Abby the Witch

by Odette C. Bell

  The Crone narrowed her eyes. 'What?'

  'Take the Prince. If you can take him somewhere safe, then do that. I'm staying here.'

  The Prince began to splutter something about that being a horrible idea and how Abby had to leave and save herself right away.

  Both the Head Crone and Abby ignored him. The Crone looked at Abby very keenly, employing her fully-fledged withcly faculties to make the glare pierce right into Abby's soul.

  Abby held it.

  'No use in spluttering, boy,' the Crone finally released Abby's gaze, 'she's made up her mind. It seems this youngin is becoming a witch. She's taking her destiny in hand. It might be best for everyone if we get the pleck out of her way.'

  Was that a test? Had she just passed some kind of test?

  The Prince tried to complain, but after a stern talking to by the Crone, he shut up.

  'You do what you have to, Witch of Bridgestock,' the Crone nodded at Abby one last time before taking off with the rather surprised Prince in hand.

  Witch of Bridgestock? Abby, Witch of Bridgestock... The Head Crone had called her Witch of Bridgestock...

  'Woah, Abby! Stop staring off like that! We have company coming up those stairs!' screamed Charlie suddenly.

  The door to the roof swung open and the Colonel walked out.

  It was on.

  Chapter 19

  He threw her in prison. After all, what was one unarmed witch against a Colonel and a Turn About?

  She'd gone quietly.

  He'd walked onto the roof with that man behind him, his whole presence dripping with danger. He'd walked right up to her, but she had not flinched once.

  'Witch.'

  'Colonel.'

  'What have you done with the Prince?' his voice was so bitter and clipped, it was clear that he thought he was talking to the lowest form of humankind.

  'Taken him away from you.'

  He'd snarled and the man behind him, the sallow-skinned, yellow-eyed Turn About from the slumps, had smiled unnervingly.

  What a pair.

  'I see. Or I saw rather. I saw the old witch take the Prince away on a broom... or did I see her kidnap him?' the Colonel cocked his head to the side.

  Abby flinched.

  'Or maybe I saw her stab him in the back and throw him into the ocean from a great height?'

  'They'd never find the body,' the Turn About spoke with little whips of his tongue.

  'Much easier than actually killing him this,' the Colonel smiled.

  Abby did not flinch again. Keep on rolling past trouble like a stone tumbling down the mountain, that’s what a witch should do. 'But the Crone will send word and the Prince will come back one day. She'll take him somewhere safe, but they will tell people – people will know he's still alive and they'll know what you were planning.'

  It was the Colonel's turn to flinch.

  'I admire your indifference in the face of such a development, Colonel. But face it, things have changed.'

  'Elogian witch,' the Colonel's face had turned red, a fat, ruddy red. 'you've made a move, I'll grant you that. But don't think it will save you. You've given me a setback – but if you think you can stop me altogether, you are wrong. I still have the upper hand,' he nodded at the Turn About who snapped over to Abby and grabbed her by the shoulders, 'and will use everything in my power to achieve my goals.'

  With every moment Abby had to remind herself that she was the Witch of Bridgestock.

  The Turn About's thin fingers dug into her arm like tight ropes and he pulled her along after the Colonel.

  'It's prison for you, witch.'

  Abby held her head high, making brief eye contact with Charlie as he hid behind a chimney stack.

  The Colonel may have had the upper hand, but she had two magical bracelets – that had to be worth something.

