Abby the Witch

by Odette C. Bell

  The enormous power that she had once felt off the bracelet was gone. There was barely a trickle of magic leaving it now.

  Abby ran her teeth over her bottom lip and brushed her fingers over the carved beads, searching for imperfections, searching for clues. Between the beads, the twine that held the bracelet together was almost broken through. Many-stranded, whatever the string was made from, strands of it had plucked loose, curling back on themselves like frazzled human hair.

  It was broken. She may not know much about a talisman as powerful as this, but she could tell that it was broken. But how could she fix it? Was it somehow important in finding a way back to the future?

  'Dear, you've gone all thoughtful looking – you thinking about that Pembrake?' Martha tapped her on the shoulder.

  Abby slowly looked up. 'Mmm.'

  'I could see it when I met you, I could,' Martha wasn't flapping about with enthusiasm, just smiling warmly, 'you'll see it soon enough, I'm sure. Right well, I best be off. You're to go up to the court, I think, get a good seat to watch Pembrake while he's presented to the King.'

  Abby was still busy frowning at Martha's previous statement to process what she'd just said. 'Sorry? Presented to the King?'

  'Of course, he saved the Princess and all, what do you expect? I imagine the King will want to reward him and all.'

  Abby made a face that she hoped clearly said she thought this was a bad idea. 'I really don't think-'

  'Don't you worry, dear; you won't have to do anything. You'll get a good seat in the court with all them dignitaries.'

  'Oh.'

  'But I don't imagine they'll do that till tonight. So I think you'll have a good time to wander if you've got the energy. There's a lot to see.'

  'Oh yes?'

  'And I imagine you'll be wanting to see your Pembrake again.'

  Abby nodded firmly.

  That subtle smile was back on Martha's face. 'If you're quick, you should be able to make it to him before the Princess does.'

  Abby nodded again.

  'And I'm sure he'll be wanting to see you. It could be just the two of you, if you like.'

  Abby stopped nodding and thought about what it was she was supposedly agreeing to. 'Oh no, I don't think that will do,' she quickly backtracked, 'I'm sure he needs his rest.' Abby rose from the table, stowing a hand full of nuts in her pocket, 'I think I'll just go for a quick walk around the grounds, if that is permitted.'

  'Oh well, suit yourself.'

  There was not much to be said of walking around the grounds. It was a strange moment. Abby wasn't quite sure whether she was indeed welcome to mill about the gardens or whether a team of Guards would be dragging her off before the next leaves of golden ash fluttered to the ground.

  She couldn't shake the inveterate feeling of being the downcast witch. Who cared what the time was? Abby had a whole lifetime of memories to whet her pallet with tingling fear. Perhaps it was because she didn't have Pembrake's annoying presence to distract her, but walking along in the mid-afternoon sunshine was strangely sending a chill down her spine.

  The grounds were of course beautiful. But not in the same way as you might appreciate a dazzling sunset or a storm-filled sky - they were austere and manicured with miniature rows of hedges and ornamental plants. Here and there along the wide field that surrounded the castle at the back and the sides, were large old trees though. Abby found herself drawn to these over the peculiar, exposed gardens. Trees meant shade not just from the sun, but from prying eyes too.

  Abby looked up at the dimpled bark of the tree she sat beneath and ran her eyes up into the golden and green leaves. If she could just stay under this tree until everything went back to normal, then she would. But by her calculations that would take a little under 28 years and she would be fairly old by that time. Trading the best bit of her life for a little freedom from this insane situation did seem a little over the top.

  At least, she'd concluded to herself, she would like some peace and quiet until stupid Pembrake had to be presented to the King. A little sunshine and some birdsong would surely calm her nerves enough to be able to withstand his totally irritating nature for a few more hours.

  She of course did not get her way. After only 15 minutes of resting under the tree, a call came out from somewhere behind her. It was deep and rumbling like the blast of a fog horn and it sent a bolt of shock through Abby who had just been nodding on the edge of sleep. She clutched the trunk of the tree with fright and stood up.

