How to Stop a Witch

by Bill Allen

  Melvin Greatheart’s face popped out from behind his mother’s shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. Greg could swear the boy had grown three inches in the few weeks Greg had been away. He unconsciously stood a bit taller.

  “They’re here!” Melvin shouted. “They’re here!”

  “I just said that,” Edna told him.

  “You also said you were going to let us in,” Kristin reminded her.

  “Yes, of course. Sorry.”

  Mrs. Greatheart backed into the room to allow the others to pass, though the room was so small, they required a quick strategy session before everyone could fit. “Norman,” she called, “where are you?”

  “Coming.” Now came the meandering shuffle more in line with what Greg expected. But it wasn’t Norman who stepped from the back this time either. It was Marvin, Melvin’s older brother. As always, he was dressed only in a loincloth, his frame so large, it was hard to believe he could fit into the room.

  “Princess Priscilla,” he said, “Greghart, it’s good to see you again.”

  Of course it is, Greg thought. It gives you someone to boast to.

  Kristin’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Uh, Greg,” she said in a nervous titter, “who is this?”

  Greg observed her glossed-over look and scowled. He realized the shuffling noises had stopped. Norman Greatheart’s face peered out first from behind Marvin’s elbow, then grimaced and rose level with Marvin’s shoulder. The cacophony of popping noises that accompanied the movement drew even Kristin’s attention. She witnessed Norman’s missing eye and the network of scars covering every inch of his face, and screamed.

  “Oh, sorry,” Norman said with a wink. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Greghart, my boy. You did come. Good, I’ll get my cloak.”

  Mrs. Greatheart scowled. “Who are you kidding? They didn’t come all this way for an old coot like you. They’re after our boys.”

  “Actually we’re after all three of them,” said Mordred.

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Told you so,” said Norman, puffing out his chest with a crackle.

  Kristin sidled over to Marvin and peered up at his massive chest from beneath his armpit. “Hi, I’m Kristin.”

  Marvin glanced downward, observed Kristin’s expression, and quickly looked away again. “We heard about Hazel getting hold of Ruuan. Figured it was just a matter of time before you came looking for me. But what do you want with Dad and Melvin?”

  Melvin frowned. “Why wouldn’t they want me? I’m a legend.”

  Your brother must be very proud, Greg thought, not for Melvin’s status as a living legend, but for his legend-worthy bragging skills.

  “Of course you are,” said Edna, “and so is your father.”

  “Sure, but he’s like a thousand years old.”

  “He’s not. He only looks that way.”

  “Thank you, dear,” said Norman. “Like I said before, I’ll get my cloak.”

  “But . . .” Greg found he could barely maintain the energy to stand. “I haven’t slept in days. I thought we were going to stay the night.”

  “Oh, I think that’s a splendid idea,” Edna said, pulling her youngest son’s head to her bosom. Melvin struggled to escape, but he was no match for his mother. Good thing she wasn’t a dragon, Greg thought, or Melvin would have shown her what a real hero could do.

  Kristin cleared her throat. “That’s Kristin, like in piston, but with a ‘Kr’ instead of a ‘P.’ Get it?”

  Marvin clearly had no idea what Kristin was talking about. The look on her face caused him to take a quick step back.

  “Sit down, everyone,” insisted Mrs. Greatheart. “You should eat.”

  By Greg’s count, they were at least two chairs short. Mordred wasn’t interested in sitting anyway. He paced back and forth throughout the meal, though as small as the room was, he looked to be just twirling about. Norman gave up his seat as well. Greg suspected he wanted to join the others but couldn’t get his knees to cooperate. In the end, Marvin had to carry him to the living room sofa, where he could lie flat with his feet hanging above the edge of the kitchen table.

  When Marvin returned, the only empty chair was next to Kristin. He chose instead to stand, hovering over the table while Edna served up piping hot bowls of stew.