  As they walked through the halls, staff and guests turning to see, Abby felt both the bracelets clink in her pocket. They were not exactly heavy, but she was still sure they were there.

  ~~~

  The prison cell was cold and damp. All prison cells were meant to be, after all. Incarceration was not meant to be comfortable. It was meant to be dark and smell of earth, like a freshly dug grave. Being locked up was meant to remind one of the fragility of life. Prisoners be damned.

  Pembrake reached out his hand and rested it on the cold bar of his cell. It was rusted iron, and flakes of the oxidized metal chipped off in his hands. If he had time and a chisel, he could break through. But lost in the past, he had neither of those.

  He was full of regret. Pembrake gripped the bar in one powerful hand and tried to shift it again, only to have more flakes of red-brown metal chip off in his hand. There was much he had to regret, and this seemed like the perfect moment to think of it all.

  He could list it all in his mind and still try to shift the bars of his prison cell.

  He had not given up: he still wanted to escape and finish what he'd begun or at least to find Abby one last time. But an air of finality had settled over him.

  Things appeared to be coming to a head.

  There was a creak from the other end of the prison and the large heavy door opened.

  The Colonel sauntered in. 'My, my, my, you haven't escaped yet, spy? What have they been teaching you in Elogia? You are the least effective spy I've ever met. Oh well,' he walked further in, 'at least I'll have both you spies in the same place for now. Your time in prison will allow me time to come up with a new plan and will allow you time to imagine what I'll come up with.' the Colonel turned to the man behind him who was still past the threshold of the door. 'Throw her in the cell next to him; I don't want them trying any pathetic escape attempts.'

  The Turn About dragged her in.

  He stood up and pressed himself against the bars. 'Abby?'

  She looked at him and nodded briefly, almost officially. He'd expected her to be a blubbering wreck, but she was standing all stiff and strong like an old woman standing up to a bully.

  She looked like a different person.

  'Don't get any ideas, witch,' the Turn About threw Abby into the cell and she lost her footing and fell hard onto the dusty floor.

  'You Pleck!' Pembrake threw himself at the bars, but of course they held.

  The Colonel laughed as he left the room. 'You Elogian spies are good fun really.'

  In a moment the door closed behind him and they were alone.

  Abby picked herself up and dusted herself off. Her movements were still stiff and strict, and she swatted at her dusty dress like a washerwoman beating a stubborn stain.

  'Abby, Abby, are you okay?' he moved across the bars that separated their cells and reached out a hand.

  She seemed to consider it for a moment, a strange play happening between the strong and proper Abby that had walked into the cell, and the ordinary Abby he knew was underneath.

  She seemed to come half way. Her face opened up with concern and warmth, but her shoulders did not drop with defeat.

  She reached out a hand and took his. 'Pembrake, I'm fine.'

  'Oh, Abby.'

  She breathed deeply. 'Yes... we seem to be in a bit of a pickle.'

  He laughed at her understatement, trying not to hold onto her hand with all his might lest he hurt her. But it was hard.

  'I'm sorry, Abby... I should have listened to you.'

  She nodded. 'And I should have listened to you. If I hadn't been so... weak... if I hadn't been so indecisive, we could have done something sooner.'

  'Are you saying you would have supported my stupid plan to kill the Colonel?'

  She looked at him with a very mature look, but at the edges it was touched with warmth. 'No, Pembrake, I would have tied you up as soon as let you near the Colonel.'

  He laughed at her sincerity. She seemed so different....

  'But if we'd worked together...' she looked down at her free hand but did not loosen her grip on his, 'if I'd trusted you... trusted in myself... I think we would have found that there were dif
ferent options. I think we were wrong when we thought it was a decision between either killing the Colonel or doing nothing... I think if we'd trusted each other properly... we would have found something else, something better.'

  She wasn't berating him. She wasn't telling him off for ruining their chances of ever returning home. She was just holding tightly onto his hand and thinking out loud about how things could have been different.

  'Abby, it shouldn't have ended this way,' he tried to push his arm further through the bars, ignoring the pain in his shoulder.

