by A C Gogolski
“I’m not alone. Gadnik is here, and I have my kiddies.” Evelyn pouted. She sucked her bleeding thumb. “Did you really come back to be my friend?”
“I never left. Anyway, who else would read to me?”
“You want me to read something?” Evelyn asked. A sudden generosity grew out of her conceit. In a moment she had a book on her lap, flipping busily through the pages. “This one I love: it’s about sisters who run away from their wicked stepmother and find the secret stairway to Ramahindra.”
As Evelyn began to read, Nell settled on the floor beside the bed, letting a cat curl on her lap. Gadnik set down the serving tray and leaned against the wall. Nell watched him as they listened to the tale. He stood transfixed by the sound of Evelyn’s voice, moving only occasionally to scratch the black welt below his neck. Nell decided the man had a kind look to him after all: a soft, chinless face, drooping shoulders and mouse colored hair. His vacant eyes and wound were still unsettling though.
After three long stories, it seemed to Nell that Evelyn had been sufficiently placated. Besides, she was bored and feeling stiff from sitting on the floor. “Why don’t we do something different now? Let’s go outside.”
“I can’t go outside. Mummy Ann says the birds will eat me.”
“You’ve never been outside?” Nell couldn’t contain her shock. “Remember when I came?” she asked. “The birds didn’t eat me. Come on, let’s go into the courtyard, it looks like the rain is gone.”
Hesitantly, Evelyn allowed Nell to take her by the hand, talking all the while about the things that her Mummy said were dangerous. Running around, taking off her chain, opening windows, and going outside were highest on the list. They came to an arch of daylight opening out to the center courtyard of the keep. The stained glass windows and magical torches of the palace constantly bathed the interior in a queer, stifling light, and Nell was relieved to see real sunlight again. Cool sea air wafted in through the opening, stirring her hair and enticing her out into the bright day. The crumbling exterior of the doorway was in sharp contrast to the finely worked serpent carvings just inside of the arch. Which was the illusion? Nell wondered.
The door was very near the base of the fallen tower that Nell climbed several days ago. Outside, a hundred yeffel gulls hopped and scooted about on the stones, snapping their serrated bills at each other. Evelyn squeezed Nell’s hand at the sight of them. “We shouldn’t go out there. The birds,” she said.
Rolling her eyes, Nell extracted her hand and strode out into the warm morning sun. “Come on Evelyn! They’re just birds. We can go and sit by the water. Have you ever touched seaweed before?” She hadn’t taken five steps when the gulls began squawking. Several dozen pumped into the air, and in an instant the courtyard exploded in a blur of wings and beaks. “Whoops,” Nell said with a nervous laugh. She hurried back through the doorway. It seemed Rhiannon wasn’t kidding about the gulls. “I guess they don’t like me so much today.”
“I told you! They’ll carry you off and toss you in the water, and then they’ll come after me!” Evelyn swayed on her feet, pale and breathing fast. The events of the morning were more than enough excitement for her. They spent the rest of the day safe with Evelyn’s herd of cats, drinking honeyed milk and eating scones.
Perhaps to regain some measure of self-confidence, the plump girl took to boasting about all the extraordinary places that Mummy Ann had visited. She insisted on digging up trinkets and gifts brought back from the sorceress’ adventures. There was the tip of a unicorn’s horn from the plains of the distant east, wobbly jade dolls that opened to reveal smaller and smaller copies of themselves, and a water-globe containing a miniature kingdom within. It played an eerie melody when Evelyn wound it. Nell could have listened to it for hours, watching its snowy sparkles swirl about. “But this one is my favorite,” Evelyn interrupted. “It’s worth the price of a hundred horses, Mummy Ann says so.” She handed Nell a finely detailed weaving done in silk. It showed a gold serpent flying through a portal in the sky, surrounded by a current of pastel clouds.
To Nell’s eye, it didn’t look all that special. Besides, Evelyn’s endless boasts had nettled something in her, and her annoyance finally frothed. “I met a dragon once, and that’s not what they look like.”
“You did not. A dragon would eat you.” Evelyn spoke as though the matter were final.
Further irked by Evelyn’s tone, Nell said, “You’re so sheltered. You don’t even know that dragons ask questions before they eat you. He asked me about my magic.”
“Magic? You don’t have any magic,” Evelyn sneered. “Only I have magic. Me and Mummy Ann. She’s going to make me a sorceress like her someday.”
