by Paul Kater
Hilda – The Challenge
by Paul Kater
Published by the author at Smashwords - Copyright 2010 Paul Kater
License Notes, Smashwords Edition:
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Contents:
1. The challenge
2. Mountain view
3. Rocky mountains
4. And so we meet again
5. Flying business
6. Wine and dine
7. Household hassle
8. Making the rounds
9. Gerdundula
10. Bestest girlfriend
11. What to do with William?
12. Making things work
13. Mirror Lake
14. Splashes and books
15. Cookery
16. Low down couch
17. I'll make breakfast
18. Visits
19. Good old house
20. Wake-up call
21. It's alive
22. The village
23. Gurthreyn
24. Did I wand this?
25. It's magic
26. Empty your mind
27. I fly
28. Second nature
29. Protection
30. Things that go bahhh
31. Home improvement
32. Missing
33. Coffee
34. Power of books
35. Protect thyself (1)
36. Protect thyself (2)
37. Trip to Gurthreyn
38. Solo rounds
39. Responsibilities
40. The plan (1)
41. The plan (2)
42. The plan (3)
43. The action unfolds
44. The cook
45. And now it's our turn
46. Our turn
47. Eye-quill coordination
48. Books and magic
49. Meeting Lamador
50. The first challenge
51. The aftermath
52. Goose
53. Beginning the journey
54. Pegasus
55. King Herald
56. Back home
57. Shopping
58. Gurthreyn's Secret
59. Rock bottom
60. Gurthreyn once more
61. Message from the king
62. Howler
63. Ghost
64. Bustin' makes me feel good
65. No buts or maybe's
66. Challenge (1)
67. Challenge (2)
68. Challenge (3)
69. Scared of heights
About the author
Other books by this author
1. The challenge
A piece of paper went up in smoke. It had travelled over many miles and even more bows. The arrow it had been tied to was in a deplorable state as it reached the intended recipient of the note.
"They just don't get it," the wicked witched sighed as she picked up her tea-cup.
The goldfish did not react, they had heard this often enough and knew what was coming.
"They keep at it like the rabbits and each time they try to make me wild about the idea of becoming a Godmother. Me!"
The paper had carried the seal of prince Jordan and princess Snow-White and revealed that their fourth child had been born.
"Good luck with that menagerie," Hilda muttered, "I am not cut out to be a Godmother. We have plenty of witches available that are up for that task. But not me."
The witch took a sip of her tea. "Perhaps they should ask Magrat Garlick. Now there's a thought!" She laughed out loud at her own joke.
The goldfish frowned at each other. This was a new one, but they did not know Magrat.
Twok.
Hilda looked annoyed. "Another letter? Can't a witch get some peace and quiet in the morning..."
"This one is important," said the house. Since it had been painted it was much more talkative, and Hilda sometimes wished it would pipe down a bit.
"So now we're reading other people's mail, eh?" She hoisted herself to her feet and headed to the door. She gave way to the yawn, then opened the door and yanked the arrow out.
The door closed itself as she went back to the table. Hilda picked the paper from the arrow and started reading. As she reached the end of the note, she compacted her entire assortment of feelings about it into one word. "Crap."
The note was from king Herald, her longtime adversary. He had once more sent her a challenge, to get into the arena against Lamador, his sorceror. A challenge, as usual, to the death. And as usual, Hilda did not feel up to that. Death was interesting, but only if she herself was just indirectly involved.
"Now how am I going to handle that this time..." A challenge like this had reached her more than once already, and Hilda would not be Hilda if she did not try to think of a new way to counter it.
A dirtroad, in a place that many would consider no man's land. The road consisted mainly of sand, light brown, mixed with pebbles and rocks. On either side of the road there was the promise of grass, but it looked like a promise that nature could not keep. There had not been enough rain in the past weeks for anything but the trees to survive with relative ease.
The trees had suffered from the lack of precipitation also, as many of their leaves had turned yellow and were curling up, as if to protect themselves from the merciless sun that did not want to relinquish, not even for a day.
A man sat with his back against one of the trees. Sunlight was falling on the item in his hands. He was reading a large book, bound in leather. It was not merely large, it was also old. Originally there had been large letters on the leather, in gold foil, applied by hand as far as the man knew. Now there were only faint traces of the gold remaining, and only the difference in colour on the leather showed the words, as the influence of daylight had changed the leather's appearance where the gold foil had not protected it.
For the man that held it, it was a book full of power, as it talked about magic. That was one of the reasons why he treasured the book. It had cost him a lot to acquire it, and the magic in it had helped him come through many a difficult day and night.
He ate some of his food, he drank some of his water too. Before reading on however, he carefully cleaned his fingers. The paper that the pages were made of was old and many of the pages were already stained, he did not want to add to that. The book was too precious to get more smears. The words in the old book were hard to read, so he had to trace every line with his finger as not to lose the spot to where he had progressed.
