by Lyn Gardner
The moment had come. Storm climbed onto the parapet and quickly tied the rope around the roof supports. There was a howl and her stomach fluttered and swooped. She had been spotted! She saw a pack of wolves bound towards the tower. There was no time to be lost. She gave the rope an anxious tug, and looked nervously towards the rockets. Please, please, let the timers work, she prayed. Please don’t let them fail. The archbishop was still droning on monotonously.
‘Get on with it, man,’ she heard Dr DeWilde snarl. Then, down below, came the sound of the tower door being forced. On the dais everyone was oblivious to the drama unfolding behind them.
The archbishop turned to Dr DeWilde and said, ‘Do you take this woman to be your wife?’
‘I do,’ he replied loudly. The crowd cheered as if someone had raised a cue board and, right on schedule, there was a huge whoosh, a violent bang and suddenly the sky blazed with scarlet and silver explosions. Storm smiled with satisfaction and scrambled onto the edge of the parapet, holding tight to the rope. The crowd below oohed and aahed, totally bedazzled by the magnificence of the spectacle, obviously believing that it had been planned for this moment. Paws thundered on the tower stairs.
Down on the dais confusion reigned. The archbishop looked questioningly at Dr DeWilde, whose face was as black as thunder. Another roar went up from the crowd as the rows of Catherine wheels that lined the red carpet ignited and a whiz of silver sparks showered everywhere.
‘Carry on, carry on,’ snarled Dr DeWilde at the archbishop. The archbishop looked doubtfully at Aurora. Brilliant silver and crimson flowers opened in the sky.
‘Aurora Rose Grace Eden, do you take this man to be your husband?’ Aurora looked wildly around; her mouth opened and closed and nothing came out.
‘Of course she does,’ said Dr DeWilde impatiently to the archbishop. ‘Get on with it, you stupid man. Just pronounce us man and wife.’
Teetering on the parapet ledge, Storm clutched the rope and swung outwards as hard as she could. To the crowd’s delight, another raft of rockets rose in the air with a rat-a-tat-tat like the sound of a hundred drums beating. From the corner of her eye, Storm saw a blur of fur at the top of the stairs and a flash of bared teeth. There was snap of jaws, but they were too late. She was already flying outward towards the dais.
And then time seemed to slow down. Storm heard the archbishop repeat, ‘Do you take this man?’ and saw her sister raise her hand to her head. Then the light from the Catherine wheels was reflecting off the golden glint of a hairpin, and Aurora was plunging the sharp end of the pin towards her finger.
‘No, Aurora, no!’ Storm screamed as she soared through the air. But she was too late. As Aurora turned her head towards Storm, the pin hit her finger and a spurt of crimson blood spattered the rose petals on the podium. Aurora’s mouth formed the words ‘Storm’ and ‘forgive’, then with a smile she sank to the ground, just as Storm crashed into the canopy above the dais, which collapsed into Dr DeWilde, toppling him and the wolves standing sentry in a rather pleasing domino effect.
Aurora lay apparently lifeless on the ground. Any, who had dropped Aurora’s train, and had been happily bashing the archbishop over the head with his copy of the marriage service, leaned over her, and gently slapped her face, trying to wake her.
Entangled and pinioned by a mess of skewed
poles, ripped silk and rose petals, Dr DeWilde was roaring in fury,‘Stop that girl ! Stop that girl !’ But most of the crowd’s attention was still taken up with the brightly coloured stars that were falling from the sky, and nobody could hear him over the whiz and bang of the fireworks.
Storm looked around desperately. She had assumed that she, Aurora and Any would be able to make a run for it down the crimson carpet, but Aurora’s action had made that impossible. She had chosen to fulfil the terrible prophecy of her christening rather than spend her life as Dr DeWilde’s unwilling bride.
The wolves had made it down from the tower and were snapping and snarling their way through the crowd, but it was so densely packed that Storm thought she might still have a chance. She ran over to Any and Aurora. Any’s eyes were wet and shining.
‘You came, Storm! I knew you would. I told Aurora that you would save us. Whatever had happened between us, I always knew that you would remember: ‘The three of us alone. The three of us together. For ever and for always.’
‘Any,’ replied Storm urgently, ‘lovely though it is to see you, I think we better concentrate on getting out of here alive.’
