Hilda - Cats

by Paul Kater

  Baba Yaga groaned. Hilda stared at the dimwits in mail and armour. William hoped he was dreaming and wanted to wake up.

  "I am sure you did your best," Hilda finally dared. "We'll give it a rest for now and have a look tomorrow, when there's light." As the soldiers lingered, she said: "Dismissed." As the soldiers lingered, she said: "That means you can go now." The soldiers no longer lingered.

  The witch looked at the wizard. "Bed."

  "Bed," he agreed.

  Baba Yaga got up and walked off without a word.

  -=-=-

  The next morning a magical sextet left the castle on brooms. Three witches, a wizard and two cats.

  "I hope the soldiers did not trample on too many of the tracks," Hilda grumbled. "They mucked up our night rest, they mucked up the castle's security, I am sure they were hired on that trait." Grim looked back at her witch for a moment and did not comment.

  Esmee flew at Baba Yaga's side. The old witch had told her to stay close, without giving a reason for it. Esmee knew that Baba Yaga always had a reason for something.

  They hovered over the ground where the path from the garden ended and the forest floor started. "Plenty of footsteps here," Hilda pointed out the obvious. The footsteps made it easy to find where the soldiers had gotten to. "Good thing there was no rain last night."

  They soon reached the spot where the soldiers had decided to pursue their tactical retreat. That was where the magicals proceeded on foot. Grim and Obsi disappeared under some bushes, following some plan of their own. William and Hilda quickly located the paw prints that had not been erased by guardly footwear and followed the trail.

  "Hey, that's strange. See this?" William pointed at a spot where the paw prints suddenly ended and were replaced by a single set of footprints. "Looks like the cat woman changed- but that would be very strange."

  Hilda nodded. "How could a cat woman suddenly change into someone wearing men's boots... That would ask for some very mean magic. Babs?"

  Baba Yaga and Esmee as her shadow came to where the couple was looking at the ground. "Oh. Look at that. Nice work, you two. Looks like cat woman changed into- no, that can't be. Hey, protegé, what are you doing down there?"

  Esmee was crawling on the ground on all fours, staring at something. "Come and look," she said. The three joined her, as did the two cats. "See this?" the flower witch pointed at a body-shaped imprint. "Someone's been lying here. Perhaps the cat woman."

  Hilda crawled around some more. "Yes, I'd believe that," she said. "Look here. The boots came over here and left again. But the coming-here prints are far less deep than the going-away prints. It looks as if the owner of the boots knew that our cat woman was here and came to collect her."

  The four got up, magicked their clothes clean and started to follow the trail of the boots. The abundant plant life forced them to continue on foot while their brooms floated along behind them. The trail delivered them a dead end as it hit a pebble path that ran through the forest.

  "To the left is to the village, to the right is to the castle," Esmee said. "I am quite sure the man in the boots did not go to the castle." That was a truth if ever there was spoken one. A man carrying a cat woman around would have raised at least a few heads. But the same reason probably was true for the side that led into the village.

  "No trail here," William reported from the other side of the path. "Maybe it was a wizard or a sorcerer that had his broom parked here?"

  "There'd be a trace of magic here in that case, Willy," said Baba Yaga. "My protegé here would know that, wouldn't you, Esmee?" William and Hilda frowned at the display of affection Babs showed towards Esmee. It was not natural, and definitely not Baba Yaga. Esmee nodded.

  The flower witch twitched her lips for a moment. Then she squatted down. "Hey, cats, come here." To the surprise of two magicals, the cats came. Esmee whispered something to them and the two dashed off, one in each direction and quickly were gone from view.

  "What was that all about?" Hilda muttered. "They do have names, you know. And they're good ones."

  21. Shed

  Esmee grinned. "It worked, didn't it?"

  Hilda looked at William. "I don't like the influence Babs has on that kid. She's becoming too much a smart-ass."

  "Thank you," said Baba Yaga.

  Before any further commenting could take place, Grimalkin appeared again, a few hundred feet from where the group was standing. She meowed loudly. Obsi raced past the assembled magicals to his 'sister', the magicals followed at a somewhat more moderate pace.

  "That's my cat," Hilda beamed as she saw the imprints of the boot that continued into the forest. "It's all in the name, William."

  "Oh sure," he grinned.

  "Come on, stop your socialising," Baba Yaga said as she pushed through the wealth of plants. Esmee was right behind her. "Our boot-wearer did not walk this way when he came to the point where found his tracks," Babs informed them, "I only see his footsteps going this way."

  "Maybe he is not used to walk through the forests at night," Hilda opted, just before she ran into Esmee. "Hey, what's the wait?"

  "We may have found home sweet home of the cat woman, Hilda," Baba Yaga said. She slowly moved ahead, allowing the others to see the shed they had reached.

  The shed was squeezed in between two trees. It looked old, but it still was in quite good shape. The long side was about twenty feet long, the side that had a door in it about half that size. There were no windows in it, there was no paint remaining on it, if ever there had been some.