The man moved his lips in silence as he read a magical spell that was in the book. With an uncertain grin and an unbelieving shake of his head he read the spell again and said it out loud. Then, with baited breath, he waited.
"I never thought it would work," he then admitted to himself, a grin following the words. "I am not made of the proper magical stuff for things like this. I'll have to contend myself with my own forms of magic, common as they may be."
Carefully he closed the book and took the silk scarf that he had bought especially for it. He wrapped it around the book and shoved the package in a leather pouch that was decorated with a few stars and pentacles. There was time for a little nap before he had to go on.
Hilda paced the room. There had to be a way around this challenge. Taking it on was not on her mind. The 'to the death' part still bothered her, for obvious reasons. Perhaps, she suddenly thought, the way to do this was by being creative with the message. It was written in a very compact way, which usually meant nothing more than it said. And
exactly this could be turned into an advantage.
She tapped the paper, where it said 'to the death'. One thing was however not specified. It did not say whose death.
2. Mountain view
Hilda sat in front of her magical mirror and looked at the affairs that were happening in the kingdom of king Walt.
Walt himself had music playing and was watching his dancing wife. He never got enough of that, it seemed. The queen had gotten fed up with it long ago, actually on the same day that she had gotten her nice diamond shoes from Walt.
The seven dwarfs were working in their mines again as usual, with no more interruptions from aforementioned queen.
Johan, the mirror-maker was merrily making mirrors in his shop.
"Everything its usual boring self," she concluded. That was a good thing, as she had something pressing on her mind. The challenge.
A challenge was a very personal thing. It was not done to consult another witch on something like that, as that would be unfair towards the challenging party.
Hilda took her crystal ball and sat down to talk to her girlfriend, Baba Yaga.
"Hilly baby, what is the matter this morning?", the cackling voice rang through the room, as the ugly face of Baba Yaga appeared in the ball.
"I got challenged again."
"Oh dear. Same guy?" Baba Yaga looked worried, and with reason. Lamador, king Herald's sorcerer, was getting stronger and stronger. Each time he challenged Hilda it became more difficult for the wicked witch to get out of it alive and in one piece. The last challenge had almost cost Hilda her life.
"Yup. Lamador again. And again he specifically wrote in the note that it would be to the death. And from the excitement in the handwriting I sense that he means friggin' serious business this time. He wants my ass, Babs."
"Damn, girl, I wish that was all he wants. From what I heard he's not looking bad." Baba Yaga frowned. This was seriously bad news.
"Babs..."
"Yeah, I know, Hilly. Sorry, but a dirty mind is a joy forever."
Hilda could not help but chuckle over that remark. "And you know like no one else, I am sure of that. I hope I can call on you if there is something becoming more clear about the challenge, Babs."
"Of course, kiddo, just get in touch and we'll try to work something out. Maybe we can also shanghai Strega. I know she doesn't have a problem with bending the rules slightly concerning challenges."
Hilda felt good about that. Friends were just great. "Thanks, girlfriend. I'll let you know."
"Take care, Hilda." Baba Yaga's face was very serious when she ended the conversation.
The wicked witch got up and started pacing through her room again. The challenge worried her, much more than previous times.
Memories of the last one swam in front of her eyes, in technicolor and monophonic sound. The challenge had been set up in a labyrinth of dungeons, where black dragons, ghouls and all kinds of crawly creepies were going round. There would be nothing wrong with that of course, if the creatures would have hindered Lamador as much as Hilda. She, however, had been busy fighting off cartloads of them, while Lamador was sneaking up from behind, through a secret passageway that he had created (very illegal, that move had cost him four points).
It had been sheer luck that one of the black dragons had taken a running leap and misjudged its distance to get to Hilda. It had overshot its target, fell on the floor close to Lamador and its bulk had slammed the sorcerer into the wall before he could launch the fatal attack on Hilda. This had been the end of that challenge, as there were only a few bones in Lamador's body that had not been not broken by the surprise the black dragon had bestowed upon him.
Afterwards Lamador had sulked for weeks, as the dragon had not only broken most of the sorcerer, but also his favourite wand.
The judges had called the challenge a draw, Hilda remembered and became furious about that decision once again. She had clearly been on the winning hand, she was convinced of that. There had only been three more long corridors filled with unpleasant creatures she would have had to take out. And some twnety-four dragons. And a small army of ghouls. And Lamador, of course.
More and more angry about the whole thing, she grabbed a broom, charged outside and shot into the air as a raging bullet.
"Bye bye," said the house, "and be careful."
Less than a minute later Hilda was back.
"That was quick," said the house.
"Shut up, just forgot something," the wicked witch growled, ran in, grabbed her crystal ball, and ran out again stuffing the object in a pocket of her cloak. Then she flew off again, cloak flapping.
