She swallowed her tears... and she uttered the spell.
A bolt of lightning shot from her fingers and slammed into the wall, burning a hole through it.
For a moment Elizabeth stared in shock, eyes wide.
"I thought you could not read it!" the witch finally said.
Madrila breathed heavily. Her fingers tingled. The power claimed her, and she felt like she could burn the world. Her knees shook, and a savage grin found her lips. "I could not. I heard you speak the spell. And I cast it too."
Elizabeth shook her head, face pale. "That's impossible. It takes apprentices days to learn that spell. They study each syllable for hours. You heard it once."
Madrila's chest rose and fell, and fire seemed to flow through her. "Will you teach me more?"
Elizabeth regarded her, eyes narrowed. Shadows danced across her face. "You intrigue me. There is either much power to you, or much deceit. Perhaps both. Yes, perhaps both." She leaned forward. "Do you know of Batwog Mountain?"
Madrila nodded. "It lies beyond the dark forest, past seas of mist and pines and rock. They say it is cursed." She had seen the mountain from a distance before, rising like a dark dream from fog. It had chilled her. And oh the mountain shook.
"My coven lurks in the depth below Batwog," Elizabeth said. "Come with me there. I will have you meet my master, the great Jan Rasmussen, also known as Dry Bones. He will choose if to teach you." She rose to her feet. "We leave tonight."
But Madrila shook her head, a smile twitching her lips. "You leave tonight, Elizabeth. I will join you there. I have a detour I must make."
* * * * *
She stood before the hut, snow swirling around her.
Six years, she thought. Six long years, and this hut seems so small now. Once it was my world.
For long moments, Madrila hesitated. The sun had set, and she had extinguished her lamp. The only light came through the hut's windows, red and flickering. I used to light those fires. There was pain inside that hut. There were memories of the cane, the belt, the fists, and worse memories: of loneliness, terror, and tears.
And there is a man in there, she thought. A tall, gaunt man with thin lips and cold eyes. A man who hurt me.
Since she had escaped this place, ten years old and skinny and scared, rage had filled her. She had dreamed of returning some day, of killing this man. But now... now she struggled to find that rage. Now fear overpowered it, icy in her belly. She did not fear the wretch who hid inside, only her own memories and pain.
I will be strong as a witch, she told herself. Witches fear nobody.
She opened the door and stepped into the hut.
He huddled there by the fireplace, stooped over a pot of meat, like a vulture hunching over a carcass. He looked over his shoulder, narrowed his eyes, and hissed. He had aged. His skin was sallow, his eyes yellow, his teeth rotten. He seemed not like a man, but a creature.
"Do you know who I am?" Madrila asked, and could not help a tremble from finding her voice.
He growled. "Get out of my hut. Go back to where you came from, wench."
She took a step toward him, her knees shaking, and her head spun. "Do you know who I am, old man?" she demanded.
He squinted, as if trying to bring her into focus... and his eyes widened. He dropped the spoon he held. It clanged against the floor.
"Madrila!" he whispered.
And oh the witch did cast her spells....
She spoke the words from her spellbook, the words she heard Elizabeth speak. A blue bolt of lightning appeared in her palm. She tossed it.
The lightning slammed into Robert.
He screamed. His body twitched. Smoke rose from him.
"Yes, I am Madrila!" she screamed, hair wild, chest heaving. "The girl you beat. The girl you stole."
She cast her spell again. A second bolt of lightning slammed into him.
He screamed again and fell.
"Where did you steal me from?" she demanded. "Who are my parents?"
He squirmed at her feet. "Madrila, please... you've come back to me, my child, you...."
She tossed a third bolt, and he screamed. The bolt tore through his shirt and burned his flesh. Smoking welts covered him.
"I am not your child!" she shouted. "You told me that many times as you beat me."
Tears filled her eyes. Those nights returned to her, endless nightmares. I am not your father, girl! he would shout as he beat her. I will show you no mercy.
"And I will show you no mercy," she said and shot another bolt. "Who are my parents?"