  “Out of the way,” Edna scolded. She pushed past Marvin to place a steaming bowl in front of Greg. Marvin squeezed his massive form in behind her, only to end up in her way again when she tried to retreat. “My word, always under foot. Would you go sit down?”

  “But Mum—”

  “Don’t argue with your mother. Now sit.”

  Marvin pulled in his stomach, nearly launching Edna into the kitchen with his expanding chest. “Sorry, Mum.”

  “Who’s your friend?” Melvin asked Greg, his eyes fixed upon Kristin’s cheek. Kristin continued to stare at Marvin, trying her best to ignore the younger Greatheart, much the same way the older Greatheart tried to ignore her.

  “Her name is Kristin,” Priscilla told him, “and stop staring. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not staring,” said Melvin.

  “Yes, you are,” Kristin said without looking his way. Edna placed a steaming bowl in front of her. “Thanks. This smells good. What is it?”

  “Fresh wyvern stew,” said Edna.

  “Wyvern?”

  “They’re kind of like small dragons,” Melvin said helpfully.

  Kristin grimaced and pushed the bowl aside. “Ugh, no thanks.”

  Greg made a show of eating a large spoonful. “Try it. It’s delicious.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Melvin leaned forward to draw Kristin’s attention. She promptly turned the other way. “I can get you an ogre patty from out back,” he told the back of her head.

  “Yuck.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to try some stew, dear?” Edna asked. “You don’t want to go to bed hungry.”

  “Yeah,” said Lucky, “we haven’t eaten all day.”

  Kristin regarded her bowl as if it might suddenly sprout limbs. She picked up her spoon and dipped it cautiously, withdrew a morsel barely large enough to see, and guided it toward her lips. The others looked on expectantly.

  “Hey, this is good.”

  “There now, glad you like it,” Edna said with a smile. She turned then and started toward the kitchen, frowning at Marvin, who was trying his best to blend in with the wall.

  “Aren’t you going to eat, Mrs. Greatheart?” asked Greg.

  “Oh, don’t worry about me,” Edna said. “You all eat up. I’ll get some later if there’s any left.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake, sit down, Edna,” said Norman from the couch. “You’re driving everyone crazy.”

  “Can I get you seconds, dear?” Edna asked Lucky as he scraped the bottom of his bowl with his spoon.

  “Some of us would like firsts,” said Norman.

  “Hush. I’ll get yours in a minute.”

  Marvin cleared his throat. “I’m kind of hungry too.”

  “Would you please sit down?” Edna said, exasperated.

  Marvin considered the empty chair next to Kristin, who smiled widely and patted the seat. Slowly he slid his back down the wall until it at least appeared as if he were sitting. His knees bumped the table and sent it screeching across the hard wood floor, sloshing everyone’s stew nearly out of their bowls.

  Mrs. Greatheart shook her head. She ladled out more stew for Greg, who, after glancing at Marvin’s and Norman’s empty bowls, hid his eyes. A moment later, when Edna dished up a second small bowl for Rake, Greg debated crawling under the table.

  Kristin waved to capture Marvin’s attention and pointed to her stew. “Want to share mine?”

  Greg forced himself to look at Norman. “You said you already knew of the next prophecy? How did you find out?”

  Marvin leaned to one side to see around Kristin. “I told him. The Sezxqrthms are getting
on in years, and I like to go check on them now and then to see they’re all right.”

  “Such a good boy,” Edna said, smiling proudly at her son.

  “Simon told you?” said Lucky. “How’d you ever understand him?”

  Greg had met the prophet only once, but that one meeting was enough to make him wonder, too. Well over a century old, the man could barely hear and just naturally assumed everyone else shared the same problem. The only one who could understand his shouting was his wife Gabby, whose hearing was even worse than her husband’s. On his first visit to Myrth, Greg had cringed as the two screamed at each other, Gabby with her grating squawks, Simon with his garbled grunts. They shared their own little world, and no outsiders could communicate with them there.

  Greg was happy to give them their space.

  “Everyone’s always saying they have trouble understanding Simon,” said Marvin. “I just don’t get it. He makes perfect sense to me.”

