Romy flew toward the window. Jamie kicked, breaking the shutters, and leaped inside. She drew her sword and swung it. Candles flew. Romy tumbled in behind her, fangs bared and claws slashing.
A fireball flew toward them.
Jamie leaped aside, and the fireball shot by her, singing her clothes. It hit Romy in the chest. The fireproof demon tossed it aside, then leaped forward, thrusting her pitchfork. Jamie swung her sword.
A bolt of lightning flew.
Jamie parried with her sword. The bolt hit the blade, and her fingers blazed. Ignoring the pain, she swung her sword. The spellcaster stood in shadow; Jamie could not see the enemy. Her blade slammed into a force field and bounced back.
"Hello, Bullies," said the figure in the shadows. Romy kicked the fireball forward, and Jamie saw the witch.
She was a young, beautiful woman with golden hair and ghostly white skin. She wore black robes and a pointy hat.
"So you're Dry Bones's daughter," Jamie said. "I'll enjoy killing you like we killed him."
She thrust her sword. Madrila swung her wand, and blue light flew. The light slammed against the sword, parrying like a ghostly blade. Lightning flew from Madrila's other hand, slammed into Jamie's chest, and pain exploded.
Jamie fell. The world spun. Romy leaped, wings flapping, and tried to bite Madrila. The witch snarled, pointed her wand, and shot black lightning. The bolts hit Romy, tossing her against the ceiling. The demon grunted and crashed onto a table, breaking jars and bottles.
"Romy!"
Jamie snarled and leaped up. Before she could attack Madrila, the door opened. Grunters rushed into the room, grunting and snapping their teeth. Jamie swung her sword, spraying green blood. Romy leaped off the table, shook her head wildly, and leaped toward the creatures.
Madrila smiled and pointed her wand at Jamie. Green light blazed. Jamie parried. The spell bounced off her blade and hit a grunter. The creature froze, then puffed up. Fur sprouted across it, bright green. It suddenly looked like a giant fluff ball. It squeaked miserably.
"Ooh, fluffy!" Romy said, distracted from the battle.
Smiling crookedly, Madrila aimed her wand at Romy. Light flew and hit the demon. Romy froze, eyes widening. With a puff, orange fur sprouted across her. She became a ball of orange fluff, a good six feet in diameter.
"I feel fluffy!" Romy said, her voice now high pitched and squeaky. "Jamie, want to pat my fur?"
Jamie didn't. She ran toward Madrila and thrust her sword. But Madrila was too fast. She shot her wand at Jamie, and the light hit her chest.
Jamie froze and growled.
Oh bloody hell.
With a pop, she turned into a giant, pink ball of fluff. She could barely see through the fur covering her; it felt like living inside a dandelion.
"Ooh, you're pretty now, Jamie," said the orange fluff ball. "But I wish I were pink too. Pink is my favorite color."
Madrila placed her hands on her hips and smiled crookedly. "My my, look what's become of the brave heroines." She tapped her fingers against her thigh. "Let me see, what shall I do now? Burn you two? Sew you into sweaters? Or maybe... maybe I will use you as bait." She nodded. "Yes, I like that. Bait for more Bullies."
Jamie couldn't tell for sure, but it seemed like Romy was pouting.
"But I want to be a sweater," fluffy Romy whined.
Jamie tried to swing her sword, but couldn't even see it; the weapon drowned in her fur. She tried to charge toward Madrila, but ended up only rolling. The chamber spun around her, and when Jamie screamed, only a squeak came out.
Madrila laughed cruelly. "Grunters," she said, "roll these two downstairs and stuff them into cages. I'll have more use for them later."
The grunters rolled Jamie onto a staircase. She squeaked as they rolled her downstairs. The house spun around her. Romy was rolling downstairs behind her, crying for joy.
"Faster!" the demon said. "Faster!"
Soon Jamie and Romy rolled into the basement. Cages filled the place, creatures inside them. Jamie saw a toad in one cage, a monkey in another, and two piglets in a third. Other cages were cloaked in shadows. The grunters rolled Jamie and Romy into one cage and locked its door. Laughing and grunting, the grunters stepped back upstairs.
Jamie shuddered, her fur twitching. Romy's fur pressed up against her.
"Jamie, do you want to play marbles?" Romy asked.
