Curse of the Dream Witch

by Allan Stratton

  Then, without warning, the Dream Witch flew up from the forest on her giant cleaver. She hurtled towards the castle, silhouetted against the moon. Slicing through the sky, cutting above the cornfields and town, it looked like she’d crash through the window bars.

  Everyone dropped to the floor. But at the last second, the witch yanked the cleaver’s mighty handle, and sheared to a powerful parallel stop, rearing her trunk in anger.

  ‘You dare try to destroy me, Queen?’ she shrieked, hovering outside the turret. ‘You who came to me with a dream and a promise?’ Smoke shot from her nostrils.

  ‘Dream Witch, no. I’ve only tried to protect my daughter.’

  ‘Ha! You sought to burn me in my lair. Consider us at war. In the underworld beneath my cottage is a chamber of children, kidnapped because you wouldn’t pay your debt. Surrender the princess by dawn, or I’ll grind them to dust.’

  The witch’s words echoed over the countryside. Wails pierced the night air. Howls of: ‘Why our children? Why not yours?’ ‘Why not one child instead of a hundred?’

  ‘Hear the cries of your people,’ the witch warned, ‘or their grief shall tear your castle apart.’

  ‘Silence witch,’ the duke commanded. ‘The girl belongs to us. With her, we hold the keys to this kingdom. If peasants attack this castle we’ll slaughter them.’ He hollered down to the courtyard: ‘Archers. Send the witch on her way.’

  His men shot up a volley of arrows. The Dream Witch swung her trunk. The arrows turned in mid air and rained back at the soldiers.

  ‘As for you, Milo my boy,’ the witch cackled over the screams below, ‘your parents shall never see you again. And you, Princess, by dawn, I shall have your heart in my hand.’ She reared her cleaver and tore back through the sky to her lair.

  The duke whirled on the queen. ‘You’re the author of this misfortune. You and your husband have ruled with a weak hand. Why else would a witch feel free to challenge you? Fear is the heart of power. Your meekness has bred licence.’

  ‘And your brutishness, hatred!’ Olivia spoke out.

  The duke swatted her with the back of his hand. She fell to the floor. Her mother ran to her with a cry.

  ‘You’ll learn to hold your tongue, girl. You’ll teach her, won’t you, Nephew?’

  ‘With pleasure,’ Leo leered.

  The duke ripped the key to the cell from the queen’s neck and gave it to the prince. He turned to his men. ‘Lock her Highness in her bedchamber and disarm her troops. Then throw this boy in the dungeon.’

  The soldiers left on their mission.

  ‘Mother! Milo!’ Olivia called out as they were dragged away, ‘I’ll find a way to save you.’

  Leo turned at the door. ‘You can’t even save yourself.’

  The Tale of a Tail

  Olivia ran towards the cell door. It slammed in her face. She reeled backwards. ‘What shall I do?’

  ‘Take a deep breath,’ Penelope said. ‘All is not lost. Trust me.’

  The princess slumped on her bed. Penelope scampered onto the pillow beside her and wagged a paw.

  ‘Listen well and I’ll tell you a tale of a tail. My tale. Once upon a time, in the days when fear could be managed with a cup of cocoa, a princess was born who was destined to save her kingdom. Her family had a wizard named Ephemia who gave her a dozen pysanka to protect her from danger. But no sooner were the talismans in her cradle than the Dream Witch arrived to take her heart.’

  ‘I know this story,’ Olivia said. ‘It’s the story of my christening.’

  ‘Ah, but you don’t know the ending.’

  ‘I do so. The good Ephemia raised her wand. But instead of destroying the evil one, she herself was destroyed and vanished in a puff of smoke.’

  Penelope stroked her whiskers. ‘That’s what people think they saw. But in all the confusion, when the smoke cleared, no one noticed the little grey mouse quivering under the baby’s pram.’

  Olivia’s eyes went wide. ‘Penelope! You’re Ephemia!’

  ‘Indeed,’ Ephemia replied. ‘I mixed up my spell words and turned myself into a mouse. For nearly thirteen years I’ve kept my secret. I’ve been able to watch over my little princess, while slipping unnoticed from the gaze of the Dream Witch and her familiars. Still, there’ve been times I’ve had to bite my tail. Being stuck in drawers is no life for a wizard. It’s a good thing I like cheese.’