  'Perhaps it still won't,' she broke away from his hand and delved into her pockets, 'Pembrake I think I can fix your mother's bracelet.'

  'What?' he flailed for a moment, surprised that she'd dropped his hand, but when he realised what she was talking about he dropped his arm also.

  'I ran into your mother and she gave me this,' Abby held up a bracelet that looked identical to his mother's heirloom. 'It's the bracelet!' she held up the other bracelet, the broken one from the future, 'it's this bracelet except in the past!'

  He shook his head, startled at the sudden energy in her words. 'But what does that mean?'

  'It means I can fix it.' She sat both bracelets in her lap and stared at them keenly. 'It means I can use material from the past bracelet to fix the future one.'

  Her energy was catching and he grabbed the bars, pulling himself against them, trying to get a better look. 'But why can't you just use the past one?'

  Abby looked confused for a moment. 'I don't think that's the point somehow... I think fixing the broken bracelet is like... well, like fixing the broken timeline... I think it is all symbolic somehow.'

  He nodded. He didn't follow at all. But he wasn't the expert here, she was. Abby was the witch. 'Okay... go ahead then. But how long will it take?'

  Abby ignored him for a moment, apparently lost in thought as she picked up both bracelets and analysed them carefully. 'I can take some of the supporting string from the past bracelet... but I'm not sure if it will be enough. It will re-establish the magical connection to the beads... but I don't think it will be strong enough to go all the way round....'

  Pembrake had no idea what she was talking about, but wasn't about to second-guess her now. She needed his support and he was going to give it to her. 'What do you need?'

  She moved her tongue across her teeth. 'Some string would be nice... though it probably wouldn't work... it would have to be something organic,' she tapped the fingers against the beads of the one of the bracelets, 'I don't know – I guess hair might work... but where am I going to get that....'

  He looked at her for a moment, waiting for her to say more. 'You aren't serious, are you, Abby? You didn't just ask where you're going to get hair, did you? You have a full head of beautiful, long hair.'

  She blushed slightly. 'Yes, I know... thank you. But I can't use mine because this bracelet doesn't belong to me.'

  'What do you mean?' He had been so sure that she was onto something....

  'I can't weave my own hair into your treasured family heirloom? I'm not part of your family, Pembrake, I would have no right, the magic just wouldn't work.'

  'It wouldn't work if you weren't part of my family?'

  'Yeah,' she looked glumly at the bracelets.

  'Then you can have it,' he said it very slowly, very carefully, very warmly, hoping she'd pick up on what it meant.

  'But this is an heirloom, Pembrake! It's part of your family – you can't just give to me. The magic would be broken. If I'm right, then this bracelet should act like an anchor for us – pointing in the right direction towards the future. It belongs to your family and will connect to your Bridgestock, so giving it to me will just break the magic.'

  'Abby,' he really spoke carefully now, 'I don't think you understand me. I want you to have it.'

  Perhaps she picked up on something in his voice, because she looked up.

  She didn't look serious anymore, or innocent, or angry or any other expression she usually held. 'What do you mean,' she spoke carefully herself.

  'It's a tradition in my family to give that bracelet to the person you intend to marry.'

  '...Pembrake?'

  'Abby. Will you marry me?'

  Her face was alight with a sudden life. 'I... you aren't serious?'

  Was he serious? He'd just kind of said it…. If it was the only way to make the magic work… then it was the right thing to do, right?

  But… he was serious… wasn't he?

  He nodded.

  'But we're stuck in a prison cell – how are we going to get married?'

  'Surely it doesn't matter. I've just proposed to you, Abby, and now I've given you that bracelet... you'll be part of my family if you accept it.'

  It was hard to tell what she was thinking. Her face was turbulent like a sudden squall at sea. Was she about to cry, laugh, or refuse?

  She closed her eyes for a moment and smiled. 'So you are serious then?' she checked one more time.

  He held out his hand.

  She took it.

  'I am serious. Marry me, Abby.'

  It would have been the perfect moment, had they not been in prison. But they were in prison and time was running out.

  'Can you fix it now?'

  She smiled, her cheeks warm and red. 'I'll give it a go.'