Jamie roared in rage, but it sounded only like a puppy yapping. "Romy, we are turned into balls of fluff. We are locked in a witch's basement. How on earth are we going to play marbles?"
"But I'm bored!" Romy said.
With a sigh, Jamie huddled closer to Romy, so that their fur mingled. At least we won't be cold, she thought. She closed her eyes and thought about the other Bullies. I hope you're doing better than we are.
Would Madrila attack Burrfield now? Were the Bullies doomed? Jamie shivered. Romy began to snore, and Jamie leaned against her. It would be a long night.
Chapter Eight
Battle Cry
Fall Festival had come to Glaswood Forest, and Noelyn was worried.
She wanted it to be her favorite time of year. After all, Fall Festival was the favorite time of most elflings. But Noelyn was not like most elflings, and for her, Fall Festival brought pain and misfortune every year.
Sitting upon a mossy log, she looked around her. Elflings moved between the trees, hanging strings of walnuts from the branches. Other elflings were building leafmen, creatures woven of dry leaves, twigs, and strings. A few elflings were piling up the Carving Gourds; a highlight of the festival was always the carving contest, where elflings competed at giving gourds the scariest faces. Golden leaves glided everywhere, and the air smelled of berries, dry flowers, and sweet wine.
It will be a beautiful day, Noelyn told herself. A perfect day. Fall Festival is a time of joy and beauty.
And yet she shuddered. The first Fall Festival she remembered was ten years ago, when she was only five. She had been weaving leafmen when the trolls attacked, thrusting spears and shooting arrows. Her parents had died that day, along with the rest of her clan. She had escaped, alone and bloodied, and ran for two days through the woods until arriving here at Clan Birchroot. Her friends Ellywyn and Rowyn had found her cowering among the trees, shivering and famished.
Noelyn hugged herself, the memory bringing tears to her eyes. But that was years ago, she told herself. She watched a group of children climb a tree to hang their dolls from the branches. No trolls had been seen in Glaswood Forest since that day.
The year after, however, also brought her pain. When she was six years old, she had joined Ellywyn and Rowyn—themselves only children then—for a new Fall Festival. The other children had mocked her that day. They laughed at her brown northern skin, so unlike the fair skin of Birchroot elflings. They laughed at her silver hair, and tugged it, and bloodied her nose. She ran home crying, abandoning the leafmen dolls, the gourd carvings, and the singing and dancing.
That too was long ago, she told herself. Yet the year after that, her pet badger died at Fall Festival, and another year she had gotten sick and lain for three days with a fever.
"But this year will be perfect," she told herself. "You are no longer a frightened little girl. You are fifteen, and a skilled archer and warrior. You no longer have to fear trolls or bullies."
She sighed, left the log where she sat, and approached a stream. She leaned down to drink, and once her thirst was quenched, she examined her reflection. Her skin was the color of healthy earth. Her hair was smooth and silver like a waterfall in moonlight, and her eyes were lavender pools. A half-moon goldencharm glowed on her forehead, and a quiver of arrows hung on her hip. She wore a grey dress, its skirt and sleeves ending with a hem of triangles. A bow and harp, both carved of giltwood, hung over her back.
"You are Noelyn, a strong woman, a brave warrior," she told her reflection. "You can face one little Fall Festival."
When she left the stream, she scanned the forest, seeking h
er friends. Where were Ellywyn and Rowyn? They should have been here by now.
She spotted Oryn ahead, Rowyn's little brother. The young elfling, only ten years old, was kneeling behind the pile of gourds. He glanced around, thrust out his tongue in concentration, and pulled his cloak tighter around him.
Noelyn frowned. The boy was always pulling one prank or another. She marched toward him. When she got nearer, she saw that he was cutting small holes into the gourds, then stuffing them with strawberry jam.
"Oryn!" she said and grabbed his ear. She twisted and pulled him away from the gourds.
"Ow ow ow!" the boy said. "What are you doing, Noelyn?"
"What are you doing? Stuffing jam into gourds?"
An impish grin spread across the young elfling's face. "I'm giving them blood!" He giggled. "When the children carve into them, the gourds will bleed. It'll terrify Toryn and Gelflyn and the others. I bet they'll cry."
Noelyn twisted his ear, incurring winces and whimpers.
"You will cry, Oryn, if I catch you pulling another prank! No more pranks today, understood?" She lifted the strawberried gourd and tossed it into the forest. "Come with me. It's time to sing a song."
