The Missing Link

by David Tysdale

  The Missing Link

  The Lost Witch, Book 2

  By

  David Tysdale

  Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon

  2012

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-139-4

  ISBN 10: 1-60174-139-1

  The Missing Link

  Copyright © 2012 by David Tysdale

  Cover design

  Copyright © 2012 by Judith B. Glad

  Cover background photo: The Sombrero Galaxy in Infrared

  R. Kennicutt (Steward Obs.) et al., SSC, JPL, Caltech, NASA

  All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five (5) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Published by Uncial Press,

  an imprint of GCT, Inc.

  Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com

  To Ann, for her never-ending patience.

  --Prologue--

  The tiny pig stamped the ground. "Rit?"

  Thirteen-year-old Carole Sylphwood knelt beside him. "I've already told you why, Runt. It's too risky. The place is crawling with werewolves. Remember the one that nearly tore out Mariat's throat? Well they love pork even more! Besides, I'll only be gone the weekend."

  "Ret reet!"

  "Actually, it was Professor Philamount's decision but--" She squinted down the path. Two connector technicians had just come into view. "No time to argue. Get going, and remember to keep away from my parents."

  The pig trotted off with a flick of his tail.

  Carole dropped behind some tall grass and waited for the workers to walk past before darting into the connector field. Not that they were likely to follow, but why take a chance. She found the Nightshade connector pole where the professor said it would be, though he was nowhere in sight.

  She rested her forehead against the thick beam of wood. Had it really only been three months?

  Three months since she'd discovered she was a multitasker.

  Three months since she and Runt had set off from Earth on a crazy journey through shifting dimensions to repair the Hub, her true home.

  Three months of hell.

  True, for the first time in her life she actually had friends, but bringing the twins along with her hadn't done them any favors. They were as much outcasts here in the Hub as she was. And now this!

  What was Professor Philamount up to? For weeks he'd been arguing that she was too busy with school work to visit Hal, that transdimensional travel was still too dangerous. And now he'd turned around and sprung this trip on her.

  The Nightshade and Ghostly Spirit Realm not dangerous? Who did he think he was kidding? She sighed heavily.

  "Why have you not opened the portal, Miss Sylphwood?"

  She turned to see the tall, specterish man striding her way. "I was just waiting for you, professor."

  "And as you can see, I have arrived. Quickly now, the witches are waiting."

  Carole activated the connector link and watched the swirling vortex take shape. She followed the professor inside.

  --1--

  Lifting its muzzle, the creature howled to the sky. Thin and mangy, this werewolf possessed little of the muscle or grim determination of the beast that had stalked Carole Sylphwood only a few months ago. That animal had smashed through a heavy wooden door as if it were a row of matchsticks. Only the even more determined action of the thirty or so witch cats had saved her from the werewolf's frenzied jaws; that and the fact that her tutor, Professor Melodious T. Philamount, had tossed her from the second floor of Witch Hall. Carole was still a little miffed at Professor Philamount for treating her that way, even if as he had claimed, his actions had been perfectly justified and absolutely necessary.

  The werewolf reached the end of the false trail and nosed around uncertainly. It pawed the ground, sniffed the air, and then reared up on its hind legs. A large clump of summer hair fell from the beast's belly, revealing pasty gray skin beneath. It howled a second time.

  Despite its shabby and less than threatening appearance, Carole's skin began to crawl when the wolf turned her way. She pressed deeper into the rocks. A moment later the animal dropped back to all fours, gave one further disgruntled 'wuff,' and loped back into its cave.

  "You sure that was a smart thing to do?" she whispered, still eyeing the cave.

  "Pshaaw," her witchling friend, Mariat, teased. "T'aint ye the same multitasker that did play tag with dragons whose size be equal to Witch Hall?"

  "That was a little different. For one, I didn't throw rocks to wake them up."

  "Jest wanted to show ye we've no more to fear from the wolf." Mariat smiled. "Besides, Cleo be here to protect us all this time, even if that beast happened to be a smartish type and figured out our ruse." She ran her hand lovingly over the back of Cleopatra, her napping tortoiseshell cat.

  "No offence Mariat, but Cleo's just a little thing. Remember how many cats it took to stop that other werewolf?"

  "Last time be because of the Great Conundrum. Since ye did fix the dimensional fluxing, there be no more pesky werewolf problems, just lazy wolfs, such as that one gone back to his bed. It be plenty easy for one witch cat to chase him off, even if the cat be as small and graceful as Cleo."

  Carole shook her head. "I still can't believe it."

  "Do." Mariat patted Carole's arm. "Nowadays life arount here be plenty full of ease, thanks to ye."

  Carole smiled a little skeptically. "Is it the same with the Whistler and the Dark Wood?"

  "Oh we not go there. Still plenty of menace to those, even without the Conundrum stirring 'em up. They jest be normal dangers is all. That be why Westhill Coven comes back to the ole village site. Lesser dangers arount this place now than up north. What ye think of our ole place?"

  "I like it, at least I've seen. Too bad I can't stay more than the weekend."

