by Ron Sexsmith
And as she crossed the street, he also noticed a curious girl somewhere between his own age and that of his sister apparently waiting for this woman (who he assumed was her mother), along with a large dog that whimpered frantically and strained hard at his leash. Before turning to leave, the young girl looked back at Crad (who she could see in the window) and smiled at him with bright eyes that would linger in his memory from that day forward.
A few hours later, after their mother had returned home, she listened with enormous pride to her son’s handling of the curious pie incident. For she had certainly not ordered one. She was mostly relieved to know they had not eaten any of it. But after the kids were asleep in their bed (and I do mean bed singular), their mother (whose name, incidentally, was Marionetta) passed the time as usual, drowning her sorrows and generally feeling sorry for herself. It had not been very long since her man had up and left them all in search of a more carefree existence, or at least that’s what she assumed.…
Then, looking down at the pie through a haze of aromatic pipe smoke, she found herself marvelling at the intricate pastry work, not to mention the tempting berry filling that bubbled up through a hole in the centre. All at once she felt powerless to resist its golden, flaky charms. Surely one piece couldn’t hurt, she thought and reached for a blunt knife in the drawer. Well, by the next morning that pie had been completely devoured as Marionetta woke to the worst tummy ache she had ever had. From then on, it seemed, her health went from bad to worse, until less than a year later she was dead from unknown causes, turning two relatively happy children into two sad orphans.
And coincidentally or not, it was a blackberry pie that Tressa Mundy held with oven mitts as the stolen carriage came speeding up the drive (just narrowly missing the minister, who was at that moment heading back into town). For Tressa, it seems, had returned to Hinterlund Farm at the behest of Magnus on his big day. She always believed in taking the high road whenever possible. Even when it meant breaking her own heart!
“Claira?” Tressa’s charming voice rang throughout the house. “Were you expecting Mrs. Hedlight?”
The graceful piano music that wafted in from the next room ended abruptly as Claira rushed to the window, just in time to see Mr. Grimsby helping Mrs. Hedlight down from the carriage. (Though Griff and Gruff thought it best to hang back with the few remaining bouquets.)
“Well, that’s odd,” said Claira. “We weren’t expecting them today. Do we have enough food?”
“By the looks of it,” Tressa replied skeptically as she set the pie down to cool, “I don’t think they’ve come to eat.” In the next instant, Crad and Maggie appeared in the doorway, both slightly out of breath from their short jog.
“Mr. Grimsby, Mrs. Hedlight, what a surprise!” said Claira. “I believe you know Tressa Mundy?” To which Maggie smiled uncertainly. Grimsby, though, seemed much more interested in the pie.
“That’s not blackberry, is it?” he inquired.
“Yes, it is,” replied Tressa curiously. “It’s Miss Eleanoir’s favourite.”
Grimsby bristled and placed both hands on his head. “Why, it’s even worse than I thought!” he said as, to the shock of all those in attendance, he snatched up the pie, ran it outside, and threw it hard against an unsuspecting tree. Grimsby re-entered the house, wiping both hands and looking greatly relieved by his bizarre actions.
“What’s the meaning of this!” Claira demanded.
“Listen carefully, dear,” said Maggie as all gathered ’round in a show of support. “We believe your father might be in danger. Do you know where he is now?”
“He’s in the woods, with Eleanoir,” replied Claira with a puzzled look. “They were just married this morning. I-I don’t understand, why would he be in danger?” she asked. “Is it Eleanoir?” (To which Deryn bobbed his head up and down excitedly.)
“We can explain later,” said Crad. (The deer’s reaction was not lost on him.) “So, do you have any idea where in the woods exactly?” he added.
“I think so,” said Claira, for she’ d just been going over it in her mind. “There’s a place my father always loved as a boy. He’s taken me there on many occasions.”
“Can you take us there now?” Maggie asked while placing both hands on Claira’s delicate shoulders. “Time is of the essence, dear.”
“Why, yes, yes, of course,” said Claira as if waking from a bad dream. “Come quick, I’ll show you!” And with that she climbed up on her faithful deer and was off in seconds, with our ragtag crew following close behind.