  “What did he tell you?” Priscilla asked.

  Marvin relayed all he could remember. Kristin listened intently, resting her elbows on the table with her head propped in her hands, and while Marvin provided nothing Brandon hadn’t already relayed to the king, Greg listened intently too. This was the first he was hearing most of it.

  According to Marvin, Hazel was preparing to unleash a horrible power held in check since the Dragon Wars of centuries ago. She planned to use the Amulet of Tehrer to turn Ruuan against his will and force him to attack Pendegrass Castle, and while the spirelings would come to the aid of the Army of the Crown, as they had done against the trolls when Greg was last here, there was only so much they could do against an airborne dragon. The real fight would be up to Greg, and though he was prophesied to win in the end, he would pay for his victory, rather unfortunately, with his life.

  “Are you sure about that last part?” Greg asked, though he held little hope.

  “Afraid so,” said Marvin somberly.

  The room was quiet for a long moment. Kristin stopped staring at Marvin and looked to Greg instead, a mixture of shame and concern in her eyes. Even Melvin, who Greg would have expected to stifle a snicker, held his eyes cast to the table in respectful silence. Greg guessed the boy was a lot less jealous now that he’d become a great hero himself in the recent Battle of the Spirelings.

  “I’m sorry, son,” said Norman. “It’s a very noble thing you do for us.”

  “It certainly is,” said Edna, wringing her hands nervously. “I just wish there was something we could do for you.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry too, Greghart,” said Melvin. “That’s tough luck.”

  “I just don’t understand it,” said Lucky. “If luck has anything to do with it, you should be fine. I don’t plan to leave your side for an instant.”

  Greg frowned. He remembered Nathan once telling him how Lucky’s confidence might one day get him in over his head. As afraid as he was for his own life, he couldn’t help but wonder what fate awaited his friend.

  The two girls sat on either side of Greg. Each took up one of his hands in their own, and where a few days ago Greg might have thought they were about to tear him in half, competing for his affection, today they meant only to console him. Tears welled up in both girls’ eyes.

  “Yes, well, no point getting all choked up,” said Mordred. “The boy’s death has already been prophesied. Nothing can be done about it now. Has everyone finished their stew? We really need to be getting back.”

  “But I haven’t had any yet,” said Marvin.

  “Hush,” Edna scolded. “Our guest was speaking.”

  Shaping Destiny – Take Two

  To Greg’s relief, Mrs. Greatheart insisted they stay the night, and then again for a huge breakfast of basilisk chops, before they resumed their journey. After the meal, her husband popped out of the bedroom, ready to hit the trail.

  “Norman! Put some clothes on.”

  Norman scowled and lifted his sagging belly to reveal that he had, in fact, donned his old dragon-hunting loincloth. He went back and changed anyway, supposedly because Edna pointed out that spring was still a ways off and it was sure to be cold, but Greg had an idea it was more because Norman wasn’t happy with the expressions on the two young girls’ faces.

  A few minutes later he came out wearing a refreshingly concealing tunic. Still it was barely hiding tights that were disturbingly true to their name.

  Once again the monsters of the Enchanted Forest knew better than to mess with a magician of Mordred’s caliber, so the group was able to complete the lengthy journey back in little more than three hours. They might have even finished sooner, except the first quarter hour was wasted watching Norman creak and pop his way across the living room at a snail’s pace.

  “Maybe we should stuff him into Lucky’s pack,” Melvin had suggested, but when Norman wouldn’t fit, even when he sucked in his gut, Marvin had a better solution.

  “I’ll just carry him till I get tired.”

  Now, with noon come and gone, the powerful dragonslayer was finally setting his father down, although probably only because here they were, at the end of their journey.

  “Let’s see if Nathan came back,” Greg suggested.

  Mordred strode deliberately for the castle. “He didn’t.” The others ran after him.

  “How do you know?” Priscilla asked.

  “I would feel him if he did.”

