor thought he didn’t look sorry at all. In fact, he only seemed interested in staring at the spyglass symbol on Engle’s arm.

  His explanation made no sense. “If no one has lived to see her, how do you know she’s even real?”

  Jeremiah sighed. “Well, there are stories…legends that run deeper than the cracks in this heavy city’s foundation. As soon as you enter the Shadows, the land beyond our maps’ knowledge, it will be very clear that there’s a…force behind the darkness. But don’t take my word for it…no, no. Ten minutes in there and you’ll see that I was right.” His eyes became as still as a puddle. “You’ll see I’m always right.”

  The Shadows. Where had Tor heard that before? He racked his brain, but couldn’t find the answer, which irked him like an unreachable itch.

  “By the Shadows, do you mean, like, from Cuentos?” Melda said.

  “What do you mean?” Engle said, before the know-all could respond.

  She shrugged. “In The Book of Cuentos, some monsters are described as living in the shadows. I always thought that meant behind an open door…or in a dark closet…or in an alleyway. But do you mean to tell me there’s a place called the Shadows?”

  The know-all made a face. “
Of course.” He clicked his tongue in a way that instantly became annoying. “Dear, truly, what kind of second-rate school are you in? Haven’t your teachers ever taught you to read between the lines?”

  Tor stiffened. “You’re not saying those beasts are real, too?”

  Jeremiah scoffed at him. “Of course that’s not what I’m saying. What do you think I am, a court fool?” Tor’s shoulders relaxed in relief as the know-all unfurled the map again. He studied it while humming an off-pitch melody. “However,” he said, in almost a whisper. “You’ll find most legends contain at least a grain of truth. Storytellers aren’t creative enough to make it all up.”

  Melda tapped at a place on the map titled Not-Very -Green Greenery. “I’ve heard of this. It’s a giant greenhouse filled with plants of unusual shades. Some plants with no shades at all. And then this place,” she pointed to a village called Jade. “Everything there is green. How odd. If you look closely, it’s almost like a pattern…” She dragged her finger across the map, all the way from Estrelle to the Shadows, and opened her mouth once more. But before she could speak, Jeremiah beat her to it.

  “Good wish-god heavens, is there any school at all in your village? Don’t answer that, of course I know that there is, I even know the names of your subpar teachers, but you would think your faculty was made up of squawking pelicans! You do know the rest of Emblem Island isn’t as colorful as Estrelle and our great city of Zeal?”

  Tor had never felt so clueless in his entire life. Of course he had heard of villages with different colors, but had never once learned about villages that weren’t as colorful. He wasn’t even sure what that meant.

  The know-all sighed. “Apparently, I have to make this crystal clear…” He rolled his eyes. “The closer one travels to the Shadows, the less color they encounter. The nature there has shriveled up, most animals have abandoned its poisoned grounds. Living things no longer thrive. The journey will get darker and darker, quite literally, until you meet the Night Witch herself. That is, if you make it that far.”