Meanwhile, Back in the Woods
Magnus and Eleanoir lingered awhile by a tree near a pond where as a boy he would swing from a rope into the cool water on hot summer days. (A new rope was hanging there, presumably for the same purpose.) “It was such a lovely wedding,” said Eleanoir. “I’m glad we didn’t have a big ceremony, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” said Magnus, still wearing the bowler hat she’ d given him. “You know Camilla and I, we had quite a big wedding and …”
Eleanoir held a finger to his lips, effectively hushing him in mid-sentence. “This is our wedding day. Are we really going to talk about her on our wedding day?”
“You’re right,” Magnus replied sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I never should’ve mentioned it.”
“It’s all right, Mags,” she said as she kissed him sweetly ’neath the old swinging tree. “Just don’t let it happen again!” Now, aside from it being a very passionate kiss indeed, it was also the cue to let Tourtière know that for Magnus Hinterland, time had run out.
For as planned, Tourtière had been stalking them all morning and now had a clear and easy shot. And so, crouching down behind a small row of bushes, he squinted his coal-black eyes and aimed for the back of Magnus’s head. “He won’t even know what hit him,” he snickered while greedily caressing the gun with his trigger finger. But just as he was set to open fire, Tourtière himself was struck in the back of the head, and by a hoof no less, as Big Eyes came sailing down through the air, yelling, “DEF-A-STATED” all the way. The force of the blow sent Tourtière tumbling off in one direction as the bullet went flying off in another.
“Idiot!” Eleanoir blurted out as Magnus ducked down and then shaded his eyes to where the shot was fired.
“Idiot?” he repeated. For he could plainly see a commotion coming from yonder bushes. “Eleanoir?” he asked curiously. “Who were you talking to? Who’s up there?”
Eleanoir cursed under her breath but said nothing more as she began meditating on a brand new spell.
Sadly and Unbeknownst
But sadly, and unbeknownst to the newlyweds, the stray bullet had ricocheted off the swinging tree and straight into Lucky’s human heart. For he was at that moment racing toward them with Claira on top as Grimsby and the boys picked up the rear. And waiting back at the Hinthoven sign, Maggie and Tressa had heard the shot, as well, filling their hearts with much dread, and for good reason. For as the bullet hit Lucky, Claira was thrown like a rag doll to the ground, rendering her completely unconscious. And although Grimsby tried his best to revive her, sadly, there was no response. Looking to his left, he could tell at a glance that it was already too late as far as Lucky was concerned. For the time being, at least, Claira would be spared what would surely be a devastating loss for her whenever she came to. Or if she ever came to … So after instructing the twins to stay back with Claira, Grimsby marched boldly into the fray. “This is just awful,” he said through a veil of stinging tears. “What have I gotten myself into!” as he disappeared clumsily through the trees.
Too Late
A s for Big Eyes, he’ d not stopped kicking Tourtière since we last saw them. But now his senses were telling him that a very bad thing had just occurred. So with this in mind, he decided to let The Round One go free as he galloped off in search of his deer friend, not yet knowing that it was, sadly, too late.
/> Eleanoir and Magnus
Eleanoir, though, had neither moved a muscle nor had she uttered a single word since we last saw her. For she was all consumed with conjuring up the perfect spell for an oblivious husband who was still demanding answers. “Eleanoir? I’m talking to you!” he said firmly. “Who’s up there? Is it Tourtière?” As usual, it was all she could do to keep from laughing at the absurdity of the situation she found herself in. “I should’ve listened to Claira,” he said and threw his hands up in frustration. “You know, she warned me about you!”
“Did she really? Well, maybe you should have,” replied Eleanoir and cackled cruelly, pushing Magnus to his wit’s end.
“Eleanoir! Look at me when I’m talking to you!” he shouted and spun her around by the arm, which succeeded at least in getting her attention. The glaring eyes that betrayed her smile could no longer conceal the hatred she felt for him and his kind. “Who are you?” he uttered, though under his breath, all the while backing up toward the pond. “What are you?”
“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this!” she sneered, all the while floating her thin fingers to the sky and nodding her head slowly.