He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh, Noelyn, I hate singing, you know that. Can't you just perform yourself this year?"
She shook her head. "No. You promised to sing with me this Fall Festival, remember? So come on."
She dragged him by the ear toward the Moonstone, a mossy boulder that rose from a pool of dry leaves. A silver moon was carved into its surface, glowing. Noelyn climbed onto the boulder. The silver moon's glow grew, and she felt the goldencharm on her forehead grow warmer; that moon too was glowing bright, she knew. She pulled her harp from over her back and began to play.
Oryn climbed onto the boulder beside her. He began to sing, his voice high and clear like wind on a mountain. Noelyn sang too, her voice sad and smooth like a stream seeking the sea. She sang of beauty—of trees, of coming winter, or life and love—but there was sadness to her song too, she thought. I sing for my lost home. For my clan that was destroyed. For my parents, my siblings, my shattered life. Dozens of elflings gathered around the boulder, abandoning their work to hear her voice. Their eyes closed and they sang softly with her.
When she heard the growling, her voice died, and her harpstrings stilled.
The elflings around her stirred and mumbled. The growling and howls rose among the trees, moving closer.
"Monsters!" Oryn whispered. He pulled his sling from his belt, reached into his pocket, and found a river stone. He loaded his sling and spun it over his head.
Noelyn's heart froze. At once, she was five years old again, and trolls were attacking her clan. Ice filled her veins and spun her head, and yet her fingers were steady. She grabbed her bow from over her back, drew an arrow from her quiver, and nocked it. She stared around, eyes narrowed. Growls and howls filled the forest.
"What is it?" an elfling cried.
"Are we under attack?" shouted another, an old man with a face like a dried apple.
Children began to cry. Some elflings began scurrying up the trees. Noelyn stayed on the boulder, bow raised.
"Stay by me, Oryn," she whispered. "Whatever happens, stay by me."
Twenty creatures burst out from between the trees, screeching. Noelyn felt the blood leave her face. Spirits, they're hideous. They were great lizards, five feet long, racing on clawed feet. A red horn, like a unicorn's, grew from each one's head. Bits of flesh dangled from their sharp teeth. They raced toward the elflings, bloodlust in their eyes.
Noelyn loosed her arrow. It whistled and slammed into a lizard. The creature howled.
Other reptiles were tearing into the elflings. Blood splashed the forest. Elflings fell dead. Noelyn nocked another arrow and shot, hitting a lizard. It mewled and fell.
"Noelyn!" Oryn said, face white. He trembled.
"Shoot them with your sling!" she shouted. "Aim for their heads."
Trembling, he nodded and shot a sling stone. It sailed through the air and hit a lizard, knocking it down.
Two beasts raced toward the boulder, claws scattering dry leaves. Their eyes blazed and their horns caught fire, crackling like torches upon their heads. They leaped over dead elflings, staring at Noelyn and Oryn.
Noelyn nocked another arrow. She aimed. She fired. Her arrow slammed into one lizard; it was only six feet away. It fell with a squeal. Oryn shot the other with his sling stone. The blow hit the lizard's horn, bending it. The creature screamed and kept racing forward. It leaped onto the boulder and slammed into Noelyn.
"Noelyn!" Oryn cried.
She fell and hit the forest floor. The lizard screamed atop her, and its claws lashed, tearing her dress and skin. It leaned in to bite. Noelyn drew an arrow and drove it upward. The arrow entered the creature's mouth and tore through its throat. It gurgled and blood dripped from its maw. Noelyn kicked it off and leaped to her feet.
Two more lizards were racing toward her. A river stone sailed overhead and slammed into one, knocking it down. Noelyn drew an arrow. The lizard leaped toward her, spraying drool. Noelyn shot. The arrow pierced the lizard a foot away from her, and it crashed dead upon her.
She pushed it off and leaped back onto the boulder. She stood beside Oryn, staring around. A dozen elflings lay dead. Lizards were busy eating them. More lizards were racing around, searching for more elflings, but the others had fled into the trees.
"Noelyn!" cried a voice in the distance.
"Oh spirit, Noelyn, are you all right?" shouted another voice.
Rowyn and Ellywyn emerged from between the trees, goldencharms glowing. They raced toward the boulder.
"Climb the trees!" Noelyn shouted to them. "Don't worry about me."
