Willow Moss and the Forgotten Tale

by Dominique Valente

  She felt as if her heart had been torn from her chest.

  ‘No!’ she screamed.

  The only ones that remained were the queen, her wraiths and the helpless figure of Moreg, still bound in vines.

  Umbellifer floated above Willow, her hair studded with pale blossoms, shifting and billowing in an imperceptible wind. She’d moved so fast that Willow hadn’t even had a moment to see how she’d done it. All she knew was the terrifying, thunderous sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, and the feeling of being utterly alone. The weight of her grief was heavy and pressing down on her.

  ‘He did well in bringing you here … I believe you may be useful for us, in the days and weeks to come, for what we may need to fight. Your magic ability is useful,’ said the queen, who seemed pleased. ‘Rarely do I keep souls for my own purposes, but there are times when even I must set aside the rules.’

  Willow felt the blood rushing into her ears, her fear so thick she could smell the stench of it, like rotten fruit. Her mouth was dry, but somehow, despite a lead weight on her shoulders, she stood up slowly to face Umbellifer. ‘Is that why you took Nolin Sometimes? You wanted his power for your own?’

  The idea that the queen would come up to Starfell to snatch souls she thought were useful was a horrible thought.

  Umbellifer’s form shifted and flickered like a candle against the wind. ‘That is just an added benefit. I can only commit a breach when the reasons are compelling enough. The only other way to draw a soul down here is for them to decide they should come. Like you did.’

  Willow was confused. ‘So why did you take him then, if it wasn’t to steal his magic?’

  The queen’s face was inches from hers as she said, ‘Because I needed to know what he saw.’

  Umbellifer flicked a wrist and a swirl of mist coiled round them both. Willow hardly had time to gasp in shock as it carried them to the top of what looked like the Great Wisperia Tree in an instant. When the mist dispersed, Willow found herself in an echo of Nolin Sometimes’s moon garden. All the colours were gone, all the life sucked out. It was filled with concentric circles made of shadows.

  ‘This world is a mirror,’ Umbellifer explained, ‘of the one above. What has gone on before trickles down here eventually, through the souls of those who have departed – whether human, animal or plant. I have been listening to these memories, paying attention to the signs … just like your witch,’ she said, with what looked almost like a smile. ‘I have seen that something is coming … something to threaten us all. I needed to know more. And then I found this.’

  The queen circled a finger, and Willow noticed a wraith-like memory flower by their feet. It looked like a ghostly version of the very flower Willow had once seen in Sometimes’s moon garden. He had taught her how this rare and special plant could reveal a secret under the light of the moon before it died. They had asked it who had taken the missing Tuesday, and it had answered them.

  ‘The memory flower told of the boy who took away the day – the boy called Silas cast the spell hidden within the fortress. I knew this was linked to the signs that something terrible was coming, but I needed to discover more. I needed to find the person who knew to ask it this question – which is why I took the forgotten teller.’

  The spent petals began to blow apart in the windless air. And there, across the garden, where the scattered remnants of the flower settled, lay a figure with white hair and unseeing pale eyes.

  ‘Sometimes!’ Willow cried, and she raced towards him. She knelt beside her friend, trying to wake him. His eyes remained open yet all white. Willow shook him, but he would not wake. His body hung limp in her arms.

  The ghostly queen approached Sometimes and touched his shoulder. Her eyes suddenly rolled back in their sockets, turning pale and white like his. Then she let go of him and blinked, and her eyes returned to their usual black. They seemed to gleam as she drifted in the air above Willow. ‘I have read his memories, read all that he has seen in Starfell – even things that he missed.’

  Sometimes remained lifeless on the ground. ‘What’s happened to him?’ Willow asked.

  ‘He’s asleep,’ said the ghostly queen, ‘or rather he’s adrift somewhere between life and death. It’s a valuable skill I put to use when I need to read someone’s secrets or borrow their magic. It’s better if they’re not awake.’