"Amabel!" he shouted at her feet, smoking and twisting. "Your mother is Amabel of Burrfield. Your father is Dry Bones of Batwog Coven. Please, child, please...."
Dry Bones.
Batwog Coven.
Her head spun. She could not breathe. Of course. Of course! All these years, a traveller, a singer, a huntress, an outcast... she had dreamed of being a witch. She had known that was her purpose. Of course. Her father was a great warlock, the head of Batwog Coven. She wept. I am descended from greatness. That is why such power fills me.
"Please, Madrila, please," the burned man begged at her feet, hair singed. "Mercy."
She looked down upon this pathetic creature, and she shook her head. "No, Robert. I am not your daughter." She smiled savagely. "I will show you no mercy."
She shot more bolts, again and again, shouting her spell as tears burned down her face. Her words of magic filled the hut, echoing, slamming against the walls. She shot lightning until Robert stopped screaming, until there was nothing left of him but ashes and bones. She kicked those ashes, scattering them across that old, scratched floor.
She pulled a log from the fireplace and tossed it onto the rug. As snow fell, she stood outside in the night, watching the hut burn. She watched until it burned to the ground, and became only embers, only memories, a place that could never more hurt her.
"And now I find Dry Bones," she whispered to the embers. "Now I become the woman I was born to be."
* * * * *
She marched down the tunnel, torches flickering around her, until she reached the main door. She froze for a moment and took a deep breath. Her fists clenched. Her lips shook.
I will be a witch, Madrila told herself. I am descended from greatness.
She opened the door and marched in
Madrila found herself in a rough, shadowy cavern like a cave. Dozens of apprentices, all youths in black robes, hunched over cauldrons and tables laden with potions. Smokes, smells, and crackles filled the air.
At the back of the room, a skeleton sat upon a high chair, gazing upon his students with empty eye sockets. The skeleton raised his skull and seemed to gaze at Madrila.
She felt a chill race through her.
"Dry Bones," she whispered. Her father. The wizard who was burned years ago, the flesh melting off his bones, leaving him this creature of dreaded black magic.
The skeleton rose to his feet and walked toward her, bones creaking. The apprentices all turned their heads, gasped, and stared at her.
"Who are you, child?" Dry Bones asked. A snake nested in his ribcage, hissing.
"Amabel of Burrfield was my mother," she said and took a deep, shaky breath. "And you are my father."
Travelling to the Coven, she had tried to guess what Dry Bones's reaction might be. She did not know much of the skeleton, the High Warlock of Batwog. She had imagined him shouting for joy, maybe grinning silently, maybe hugging her. In her fantasies, she had imagined him pulling out spellbooks, magical amulets, potions, and other dark wonders, showing her the stars and the pits of Hell, the power and secrets of the universe.
She had expected him to love her.
But this... she had never expected this.
For a moment, Dry Bones was silent. He stood still, seeming dead. His eye sockets stared at her, empty cavities. His apprentices stared silently, hands still holding ladles and vials.
Then Dry Bones began to tremble, and a shout left his jaw.
The shout was so loud, Madrila jumped. She gasped.
"I... what—?"
Dry Bones swept his skeletal fists across a tabletop, knocking off potions and books and scrolls. Glass shattered and smoke rose.
"Liar!" he shouted again. "Amabel betrayed me! She married Sam Thistle instead, the man who burned me." His fists trembled. "I loved her and she married him! I killed her for that. I killed Sam too."
He pointed his finger, and a lightning bolt flew toward Madrila. She ducked and it passed over her head.
"Father!" she cried.
"I will kill you too!" he shouted. "How dare you mention Amabel to me? How dare you?"
He uttered a spell and tossed a fireball her way.
Madrila leaped aside, and the fireball grazed her side, burning her cloak. She turned to flee. She ran down the tunnel, tears in her eyes. Dry Bones's shouts echoed behind her.
"I have no daughter! You better run, girl. If I catch you, you're dead!"
And she ran.
She ran out of the tunnels below Batwog Mountain. She ran through the forest. She ran for miles, for days, ran while crying and trembling.
She ran until she found herself lost, alone, and afraid.