But as fate and perhaps good timing would have it, Grimsby came crashing through the forest, looking every bit a sweaty, hyperventilating mess, while yelling, “Stop right there!” at the top of his lungs.
Eleanoir glanced over her shoulder at the source of this interruption with eyes full of pity. “Mr. Grimsby!” her voice practically sang. “How nice of you to show up!” Magnus, for his part, could only look on in confusion at the arrival of this complete and total stranger. “You’ve escaped, I see!” she continued and clapped her hands slowly. “Bravo! Last time I saw you, you were snug as a bug in a rug!” she said and smiled at the memory. “No hard feelings, I hope?” After which her full attention was brought back to her clueless husband. “Now, where was I?” she wondered aloud as Magnus’s mind raced feverishly.
And as it did so, Crad’s mind went racing, too! From his mother and the pie to his sister’s disappearance. From there it raced onward to the plight of the Hedlights before finally arriving at his own ordeal in Tourtière’s cellar. This cauldron of evil, slowly simmering for years, had now reached its boiling point. His brain was a whistling kettle, his body an angry bull. And all the while the pond was beckoning to him: “Witches and water DO NOT MIX. Witches and water DO NOT MIX.” For the first time in his life, he felt the rush of violence coursing through his veins as he kicked up the dirt beneath his feet and charged at Eleanoir with every flab of his being. She had not even a second to react as Grimsby came at her, screaming all the way.
And upon Crad tackling her at full speed, Magnus himself was helpless to do anything but be tackled along with them as all three fell with an enormous splash into the cold water.
Aftermath
It is said that her screams of agony could be heard all over Hinthoven and Hixenbaugh. Even as far as Hannelore!
But when they had finally subsided, there was really nothing left of Eleanoir save for some bubbles and purple smoke. A horrifying experience, to say the least, and one that neither man would soon forget. In the immediate aftermath, Grimsby was seen flailing helplessly and might’ve even drowned if Magnus hadn’t pulled him, puffing and panting, back to dry land. T’was in the midst of this heroism that the bowler hat could also be seen floating away on top of the water, though after a few attempts at snagging it with a pointy stick, Crad gave Mr. Hinterlund’s pant leg a good tug and shook his head as the bowler floated off for God knows where.…
Then, looking down at the waterlogged Grimsby, Magnus grinned and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“Name’s Grimsby,” replied the man himself, holding out his hand for some much-needed assistance off the ground. “I’m a good friend of Maggie Hedlight,” he went on to say as he rose to his feet again (and with less difficulty than usual!).
“I see,” said Magnus, eyeing his equally drenched rescuer with heaps of gratitude and respect. “Well, any friend of the Hedlights is a friend of the Hinterlunds!”
And as our new friends walked back to their separate worlds of uncertainty, Crad thought it prudent to dispatch a silent prayer to whoever might be listening on the other end of the sky. It’s probably too late for Lucky, his heart admitted. But please let Claira be all right. Then, looking up, he spied the benevolent sun peeking through a hole in the clouds and smiled gratefully. “We’ve all suffered enough as it is,” he said to himself as Magnus walked on ahead in silence with eyes that had seen what could never be unseen.
Around the same time that Eleanoir screamed her last scream, a miraculous thing did occur. The miracle, first witnessed by Griff and Gruff and then by Big Eyes, was every bit as peaceful as the witch’s demise was painful. For in the lifeless body of Lucky the deer, Deryn could feel his soul exiting, but in a much more agreeable way than the original transformation had been. So this is what dying feels like, he thought. Only he wasn’t dying at all. For the death of Eleanoir, it seems, had somehow broken the spell! And as Big Eyes looked down on his friend with a waterfall of his own tears, Lucky the deer was slowly but surely changing back into Deryn the boy, and right before his eyes! When he finally came to wearing nothing but the green bow the dress shop had given him, the first face he saw was that of Big Eyes as an enormous tear splashed his cheek. “You big hat rack!” said Deryn (not realizing yet that he’ d changed in any way).
“I thought there was something funny about you,” replied Big Eyes.