Nell casually tossed the fine silk tapestry on the bed. “Yes I do, it’s Wealding magic. I can reach out to plants, sort of talk to them, and help them to…”
“That’s stupid,” Evelyn cut her off. “Who cares about plants?” To prove her point, she ripped a handful of leaves from the vine hanging overhead. “I can send things away, make them disappear,” she tossed the Wisteria leaves in the air. “Mummy taught me how to, just in case trouble ever showed up.” Her sunken eyes glinted at Nell.
Nell knew what she was thinking. Before she could say something to divert Evelyn’s train of thought, however, a high-pitched whistling rose from outside. “What’s that noise?” Nell asked.
“That’s Mummy Ann, she flies here from her castle. Look,” Evelyn pointed out the window at the keep perched on the cliffs across the sea. A black smoking arrow raced over the water, bisecting the bands of white cloud that striped the sky.
“Rhiannon!” The sorceress made frequent visits for her pearl! Nell had to shake off the surprise at having forgotten this. “Evelyn, you can’t tell her that you saw me today! Promise me that you won’t tell.” The whistle grew piercing as a ruddy light bathed the windows. Nell dashed around the room, looking for a place to hide. “Evelyn, please promise – we’ll both get in trouble!”
“Why should I?” she whined.
“Please! Just believe me!” With that Nell dove under the tangled covers of Evelyn’s enormous bed.
In another moment, the air tingled and Nell heard Rhiannon’s hoarse cough. “Have you been feeding Gadnik again, child? He’s not to eat with you,” the witch said.
Nell’s heart raced as she remembered the cups and plates left over from their afternoon snack – of course Rhiannon would notice them. “No,” Evelyn said after a long pause.
“Hmmmph. Well,” remarked Rhiannon, looking Evelyn over. “You’re a bit flushed dear. Did you walk about today?” Her kindly, counterfeit voice made Nell’s stomach turn. Evelyn trusted the crone – was completely under her spell. It wouldn’t take much to be found out. She peered out from under the heavy covers, holding her breath.
“I went to look at the birds.”
“You know they are dangerous, child,” said Rhiannon. “Stay away from the doors. Mummy doesn’t want your beautiful eyes getting poked out.” Gently the sorceress unclasped the pearl around Evelyn’s neck. “Here. Another pretty pearl for my pretty girl.” She handed Evelyn an exact replica of the stone and chain.
“Mummy, I want Wealding magic,” Evelyn suddenly demanded. Nell gritted her teeth at the words. There was no hope for her now.
“Hmm? Gach—” A long coughing fit seized Rhiannon before she could say anything more. Nell began to sweat beneath the blankets, struggling to keep still. When the fit passed, Rhiannon asked, “Whatever put that in your mind?” Her words were neutral, yet her tone betrayed more than simple curiosity.
“Nell told me. She can talk to plants and I want to talk to plants too!”
The Widow of the Sea was silent for a moment. “Nell again. That child was a bad influence upon you. She’s sick with lies – like the rest of the world. Lucky I sent her away for good, so you’ll never see her again.”
Evelyn’s face darkened. Never before had she suspected Mummy Ann of duplicity, but the obvious untruth hanging in t
he air stabbed like a pin in her chest. The witch continued lightly, “The Wealding Word would be of no use to you here. But I can teach you a different Word, perhaps for your birthday. Would you like to know how to conjure snacks for yourself?”
Evelyn scowled. “That’s servant magic. I want to talk to plants.”
Rhiannon’s eyes blazed. “Someday Gadnik will be gone, my pet. What if you get a little sister or brother, hmm? ‘Servant magic,’ as you call it, will be very useful for you to know.” Another wracking cough took her breath for a moment. “Now I must go below and tend to my chamber. No more talk of Wealding. Whatever that foolish scamp told you, put it from your mind.” Her voice was as cold and unbending as iron. “Your place is here, safe from the world. In time I will teach you all the Words you need to know.” She scuffed to the door, clutching the chain to her chest. In another moment, she was the gentle grandmother again. Just before leaving she sang, “I have a hundred new books for you – lovely ones with pictures. Be a good girl and I’ll send them in a few days. Goodnight child.”
Nell popped her head from the covers as soon as the doors closed. Her dark hair was plastered to her forehead. “Why did you tell her about the Wealding Word?”