  "Takes only three days fer brew to be brewed, and Philamount didst set it up with Herling on today past. Why did he not bring ye then?"

  "School."

  "Ye could stay a couple of days more, after brew's answer be given."

  "Philamount won't let me miss any classes. He already thinks there's been too large a break in my education."

  "But ye be a special multitasker from what I hear. Missing a day or two shouldn't be such a problem fer ye."

  "Who told you that?"

  "Head witch Herling talked about ye to 'nother coven witch, Brunstice." Mariat grinned conspiratorially. "I be listening behind a closed door at the time. They think that I be too much of a babe fer advanced magic, so I have to listen in now and again to learn certain parts of the trade. Quite a bother it be, too."

  Carole chuckled. "I suppose it could be."

  "So school not be the whole reason why ye not be allowed to stay."

  "There is more to it. Philamount doesn't want me multitasking without his permission."

  "Thinks he that ye still be a babe needing its hand held, after what ye already done on yerself fer all the dimensions?" Mariat's expression was incredulous.

  "No, I don't think that's it. Something else is going on."

  "What else?" Mar
iat got up from her belly and sat cross-legged.

  Carole followed Mariat's example, and rubbed the soreness from her elbows and knees. "That's just it, I don't know, but I seem to run into him in the weirdest of places."

  "He be a spying? What needs he be a spying fer? And why so crude with his methods? Plenty of ways to spy without needing to follow someone direct like."

  "And that white bush of hair is so obvious." Carole snickered. "Kind of hard to miss, if you know what I mean."

  Mariat snorted. "Like a signal fire, his hair be."

  "He's sworn me to secrecy about a lot of things too, especially about how I'm able to multitask. He doesn't want anyone to know I can free-fall, not even my parents."

  "Strange is that, fer sure. I wouldst have thought Philamount be most proud of yer victory deeds. Still, Herling puts plenty of trust in that old fraud, so might be ye listen to him fer a while yet, 'til ye figure more things out. 'Course if ye really want to know more about what be going on, maybe we can discover brew's answer to Philamount's question. Might be we do a little spying ourselfs."

  Carole chewed on her bottom lip. "I don't want to cause any trouble, but I am tired of being kept in the dark."

  "Be no trouble if we don't get caught."

  "Let me think about it," Carole said. "Are we about done here?"

  "Yup. This be only a simple demonstration to show ye how much has changed since ye done fix things at the Hub. I figured the werewolf be of most interest to ye."

  "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." Carole got up off the ground and rubbed the soreness out of her backside.

  Mariat picked up Cleopatra and draped the cat over her shoulders. Carole handed Mariat her broom and straddled behind, gripping the witchling's waist firmly as the wood sprang to life. With barely a whisper of air, they lifted swiftly into the morning sky.

  Mariat leveled out at about a hundred feet up and began to carve lazy arcs through the air. After a time she pointed her broom directly towards the Westhill Coven. The crag lands fell away, and soon they were racing over a patchwork of bronze and flaxen fields; crops ready for the harvest, and crops already harvested.

  "This be the best season fer growing that I can remember," Mariat said over the sound of the wind. "Probably ye be responsible for that, too."

  A meandering stream, sparkling in the morning light, flashed beneath and Mariat altered course to fall in line with the water. Soon a number of squat buildings appeared on the horizon, most clustered around the stream and its destination, a shimmering lake of pthalo blue. As Mariat overtook the buildings and shot above the lake, Carole saw numerous sparks of color flicker away from the shadow they were casting on the surface of the water. The witchling banked hard, dropped altitude and swung back towards shore. She came to a gentle landing on a tiny spit of sand.

  As soon as they were back on the ground, Cleopatra slipped from Mariat's shoulders and vanished amongst the reeds and grasses of the shoreline.

  The Westhill community was bustling with activity. Everywhere she looked Carole saw witches coming and going from buildings or working in the nearby fields. Watching the commotion, she felt herself a bubble of idleness awash in a sea of busyness. A guilty bubble. "Shouldn't we be helping out?"

  "Ye be my chore." Mariat beamed. "Herling gives me special instructions to keep ye from working 'cause of all ye have already done for us of the Nightshade and Ghostly Spirit Realm. Maybe I also be picked 'cause I put my life in the way of that pesky werewolf. Remember?"

  "One of your more stupid ideas."

  "Not stupid at all. It be exactly what Herling did order. So, what should we do next?"

  "Why not show me around the place. You whisked me out of here so fast this morning, I hardly saw anything of the village."

  "Fair enough. Come this-a-ways."

  Mariat led Carole along a well-used path through windswept grasses to a building nearest the lake but farthest from the other structures. Inside, Carole saw an austere though well maintained dorm. One side of the short entranceway opened into a modest common room outfitted with a fireplace and a few pillowed, willow cane chairs. Across from the common area were a number of doors.

  "Those be the rooms of other witchlings. They be more advanced in age and spell lore as well, but between ye and me Carole, they be not so greatly advanced... specially Lucreta. She be more interested in making potions to smell pretty fer the boys from the village." Mariat wrinkled her nose. "I don't think Lucreta truly be the stuff of Westhill Coven. More likely she be the stuff fer brooding and breeding."