  A muffled cry met in answer to the first, and Abby peered around the side of the tree to see what on Earth was going on. She saw a Guard marching towards her and a hunting dog snuffling at his side.

  She panicked. And, without stopping at all to think about what she was doing, climbed the tree in a scramble. Trees like witches, as Ms Crowthy had assured Abby from a tender age. Whether it be broom handles or handy healing fruit - witches always needed to be on good terms with trees. And so, as per the old Crone's advice, Abby was always sure to be very polite to the trees in her neighbourhood - giving them a drink or a prune should they need it. And trees, in turn, were equally as polite to her. To this date she had never had a branch fall on her, or had been shaken free of a bow when resting her head.

  Trees, according to the witch code, helped a witch's balance. It was to do with the special magic a witch employed to make a broomstick fly. It wasn't simply levitation on the witch's behalf with a stick to hang her bag from - it had a lot more to do with the wood than the woman. The wood brought the witch into balance, and different woods were used for different types of balance. A birch tree, with its long and thin branches used to smacking together in the wind, allowed a witch to travel fast, while the wood of a giant sturdy oak allowed for a smooth, steady ride. Whatever the wood though, within its presence a witch always felt at ease. And as Ms Crowthy often pointed out, that made for extremely flammable houses. Witches have long favoured the all-timber kitchen, after all.

  So it wasn't any real wonder that when pressed, Abby did the first primal thing that came into her witchly head - head for wood and head up. And between the leaves and large branches of this golden ash - Abby had achieved both of those.

  Of course she was now stuck in a tree.

  Which posed problems.

  'What do you mean there is no sign of her?' the booming voice of the Guard only grew more menacing as it approached. Now Abby could feel it virtually rattling the leaves like a gale.

  'We've looked everywhere, sir; no one is sure where she went.'

  'Well go and look again!' the first Guard roared.

  Abby was terrified. They were after her, they had to be. Why had she trusted them? Why had she let herself be taken to the palace?

  In another moment the first Guard was upon her, or more literally underneath. The dog began scrabbling at the tree and whining. Abby just stood in the bow of the tree, clutching onto the trunk with one arm and willing the full canopy of leaves to protect her from sight, if only the dog would let up that terrible whine.

  Too late, though she could only see a snippet of his red jacket, but she knew that the Guard was looking up into the top of the tree. Granted she was wearing a gray dress, but-

  'And what are you doing up that tree?' the Guard had an incredibly officious tone that reminded Abby of Pembrake in full arrogant swing.

  She swallowed hard, forcing back the tidal wave of fear till she could make room for her tiny voice. 'Climbing it.'

  The man moved around the tree until the large branches that had mostly obscured Abby no longer impeded his view. 'I see,' he said.

  Abby forced herself to look at him, forced some kind of sweet innocent smile that probably looked like the grimace of a death-seeking warrior. 'Mmmm,' she said, because she felt the need to offer some more compelling evidence of her innocence.

  'Yes.'

  Abby found herself meeting the Guard's intense gaze with a sheepish, blinking one of her own. The man was older than she was, though probably not by all tha
t much. He had long enough hair that a thick wisp of fringe hung over his dark blue eyes. He was handsome in a fancy, hoity-toity way Ms Crowthy would definitely not approve of.

  'Are you going to come down from there, madam?' he said after a moment, clearly growing tired of looking at Abby trying to fake her innocence, 'I am quite busy and don't have time to rescue damsels from trees.'

  Okay, thought Abby, not exactly the welcoming she'd been expecting. Something more along the lines of 'die witch' and a sharp prod with a pitchfork had been on her mind.

  'Well?' the man flicked his hair from his eyes, which seemed to have a habit of creeping right back again. 'Here, you can jump into my arms, if you'd like.'

  Abby's face felt like it had stretched all the way to the back of her head from shock. Oh yes, Ms Crowthy really wouldn't like this man. 'I-'

  'Oh I can see you are shocked, little mouse, but I really must be going,' he put his arms up, 'come on.'

