Willow Moss and the Forgotten Tale

by Dominique Valente

  Then, catching sight of Oswin’s wide, panicked eyes and the way his ears were flattened to his skull, Sprig blinked. ‘What – what is it?’

  He turned to look at Willow, whose lip trembled. She clutched at her chest, but it was like no air could fill her lungs. Suddenly the desk vanished with a loud pop, and Sprig jumped back just in time as everything that had been on it plummeted to the flagstone floor with an almighty CRASH.

  The kobold dived out of the carpetbag and ran towards Willow’s legs. He clung to them with his paws, shaking, his huge, lamp-like eyes beseeching hers. ‘Jes stop it – it ’appens when yer upset! Calm yerself!’

  Willow’s heart was beating fast, there were spots in front of her eyes, and there were more and more popping sounds as things continued to disappear.

  ‘I don’t KNOW HOW!’

  Sprig came to stand in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders, his face inches from hers. ‘Look at me,’ he commanded, and in her panic she did, focusing on his dark eyes. ‘Close your eyes! Do it.’

  Willow did.

  ‘Now, deep breath in,’ he said.

  ‘W-what, I – I—’ tried Willow, who wasn’t really hearing him beyond the roaring in her ears.

  ‘Listen to ’im,’ beseeched Oswin, tapping her leg.

  Willow swallowed, then took a deep breath in.

  ‘Good,’ said Sprig. ‘And let it out. Now, as you breathe in again, count to ten.’

  She did as he said.

  He counted out loud. ‘Now breathe out.’

  Her breath came rushing out. ‘I-I – er,’ she stammered, opening her eyes. ‘I don’t know what that—’

  ‘Close your eyes and do it again. Breathe in, counting to ten.’

  She did.

  ‘Again. Just trust me, keep going. You’ll feel it soon.’

  Willow did it four more times, then, at last, felt her heartbeat begin to slow.

  ‘Keep taking deep breaths. Don’t open your eyes.’

  Willow nodded. After a few minutes, she was almost back to normal. Sprig’s hands on her shoulders were cold yet somehow reassuring. When she opened her eyes at last, it was like all the colour and warmth of the treehouse was there to greet her, somehow more full of life than it had been.

  ‘Yew all right?’ whispered the kobold.

  Willow felt embarrassed, but nodded.

  ‘I used to get attacks like that – the only thing that helped was the breathing,’ said Sprig.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said softly, ‘for helping me.’

  He shrugged. ‘Sure. If you don’t mind me asking … what was that about?’ he said, pointing to where the desk had been.

  Willow told him a bit about what had happened to her magic lately. His eyes widened. ‘I’ve never heard of magic being scrambled like that.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Willow.

  She thought of Holloway’s words. ‘There’s only one thing I’ve ever known that can do that to a person. Grief.’

  She looked away and made a show of trying to pick up all the things that had fallen on to the floor. The furlarms, in particular, were glaring at her with reproachful eyes. As she considered them, she tried not to think about Granny Flossy. She couldn’t afford to fall apart – not now, not when her friend needed her. She felt a twist of shame, and anger at herself. Why couldn’t her magic just simply work?

  ‘I’ve got this, it’s okay,’ said Willow as Sprig bent down to help her.

  Perhaps he sensed that she wanted to be alone because he suggested that the kobold help him with dinner. ‘C’mon, Oswin, there are some apple-pie blossoms we can pick from the branches outside, and we can see what’s left in the cupboards.’

  Oswin, who had been making his way quietly back to his carpetbag, stopped and turned round in shock. ‘Wot?’ He’d never really been asked to do any chores before.

  Willow felt the ghost of a smile flit across her face at his horrified expression.

  The cluttered contents of Sometimes’s desk had made an incredible mess and Willow had barely scratched the surface of her clean-up when Sprig returned with their simple dinner of apple-pie blossoms and dried penji berries. Sprig offered to help Willow clean up again, but she declined, and shortly afterwards she could hear the sound of his and Oswin’s snores coming from the sofa that had reappeared during their meal.