‘It’s hopeless,’ said Any with grim practicality. ‘We can’t carry Aurora between us.’ She squeezed Storm’s arm. ‘You go,’ she said, flinging the archbishop’s book at the advancing Alderman Snufflebottom and hitting him so squarely on the chin that he tumbled right off the dais.
‘Never!’ said Storm, seizing one of the canopy’s fallen poles and taking out Bee Bumble, who was attempting to creep up on her from behind. Then she threw a handful of firecrackers to keep the advancing wolves at bay.
‘You must,’ Any yelled, biting the tail of a wolf so hard that it yelped and ran off, clearly realizing that its teeth were no match for a toddler’s.
Storm swung her pole again, sweeping a dozen wolves off the dais and into a snarling heap. ‘I won’t leave you again!’ she insisted.
‘It’s no good, Storm,’ said Any, seizing a pole herself and jabbing it into the chest of the rising Bee Bumble. The matron’s hat wobbled alarmingly and two small crystallized pineapples tumbled off its brim to knock a wolf unconscious. ‘There’s too many of them. Get out of here while you can. Live to fight another day!’ She swept Bee’s feet from under her with another well-placed strike.
‘I won’t leave you and Aurora,’ cried Storm, turning and delivering a thwack on the nose to an approaching wolf and a smack on the bottom to Alderman Snufflebottom just as he struggled back onto the dais.
More rockets rose into the sky and cascades of brilliant sparks fell to earth. Out of the corner of her eye Storm could see Dr DeWilde struggling to get to his feet. Things were about to get much nastier.
A pack of wolves moved up the red carpet to join him. Others leaped onto the dais behind them. Capture was inevitable. Storm looked wildly around. There was no way out. She picked up a pole, ready to fight, to the death if necessary. Any did the same and, hopeless though it seemed, the two girls stood back to almost back, resolutely facing the lines of wolves.
The first ranks moved in and the girls unleashed a welter of blows. But although it won them a temporary reprieve, their cause was hopeless. More wolves poured onto the platform until the girls were completely surrounded. Eventually, Any dropped her pole in exhaustion and Alderman Snufflebottom knocked her to the ground beside the lifeless Aurora. Storm was still snarling like a caged tiger, raining blows hither and thither, but she too had little strength left. She was beaten. In her heart she knew it was over. She had failed again.
Suddenly there came a terrible, war-like cry and a thunder of hooves, and Pepper the pony, ridden by Kit, galloped up the red carpet, dispersing all before him. At the dais, Pepper didn’t halt for a second but, with a neigh as his battle cry, made a giant leap right into the ruckus, scattering wolves in all directions. The pony reared, his eyes wild, his hooves knocking out any of the beasts that dared come too close. Snorting and neighing as he rose on his hind legs, his muzzle flecked with foam, his eyes big and furious, he looked like some monstrous avenging beast from hell.
Tossing firecrackers in every direction, and swinging a flaming torch to disperse the wolves, Kit leaped from the horse, hit a recovering Alderman Snufflebottom over the head, and struck a wolf in the belly with an expertly directed kick. The boy was a whirling dervish, yelling at Storm and Any to mount Pepper, and trying to drag Aurora towards the horse while beating off his attackers.
Storm raced to help him, and together the two of them heaved Aurora’s unconscious body over Pepper’s neck. Then Kit swung Any up and Storm leaped on behind.
‘What
about you?’ gasped Storm to the boy as she scrambled onto the horse’s back. Kit was fighting furiously with no regard whatsoever for his own safety.
‘I can look after myself. Save yourselves,’ he yelled, and then he leaned forward and whispered in Storm’s ear, ‘Nettles. You need nettles! Nettles and a forest fire are the only things I’ve ever seen that scared him.’ He slapped Pepper on the rear and cried, ‘Go, boy, go!’ Pepper neighed, dispensed with two wolves who were trying to drag Storm off with a nifty kick of his back legs, and galloped away.
Storm looked back through the parting crowd to see Kit fall to his knees, surrounded by wolves. Bee Bumble was viciously raining blows down onto his beautiful, bruised face. But still he fought with the ferocious bravery of a lion. Until Dr DeWilde strode into the fray. He’d finally freed himself from the wreckage of the canopy and the pipe was at his lips. A lilting, shivering tune floated across the square.