But her friends ran toward her over roots and leaves. The reptiles hissed and leaped toward them. Rowyn uttered spells, shooting smoke from his wand. One lizard turned to stone, then another. Ellywyn lashed Sunfire, her dagger of elfsilver. Lizard blood flew, black and thick.
"For Glaswood Forest!" rose battle cries, and a dozen elfling warriors emerged from the trees, bearing bows and quivers. A dozen arrows flew. Lizards squealed. Blood splashed. Noelyn shot her last arrow, killed a lizard, and it was over.
Silence fell. The beasts all lay dead, tongues hanging from their maws.
Legs shaky, Noelyn climbed off the boulder. Rowyn rushed to her and embraced her.
"You're wounded," he said and touched her cheek.
She nodded, eyes lowered, and held him. "A scratch."
He kissed her cheek. "We must find you a healer."
Noelyn smiled. Concern filled Rowyn's eyes. When they grew up, he was always the one who'd comfort her when she cried, who bandaged her wounds when other children hit her, who listened to her stories and deepest fears under the blankets.
"We will soon," she said. "Come, see something here."
She knelt by a dead reptile. It lay bloodied, its neck pierced with an arrow. Mud coated its scales. A collar encircled its neck, and a tag hung from it. On the tag appeared a single letter: a red M.
"What does it mean?" Ellywyn asked, frowning. A scratch ran down her cheek and leaves filled her red hair.
Noelyn looked up into her friend's green eyes. "Madrila."
They all shuddered. The name Madrila was feared in Glaswood Forest. Elflings whispered of seeing the witch wandering the forest at night, cloaked in black, eyes blazing in her hood. Several elfling children had disappeared over the past few years. Some whispered that Madrila had snatched them. In some stories, the witch cooked and ate the children. In other stories, she cast spells upon them, and turned them into monsters who now served her. Noelyn gulped. Had these lizards once been kidnapped elflings?
Young Oryn ran between the dead reptiles. "They all wear the same tag!" he said, eyes wide. He shuddered. "The witch."
Noelyn looked at the others, then closed her eyes. Fall Festival has come, and another time of darkness falls upon me. She tightened her g
rip on her bow.
* * * * *
Scruff crept toward the dungeon door, knelt, and peeked underneath. He saw the boots of a guard and heard snores; the man was sleeping in the corner.
"I think it's night," Scruff whispered over his shoulder. "The guard's snoring."
Neev sighed in the darkness. "Quite the caliber of men here at Fort Rosethorn. And this is the place that flunked you from knight school, yes?"
Scruff grumbled. "Remind me, brother. Didn't you graduate with honors from the Coven? Oh wait. I forgot. You flunked too."
Neev rose to his feet and growled. "Blame Romy for that. I did summon a demon from Hell, and that's no mean trick. I couldn't predict it would be a thumb-sucking, teddy-bear-loving, duckling-fearing demon."
Cobweb shushed them. "B-b-be quiet! We d-d-don't want to wake da guawd. Scwuff, do you tink you c-c-can bweak da doow?"
Neev snorted. "Look at him, Cobweb. I've seen smaller prize bulls than Scruff. He could knock down the Great Wall of China if he leaned against it."
Scruff had never heard of China, so he said nothing, took a deep breath, and prepared to charge.
"Ready?" he whispered.
Cobweb raised her fists like a boxer and nodded. Neev chanted a spell and cast a Cone of Silence on the door. Cat whiskers sprouted from his nose.
Stuff growled, ran, and slammed his shoulder into their cell's door. He crashed back, shoulder throbbing. The door remained standing.
"Scwuff!" Cobweb said.
He rose to his feet, shook his head wildly, and charged again. The guard was shouting outside. Scruff's shoulder hit the door, and it cracked. He fell back again, growled, and charged a third time.
The door shattered.
Neev tossed magical spiderwebs, hitting the guard's chest.
Scruff and Cobweb leaped outside, tossing punches. The guard fell and thrashed, struggling in the spiderwebs that bound him.
"Prison break!" he cried. "Help down here!"
"Wun!" Cobweb cried. "Upstaiws!"
Scruff led the way, charging up a craggy staircase. He crashed into a second door at the top, shattering it. He rolled into an armory, expecting to see more guards, but the place was empty. The shelves were free of swords and armor.
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