  He silently watched her work, fixing the bracelet in her lap. He didn't want to interrupt her, but a thought came to mind as he watched. 'But what of the Key of Time?'

  She looked up for a moment. 'What?'

  'Those witches said that we had to find the Key of Time.... Do you have any idea what that is?'

  'I... well I don't know. I'd figured that it must have been something in the castle... but I guess I'd never found the time to look.' Abby looked suddenly crestfallen.

  'So it is a physical object then? Not something magical, nothing like a spell or anything?'

  She screwed up her nose. 'To be honest I hadn't thought of that... I'd just assumed that it would be an object like a talisman of some sorts. But I guess it could be anything.'

  'So it could be in this room with us then?' Pembrake said hopefully, giving Abby a brave smile.

  She laughed lightly. 'Wouldn't that be nice.'

  'Well why wouldn't it be?' he didn't want her to give up hope. Even if he didn't know what he was talking about, he wanted to convince her that there must still be hope. 'If you have no idea what it is, why couldn't it be in this room with us? What would be a key to time anyway? Would it be a clock, a calendar, a watch?'

  She shook her head. 'No... it shouldn't be. Witches don't really think of time like that. Clocks and days only measure time....'

  'So what would the key be then? What would lock up time? How do witches talk about time?'

  She leant back slightly, her nose still crinkled with thought. 'It is supposed to be the most powerful force in the universe.... It's supposed to reach everywhere and be capable of doing anything... witches are very wary of time. Mrs Crowthy hated talking about it. She used to ensure there was a roaring fire in the hearth before she even mentioned the word.'

  Pembrake chuckled. 'It sounds more like you'd want to lock time out, not open it up.'

  Abby turned quickly, her face alight with amazement, her grey eyes almost azure from the sudden energy flickering behind them. 'What?'

  'Lock time out?'

  'I just thought… well, when they'd said it, I'd thought that they'd meant the key opened time... but why couldn't it lock time out? A key locks and it unlocks. I'd never even thought!'

  He smiled at her. 'Neither had I.'

  'Pembrake, that must be it, that's exactly how a witch would think. They wouldn't want to unlock time and allow more in, they'd want to lock it away so they only had just the right amount.'

  'I see,' he lied but in an excited tone.

  'When the witches said that we'd broken our destines, I think that's what they meant. By changing our destinies, we'd left our lives open ended, flapping in the ether
with no direction.'

  'We were lost in time?' Pembrake hazarded.

  'Yes. We were lost in time, with no ending... but if we set our destinies straight again... if we lock out the open-ended entirety of time… we should get out lives back…. Without a destiny we had too much time. But with a destiny we have just the right amount to do what we have to.'

  Pembrake really tried hard to follow. 'Like a ration?'

  'Yes... we have a set amount of time, and it is up to us to do what we will with it.'

  'So all we have to do is find a way to lock time out?'

  'Yes, Pembrake, that's it!'

  '... And how are we going to do that?'

  She faltered. 'I... um... well I guess... oh.'

  'Why don't you just fix the bracelet and see what happens?'

  She looked up at him. 'Do you think that could work?'

  'I have no idea.'

  'I guess,' she began to work at the bracelet again and her voice dropped to a mumble, 'I guess technically...' she blushed suddenly.

  'What?' the interest in his voice was obvious.

  She swallowed delicately. 'Well... I guess if we are getting married... and I'm fixing your... our family heirloom with my own hair... in a way I'm kind of….'

  'Yes?'

  'Binding us together in a kind of way I guess....'

  'Together?'

  She gulped.

  'Well that sounds perfect doesn't? It you have two broken strings, you tie them together. right?'

  She hadn't looked up at him; she was still blushing, after all. 'I guess so.'

  'You guess so?' he pressed.

  'Yes.'

  'Then fix the bracelet.'

  ~~~

  Fix the bracelet. That's all she had to do… fix the bracelet.

  Did he understand what that meant? Fixing this bracelet, winding her own hair into it… did Pembrake honestly understand what that meant?

  She looked up at him again, her bottom lip trembling.

  'Abby, it's okay, just do it.'

  She was the Witch of Bridgestock right…. She could fix this bracelet… and….

  'If it doesn't work,' her voice seemed to be speaking of its own accord, 'what then?'

  'If it doesn't work, we'll try something else.'