  ‘Penelope, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Penelope. That’s another thing. What kind of name is Penelope?’

  ‘It’s no worse than Ephemia.’

  ‘That depends in which century you grew up,’ the wizard sniffed. ‘At any rate, from now on, call me Ephemia, please.’

  ‘Of course,’ Olivia said. ‘But what’s your plan? We’re losing time. Mother and Father are in danger, Milo is facing torture, and by dawn the Dream Witch swears to have my heart or grind up the kingdom’s children.’

  ‘I’m not that forgetful,’ Ephemia said. ‘Your parents are safe for now. The immediate danger is to that young man. To the dungeon, then, and from there, to the witch’s lair in the world beneath her cottage. Along the way, I’ll tell you what you must do to rescue the kingdom’s children by dawn.’

  ‘Why don’t you just cast some spells?’

  Ephemia covered her head with her paws. ‘I’m finished with spells, my girl. Oh yes, I learned my lesson on your christening day. With my luck, I might turn you into a bean sprout.’

  ‘But without magic, how can we do anything?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve still got some tricks,’ Ephemia winked. ‘There are burrows from the forest floor into the witch’s caverns. Being a mouse, I can speak to woodland creatures. They can help us.’

  ‘Yes, but what use is their help now? We’re locked in a cell.’

  Ephemia winked. ‘There’s a loose plank under your bed with a knothole at one end. Lift the plank and drop down into the secret passageway that leads through the castle.’

  ‘A secret passageway?’ Olivia dived under her bed.

  ‘Well, secret to humans, anyway. There’s not a castle nook nor cranny unknown to spiders, mice, and squirrels.’

  Olivia found the plank. ‘What a crazy place for an entrance.’

  ‘Where would you put it?’

  ‘On a wall of course.’ Olivia stuck her finger in the knothole. ‘I’d put it behind a painting, or a swinging fireplace, or a wall of books.’

  ‘Right where everyone would think to look? Now that’s what I call crazy.’

  Olivia removed the plank and peered down. The passage floor was only two feet below. ‘This isn’t a passageway,’ Olivia exclaimed. ‘It’s a crawl space.’

  ‘Not to me,’ Ephemia said.

  ‘You’re a mouse. I’m a princess.’

  ‘With an attitude like that you’ll never survive the Dream Witch,’ Ephemia sniffed. ‘Come. You may not be able to stand, but you can wriggle.’

  Olivia looked doubtfully into the dark beneath. ‘How am I to see?’

  ‘I’ll guide you,’ Ephemia hopped into the hole. ‘Don’t worry, my pet. My little mouse eyes can see in the dark. Besides, I know these walls backwards.’

  Olivia imagined herself stuck in the stonework, entombed forever in the unforgiving castle walls. But she knew she had no choice. She took a deep breath and squeezed down into the musty crawl space.

  To the Dungeon

  ‘The crawl space is open as far as the outer wall of the turret stairs,’ Ephemia said.

  Thank heavens, Olivia thought, as she wormed her way through the dark.

  Ephemia had promised clear passage, but it was a surprisingly winding route. ‘A little to the left, Princess.’

  ‘Why? What’s on the right?’

  ‘A dead rat, poor thing. Remember the smell a year ago at Easter? He’s all dried up now. Still, not very pleasant.’

  ‘Ew. And what are these bits of something under my hands?’

  ‘Grape seeds.’

  ‘Grape seeds?’

 
‘Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.’

  Olivia bumped her head into something hard.

  ‘Sorry,’ Ephemia said. ‘I forgot about the support pillars. There’s a second one to your right. Squeeze between them. We’re about to go under the wall of your cell.’

  Olivia wriggled through the opening. The floorboards creaked over her head as the soldiers above paced in front of her cell door.

  Ephemia nuzzled her nose to Olivia’s ear. ‘Crawl forward till you hit the back of the top step of the staircase.’

  Olivia felt her way to the riser. ‘What now?’

  ‘To your left, there’s a gap between the crawl space and the stairs. It opens onto a perilous drop to the castle’s foundations.’

  ‘You want me to plummet to the dungeon?’