Evelyn sniffed. “I’m princess of the island. I should be able to do anything you can. Even dumb Gadnik knows more magic than me. I want your magic word!”
“But I can’t give it to you. I don’t know how, I’m not a sorceress.” Nell slid from the bed. The crone was close, and she could only hope Rhiannon didn’t plan to check in on her today. “I have to go. Remember, you can’t tell Mummy Ann about me – it’s our secret.”
Evelyn crossed her arms. “Only if you promise to teach me magic. Any word I want.”
Nell groaned at the ridiculous demand. “Alright! I promise. But you can never tell Mummy that I can get free. Promise?” She fretted knowing the sorceress could return at any time.
Evelyn casually picked up one of the cats mewing nearby. She fawned over it with a sly smile, but said nothing.
Exasperated, Nell took off down the hall.
CHAPTER 23
THE CHAMBER BENEATH
There in the ruins, amid a sea of deadly strangleweed, the girls passed their days in relative comfort. Rhiannon returned several more times, but somehow Evelyn managed to keep quiet about her secret companion. When the witch whisked herself to the fortress, Nell either hid, or was already safe in her own room. She always thought to ask Gadnik for something when Rhiannon visited, so he would lock her door again, just in case. The old crone showed no interest in Nell, however, coming only to exchange pearls with Evelyn.
“Why does Rhiannon bring you pearls?” Nell asked Evelyn one day. They were poking about in the large library, looking for books with the scariest pictures.
“Because she likes them – I don’t know,” Evelyn said. “Oh, how about this one?” She put another book on top of the pile that Nell held. It was about a war that happened long ago, and had the grim aftermath of a battle sketched within.
While Evelyn scanned titles, Nell inspected the many portraits and paintings hung between the shelves. One in particular drew her attention: it was the profile of an ugly creature, half horse and half deer, with huge black antlers and empty eyes. Beside it stood a man with a smudged-out face. Nell set down the stack of books to get a closer look. She hadn’t thought of the gray beast for many months, but she recognized the look of it with chilling certainty. “What’s this picture of?”
Evelyn moseyed over to join her. Pointing up at the black-antlered creature, she said, “That’s a Nightmare; and the other one is a Gabboc: a mocking-beast. It can change its form to look like any man, that’s why it doesn’t have a face. Supposedly they are a pair.”
Nell shuddered at the sight of them. “Don’t you think they’re creepy? Why would anyone have a painting of them?” The background scene depicted a many-columned shrine on a hill. The sun in the picture was a small, dismal thing, half covered by an opal disc.
“A little creepy, I guess. Mummy has all sorts of paintings,” Evelyn said. She slapped another book closed, “I can’t find anything good here. I want to do something fun.” It was late afternoon, and Rhiannon had visited in the morning. Since flying over the sea exhausted the Widow, she never made the trip more than she had to, and that meant the girls were free to do as they pleased today.
“Well this isn’t a very fun place. We can’t even go outside,” Nell complained. They left the library and strolled down the hall, coming to stop before the pair of large iron doors. Black skulls peered down from the corners. A scaly serpent with three tail-chasing heads spiraled from the lock in the center. Nell eyed it speculatively. “I bet we can find something scary in there.”
“I’m not allowed,” Evelyn said.
Nell rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who wants to do something fun. Wouldn’t it be fun to know where Rhiannon goes with your pearls?”
“I guess,” Evelyn said, pruning her lips in an attempt to muster some courage. “But it’s locked. Only Mummy has the key.”
Nell gripped her candlestone. “Maybe Swsty can help us.” As always, the marble was warm, trembling with a life of its own. She held it up to the lock and then gently pushed. The left door swung open with a creak, cold air gushing from the depths beyond. Both girls looked at each other, grinning nervously. Inside, stairs led steeply downward. Nell leaned her head through the entryway, holding the stone up for light. As she stepped in, Evelyn twitched violently behind her. It was as if the girl’s body tried to move in two directions at once.
“I… We shouldn’t… But… I-I’m coming too!” Climbing atop a chair, Evelyn slid a torch from its sconce. Then, hand in hand the girls descended the stone steps, into the darkness beneath the keep.
The ground at the bottom squished when they walked on it. Pale, dried grasses lay all about, as though at one time there was sunlight enough down there for something to grow. Now all was dead and rotting.