  Willow felt tears prick her eyes. ‘This is someone’s life, not some game! Let him go. He would have told you anything you wanted – you didn’t need to abduct him. You didn’t need to play these cruel tricks on us.’

  Umbellifer stared at her. ‘You are naive, child. I am not some monstrous ruler seeking only power. He is needed more here so that I may prevent what has happened before.’

  Willow frowned. ‘Prevent what?’

  ‘What do you think? Another war, child.’

  22

  The Forgotten Tale

  Willow stared. ‘A war?’

  The queen nodded. ‘One is coming, of that I have no doubt … The signs show that history is set to repeat itself. As I said, most memories trickle down here eventually, but some take millennia … and there was a key event that even I, with access to all of this,’ she said, indicating the ghostly world at her feet, ‘… missed.’

  ‘What?’ asked Willow.

  The queen moved fast, her eerie face inches from Willow’s as she floated above her. Umbellifer’s shape shifted like ink in water, the pale white blossoms in her hair shining, her dark, tunnel-like eyes seeming to peer into Willow’s very soul. ‘Tell me, child, what do you know of the Long War?’

  Willow frowned. It was the worst war in Starfell’s history, one that had almost ended all magic. ‘It began a thousand years ago. The Brothers of Wol tried to convince the world that magic was unnatural – that it wasn’t a gift from the god Wol, but something evil, something that needed to be destroyed. This led to a war, and many magicians died … and for a long time everyone believed that they had succeeded in stamping out all traces of magic.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘But they hadn’t, not really … because, after many years, magic came back.’

  Willow remembered what Granny Flossy had told her, that magic never really dies – it simply waits until we’re ready for it. She looked up at the queen, wondering if she should tell her the rest … about what she and Moreg and the others had found out in the Brothers of Wol’s fortress, Wolkana. Perhaps telling Umbellifer what she knew might help to ensure the release of Sometimes and the others, so Willow continued.

  ‘During the war, the old magicians gathered together their most powerful spells to try and fight the Brothers. Everyone thought those spells had been lost or destroyed, but we found out they’d been hidden in Wolkana for centuries. The High Master of the Brothers of Wol said it was to protect the world from this powerful magic … but Silas, the Brother who stole the missing day, said that that was a lie. He believed that the real reason the Brothers had kept the spells all those years ago was so they could use them. My friends and I managed to get back the day Silas stole, but we think he still has the Lost Spells …’

  The queen’s dark eyes seemed to glitter as she hissed, ‘Oh, he has more than that, child.’

  Willow swallowed. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Thanks to your friend Sometimes, I have now seen a very important memory. A memory that the forgotten teller read when he was inside Wolkana with you and the others. Maybe it’s best if I show you …’

  Umbellifer waved her hands, and in the air before them the mist and shadows began to change. They shifted to form a scene in what looked like Wolkana. A short-haired boy in long robes scurried down a long, twisting corridor, glancing behind him furtively as if he were afraid someone was watching …

  Willow gasped. He might have been made of Umbellifer’s shadows, but Willow recognised that distinctive walk, that hair. It was Silas.

  In the shadowy scene before her, he got to the end of the corridor and took out a key from his robes
. He looked over his shoulder once again, then opened the door and rushed inside a small room. He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for as he knelt down and lifted a loose floorboard, bringing from under it a small, heavy-looking chest. He opened it and took out a thick book.

  Behind him there was a noise, and an old man appeared in the doorway. He was stooped over and using a cane. Oddly, even though the figures were depicted in shadow, Willow could hear them speak, the sound somewhat hollow, like an echo, or a noise from behind walls. ‘What are you doing in this room, boy? You know it’s the private storeroom of the High Master.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, yes – he asked me to bring him the wine for the blessing,’ said the boy, blocking the floorboard and the chest from view.

  The old man bent forward as he stared intently at Silas. Then a coughing fit took hold of him and, when he at last recovered, he seemed to think better of pursuing the matter. He made a dismissive sound and said, ‘Well, hurry up. It’s most irregular for him to send someone down here.’