  ‘No. I want you to climb down the support beams beside the staircase. A word to the wise: Don’t look down.’

  ‘Why not? I can’t see anyway.’

  ‘Lucky you.’

  Olivia wriggled to the opening and swung her legs over the void. With one hand, she touched the outer wall of the staircase. With her feet, she found the first support beam and eased herself down.

  ‘Excellent. Now squat down, grab the beam, and drop your legs as far as they’ll go. Your feet will be just above the next support.’

  Olivia took hold of the beam and let her legs dangle. Her toe landed on a brick abandoned by the castle’s builders. It slid off the support and hurtled to the ground below. Olivia tried not to scream.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Ephemia squeaked. ‘You’re right above the beam. Just let yourself go.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You can.’

  Olivia gulped. She dropped onto the beam and held out her arms to steady herself. One hand touched the outer wall of the staircase. She pressed her fingers against its cool, damp surface.

  Something ran over her toes. ‘Ephemia?’

  ‘Yes?’ The mouse was above her.

  ‘Ephemia . . . if you’re up there . . . what’s at my feet?’

  ‘A rat.’

  ‘A rat?’ Olivia gasped.

  ‘A little one,’ Ephemia replied airily. ‘Don’t worry, it’s run off. You scared it.’

  ‘I scared it?’

  ‘Stop being a silly goose. You’ve work to do. Sit down on the support.’

  ‘I don’t think I can do anything right now.’

  ‘Suit yourself. But there’s a large hairy spider about to crawl on your fingers.’

  In an instant, Olivia was perched on the support. Ephemia coached from her shoulder, as the princess lowered herself to the next beam, and the one after that and the one after that and the one after that. Her cloak nearly tripped her, but she soon learned to keep it looped over an arm. Soon the beams felt like rungs on a ladder; haphazard and far apart, but rungs nonetheless.

  On the other side of the staircase wall, she could hear the life of the castle. It seemed to come from far away, like what she’d heard when she was little and stuck her head in the courtyard rain barrel. She tried to hear and not hear at the same time – eager and afraid to know what was happening. The clomping on the stairs, the rumble of voices – what were they about? Had Leo found her missing? Was there news about her parents?

  Ephemia read her mind. ‘What’s happening there is happening there. Keep your mind on the here and now, or you’ll tumble down and have nothing to think about ever.’

  Olivia concentrated hard. One step at a time. One step at a time. Before she knew it, what had seemed impossible had become real. She’d reached a dingy alcove above two squat pillars, eight feet from the dungeon floor.

  Olivia shivered. Before she’d been locked away, she’d played hide-and-seek in the cells with the servants’ children. One day, she’d nearly tripped into an open well. Her parents were horrified. They said she’d have disappeared into the underground river that ran beneath the castle.

  Ephemia saw Olivia’s hesitation. ‘There’s only one way down.’

  Olivia said a prayer, hung from the alcove, and dropped into the dungeon.

  Flight into Danger

  She landed softly, Ephemia on her shoulder. The air was ripe with decay. The only light was a torch the Pretonians had set at the foot of the staircase. Shadows flickered over a maze of narrow Gothic archways.

  Olivia pressed herself against the pillar by the stairs. From somewhere in the gloom, she heard a muffled rush of river water echoing up the well, and farther off, the growls of Milo’s guards. She turned her nose to Ephemia. ‘We’ll never get to Milo. Even if we do, we’ll never escape alive.’

  ‘Buck up. I’m the mouse, not you.’

  ‘I can’t help it. I’m scared.’

  ‘Who isn’t? Courage isn’t feeling brave. It’s fighting fear.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘A dose of pretend never hurt.’

  True or not, Olivia determined to try. She imagined herself a warrior princess and threw back her shoulders. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ Ephemia said. She jumped off Olivia’s cloak and scampered down the passage leading from the stairs. ‘I’ll scout ahead,’ she said and disappeared through a crevice in the bricks.

  Olivia peered down the empty hall. In the distance, a second torch lit another corridor – a signpost leading to the voices of the guards. She darted from archway to archway, past banks of fetid cells. Olivia imagined prisoners from centuries past, cutthroats and villains, reaching out for her through the gloom. She raced all the faster.

