Wand of the Witch

by Daniel Arenson

  Next day, The Burrfield Gazette printed the headline:

  "BULLIES FOR BUCKS, TOWN THUGS, EAT PUPPY FOR DINNER."

  When Romy saw the headline, her eyes widened in delight.

  "Ooh, a puppy!" she said. "Is it a poodle? Can we eat it tonight again?" The demon licked her lips and rubbed her belly.

  Neev's face turned red, and smoke all but rose from his ears. "Quill's done it again!" he said and tossed the paper across the room.

  Scruff retrieved it from the corner of their living room, dusted it off, and read the article. Quill wrote that a lovely puppy had been living in the Bullies' yard, clucking and scratching the dust and enjoying life despite tragically looking like a chicken. The Bullies, who hate puppies, cooked it for dinner... and they're after your puppy next.

  When Scruff went into town that day, hoping to buy milk and eggs, people glowered. A few pelted him with rotten fruit (why they were carrying around rotten fruit, he could not guess). Others yelled at him: "Puppy eater!"

  "It was a chicken!" he shouted.

  "Well, how brave would you be, if somebody tried to cook you?"

  Scruff groaned and returned home, empty-handed.

  The next morning, the Gazette printed the following headline:

  "SCRUFF THISTLE, BULLY, STEALS FRUIT FROM TOWNFOLK."

  Romy shook her head reproachfully. "Scruff, how could you?"

  He glared at her. "Romy! They were throwing the fruit at me."

  "Did they throw any poodles too?" She pointed into her mouth. "Me hungreee."

  They were all hungry. Their pantry was nearly empty, and Romy had already eaten everything in their garden, including the rocks and gnomes. Sooner or later, Scruff knew, they'd have to go shopping in town. He didn't relish anything else tossed his way; he had a feeling that next time, people might throw stones along with old apples.

  "Something must be done about John Quill," he finally conceded. "It's time for the Bullies to pay him a visit."

  Chapter Three

  Hear All About It!

  They walked through the forest, dry leaves crunching under their boots. More leaves fell around them, and the air smelled of earth, rain, and trees.

  "Remind me," Jamie said, "why are we walking in the forest instead of on Burrfield's nice, cobbled streets?"

  Scruff groaned. "I told you, Jamie. Those streets are so nice, they're full of people—people who hate us and would pelt us with things. The print shop is across town. We'll just walk around Burrfield instead of through it."

  Jamie sighed. She was a warrior, the daughter of a knight. She carried Moonclaw, her father's fabled sword, and she wore armor of steel. Why was she slinking through the forest?

  "I'm not afraid of a few stupid townfolk," she said.

  "Because you hadn't seen them," Scruff said. "They had torches and pitchforks."

  "I have a pitchfork!" Romy piped up.

  Scruff glowered at the demon. "They don't decorate theirs with pink ribbons and hearts."

  Romy pouted, hid her frilly pitchfork behind her back, and began to suck her thumb.

  Jamie drew her sword and raised it. It caught the light and glimmered. "Look at this sword, Scruff. Look at that oversized, spiked mace you carry. Look at Cobweb's bow, at Neev's spellbook, and at Romy's, well..."

  Romy stared at her expectantly, wagging her tail. "My claws of steel? My fangs that bite? My pitchfork of dread?"

  "...singing voice," Jamie finished. "With these weapons, we defeated Dry Bones, the greatest warlock in the world. We don't have to fear townfolk angry over a few nonsensical articles. I—"

  A roar interrupted her.

  Jamie spun toward Scruff, frowning. "Scruff, did your belly just rumble again?"

  Scruff looked around the forest, eyes narrowed. He raised Norman, his spiny mace. "Wasn't me this time."

  The roar rose again. Two more roars answered it. They seemed to come from the eastern trees.

  Grobblers, was Jamie's first thought. The creatures had attacked Burrfield years ago and killed her mother. But how could grobblers still live? Their master, Dry Bones, was dead.

  The trees rustled. Footfalls and grunting moved closer. Jamie held her sword tight.

  Be with me, Father, she prayed. I will fight bravely like you.

  Ten creatures burst from between the trees, and Jamie snarled.

  They were bulky, green things. They looked to Jamie like somebody had slapped them together from clumps of clay, but never finished the job. Their limbs were knobby, their bodies warty, their faces swollen. They grunted and opened their mouths to roar, revealing fangs.