  The boy nodded and picked up a bottle from a table. When the old man’s back was turned, Silas slipped the book inside his robes.

  ‘Out with you, come on,’ said the old man, and Silas followed.

  The shadows whirled and the scene changed. Silas was now sitting on a bed in a small cell. He touched the cover of the book. As much as he tried, though, he could not open it. It was tightly shut, as if it had been locked by magic. On the front Willow could see a title that read The Testaments of Wol.

  She watched as Silas tried to prise it open with a knife. He then tried to steam it open, perhaps thinking it was glued shut. When this failed, he seemed to think for a long time, and then Willow gasped as he took a penknife from his robes and slit his palm. He touched the title with his blood, waiting expectantly. The book seemed to glow red for a moment, shimmering in an almost violent haze, and then, at last, it opened. On the first page it said, The private journal of Wollace Humperdink, the Greatest Sorcerer of Starfell.

  And suddenly the shadows faded, and once again Willow saw nothing before her but the echo of Nolin Sometimes’s moon garden.

  Willow blinked. ‘That really happened?’ she asked. She felt creeped out by the blood, which, unlike the rest of the shadows, had glowed oddly red.

  The queen nodded. ‘Yes. Silas read the thousand-year-old journal of the so-called “god”, Wol, who was in fact nothing more than a magician named Wollace Humperdink who reinvented himself after the world believed he was destroyed by the elths. He fooled many men and gathered them as his followers – the Brothers of Wol – and they spread word that magic was unnatural and evil, promising to cleanse the world of it. But Wol’s secret plan was to keep all of that magic for himself, so he could become the sole sorcerer of Starfell.’

  Willow felt uneasy. In Wolkana, when Silas had claimed that the Brothers had been lied to for years, and that the true goal of the war had been to hoard the magic for themselves, she hadn’t known whether to believe him. She certainly hadn’t realised that Wol had never been a god at all. She’d heard of that old magician, Wollace Humperdink, but she’d never put the two together before.

  The queen went on. ‘The Brothers failed to completely eradicate magic a thousand years ago. That we all know. But this memory reveals something catastrophic – that Wol recorded the tale of how he stole the magic of Starfell, so that if he could not complete his mission, one day a worthy successor might finish the task.’

  Willow panicked. ‘But – but if that’s true Sometimes would’ve said something! He would have warned everyone after he had this vision!’

  The queen shook her head. ‘He didn’t understand the relevance of the memory. Wol didn’t spell it out in plain language – he was more careful than that. But I pieced this memory together with the other clues I’ve gathered from my sources, and I learnt the truth. Even now, as we speak, Silas seeks vengeance for his thwarted plans, and this time he intends to go to extremes to ensure that he is never defeated again!’

  Willow felt as if she’d been doused in ice. ‘What is he going to do?’

  ‘Don’t you understand, child? He is uncovering Wol’s method – a terrible ritual that will allow him to rip out all the magic from Starfell! If he succeeds, he will take every last thread of magic from every witch and wizard, every elf and elth, every enchanted creature and plant, from the forest of Wisperia, and my queendom of souls. It will ALL be HIS.’

  Willow gasped, horrified, as she tried to imagine her family, and every magical person or creature she knew, drained of their magic …

  ‘Unless I act now!’ cried Umbellifer. ‘Do you see now how I might need a man who can read the past – by reading the memories of everyone he comes across – and a woman who sees the future? Don’t you see what assets they will be in fighting this new war? With these skills, I will be able to work out the enemy’s weaknesses, identify traitors and predict their next moves! And you, child – you are more powerful than you realise. Your magic is growing. You have already thwarted Silas once, and I believe I can use your powers to fight him again.’

  ‘Y-you’re wrong – my powers are broken! They don’t work,’ protested Willow. ‘There must be another way to prevent the war – you don’t need to keep us here!’

  The queen shook her head. ‘This is the only way.’

  With that, Umbellifer commanded the shadowy mists again, and they swirled round all three of them, whisking Willow, Sometimes’s prone body and the queen back to the forest floor below.