  "Lucreta?"

  "Lucreta be next to me in age by three or four turns, but I still be better at spell casting and broom flying than she, and she knows it. She be always on my back fer one thing or another. Always trying to blame me fer when things go wrong, too, even when I not be the cause. But I get even." Mariat snickered.

  "What's so funny?"

  The witchling put a finger to her lips, and ran to look out the front door. Next she pressed her ear to each dorm door in turn. Satisfied that they were truly alone, she pulled Carole deeper into the common room and whispered, "Once, Lucreta be so cantankerous to me that I consider living with pesky werewolves better than in the same dorm as she. So I set out to learn a spell that be beyond the skill of any witchling in this here coven. It took a bothersome long time, too, but eventually I learned it, and learned it well.

  "Then I waited fer the next big feasting celebration, 'cause that be when Lucreta pretties herself up for the village boys. And jest afore she leaves fer the party, I cast a deceptive hex over her, so that she goes to the big hall not knowing that she be looking all frumpish and foul." Mariat giggled wickedly. "I ran through the fields fast to get to the feast afore Lucreta, so's I can see the results and so's I not get blamed for trickstering, and, and..." She doubled over with laughter. "Lucreta struts into the hall thinking she be the prettiest 'Maid of Blossoms,' but the boys all take one look and begin screaming and running. It be pure pandemonium!"

  "You devil! What happened after?"

  "Oh, the boys still be screaming with fright but the witches and village elders be howling with laughter. Even Head Witch Herling, though she be trying to calm everyone down, be trying not to laugh her head off at the same time. Herling worked to cast a counter spell to take off my deception, but I did it well and it not be so easy, even fer her. Eventually though, with the help of other witches, they removed the hex and the celebration returned to normal."

  "Lucreta too? Did she stay for the party?"

  "She too, but no boy went near her fer the rest of the night."

  "Did she find out it was you?"

  "Nope. Well, mostly not. Lucreta be dying to blame me, but Herling says such a spell be beyond most witches let alone a mere witchling. Herling knows it be me, though."

  "She does?"

  "The day next, Herling gives me a huge extra chore. I had to sweep out all the flour dust from the mill house: floors, windows, beams and all. It took me the entire day, and after that I be so covered with flour that I look as white as a spectrish ghost."

  "Did Herling actually say she knew?"

  "Not direct to my face, but when she handed me the sweeping broom, she cracks a little smile and says, 'Some witchlings got too much time on their hands fer their own good.'"

  "That was all she said?"

  "Yup. Herling knows Lucreta be intolerable to me fer a long time and that she had it coming. And I think maybe she also be a little proud I be able to cast a tough spell as such."

  "Did Lucreta try to get even with you?"

  "Nope, opposite in fact. Lucreta not be so bothersome anymore."

  Carole grinned. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

  "Never you, Carole. We be the bestest friends, always."

  "So which is your room?"

  "It not be down here. Only older witchlings be on the first floor. I live upstairs, where it be more austere and communal like. It be all part of Westhil
l training. Work afore play."

  Mariat went to the door farthest from the fireplace and knocked loudly. She listened for a moment before dropping to her belly and squinting underneath. Getting back up, she opened the door a crack. "This be Lucreta's room," she offered as an explanation.

  Mariat peered inside for a moment before she cackled mischievously, "Gots ye." She reached in and did something Carole couldn't see. "Come and look."

  Carole looked at the door and frame, but saw nothing of interest. She gave Mariat a puzzled glance.

  "Look closer."

  Carole studied the doorway more closely. Hanging on the frame, in the middle of its partially collapsed web, was a tiny and nearly transparent spider. She relaxed her vision to sense the energies around the frame. "I don't see anything except that spider."

  "That be it," Mariat beamed at Carole.

  "The spider?"

  "It be the trap Lucreta set to catch me a-snooping."

  Carole studied the spider with greater interest. "It looks like a regular spider to me."

  "Tis so, but Lucreta did spell it to spin its web arount the door frame, so if'n I open the door, the web breaks. That way Lucreta knows her room's been a-snooped, and figures it be me."

  "Why you?"

  "The other witchlings care not a fig 'bout what magic she has in her room, as they all be more advanced with their training. I be the only witchling with less training than Lucreta."

  "But you just broke the web, so now Lucreta will know."

  "Not be broke, jest be detached. When we leave, I hooks it back to the door and Lucreta be none the wiser. Come on in."

  Carole hesitated. "We shouldn't. It's not right. You really are wicked, Mariat."

  "Door not be locked. Besides, it be necessary." Lucreta grabbed Carole's arm and pulled her through the doorway.

  The room was dripping with living floral garlands. Flowering vines were wrapped around the window frame, the doorframe, the bed frame and the legs of the desk. Ivy grew up the walls, hung from the ceiling and cascaded down Lucreta's oak wardrobe. There was very little in the room that didn't have a blossom or leaf of some sort attached to it.