  Soon she was at the crossway. By the sound of the river water, the well was nearby; beyond it, Milo and the guards.

  ‘Speak up, boy,’ a voice yelled, ‘where do you live?’

  ‘I forget.’

  Smack.

  Olivia peeked around the pillar. Milo was past the last archway. He was faced away from her, on a stool in an open cavern. His hands were tied behind his back. A blazing fire pit was at his feet. Six ruffians in chainmail circled him, their hairy faces glistening in the fire’s heat.

  ‘Who are your ma and pa?’

  ‘The ones who raised me.’

  Smack. ‘Their names! Where do they live?’

  ‘Hit me all you like. I’ll never betray them.’

  Olivia’s throat went dry. Where was Ephemia? What was she to do?

  A beefy guard grabbed Milo by the chest and head. Another raised a pair of pliers. ‘Talk, boy, or you’ll never talk again.’

  Olivia could bear it no longer. She leapt into the corridor. ‘Stop!’

  The guards whirled around.

  There was no turning back. Olivia, warrior princess, skirted the well hole and marched past the last row of cells into the cavern.

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded the beefiest brute.

  ‘The princess Olivia,’ she said boldly, ‘soon to be wife of your prince and one day queen of Pretonia.’

  The guard glanced at her trousers and cloak. ‘Curious clothes for a princess.’

  Olivia thrust her nose in the air. ‘Silly man. We are disguised for our journey. Were none of you in the turret when this rascal was captured? You’d have seen me, then.’

  The guard with the pliers stepped forward. ‘Oh, I was there. An’ I seen you all right. Put under lock and key by the duke and the prince himself.’

  ‘Was I indeed? Then what, pray, am I doing here?’

  The man spat. ‘That’s what I’d like to know.’

  ‘Since when is it the business of a wretch like you to know the affairs of his betters?’

  The man frowned. ‘I know what I seen is all.’

  ‘Fool!’ Olivia turned to the other guards. ‘Does this idiot suppose I waltzed down a stairwell of soldiers without Prince Leo’s say-so? Or does he think I vanished into thin air and appeared before you out of pixie dust?’

  The guards laughed nervously.

  Olivia fixed an imperious gaze on her questioner. ‘What is your name, sirrah? His Excellency shall hear of your impertinence. If
I have my way, we’ll march to Pretonia with your head on a pike!’

  The man looked to his friends in confusion. They stared at their feet. Finding himself alone, he dropped the pliers and fell to his knees. ‘Beg pardon, Your Highness. My name is Gunther. I meant no harm. What does Your Highness want?’

  ‘Much better,’ Olivia declared grandly. ‘If you must know, I’d have a word with the miscreant who dared enter my chamber.’ She took a red-hot poker from the fire pit and pointed it at Milo. ‘Give us twenty paces and turn your backs. What I am about to do may distress you.’

  The men could scarcely believe their ears but only a fool would risk his head for twenty paces. They retreated to the edge of the cavern and turned away.

  ‘You, peasant boy! You, varlet!’ Olivia declaimed to Milo. ‘May your flesh sizzle for your sins!’

  Milo’s eyes went big as saucepans. ‘What?’

  Olivia winked, dropped to her knees, and began to untie his hands. ‘I’m helping you escape,’ she whispered. ‘Now scream. Or do I have to use the poker for real?’

  Milo screamed.

  ‘Yes, scream, scurvy knave!’ Olivia roared theatrically as the knots loosened. ‘Take this brand for entering my room!’

  Milo screamed again.

  ‘This for speaking my name.’

  He screamed again.

  ‘And this for stealing my brass candlesticks!’

  ‘Brass candlesticks?’ Milo mouthed.

  ‘All I could think of,’ Olivia shrugged, as she removed the cords. ‘Keep screaming.’

  But Milo was suddenly too frightened to scream.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Guess.’ It was Prince Leo.

  Olivia looked up with a start. Leo’s men spun to attention.

  ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ the prince demanded of the guards. ‘Seize the prisoners.’

  Milo sprang to his feet. But before he and Olivia could run, the guards grabbed them tight.

  ‘You thought to escape with that peasant?’ Leo raged at Olivia. ‘Watch, as I sever him limb from limb!’