"I will be a witch," she swore, hugging her knees as rain poured around her, and the night's darkness caressed her. "I will become the greatest witch in the world."
* * * * *
She crossed the kingdom on foot, and the kingdom to its north, and the cold kingdoms beyond.
She learned from outcast witches in caves, from old warlocks in crumbly towers, and from books and scrolls she stole. She burned trees with fireballs, and she killed animals with lightning. She lived wild, feral, drinking blood and eating raw flesh. At nights, she stretched her soul into Hell, and talked to demons, and tasted lava.
When she was twenty-one, she travelled to a misty island of pines, a secret place beyond the mountains and frozen hinterlands. She spent a year wandering in the mist and shadows, cloaked in black, eyes blazing. She had come seeking the island's mythical beasts... and that winter, she found one.
The unicorn was only a cub, a year old, of downy white fur, of golden hoofs, of a whorled horn that glowed. Snarling, Madrila slew the unicorn cub with lightning, and tore off its horn with icy fingers.
She drank the unicorn's blood, and gasped, and her eyes widened.
Yes. Yes! This is power.
The ancient magic flowed through her. Galaxies swirled before her eyes. Ghosts whispered in her skull. Power crackled on her fingertips. She rose to her feet, lips bloody, and shouted to the heavens. The unicorn's horn glowed in her hand.
She kissed the horn, cursing it with dark magic and bloodlust, and it became her wand.
"The greatest wand in the world," she whispered. "The wand of Madrila, the greatest witch."
Snow glided among the pines and filled her hair. The unicorn cub froze at her feet. Madrila licked blood off her lips and smiled.
Chapter Ten
Rollin'
Romy liked being a fluff ball.
True, she was orange, and a little jealous that Jamie's fur was pink. True, it was boring here in this cage, with no marbles, cards, or dolls. And true, she imagined that eating cake would be a sticky mess this way. But still... she was warm. She was cute. And rolling downstairs was fun.
"Jamie," she said, "do you reckon Neev will like me all fluffy?"
The pink fluff ball that was Jamie groaned. "Romy, right now, let's focus on escaping from this cage."
Once more, Jamie tried to squeeze between the bars, but couldn't. She was too poofy. She sighed and rolled back.
"I'll have to buy some hairbrushes now," Romy reflected. "Neev can groom me. Do you think he'll mind? I want my fur to be shiny and beautiful."
Jamie groaned. "Romy, stand still! Your fur is ticking me." She sneezed, ruffling her pink fur. Animals squealed and groaned in the cages around them.
The basement door creaked open.
A dark figure stood there, holding a torch.
Jamie snarled (though it sounded more like a squeak). Will they torture us now? I can take torture.
The figure stepped into the basement. It was Willow, holding her wand. Dry leaves and mud clung to her purple robes. The witch's apprentice growled.
"I will torture you now," she said. Her voice trembled the slightest. "I will show Madrila that I can be evil too. I will hurt you. I will force you to tell me everything you know."
Romy squeaked in fear, and Jamie puffed her fur larger.
"I'll never talk," she said.
Willow bared her teeth. Her eyes were wild.
"I will break you," she said. "I spent all night studying breaking spells."
She uttered a spell. Jamie winced. Lightning flew from Willow's wand and crashed into the cage holding Jamie and Romy.
The cage broke.
Willow wailed. "Damn it, you stupid wand! I said break the Bullies, not the cage."
She tried to cast another spell, but Jamie rolled forward. She bounced and slammed into Willow, knocking her down. Romy bounced behind her, and the orange fluff ball landed atop the pile. Willow squealed below them, floundering.
"Get off me, you fluffy things!" The witch began to sneeze.
Romy rolled off and began bouncing upstairs. "Come on, Jamie!" the orange fluff ball called. "It's fun rolling upstairs too. Race me!"
Jamie remained atop Willow, who was sneezing wildly, her eyes watery.
"Open the other cages!" she demanded. "Do it now or I'll stick my fur right into your nose." She wiggled a bit, scattering fur, and Willow sneezed louder.