"She's really got it bad," the door mumbled, closing the door.
Inside the house, a cup with two goldfish on, disagreed with the house. "She needs it bad. We've been saying that for ages."
Hilda was not aware of the fact that she was the subject of discussion between her house and her teacup. She was heading for the mountains. And that in more than one way. Yes, she was on the run, but she was also going towards the mountains that were in the east of king Walt's realm. Nobody in their sane mind went there, as it was known that there be witches.
The joke was, of course, that there was only one witch in the mountains, being Hilda, and she had brought the rumour to life herself. She was not there full-time, but wanted that area as a retreat if she wanted to think. Or try out new stuff. Or, occasionally, sit there and be scared for a while. Now was one of these occasions.
She landed her broom on a high peak. The view from there, she knew, was breathtaking. The wind however was breathtaking too today. Not being a feeble little witch, Hilda magicked up a chair and was determined to sit and enjoy the mountain view, but before she could sit down, the wind had taken the chair away and was toying with it. Hilda stared at the object plummeting into the depths as it was on its very erratic course.
"Not a good start," the wicked witch tried to say, but even her words fell victim to the wind's playful mood. It obviously was smarter to find a location that would not eventually rip all clothes from her body.
It was a tricky lift-off, against the wind, but Hilda was practically born and raised on a broom. She made it to the lower plain, a shielded plateau almost a quarter mile long with steep rocky walls around it. Granted, the view was not as stunning here, but being able to breathe was worth the compromise.
She magicked up a new chair, one that remained in place. She sat down on it. Wiggled her behind a few times to make sure it was stable. Nodded.
Hilda popped out her wand and arranged for a table with some hot tea and cupcakes. There also was a small red cushion on which she placed her crystal ball. It was essential now. She was determined to contact a few people that might have tips for her.
The teapot had filled a cup for her and she picked it up. Sipping and thinking in silence, her eyes wandered over the rocks, the high peaks around. It was good to sit here.
Suddenly her crystal ball sang to her.
Curious who that could be, Hilda put down her tea and waved over the ball. "Talk to me," she invited the caller.
"Hello," a very sophisticated voice said as the emblem of a very prominent school for witchcraft and magic appeared in the ball. "I would like to know why Tommy has not reported in. His classes have started already."
The wicked witch grinned. "Well, maybe because I ate him," she said to the emblem.
"Oh. Really. How inconvenient. I will take this down and relay the information. Thank you."
The emblem faded and Hilda snickered. "Stupid person, not knowing how to contact someone." There could be no mercy for people like that.
3. Rocky mountains
"Bert? It's me, William. I am making tracks. If all keeps going as well as it does now, I should make it in time."
Bert Bantrey, bookshop-owner, was pleased to hear William's voice. "William, good to hear that. I am looking forward to seeing you again. As I said before, I have some real treasures here, you will be very happy to get your hands on them."
William Connoley was driving down the road, his face slightly burnt from the sunshine. The break he had taken, sitting in the sunshine and eating his lunch, had left its traces.
"I'll have a look after dinner, Bert, for now it is still quite a number of miles I have to travel. Would you care to reveal where or what we are going to eat?"
Bert laughed. "Of course, since you ask. There is a new Greek restaurant in town since a while, and I have been sampling their menu. It is exquisite, as is their wine chart."
That was William's cue to laugh, recognising one of the small vices of his friend. "Well, you'd better make sure you do not drink them dry before we've been there, Bert. I'll call you again when I am able to tell you more precisely when I will arrive."
"That's fine, William. We'll talk again. Drive carefully."
William grinned. Bert never changed.
Hilda had spoken to several witches. All fine women. She had spoken with the few warlocks she knew that might have tips for her. The list with ideas was well-filled, but she had not scratched away the double ones. Or the ridiculous ones. Okay, the ridiculous ones could stay for a while, as she was in a very strange situation once again.
As she read the list once more, a feeling of unease came over her. It was unease mixed with feeling underpowered. And that was a bad combination.
"Isn't there fucking no one who can help me?", she shouted out to the crystal ball. In a suddenly manifesting frenzy Hilda the witch jumped up from her chair and cast an enraged ball of magical fire towards one of the far steep mountainsides. "I can't face this crap alone!"
Her words were lost in the thunder that erupted from the rocks as her spell, cast in anger and fear, hit. The mere impact already made the mountain shake, but the blast of fire and magic that were comprised in the bolt had an even greater effect. Several hundred yards high, the top of the mountain trembled.
The pressure of the blast lashed back to where there was space. It did not mind that there was also Hilda who was not paying attention. The witch was pushed away as if she was a feather, as were the chair and the table including its contents. Cupcakes flew everywhere. The large pillar of massive stone moaned as chipped-off fragments weighing several tons came thrashing downwards, making the solid ground shake even more.