  When they landed, Willow barely had time to steady herself before the queen snapped her fingers, and a shadowy figure brought Moreg forward and laid her down next to Sometimes. Her body too had grown still, like his, and her eyes were white.

  ‘No!’ shouted Willow, who felt as if her heart had been plunged in ice at the sight of Moreg paralysed by the queen’s magic. ‘There has to be another way! They would help you if you asked – we’re on the same side!’

  The queen seemed to sigh as she floated above Willow. ‘Humans don’t help – they cause destruction. Their emotions, their passions, desires and petty jealousies get in the way. Just look at you. So useful – yet so clouded by your emotions that you can’t even see what you have. I need their memories and their abilities – but not their messy human drama. It’s not how I like to do things, but needs must. And the time has come for me to add your magic to my collection too.’

  Suddenly there was a low, cawing cry. A raven with a smoky blue-black wing appeared above, talons outstretched as it made a dive … at the queen.

  Sprig attempted to tackle Umbellifer as he landed, transforming into a boy, and he shouted, ‘Run, Willow! Quick!’

  Willow tried to run, but only got a few steps before thick vines crept across the forest floor and tangled round her feet, holding her tight.

  ‘You dare defy me?’ the queen challenged Sprig. ‘After everything I have done for you – you who could rule by my side?’

  ‘Yes, because you’re wrong! It doesn’t have to be this way. I’ve seen how people can come together. We could fight as a team,’ argued Sprig.

  ‘Like we did the last time, when magic was nearly ripped out of the world?’ the queen scoffed. ‘You silly boy, you forget where you are. In my queendom, you will play by my rules.’ And then she flicked her fingers and vines restrained him, even as he thrashed. In the next moment, Umbellifer’s smoke and shadows swirled round him and he was whisked out of sight.

  Suddenly it was just Willow and the queen again. Willow sank down helplessly to her knees.

  ‘Look at what all this emotion has cost you. Your friends are here now, lured by their misplaced faith in you,’ said the queen. She swirled a hand and a swathe of misty fog appeared, carrying within it the shadowy image of Willow’s three missing friends. The mist settled near Moreg and Sometimes, leaving the ghostly impressions of Feathering, Essential and Oswin beside them, looking as if they were sleeping.

  Willow gasped. ‘But I made them disa
ppear! How are they here … with you?’

  ‘Because, though your magic works down here, this is my world, and it must play by my rules. You lost your friends, and this is where lost souls end up after all …’

  Willow felt a sob rise in her throat as she rushed forward towards the lifeless figures of Sometimes and Moreg and the misty image of the others.

  Nolin Sometimes was closest. He looked so drained of life. She thought of his love for strange magical plants, his wonderful treehouse home, the way he fainted every few minutes when he was bombarded with memories, how his eyes lit up when he got excited about new discoveries, his loud, barking laugh.

  Next she approached Moreg. It was strange to see her face so placid, her usually dark eyes white and devoid of their fire. It was like the thing that made her Moreg was gone …

  With a heavy heart, Willow turned to the smoky image of her other friends. She stared at the large, motionless figure of Feathering, his pearly feathers seeming dull somehow, and she felt her lip start to shake. She looked from him to Essential, her dear new friend who made her feel like every day could be an adventure. Then her gaze moved to Oswin. Her grief began to cascade over her as she saw the kobold – green now, his fur soft, his beloved crotchety face still and his eyes unseeing – and the tears came at last.

  It was old grief, everything she’d pushed down after losing Granny Flossy, choking and painful. The sorrow was so solid, so enormous, that it blocked out everything else like a wave. Willow could feel the blood rushing in her ears and it was as if the world were escaping her grasp. She began to howl as she slumped to the ground.

  She couldn’t see for the tears as she cried out their names. It was all her fault! The queen was right – she’d lured them here. She’d chosen to come here, and she’d risked all of them in the process. Everyone who had believed in her had paid such a terrible price. Perhaps her family had been right all along not to believe in her. Look what she’d done!