  It had been a rather long day, but Willow was too keyed up to sleep, too distracted by her worry for Sometimes. She picked up the scattered feathers, plants and botanical prints and drawings that had fallen from the desk when it vanished. Thankfully, the desk had reappeared shortly afterwards. She’d made such a mess. While it was technically an accident, as she couldn’t control what was happening to her powers, she couldn’t help feeling terrible about it. She was meant to be finding Sometimes, but all her abilities seemed to be doing now was making things worse. These were his observations, his studies on the strange plants that lived in Wisperia and their hidden magical abilities. She was determined to put everything right.

  Thankfully, though a few empty jars had broken, the rest had been protected somehow. Each one had a little label, and the roots of the plants inside them grew in water, soil, or just in air. Willow noticed one plant with hairy green leaves and a sharp, knife-edged stamen the colour of blood. Its label, written in Nolin Sometimes’s messy scrawl, said,

  The carvery, one of the most dangerous plants in the world, causes paralysis in the area it stabs for up to a year. Handle with caution, wear gloves.

  She put it on the ground fast and righted another. Inside the jar were wispy yellow and pink tendrils that swirled to form what looked like a dress that was dancing. Willow found it hard to look away as it moved, and her mind went pleasingly blank as she watched it sway. Music, as if from nowhere, started to hum in her ears, until a loud snore from Harold jerked her out of her reverie. She read the plant’s specimen label:

  The enchantress. Known to hypnotise whoever looks at it, useful for immobilising an intruder.

  She blinked. Some of these were a bit dangerous, she realised. Not quite the types of plants she remembered Sometimes showing her in his moon garden. Still, she couldn’t help being fascinated by them. Part of her looked out for some plant remedy that might help restore her magic, but she couldn’t find anything in this collection, and, without knowing what the plants in his garden were, she didn’t have much hope of finding a solution, not without Sometimes. Though she was beginning to suspect that Holloway had been right – that her magic was being scrambled by her grief – and she didn’t know if there was cure for that at all … She swallowed, trying to push the hopeless feeling away.

  Gradually, Willow organised all of Sometimes’s papers and righted all the plants, finding some that had rolled under the bed beside the sleeping dog.

  The last thing she picked up was a small jam jar, inside which was a purple, iris-like flower with long, thin, dark blue roots suspended in the air. As she touched the glass, the plant appeared to wilt slightly, petals hunched over, reminding her a little of a grumbling Gertrude, which sulked when it wasn’t watered. Without really thinking, Willow fetched a glass of water from the kitchen and trickled some into the jar. To her surprise, when she put the lid back on, the plant seemed to wiggle, perhaps in satisfaction. It began to shimmer, turning into an almost smoke-like substance that was iridescent like glitter, dark purple threaded with blue.

  As Willow touched the glass, the smoke-like substance followed her finger and started to shift as it formed itself into a young girl with long, stick-straight hair and a misshapen dress with a haphazardly sewn hem. The girl was pointing a finger at the glass. It was like looking into a small mirror made of purple shadows.

  Willow swallowed. Something about it gave her the creeps.

  Her eye drifted to the small label, but, instead of finding an explanation of what this plant was, Willow’s creeped-out feeling intensified. As it wasn’t a label at all.

  It said:

  MP for Willow Moss.

&
nbsp; It was a clue.

  13

  Feathering’s Return

  Willow stared at her shadow miniature in the jam jar for some time. Every now and again, it seemed to shudder slightly. When she took her finger away, the smoke-like shadows shifted and turned once more into a purple iris with long, thin roots suspended in the air.

  Why would Nolin Sometimes have left her this? What was it supposed to tell her?

  Willow went to sit in the armchair by the window to think. But at some point she must have nodded off, despite herself, because suddenly there was a small flash of light, and Willow blinked awake. On the floor was the leaf-scroll. It was the message that had gone missing from her attic before she ran away from home! Surprised, she bent down to pick it up when suddenly the sound of the furlarms began to whine loudly throughout the treehouse.

  ‘Oh no!’ cried Oswin as she dashed towards them. Harold started to howl as well.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Sprig, starting awake too, his dark eyes wary yet sharp as he looked around in alarm.

  ‘I don’t know,’ whispered Willow, fear clutching at her throat. ‘The furlarms detect intruders, though.’