  Abby found herself laughing and patting her gray dress down absentmindedly. This was fine because, as a witch she was perfectly capable of keeping steady in the nook of the tree with just her feet. The Guard did blink in surprise though.

  'You do that, little mouse, and you'll fall right down,' he didn't move his arms, 'now don't hold me up all day long.'

  Her blush, by now, was incandescent. There didn't seem to be anywhere to run or anyway in which this situation could end without her being completely embarrassed. 'I'll be okay.'

  'Come now, little mouse, stop wasting my time.' He looked at her very pointedly, like a parent might look at a misbehaving child.

  'I can get down on my own.' Not that she wanted to, of course; this man, though handsome, was quite off putting and incredibly condescending. Abby paused for a moment and looked sideways. Scratch that previous thought, she thought, he wasn't handsome at all and as a witch she shouldn't even be thinking along those lines.

  'Oh really,' he was still as perfectly arrogant as before, except now he was cocking one eyebrow.

  Why was she meeting so many terrible men these days? Abby sniffed very firmly and leapt down from the tree, landing lightly beside the Guard. Though he hadn't seen it, she was sure, the whole tree had bent with her, making her jump all the more easy.

  'My word,' both the Guard's eyebrows were now raised and he looked vaguely impressed under that great tuft of fringe. 'Agile, little mouse.'

  Abby tried not to make a sour face, but this man was truly unbelievable. How rude to call a woman he had just met a mouse, Ms Crowthy would give him a good talking to around the knees with a broom, Abby was sure.

  The man opened his mouth after a long pause where he looked Abby up and down thoroughly, and from the look in his eyes it was clear he was going to say something cheeky.

  But before Abby had to steel herself for his next arrogant barrage, a voice rang out from behind them both. She recognised it and looked up to see Pembrake walking across the grass towards them, the Princess in an amazing sky-blue dress walking behind him and an entourage of ladies in waiting giggling in their wake.

  Abby, before she'd thought about it, looked at the Guard in wonder, wanting to share the sheer ludicrousness of the moment with a fellow human being, somewhat like two strangers witnessing a rain of herrings. The Guard did not look at her though, his eyes narrowed and his lips drew thin. He was angry, and quite clearly not amused.

  She just wanted to back away from the whole scene and climb up her tree till the pantomime had passed, but there was going to be little opportunity of that as Pembrake saw her and gave a brief wave. She wasn't sure what the look on his face was supposed to mean - it was half-surprised and half school-boy-I've-eaten-a-worm pleased. This would be Pembrake in his element, surrounded by adoring women and frolicking across the grass. What a total -

  Then something altogether unexpected occurred. The Guard sidestepped towards her and suddenly swept her off her feet, hefting her like a hero might carry a critically-swooning maiden. Except Abby was fine.

  She spluttered with surprise and made a strange whining noise which set the dog yapping around at the Guard's feet.

  'Down,' the Guard ordered.

  'Then put me down!'

  'I was talking to the dog.'

  By the time Pembrake had made it up to them, his frilly entourage still trotting behind him, his face had completed the gap between pleasure and shock and there was something peculiar flickering in his eyes. 'What's... is she okay?'

  Abby stopped spluttering for a moment to stare at Pembrake, shocked at how truly annoying he was. He hadn't bothered to ask Abby how she was, no it wasn't as if she could give an honest assessment - she was only a witch, right?

  'The little mouse sprained her ankle, I'm afraid,' the Guard hefted Abby easily, almost like he was lifting weights.

  'I am fine!' she roared a little too loudly after she'd shot Pembrake a death glare.

  'And delusional. Perhaps a little shocked from falling out of a tree, I'm afraid.'

  'She fell out of a tree? What was she doing up a tree?'

  Abby felt like waving her hands about and pointing at herself to remind Pembrake that she still existed, thank you. The whole time Pembrake had hardly looked at her. This was insane.

  'Sir, do you think it wise to berate the girl when she is in such a fragile condition?'

  Pembrake stiffened at the tone, his jaw setting and his lips curling in.

  'Look I'm fine – I was fine before, in fact – and I did not fall out of the tree.'