"All—CHOO!—right!" Lying below her, Willow reached out her wand and cast more spells. The other cages broke too. The piglets, monkey, toad, and other animals fled upstairs (the monkey paused just long enough to thumb his nose at Willow).
"And stay down!" Jamie said, rolled off Willow, and bounced upstairs. Romy bounced beside her, squealing in delight.
They rolled into the living room. It was full of vials, mummies, cauldrons, and scrolls, but empty of witches or grunters. Jamie slammed the basement door shut and heard its lock click, sealing Willow in the darkness.
"Woo!" Romy cried. She leaped into the air and crashed onto Jamie. "Wanna wrestle?"
"Romy, God!" She pushed her off. "There's no time for games now. We have to get out of here—quick! Before Willow escapes or Madrila returns."
"But I want to roll downstairs again. Please, Jamie? Please?"
"No more rolling downstairs!" Jamie shouted. "Now come on, let's get out of here."
The two fluff balls bounced across the living room toward the front door. They rolled into the forest, dry leaves and twigs clinging to their fur. Dawn was rising. The grunters were gone, though their footprints covered the earth.
"They've gone to attack Burrfield!" Jamie said. "Come on, Romy, we follow."
The fluff balls rolled across the forest, bouncing over rocks and fallen logs. Jamie wasn't sure how she could save Burrfield this way, but she had to do something. She couldn't hide in this forest while the town needed her. She no longer cared about John Quill or angry mobs; Burrfield was her home, and she'd fight for it, fluff ball or not.
"Keep rolling, Romy," she said. "We're not far."
The grunters had left a clear trail to follow. Jamie bounced along it between the trees. Romy bounced at her side.
A wind moaned, ruffling Jamie's fur. She shivered.
"Bit windy," Romy said.
The wind rose. It shrieked between the trees. Jamie rolled several feet back.
"Oh dear," Romy said.
Jamie growled and tried to keep bouncing forward. But the wind gusted, and she flew backwards. Romy flew at her side.
"Damn it!" Jamie said. "Come on, Romy, let's keep going forward."
The wind had other plans. It gusted and shrieked, tossing Jamie and Romy back. The fluff balls flew between the trees, and soon were rolling downhill—away from Burrfield.
"Whee, rolling again!" Romy cried in delight. She began to sing. "Rollin', rollin'... rollin' on the river...."
The balls of fluff flew over bushes and into a river. The current began pulling them downstream. Jamie struggled and squeaked, but could not climb out. The water soaked her fur, and she felt heavy and clumsy. The river moved at breakneck speed, pulling them further and further away from Burrfield. Romy laughed and squealed with joy. Jamie shivered and cursed.
For a long time, the fluff balls flowed in the current. It led them through miles of beech, oak, and birch trees. One time, Jamie managed to roll onto a muddy bank, but the wind blew her back into the water, much to Romy's amusement.
The sun reached its zenith, and still they rolled on the river. The forest grew older here. The oaks were twisted, and their mossy roots rose like cathedrals for fairies, coiling and intermingling. Vines and lichen hung from the branches, and Jamie could barely see the sky. It seemed to her like no individual trees lived here; they merged, branches and roots braided into one being. She shivered. Those trees seemed to be watching her. Their leaves were not bright orange or red, like in Burrfield, but bronze and copper. This is an ancient place, Jamie thought. A place of power and secrets.
"Owww... I want to go faster," Romy pouted.
The river had indeed slowed, Jamie noticed. This entire forest seemed somehow... slower, quiet, its colors faded. She saw roots reaching over the water ahead. When the water brought her near, she bounced onto the roots and rolled toward the river bank. No wind blew here, and she managed to reach solid earth.
"Come on, Romy," she said. "Up here."
Romy bounced onto the roots, rolled along them, and landed by Jamie. The two fluff balls shook themselves wildly. Water sprayed, and their fur poofed up.
"I want to go again," Romy said.
"Later, Romy. First we have to worry about getting back to Burrfield." She sighed. "It's many miles away now. It'll take ages to roll back."
Wand of the Witch Page 10