  She looked up towards the window with a worried frown and saw something large, like a cloud, heading straight towards them in a sky that was turning pink with the dawn.

  ‘Maybe it’s whoever came for Sometimes … Maybe they’re coming back,’ breathed Willow, looking worried.

  ‘Oh, Osbertrude, a curse upon yeh, me greedy aunt!’ whispered Oswin, who’d climbed on to the armchair to see out of the window better.

  Whatever was moving towards them at breakneck speed sparkled in the early-morning sunshine with a pearly blue glow, and Willow’s fear suddenly changed to delight.

  ‘It’s Feathering!’ she cried.

  ‘Feathering?’ asked Sprig, his eyes widening in sudden fear as the blueish cloud neared. He took a step back from the window, his outline seeming to shift from boy to raven then back to boy so fast it hurt her eyes. ‘Is that A DRAGON?’

  ‘Yes! C’mon,’ she said, pulling him along by his arm. ‘This is the best news – maybe he knows who’s taken Sometimes!’

  Willow raced outside towards a large branch the width of a road, with Sprig following more slowly behind her. As the dragon came in to land, the force blew Willow’s hair back and she clutched on to a nearby branch.

  ‘Why, hello there, young Willow. We wondered if we would find you here,’ said Feathering in his deep, wind-rattling-a-window voice.

  Willow dashed forward to greet the dragon, and saw to her surprise that Essential Jones, another of her friends who had helped to save the missing day, was on his back. A grin split her face as Essential jumped down.

  ‘Hi, Willow!’ the girl said with a big smile, pushing back her glasses. Her long dark hair was like a knotty helmet around her head, and her nut-coloured skin seemed to glow with health and excitement from the ride.

  ‘Feathering! Essential! It’s wonderful to see you,’ cried Willow, racing forward to hug Essential and pat the dragon’s snout. Feathering’s golden eye closed slightly in pleasure at seeing her, and then widened as it took in the boy, who was lagging in the shadows behind her.

  ‘And who’s this?’ he asked, showing a row of perfect white teeth.

  ‘This is Sprig.’

  The dragon sniffed the air, then he blinked. His head snapped up fast, making Willow and Essential leap back. The gentle giant she knew suddenly looked fierce, the iris in his golden eye whirling in a strange way that made her heart start to pound. In a rather cold voice, he said, ‘If you take her, I will come for you.’

  There were goose pimples all along Willow’s body.

  Sprig had turned pale. ‘H-how did you know—’ he started.

  ‘I can always smell death, boy …’

  Willow frowned, then shot a look at Sprig. ‘What?’

  ‘I mean no harm,’ said Sprig, raising his arms.

  ‘See that you keep it that way,’ warned the dragon.

  Willow blinked. ‘Death? What are you talking about?’

  Sprig kept a wary eye on Feathering. ‘There’s something you should know about how I was born …’

  ‘More a question of where,’ emphasised the cloud dragon. Feathering sniffed the air, his golden eye falling on the boy’s arm, the one that was blue and black and scored with concentric circles. Sprig pulled his jumper sleeve down.

  ‘Where were you born?’ asked Willow.

  Sprig looked down for a moment. ‘I … I was born on the edge of the Mists …’

  Essential frowned. ‘Mists?’ she asked.

  ‘The Mists of Mitlaire.’

  Willow and Essential gasped.

  Sprig nodded. ‘Yes. Umbellifer tried to claim me, but I was pulled back in time, so only my arm was touched by death. But it’s like having a foot in both worlds. I can travel through the Mists and into Netherfell without, you know …’

  ‘Losing your soul?’ said Willow with a blink.

  Essential’s eyes widened.

  ‘Yes.’ He ran a hand through his hair, shooting the dragon a wary glance. Then he looked at Willow, beseeching her with his solemn black eyes. ‘People think it’s creepy, so I don’t always tell them the truth about where I’m from …’

  Willow blew out the air in her lungs. She thought of how much Sprig had helped her – how he’d risked his life against the Brothers of Wol and their arrows to save her, and how he had calmed her when she was overwhelmed.