Watching Deryn throughout the duration of this glad event, Big Eyes had become transfixed by something small and shiny rolling off his good friend’s chest.
“Deryn?” he asked curiously. “What’s that over there?” Deryn looked to his right and saw what appeared to be a gold projectile lying in the grass.
“It’s a bullet!” he remarked. Then added, “Did that come from me?” and shuddered at the thought.
“I think it came from The Round One,” replied Big Eyes matter-of-factly. “Although you might want to hold on to that,” he went on and then smiled reassuringly. “I have a feeling he won’t be coming back for it.”
The next faces Deryn saw belonged to Griff and Gruff, who looked down on either side of Big Eyes like salt and pepper shakers. “Hey, it’s … you guys!” said Deryn. “Is my mother here, too?”
“She’s not,” said Griff, wiping a tear away. “But she’s very close!”
“And just wait until she sees you,” added Gruff. “It’s a miracle!”
“Well, I’d say it was more of a deer-ical,” Big Eyes chimed in, though only Deryn could hear him.
“HA! Deer-ical!” He laughed and wondered why nobody else did. It was then that he looked down at his hands and realized he was all human again. Even so, he had somehow managed to retain the ability to communicate with Big Eyes (and all animals apparently, for just then he could hear a couple of rude birds comparing his body to that of a small white twig).
But looking down the full length of his body, he soon came to realize that he was completely naked and so began covering up those bits of himself he did not wish to share with the rest of the world. Ever the gentleman, Griff pulled off his long sweater and handed it to Deryn. It ended up looking more like a dress on him, truth be told, especially with that green bow around his neck, as he rose to his feet and took stock of all his fingers and toes.
Upon hearing faint moaning sounds in the vicinity, Deryn looked to his left and saw Claira on the ground, seemingly waking from a spell of her own. “Claira!” he gasped and rushed to her side as the rest of the gang looked on, greatly relieved to see her amongst the living again. And as she opened her eyes, the first face SHE saw belonged to Deryn Hedlight, who had somehow gotten more handsome, or so she thought, since last they met!
“Deryn?” She questioned her own eyes while looking around in a panic. “
Am I dead?”
“No, Claira, you’re alive. We’re both alive!” he said, smiling down on her in the bright sunshine.
“But where’s Lucky? And why are you wearing his bow? Lucky!” she called out, struggling to sit up as Deryn struggled to calm her down.
“Claira,” he said softly. “Look at me … I AM Lucky!” And as she studied his face, it wasn’t long at all before she could see that same frightened deer whose life she had spared not so long ago. But most importantly, she recognized her best friend. And when they kissed for the first time, all that was wrong became instantly righted as the twins and even Big Eyes beamed at one another with hearts full and bright.
A few moments later, Grimsby and Mr. Hinterlund were seen coming around the bend, drenched but otherwise well. Crad’s worried expression changed instantly to relief upon seeing Claira up and about. (Though he had mistaken Big Eyes for Lucky and wondered who the odd-looking boy was.)
“Deryn Hedlight?” exclaimed Magnus as if seeing a ghost. “Is that really you?” he asked with more energy in his voice than anyone could recall.
“Yes, sir!” he said. “It’s really me!”
“But how? And why are you wearing a dress?” a stunned Magnus inquired to the amusement of almost everyone there. It was all Grimsby could do to look around in awe from Deryn to Big Eyes, over to Claira, then back at Mr. Hinterlund (who had not stopped looking at Deryn) as Claira rushed to her father and gazed up into his blue, astonished eyes.
“And Eleanoir?” she asked. To which he could only sigh regretfully.
For it was all Mr. Hinterlund could do to look around in awe at the small gathering before pouring out his normally reserved heart. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am … to all of you. For all of you. And how truly sorry I am for allowing myself to be so blind.”
Then, seizing the moment for himself, Deryn felt this as good a time as any to pour his own heart out as he cleared his throat to address the modest assembly of friends before him. “I’d like you all to meet Big Eyes,” he began. “I wouldn’t be here if not for him. He was a friend when I needed one most.” Here he paused to look out over the bright faces all smiling back. (Although Big Eyes seemed mostly embarrassed by the attention.)