Nell looked up at the doorway atop the stairs. She knew this was no ordinary cellar they had discovered. The chamber seemed to be one vast, open space, with no ceiling or walls to be seen. In fact, it felt like they were standing outside on a starless night, rather than in a dungeon. “I don’t like it here,” Nell said, feeling the Word resonate in the pit of her belly. “This place is kind of familiar, but it’s all wrong. Maybe we should go back up.” She placed her foot upon the bottom stair.
Evelyn’s sunken eyes kindled at Nell’s reluctance. “What, are you scared? Mummy Ann comes down here all the time. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“But she’s a sorceress,” Nell said, still standing on the step.
“And so am I,” Evelyn proclaimed. “If something bad comes after us, I’ll send it away.” Smoothing the folds of her silk dress, she glanced about. “Look! There’s a light over there. Let’s see what it is.”
Nell feared a threat worse than kittens here in the private domain of the sorceress; but there was no arguing with Evelyn. After a moment, she could see the light too – orange like a bonfire. Haggard trees leaned over them, their limbs naked and sagging. The place was a distortion, and the wet, bubbling ground reminded Nell of the sore upon Gadnik’s chest. Soon the stairs back to the keep were lost behind trees and mist.
When the girls reached the source of the light, they discovered a cistern of sorts, filled to the brim with undulating water. In fact, it was almost an exact replica of the well that Nell had fallen into, except the stones of this one were each inscribed with a glimmering sigil.
They peered over the side of the well and saw a restless orange light changing shape beneath the water. They stared down, watching its endless dance, wondering what it was. Finally Nell turned away, holding her candlestone high to find their path. “We should go back to the stairs. I don’t like it here.”
Evelyn became more daring at every sign of weakness on Nell’s part. Ignoring Nell, she said, “How do you think Mummy Ann got a fire to burn at the
bottom of a well? Let’s throw something in there.” The folds of her prim white dress reflected the glow of the cistern like the orange edges of a charred sheaf of paper.
“That’s not a good idea,” Nell said. “We don’t know what we’re doing.” Inside, she attempted to quiet herself, letting the silence of the Word separate her from her fear. There was no life that she could feel down here, the musty landscape was dead all around. But Nell could sense a powerful magic about the place – spikes and whips of sound threatening to puncture her brain. “We should go,” she said again.
Heedless, Evelyn reached up and grabbed one of the bows fastening her braids. She tossed it into the water with a flick of her wrist, and the flame below calmed to a steady pulse.
“Why did you do that?” Nell gasped.
“I’m a sorceress, and this is my wishing well. I wish I had all of Mummy Ann’s magic, and the Wealding Word too,” she intoned.
Fascinated, Nell looked on as the floating ribbon began to swirl. “I don’t think it’s a wishing well.”
“Shhh!”
The runes lining the cistern pulsed in time with the flame. Then with a crackle, the ribbon fused into the water and the surface darkened. Shapes wavered up from below. A scene appeared, and it was as though the girls were looking down from a balcony onto a silent play. Nell saw Rhiannon, old and bent, but not quite as decrepit as Nell remembered her. The sorceress carried a baby swaddled in pink blankets. It wailed mutely as Rhiannon inspected its face, finally kissing its forehead with her hairy lips. She handed the baby to a man no older than Ward. Around his neck he wore a silver chain with a pearl attached to it.
“Is that… Gadnik?” Nell asked. Evelyn made no reply.
Though his eyes were sunken, the young Gadnik looked alert and happy in the scene. He took the baby and drew her close to his shoulder. Just then a ripple disturbed the image, and a series of scenes came and went in quick succession. There was Gadnik changing a diaper. Next he was motioning to a chubby tot in a pink dress. She took a shaky step toward him, and just before she toppled, he swept her up into his arms, both of them laughing. The scene shifted to Gadnik reading with a toddler sitting on his lap. The little girl grabbed at the pearl around his neck but he gently shied her hand away. Next he was writing letters on a board. The girl was older, her face scrunched up in thought. Though only three or four years had passed for her, Gadnik looked entirely worn. The pearl had eaten a sizable divot in his chest, and his eyes were black and swollen. Still, he clapped gaily when the youngster identified the letter ‘E’ before her. More images raced by, each a milestone in the life of the girl. And all the while, Gadnik withered before their eyes.