  Both men ignored her; it was like shouting at a wall, except a whole lot more frustrating because you expect a wall to ignore you.

  Abby toyed with the idea of struggling, but it was always a bad idea to incite a Guard, especially one as loony as this guy. She settled for glaring at everyone instead.

  'Then perhaps I should take her inside?' Pembrake's tone hinted that this was not a suggestion.

  'You? I'm the Captain of the Guard; I think that falls under my duties.'

  If Ms Crowthy had been here, both boys would find themselves with very painful shins and a terribly good reminder to never treat girls so poorly again. But Ms Crowthy wasn't here and Abby was so confused and angry that she felt ready to pop.

  'Captain of the Guard, do you even know her name?' Pembrake's voice was icy.

  The entourage, with the Princess standing close by Pembrake, looked on with Martha-like interest. The Princess was slightly red in the face as she gazed fitfully at both men.

  The Captain looked murderous, 'do I have to?'

  Alright this had to stop. 'Just put me down! I'm fine!' she tried to make her voice boom like she imagined Ms Crowthy’s might, but what with one thing and another it came out as a keening squeak.

  'I think not, madam, I will take you to safety,' the Captain hefted her again then bowed slightly at the Princess. 'Please forgive me, Princess, duty calls.' He gave the Princess an extremely devilish smile that left her blinking prettily then marched off with Abby in his arms.

  This was starting to be a habit, Abby thought bitterly: men were pretending to save her and using it to impress girls. She would have to start taking Ms Crowthy's advice and start hitting boys over the head with brooms.

  When they were sufficiently far enough away from the entourage, the Captain began to chuckle. 'See, mouse, that wasn't so hard, was it?'

  'Can you just put me down!'

  'Not until we are out of eye shot, mouse.'

  'Stop calling me that!' he could go to hell. Who cared if he was a Guard – Abby couldn't put up with this any longer.

  'Feisty, aren't you. First jumps out a tree then harasses the Captain of the Guard. Who are you, mouse?' he flicked his eyes down towards her as he continued across the grass.

  'Why did you pick me up like that? I was fine!' Abby wasn't about to give any information till she'd received a little herself.

  'I think we both know that, mouse.'

  Abby chose not to answer because she feared the only words in her head were vicious
indeed.

  'Because you had hurt your ankle,' he finished for her. 'Now answer my question – who are you, mouse?'

  It probably wasn't a wise idea to toy with him further. 'I was brought in with Pembrake when he saved the Princess. We're… just travelling together.'

  The Captain raised an eyebrow again; he seemed to find a lot of things curious. 'Indeed. I have been informed of the incident involving the Princess and her guest – I was looking for your name.'

  He'd said 'guest' with as much poison as possible.

  'Abby.' Why did she always find herself in such foolish situations? Okay so she'd never been in a situation quite like this – stuck between a love triangle, being repeatedly saved for no reason – but she felt like this was going to happen more often these days. There was something about Pembrake that screamed trouble. And this Captain was the icing on the cake.

  'Well, Abby the mouse, I'm sure you'll understand if I put you down now, my arms are beginning to hurt.' He let go of her and stepped away flicking his arms loosely.

  Abby tried not to smile at his honesty, but it was hard. Pembrake wouldn't have done that – his arms could have been ready to drop off and the idiot would have viciously lied about it all the way home.

  'I'm sorry for my display, but I could just tell that your ankle was hurting you.' The Captain looked at her and nodded after a moment.

  She didn't nod back, not quite yet. He'd redeemed himself slightly, but there was still a heck of a lot to make up for. 'My ankles are quite strong actually.'

  'Well isn't that interesting, now if you excuse me, I have to be elsewhere.'

  Momentarily forgetting the peculiarity of the last several minutes, Abby recalled the Captain's angry shouts when she'd been in the tree. He had been looking for someone, a woman, and he had been angry. 'Who were you looking for?'

  Now they stood sufficiently far enough apart so she could see his face in full, she could make out the twitch of indecision. He didn't want to tell her.

  'A criminal.'

  'What had she done?' Abby pressed a little further.