  “Why, where’s Nathan?” Marvin wanted to know.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Greg asked. He realized after three hours on the trail he’d never once mentioned anything about the prophecy or Nathan being missing.

  Not that it was his fault. The beginning of the trip no one could get a word in past Marvin’s boasting. Even Kristin lost interest in the dragonslayer after a time, which inspired Melvin to hop along after her, asking question after question, while she tried hard to ignore him.

  Then, once Melvin grew hoarse, the conversation was completely consumed by foolish chatter between the two girls over clothes and hairstyles and the ten cutest boys at school, which probably would have worked out better if they went to the same school, or at least schools on the same world. Now that they’d arrived, Greg ignored the fact Kristin hadn’t included him on her top-ten list and filled Marvin in on Brandon’s note about Nathan going off to see Dolzowt Deth.

  All color drained from Marvin’s face.

  “What’s wrong?” Greg asked.

  “He went to see Dolzowt?”

  “Who’s Dolzowt?” asked Melvin.

  “Dolzowt Deth is a legendary sorcerer who lives deep within the Netherworld,” Mordred answered. “He’s a master of the Dark Arts, and if Nathan has gone to him and not returned, I cannot say I’m surprised, or that he did not deserve his fate.”

  “Nathan doesn’t deserve anything,” argued Priscilla.

  Mordred nodded.

  “I mean, he doesn’t deserve to have anything bad happen to him.”

  “He went to discover secrets about the Dark Arts,” said Mordred.

  “He deserves whatever he gets.”

  Everyone started arguing then, including Kristin, who didn’t even know Nathan but must have felt obligated to defend him since her BFF Priscilla seemed so adamant about it.

  “We shouldn’t be standing around arguing like this,” Greg finally said. “We need to go find this Dolzowt person and get Nathan back.”

  Mordred cackled. “And just how do you expect to get to the Netherworld?”

  “I don’t know,” said Greg. “Can’t you send me?”

  “Sorry. Your friend Nathan said I’m not supposed to use my magic, remember?”

  “He’s your friend too,” Lucky reminded him. “And how else can we get there?”

  “We?” said Mordred. “I don’t remember the prophecy saying anything about you going to the Netherworld.”

  “Yeah, well, it doesn’t say anything about Greg going, either.”

  “Which is precisely why neither of you should go.”


  “But we must,” Kristin said. “We owe it to Nathan.”

  Greg gazed at her dumbly, wondering how she could possibly owe anything to a man she’d never met.

  “Kristin’s right,” Melvin insisted.

  “Leave me alone,” she told him.

  “No, she is right,” said Greg. He stared defiantly at Mordred. “And even if you care nothing about Nathan, he has the Amulet of Ruuan with him. We don’t stand a chance against Hazel without it. If you won’t send us, then we’ll just have to hike there ourselves.” He looked to Lucky to see if this was even possible, as he had no idea what or where the Netherworld was.

  “I’m afraid that would be impossible,” Mordred said, confirming Greg’s suspicions. “You don’t have time. The Netherworld is months away, clear on the other side of the Styx.”

  Priscilla frowned. “But we have to go.” Her face brightened. “I know, Greg. You could use your ring to get us to Ruuan’s lair, and then we could walk to that portal Nathan showed us and be in the Styx within a day or so.”

  Greg remembered the portal she was talking about. It existed somewhere in the middle of a barren desert, completely undetectable to the human eye. Well, to everyone’s eye except Nathan’s.

  “You think you could find that portal Nathan showed us?” Melvin said. “I know I couldn’t.”

  “That’s where I come in,” said Lucky. “With my talent, I should be able to lead us out into the Barren Reaches and straight into that portal on my first try.”

  “That sounds like a reasonable plan,” said Mordred, his tone assuring just the opposite. “Then you’ll just need to walk for a month or so to the south side of the Styx . . . Oh, but the spirelings were going to be here tonight to help us launch an attack against Hazel. I would think you’d want to be here for that.”