  "Ooh, wood elves!" Romy said in delight. "I've always wanted to see you guys."

  The creatures grunted.

  "We... grunt grunt... are grunters!" one said. "And you are the Bullies for Bucks. You killed Dry Bones. You... grunt... will die."

  Their claws glinted and they ran forward.

  Jamie ran to meet them, sword swinging.

  Her blade sliced into one. It fell, grunting. A second grunter slashed at her, and its claws hit her breastplate, raising sparks. Jamie growled, kicked it, and stabbed it. Blood spurted, bright green.

  As she swung her sword, she saw the others fighting. Scruff was swinging his spiny mace, shattering grunter bones. Neev shouted spells, shooting sparks of lightning. Cobweb fired arrow after arrow, her eyes narrowed and her purple skin glowing. Romy flapped her wings, hovered in the air, and stabbed her pitchfork down onto the beasts.

  A grunter slashed claws at Jamie. It tore into her thigh, drawing blood. She screamed and stabbed it.

  "Do you work for Dry Bones?" she shouted.

  The grunter snarled and drooled. "We serve the great witch Madrila. This town will be hers. Burrfield will fall."

  It tried to bite her. Jamie leaped back, swung her sword, and its blood splashed. The grunter fell dead.

  Silence fell. Ten warty, green bodies littered the road. The battle was over.

  Cobweb rushed to Jamie's side, eyes wide with concern.

  "J-j-jamie! You'we huwt."

  The spiderling took a handkerchief from Scruff and wrapped it around Jamie's wound. Green grunter blood covered the forest around them. The bodies stank, tongues hanging from their mouths.

  "You know," Romy said, "everybody says wood elves are all graceful and friendly, but they're really not."

  Jamie sighed. "Those were no wood elves, Romy. Whatever they were, they knew we're the Bullies. They knew this is Burrfield. They were not wandering here aimlessly; they were looking for us."

  Neev knelt by one and examined it. Donkey ears grew from his head. The young warlock still hadn't outgrown his jinx; whenever he cast spells, some animal part sprouted from him. He pulled his hood over his ears and frowned.

  "The grunters spoke of serving a witch named Madrila," he said. "I wonder if...." He shook his head. "No, impossible. And yet...." His frown deepened.

  "What is it, Mommy?" Romy asked. She knelt beside him and hugged him.

  Neev growled. "Romy, I summoned you from Hell almost a year ago. Must you still call me Mommy?"

  She nodded. "Uh huh. Now what do you know about these grunting things?"

  Neev straightened and smoothed his robes. Romy stood with arms around him, leaning her head against his shoulder.

  "I've never heard of grunters," he said, "but I've heard the name Madrila. She was legendary back at the Coven. Apparently, a year before I joined, a young woman stormed into the Coven's tunnels. She called herself Madrila. They say she was beautiful, with long blond hair and green eyes."

  Romy pouted. "My hair and eyes are prettier."

  Neev mussed her hair of flames and continued. "In any case, Madrila marched right into the class Dry Bones was teaching his pupils. She shouted that she was Dry Bones's daughter, and that he must acknowledge her and teach her magic. But Dry Bones only shouted that he had no daughter. He banished her. Nobody saw her again. All the apprentices assumed she was a disgraced former student Dry Bones had flunke
d. Now it seems she's collected monsters and wants to avenge her father."

  Jamie limped forward. Her wound throbbed. She grasped Neev's shoulder and stared at him.

  "Neev," she said, "Dry Bones banished her. He denied being her father. Why would this Madrila care that we killed him? Why would she want us dead?"

  He sighed. "I don't know. Maybe she thinks that, by killing us, she can finally earn her father's respect... even if that father is dead now."

  "And maybe she's just a nut," Romy said and flapped her lips with her finger, making blubbering noises.

  In any case, Jamie thought, she now worried a lot less about John Quill, and a lot more about witches and monsters in the dark. The wind moaned, the trees creaked, and Jamie shuddered.

  * * * * *

  Neev smoothed his robes and pointed at the largest dead grunter.

  "We're taking this fellow straight to Lord Bramblebridge," he said. "If monsters are planning a new attack on Burrfield, he needs to know. Scruff, pick him up."

  His older brother, a lumbering giant who towered above the other bullies, made a face.