  ‘Sprig wouldn’t harm me, Feathering,’ she said. ‘You can trust him.’ She looked at the boy, wishing he’d told her about this earlier, but she didn’t want to say anything while they were around the others. She supposed she could understand him not saying anything if this was how some people reacted.

  The dragon didn’t respond, and Willow took a deep breath. The truth was they had other things to worry about – they had a dear friend who needed them. ‘Feathering, have you heard – is that why you’re here? About Sometimes?’

  Essential and Feathering looked confused.

  ‘Why, what’s happened?’ asked Essential.

  Willow sighed. She’d been hoping that maybe they knew something. ‘It’s really bad. Nolin Sometimes was captured!’

  Essential gasped.

  The dragon’s eye swivelled to Willow, his reservations about Sprig momentarily forgotten. ‘CAPTURED? By whom?’ he breathed.

  ‘I don’t know! He asked me to help him – and I’ve been trying – but m-my magic has failed. I came here because he asked me to look in on Harold and I’ve—’

  ‘So that’s why you’re here!’ gasped Essential. ‘Everyone was worried about you.’

  ‘About me?’ asked Willow. It was her turn to be surprised.

  Essential nodded, pushing her glasses up her nose. ‘Yes, it’s been mad – your mother sent a message to Rubix, asking her to keep an eye out for you as you’d run away. So I persuaded Rubix to go and see them, as I was worried. But it was so strange – because of the missing day, none of them remembered that you and I had met before. They were asking all kinds of questions. Panicking, I think. That’s why I’m so relieved you’re here. I don’t know if you’ve heard about the Brothers of Wol?’

  Willow blinked, then looked from Sprig to Essential. ‘Heard what?’ She felt uneasy. They may have succeeded in restoring the stolen day, but she was sure that the trouble in Wolkana was not over. Silas, the Brother who had stolen the day, was still out there, and she was sure he must be furious. She didn’t know what he was planning now …

  ‘There’s some new edict they signed,’ said Essential. ‘It’s horrible – now they can lock up any witch or wizard they believe may be a threat. It was meant to be only if they were acting dangerously, but the Brothers of Wol have taken it to mean all powerful magical people. Magic folk are saying that they’ve broken the treaty – things are not looking good.’

  Willow gasped. ‘No! That’s horrible! I had no idea.’

  Essentia
l nodded. ‘I’m so glad they didn’t take you! Your mother was worried that you might have been captured. That’s why I came – and I met Feathering on the way. I thought if you’d run away there was probably a good reason.’ She pushed up her glasses again and gave her a grin, which Willow returned. She couldn’t help feeling so grateful for her friends.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Willow, who felt a stab of guilt at making them all worry, especially her family. ‘You were right. I had to leave – they wouldn’t believe me. They didn’t trust that Sometimes was missing. See, I got this note from him.’ She showed them the leaf-scroll that had recently reappeared.

  ‘Oh no!’ cried Essential. ‘This is terrible!’

  Feathering’s golden eye widened as he read it. He shook his head. ‘I had a feeling something was wrong. I came across one of the rock dragons – they stay dormant for years in the Cloud Mountains, but one of them woke up when a pepper tree kept calling for me and making the rock dragon sneeze. By the time I got there, though, the pepper tree had long since walked off.’ He sighed, then added, ‘It was a bit bruised. Rock dragons, you know … not exactly gentle beasts.’

  Willow did not know. She hadn’t even known there were such things as rock dragons. But what Feathering said made sense. ‘Sometimes mentioned in the letter that he tried to contact you.’ She read the bit about ‘pepper-tree communication’ again.

  Feathering nodded. ‘Yes, he planted it a few weeks ago when he came for a visit. It was a nice gesture, as he knows how fond I am of pepper tea. He mentioned something about being able to stay in touch, but I didn’t think anything of it. I assumed he meant he’d just be coming round more often – I didn’t realise he had the skill to communicate with the tree’s spirit.’

  Essential’s eyes widened. ‘Well, it is pretty rare …’

  Willow nodded, thinking about the oak tree in her garden that Sometimes had used to contact her in the same way.

  Feathering looked sad. ‘What a pity the tree missed me. Perhaps this could have been prevented if I’d been home. Was it them, the Brothers of Wol? Did they come for him because he’s a danger?’