The crowd fell silent. Bee Bumble’s arms fell to her sides and Kit slumped to the ground. The wolves raised their muzzles expectantly. Dr DeWilde began speaking in low, guttural tones, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Their eyes gleamed excitedly in the candlelight, fired by his words.‘That girl – that Storm Eden. She is a witch!’ he declared. ‘It was her that brought the rats to Piper’s Town and she is still trying to destroy it. We must not allow that to happen!’ He paused and played another note on the pipe, before continuing.‘She has bewitched and stolen her own sister, my beautiful, beloved fiancée. She has turned this treacherous cub against me.’ He indicated Kit, who lay unconscious on the ground. ‘She must be caught and made to pay before she destroys us all. We must hunt her down and burn her at the stake!’
The crowd, many still craning their heads to hear the last dying notes from the pipe, roared their agreement.‘Hunt the witch! Burn the witch!’ The Piper’s police thrust the larger candles into their eager hands and they poured out of the square in a delirium of hysteria, eyes red in the firelight. Dr DeWilde watched them go with a twisted look of satisfaction on his face.
Hunt the Witch! Burn the Witch!
Out in the winding lanes Pepper thundered towards the derelict church. He galloped between the graves and across the flagstones of the ruined nave, and halted beside the longdisused altar, pawing the ground with his hoof and waiting for the children to dismount. Storm lifted Any and the unconscious Aurora down, laid her sister gently beside a broken lectern, then turned to hug the pony’s neck. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. Pepper nuzzled her ear, then tossed his head and raced away.
The candle-bearers at the head of the mob caught a glimpse of the pony and set off in frantic pursuit. Storm and Any crouched behind the altar as the people surged past, the torchlight showing their faces all twisted up with hate, but their eyes devoid of any expression.
The words they chanted were equally clear: ‘Hunt the witch! Burn the witch!’
For a second it felt to Storm as if the whole world had fallen away. It was as if she was entombed in an icy cold place of shock and silence. It seemed that as fast as she rescued her family from one horrible predicament, fate contrived to cast them into a worse one. Another throng surged past, clutching flaming torches and yelling excitedly, ‘Hunt the witch! Burn the witch!’ Storm felt Any’s little hand squeeze hers; her sister’s eyes were wide with fright.
But then the yells began to fade. Pepper the pony had successfully led the mob away and Storm finally had a moment to think. She looked down at Aurora. Her sister was still fast asleep and appeared perfectly content to be lying on the cold flagstones. Storm tried shaking her, but Aurora didn’t even stir. Storm chewed her lip. Would Aurora ever wake up? Or had the curse come true?
Gesturing for Any to stay quiet, Storm stood up to look for a better place to hide. As she did so, some nettles that were growing out of cracks in the altar-base stung her ankles and made her hop from foot to foot.
Nettles! What had Kit said? Dr DeWilde was scared of nettles. Storm stood completely still, oblivious to the pain radiating through her feet. Could it be? It hardly seemed possible that he would be bothered by anything so insignificant. But then Storm remembered what Mother Collops had said about the night that Dr DeWilde had been left at the orphanage and how the young matron had thought she had been left a wolf cub, not a human baby, until she had lifted him up out of the nettle blanket. An extraordinary thought occurred to her and she gave a tiny little whoop of excitement.
‘Come on, Any,’ she said, pulling her sister towards the churchyard. Crouching beside a grave under an ancient yew, she began pulling up nettles in great clumps from the frozen ground. ‘We need to pick as many as we can.’
Any looked puzzled. ‘Did you hit your head on something, Storm? This doesn’t really seem like a good time for gardening.’
‘It’s our only hope of showing the people of Piper’s Town Dr DeWilde’s true nature,’ her sister answered impatiently. ‘So start pulling!’
Any didn’t look convinced, but she plunged her arms into the nettles anyway and began tearing them up by the roots. Soon the sisters’ fingers were red and raw from the nettles’ scorpion sting, but they ignored the pain. A silvergrey hare crept from behind a stone angel and sat watching them intently.
At last Storm judged that they had enough and they returned to the church. As they approached the altar, Storm asked Any, ‘Do you know if Aurora has still got her sewing kit?’
‘I wouldn’t go anywhere without it, not even on my wedding day,’ came a familiar voice, and Aurora’s smiling face appeared from behind the altar. Storm and Any gasped and the girls fell upon each other in delight.
Finally Storm broke away. ‘So you didn’t fall into an irreversible coma, then?’
‘It appears not,’ said Aurora briskly. She raised an eyebrow. ‘I never believed in that old prophecy, anyway.’ She looked at both the girls’ faces. ‘Surely you didn’t, you silly geese?’