  "I don't want to touch that thing," he said. "It stinks."

  Romy picked a flower and tossed it onto the body. "There, he'll smell better now. You can do it, Scruff!"

  Grumbling and grimacing, Scruff lifted the dead grunter and slung it over his back. The grunter's tongue swung from its mouth, slapping against Scruff.

  "He's all clammy," Scruff said. "It's like holding a giant toad."

  "Let's hope his warts don't rub off," Neev said and started walking.

  Leaving the other grunters behind, the Bullies walked between the trees. Dry leaves fell around them and crunched under their boots. Squirrels, caterpillars, and geese filled the forest around them. It was a beautiful forest, and a beautiful day, but an iciness filled Neev's belly. Only last year, they had defeated a horde of monsters and an evil warlock. Would they never find peace?

  Soon they reached Teasel Gate, the northern entrance to Burrfield. Wooden doors filled an archway in a crumbling, mossy wall. A lone guard stood there, an old man with white stubble, a round nose, and watery eyes.

  "Who comes to Burrfield?" he asked.

  "It's us, old friend," Neev said. He had often sat by the old man at the Porcupine's Quills tavern, listening to his stories. "Bullies for Bucks. Don't you recognize us?"

  The guard blinked and squinted. "The Bullies, aye... my eyes aren't what they used to be. They say you've been eating puppies and worshipping the devil. Why should I let you into town?"

  Neev shrugged. "Well, I'm a wizard. I could just teleport myself into town. Romy has wings and could fly over the wall. Scruff is big enough to crash through it. Jamie is small enough to burrow under the doors. And Cobweb... well, she's so sweet, nobody hates her. But if you do let us in, it'll all be much simpler."

  The guard blinked. "Well, I'm not sure what you just said, but I reckon it must make sense. But be wary, friends. Townfolk are mighty angry at you. I'll let you in, but don't go eating any puppies or worshipping no more devils."

  Neev opened his mouth, prepared to deny the charges, then sighed. "All right, we promise."

  The old guard nodded. "Good, good." He opened the door, and the Bullies stepped back into Burrfield.

  As they left the gateway behind, Neev reflected that if grunters arrived at the gates, the doorman would hold them back for no more than a moment.

  "The town needs a dozen guards at each gate," he said to Scruff. "And a dozen more with bows upon the walls. If more grunters are on the way, we can't let them in."

  Scruff nodded, hefting the dead grunter across his shoulders. "We'll tell Bramblebridge. He keeps all his soldiers at Fort Rosethorn. When he sees this creature, he'll send them to the walls."

  Their boots thudded on the cobbled streets. Oaks with orange and golden leaves rustled at their sides. The houses rose around them, built of wood and clay, their roofs made of hatch. Geese flew overhead, honking.

  When they entered a small square with a mermaid fountain, Neev saw Quill's print shop. Quill himself peered from the window; he gasped, his eyes widened, and he disappeared from view. Neev gritted his teeth.

  "The twerp saw us," he muttered. "What nonsense will he go write now? Maybe he'll claim our dead grunter is actually a baby unicorn we slew."

  Romy shook her head. "It's a wood elf," she said. "I think."

  Jamie muttered too and reached for her sword. "I say we visit him now. I'll bash his printer with my sword!"

  Neev was tempted. Bashing Quill's printer sounded glorious. But he forced himself to walk by.

  "We'll go there next. First we visit Fort Rosethorn and show Bramblebridge the grunter. Once he sends reinforcements to the walls, and Burrfield is safe, we'll deal with Quill. The weasel can wait for another hour."

  Grumbling, the Bullies walked by, leaving the square and the print shop behind. Soon they saw Fort Rosethorn ahead. It rose upon a hill—a craggy, ancient fortress. Moss and roses covered its walls. Neev had never cared for swords or castles—spellbooks and scrolls were his loves—but Fort Rosethorn was still special to him. Father was a knight in this fort. Neev had visited him here many times in childhood; he still treasured the memories of climbing the walls, exploring the dungeons for ghosts, and listening to Father tell stories of the fort's legendary heroes.

  Guards stood at the gates, clad in breastplates and holding spears. They gasped at the sight of the dead grunter and pulled the portcullis open. The Bullies walked under the wall and across the courtyard. Fifty squires were training here, clad in chain mail and swinging wooden swords. Dust rose and the smells of sweat, wood, and roses filled the air; the flowers covered every crumbling wall.