  William tried the door, but that was adorned with a chain and a solid padlock.

  "William... better step away from that shed for now," Hilda said as she tugged his sleeve. "No messing with it until we know it's safe."

  William looked at her, then at the two other witches, and he understood there was something they knew that he missed. Something magical they had a sixth sense for. Carefully he stepped back and let the real witches do their thing.

  Babs and Esmee slowly circled the shed, their wands in hand.

  "They are trying to find where most magic is coming from," Hilda explained to him. "And then find a way to disarm it, if it is dangerous."

  "Uhm... dangerous..." William was not sure what to make of that. "Is there a difference?"

  "Oh, yes. There is."

  "Nothing dangerous here, Hilly," Baba Yaga reported after they had made the round. "It isn't even proper magic that's used here. I mean, your wizard's a lot better with it than whoever put this magic here."

  "My wizard is great with magic," Hilda bragged, "and you know that, girlfriend. You know what he pulled off when Lamador challenged me."

  "True," Babs said as she popped the lock open. "Let's see if they have tea here. I could do with some."

  As the light of day fell into the shed, it showed dust flying that was rushed into the air by the door opening. They saw a somewhat comfortable chair that had seen better days. Probably better years too. Babs and Hilda stepped inside, wands in hand. They immediately focussed on the chair. That held most of the erratic magical traces.

  "No tea," Esmee noticed. "Let's fix that." She stepped out of the shed.

  William felt a bit lost. Hilda and Baba Yaga were going around the shed, using their wands as dowsing rods, Esmee was taking care of tea and he just stood and watched.

  "There was a book here, Babs," Hilda said as she pointed to a spot on the ground, next to the chair. Babs looked at the same spot and nodded. "Indeed. Old magic. Weird magic also, but too faint to make something decent of it."

  "Tea's ready!" Esmee chimed from outside.

  "Right out," Babs cackled back, "keep it hot."

  Suddenly William moved through the shed and bent down. "Now, what do we have here..." He picked something from the hardwood floor. It was a ball of hair. And it looked very much like the hair they had found in the garden. "Ladies," the wizard announced, "our cat woman has been here at least once."

  "And there's some kind of witchcraft involv
ed here too," Baba Yaga added, "this chair did not charge itself magically by itself."

  Hilda sat on the floor, her hands touching the wooden floor. "And there was at least one other person here. Someone of power, but not magical," she decided. "But something does not make sense, unless the person who carried the cat woman here was the witchcraft practitioner"

  "I doubt that," said Baba Yaga. "The one with the magic was a woman."

  "Why would women not wear men's boots?" Hilda asked. "Not that I do, but I mean, think outside the cauldron, Babs."

  Baba Yaga stared at William. "Does that happen to everyone who visits that crazy world of yours?"

  "Not everyone," he replied, "only the ones that are susceptible to it."

  "Just you make sure you are not going to regret that remark," said the witch who still sat on the floor. "I need tea." The two others could do with some also, so they headed outside.

  "Ah, there you are!" Esmee smiled at them from a large fluffy couch. It was dark purple. There was another one just like it on the other side of the black table she had conjured. There were a teapot, cups and a saucer with cookies. "It is all ready," Esmee grinned.

  William pretended to be the gentle-wizard and poured tea for Hilda, Babs and himself. As he poured he frowned. "That looks weird, Esmee."

  The young witch giggled. "That's only half of it, William."

  Baba Yaga sat down next to Esmee. "Uhm... Esmee... what is in that tea? You smell somewhat... intoxicated."

  William heard that and sniffed the cup he had just poured. "Holy Bejeebus," he said. "I will have to do something about that." The tea that Esmee had prepared was not merely spiked, it was almost pure alcohol with a hint of tea. on second thought he just made a new pot appear, this one with just tea.

  "Ah... that's not funny," Esmee complained, giggling more and more. "I thought I had this arranged so nicely."

  "She's drunk," Baba Yaga said. "Very drunk. We can count her out for the rest of the day, I'm afraid." Esmee proved her right by flopping to the side and passing out.

  "Tea anyone?" William asked. "I'll also get some new cookies. You never know..."

  The magical trio that still was awake talked about their find. Finally, they agreed, they had something of a lead that they could work with. Even when the work was limited. They now knew that there were several people involved in this scheme, and at least one of them had witchy capacities.

  Baba Yaga looked at the sleeping witch next to her. "I think we're making good progress with her too," she shared with Hilda and William. "Her clothes are improving, and the way she set up this seating stuff isn't bad either. Now, dark purple wouldn't be my choice but at least it's not pink."

  "-We- are making good progress?" Hilda frowned. "Excuse me, but you are the one who started corrupting her. Now I have to admit that this is not a bad thing."

  "You, witch, have done nothing to discourage me. Nor stop me." Baba Yaga sipped her tea.

  "True enough. When has anything or anyone ever stopped you?" Hilda bounced back.

  "True enough," Babs admitted.