Storm and Any glanced at each other.‘So when you deliberately pricked yourself with the hairpin, you didn’t – not for even one tiny second – think that you were about to fall into a sleep from which nobody would be able to awaken you?’
‘Of course not,’ laughed Aurora. ‘I wouldn’t have done it, if I had. I just wanted to make sure that I fainted so that the marriage service couldn’t continue, although of course if I’d known you were going to turn up …’ She leaned closer to Storm. ‘I’ve never admitted this before, Storm, but although I am inordinately fond of sewing I have a terrible fear of needles. Just the thought of one pricking my finger makes me feel faint. So I suppose it is a kind of curse in a way.’
‘But how could you be so certain that pricking your finger on your sixteenth birthday wasn’t going to send you into a permanent sleep?’ Any protested.
‘Well,’ said Aurora serenely, ‘I always suspected that maybe the whole prophecy was an exaggeration hit upon by Mama to keep me at her beck and call. But it was only when we met Mother Collops and she wasn’t quite the old hag Mama had led me to believe that I really began to wonder. Added to that the story she told us about Dr DeWilde stealing her invitation and turning up at my christening unannounced, and I knew the whole thing was rubbish.’
The freezing call of a wolf cut the air.
‘Aurora, where are those knitting needles?’ Storm asked urgently. Aurora patted her pocket.
Storm smiled.‘Good. We’re going to make a shirt.’
Her sisters looked confused.
‘I am, of course, delighted by this sudden interest in things domestic,’ said Aurora. ‘But what exactly are we going to make a shirt from?’
‘Nettles,’ said Storm triumphantly, and she told them what Kit had whispered in her ear.
‘We’d better get started, then,’ said Aurora. She looked up: tears were coursing down Storm’s cheeks.
‘What is it, sweetie?’ she asked gently.
‘I don’t know how you can ever forgive me for what I did to you!’ sobbed Storm. ‘First I jumped to the conclusion that y
ou had deliberately cut the rope at the well, and then I left you in Dr DeWilde’s clutches. I didn’t keep our vow about always being together,’ she wailed. ‘Nothing can ever be the same between us.’
Aurora pulled Storm to her.
‘Storm, there’s nothing to forgive. I’ve never stopped loving you, and I know that you’ve never stopped loving me. It was just anger and shame that blinded you. As to nothing ever being the same, well, different can sometimes be just as nice as what you already know and like. Like tinned peaches are nothing like fresh peaches, but they are both perfectly delicious in their different ways.’
Aurora was relieved to see a smile spread across Storm’s features.
At that moment another mob dashed through the churchyard, their cries of ‘Kill the witch! Burn the witch!’ filling the night air.
Aurora looked at Storm in horror.‘Oh, sweetie,’ she said softly, ‘I just hope you’re not wrong about the nettles.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Storm airily. ‘I’ve got a plan, but I have to get really close to Dr DeWilde for it to work.’
The girls set to work as fast as they could and, with Aurora’s superior sewing and knitting skills, it was not long before the shirt was almost complete, but for one of the sleeves.
It was then that they were discovered. The wolves had finally caught their scent and had led the mob back to the church. The throng moved through the gravestones, their faces red and sweaty in the torchlight, something feverish and wild in their eyes. ‘Hunt the witch! Burn the witch! Kill the witch!’ they chanted incessantly.
‘Here we go,’ said Storm with a gulp, and she took the shirt and needles from Aurora and stuffed them into her pockets. The crowd grew bigger and the noise more tumultuous as people swarmed through the churchyard and filed up the nave, led by the wolves. ‘Hunt the Witch! Burn the Witch!’ The chant of the crowd echoed off the crumbling walls.
Holding tight to each other’s hands, Storm, Aurora and Any rose to their feet from behind the altar. The crowd fell completely silent, and then the wolves lifted their heads and howled as one. Trembling, Storm moved around the front of the altar and the crowd, which had spread out across the narrow church, began to advance towards her in a line. Their chant began as a low murmur and gradually bubbled to a crescendo.‘Hunt the witch! Burn the witch! Hunt the witch! Burn the witch!’ Then they parted, and Dr DeWilde appeared at the back of the church. ‘Well, Storm Eden,’ he drawled. ‘It seems you’ve broken our little agreement.’ His scarred face took on a hurt look, as though he’d suffered a great wrong. Then he grinned wolfishly. ‘No matter. You may have spoiled one celebration today, but there’s still time for another.’