  Lord Bramblebridge stood among the squires, chest puffed out, belly sucked in, moustache bristling. Sweat glistened on his bald head and plump, red cheeks.

  "Scruff!" he bellowed when he saw the bullies. "Jamie!"

  He lumbered toward them, arms swinging, shoving squires aside. His eyes widened.

  "What in blazes are you carrying, boy?" he shouted at Scruff.

  Scruff dropped the grunter onto the ground. Green blood trickled. The squires gasped and muttered.

  "It's a wood elf," Romy said.

  Bramblebridge squinted at the body and poked it with his sword. "Bloody hell, it looks like a human toad. Green and warty and stinks to high heavens."

  "That's nothing," Romy said, twirling her tail. "You should smell the outhouse after Scruff uses it."

  Bramblebridge ignored her and nudged the dead grunter with his boot. "Where did you find this creature?" he asked Scruff.

  "If you mean Romy," Scruff said, "that is Neev's fault. As for this warty green thing, I killed it." He let a hint of pride fill his voice.

  "Actually, I killed that one," Neev said. He could see a scar where his magical bolts had seared the creature.

  Romy shook her head. "Nuh uh, Neev! I killed this one, I did. I poked his brain with my pitchfork."

  "Killed it?" somebody spoke behind them. The voice was high-pitched and spoke with a genteel accent.

  Neev clenched his fists and turned around.

  "Quill," he said in disgust. "Who let you in here?"

  The young printmaker bristled. His pencil-line moustache twitched like a worm. He puffed out his chest, straightened his cap, and harrumphed.

  "Not that it's any of your business, warlock," Quill said, spitting out the last word as an insult, "but I am here on official Burrfield Gazette business."

  Jamie snarled, leaped onto him, and began kicking him. "Your Gazette is rubbish!" she cried, kicks and punches flying. "It's not even worth blowing my nose into. How dare you print that nonsense?"

  Quill was squealing. His arms waved in a useless attempt to hold off Jamie.

  "Get this creature off me!" he demanded. "Bramblebridge, call off this little runt."

  Jamie, who stood shorter than Quill's shoulders, howled with rage.

  Lord Bramblebridge ho
wled too, a sound which shook the fort. "Stop this!" he demanded. His cheeks were puffed and glistening red. "Men, separate these two."

  It took four squires to pull Jamie off Quill. She kept screaming and kicking in their grasp. Quill rubbed the places she'd struck him, glaring at her.

  "Now what is the meaning of this?" Lord Bramblebridge demanded.

  Quill lifted his cap from the ground, dusted it off, and placed it back on his head. It drooped. He raised his chin, as if trying to rescue the last of his dignity.

  "My lord," he said and sketched a bow. "If the Bullies go around slaying innocent forest creatures, it is my duty—as Burrfield's chief journalist—to report of their crimes."

  "Our crimes?" Neev demanded. He pointed at Quill. "One more word out of you, and I'll turn you into a forest creature, and not a pleasant one."

  Quill snickered. "I'm not afraid of you, warlock. If you pull any of your tricks here, there are a hundred men around who will arrest you. It is still illegal to practice your dark magic in Burrfield." He glared at Romy. "That creature you summoned is bad enough."

  Romy beamed with pride and her tail wagged. "Did you hear that, Mommy Neev? He said I'm bad. Finally somebody realizes I'm bad!" She gave a high-pitched roar and snarled. "All fear Romy, the evil demon of Hell!" Then she giggled and covered her mouth.

  Jamie managed to break free and leaped onto Quill again. Squires ran forward. Dust flew. Bramblebridge shouted, and suddenly it seemed that everybody was fighting. Several squires grabbed Neev's shoulders; one tried to wrench his spellbook from his pack, and only a withering glare from Neev cowed him.

  "Out, out!" Bramblebridge bellowed. "I want you out of this fort!"

  Jamie nodded. "Hear that, Quill? Get lost."

  But Quill only smirked at her. "He means you, runt."

  It was true, Neev realized. Bramblebridge was pointing at them and squires began dragging the Bullies out of the courtyard.

  "You will not attack citizens of Burrfield in this fort!" the lord was bellowing. "Out, Bullies, out! I will not allow senseless violence in my courtyard. Now, squires—back to bashing one another with blunt swords."