  -=-=-

  Lindolf sat in the tavern. He looked at the man who shared his table and who was working on draining the next mug of beer. "I am telling you," Lindolf said, "I have heard very strange things have been going on at the castle."

  "Things like what?" asked the man as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The belch waited until the hand was out of sight. "You mean like the attack on the king? And that the guards didn't catch who did it?"

  "Yes, exactly," Lindolf nodded. "Things like that. Don't they scare you?"

  "Nah," the man grinned, "it's not me that got attacked."

  "But what if you were next?" Lindolf insisted. "Suppose that something happens to the king, and after that some unholy army of apparitions comes over the wall and has a go at everyone in the castle?" He had lowered his voice, and not only for drama. He was working on this man, who was a servant in the castle. "Oscar, listen. What would your wife think if you don't come home suddenly, just because that sloppy lame king of ours is not able to protect his servants? Would she like that?" He waved at the serving-wench to bring more beer.

  Oscar looked over the table as best he could. Lindolf was not sitting very still from Oscar's point of view. "Ah... beer. Good," he said. Then he remembered Lindolf's question. "Uhm... Well, to be honest, Lindolf, I am not so sure if the wife would feel bad if I wouldn't come home..."

  Lindolf snorted at the man's honesty, but that was not the answer he was waiting for. "Of course she'd be devastated, Oscar," he said. "She'd be torn to pieces, like you would be. And that is not what we want, right?"

  Oscar tried to recall if Lindolf was married, but that bit of knowledge had been carried away in one of the empty beer-mugs. He decided to nod. Lindolf sounded coherent, so it had to be true. And of course Lindolf was paying for the beer.

  "I really think you should talk to your wife about this, Oscar," Lindolf said as he saw the castle servant nod. "This is something of national importance. Something that could have catastrophic consequences for the community at large, if people find out that we can't even protect ourselves and our beloved royalty from some mysterious creature that already had a go at the king."

  Oscar's eyes reduced themselves to slits as he tried to follow all the big words Lindolf spoke. It was in vain. Most of the words were lost before he had heard them in full, so he bravely nodded and picked up his mug.

  Lindolf decided that he had said enough. Perhaps even too much, as obviously Oscar was not catching on anymore. He raised his own mug. "Tell your wife, Oscar. Tell your wife."

  Oscar nodded. "Yes. Tell your wife. I'll do that." He already wondered if he would remember what it was he was supposed to tell, but that was of later worry. "Let's drink to our wives."

  Lindolf toasted with Oscar. Maybe this was not such a good person to load this task on after all, he thought as he sipped some of his water.

  22. Talks

  "Snowy? Do you have a moment?"

  Snow White looked over to the door where Prince Jordan stood. She smiled. "It's long ago that you called me Snowy, Jordan. I like it when you say that. What is it that you want to talk about? I assume that's what you want to do."

  The prince nodded and came in. "You're done with the kids?" he asked as he took Snow White's hand. "Come, sit down with me. This is concerning kids."

  Snow White was very surprised about that. 'Kids' usually was a subject he avoided unless it involved making them. With some difficulty she sat down as her pregnancy was becoming a bother now.

  Jordan told her about the talk he'd enjoyed with Hilda and the rest of the magical corps. Of course he emphasised the bit that it would be painful for him, but that he was willing to take that.

  Snow White was impressed. Not yet with Jordan, as he had so far just delivered the words, but with Hilda and the gang for getting him so far. She knew she had to play this well. The prospect of no more children was really good. "Would you really do that, my dear prince?" she asked him.

  "Yes. I would." Jordan did not feel so brave as his words sounded, but once they were out he knew he would really have to go on with it.

  Snow White leaned over their unborn child and kissed him on the cheek. "When do you think it will... happen?"

  Jordan grew pale. This was making things real. "Uhm, I'm not sure yet. See, they are so busy catching whatever is killing the animals around here, and it is very hard to talk to them now."

  "I understand, Jordan. Perhaps we can see them this evening, at dinner."

  "Yes. I guess."

  -=-=-

  A woman walked through the forest. She wore a skirt that contained as many colours as a rainbow would. It looked hand made, and also hand remade many times. Her long black hair fell halfway down her back, dancing around the red blouse she wore. "Something is not good. Something is very wrong even," she muttered.

  She reached the shed. Her black eyes went over the walls, the door, the lock. "Told you
," she told no one, "something is not good."

  The lock had been opened, she could tell. It hung in a different way. Magda, for that was the woman, always hung the lock in a particular way so she could see if someone had tampered with it. In thought she scratched her pale cheek. "Not good, not good."

  She looked around the area, inspecting everything. "Oh no. What's that?" In the ground she saw imprints of what clearly had to be furniture. "It's them witches. I knew it. I am sure of it. Nobody else would put chairs and tables and stuff here. It's the witches. Damn, damn, damn." Magda reached for the bunch of metal objects that hung from her belt. She undid the strap that held the metal together and used the key to open the lock.