Wand of the Witch

by Daniel Arenson

  Grumbledook rose to his feet and nodded. Smoke unfurled from his nostrils, and he tossed his head back. "Come, onto my back, little ones! We will fly."

  Jamie scrunched her lips. She doubted Grumbledook could carry one of them, let alone all four. She patted his head.

  "Save your strength. We walk this time. But once we find that potion, you must help us, Grumbledook. We will return to you your size and strength. In return, you must help us fight a witch."

  Grumbledook blew sparks of fire at the sky. "I'll burn her to a crisp! I'll tear her limb from limb! I'll—"

  His eyes closed and he snored. Jamie sighed.

  "Guys," she said to the elflings, "help me lift him. He's going to need some help getting down the mountain."

  Jamie had imagined leaving the mountain riding a dragon. As the snow flurried, a dragon descended the mountain, riding Jamie and the elflings.

  * * * * *

  Scruff moaned. His eyes fluttered open, then closed. Light fell on his eyelids.

  "Mmgghfff," he said and tossed an arm over his eyes. "I don't want to wake up."

  A voice, impossibly distant and muffled, called to him. "Scwuff! Scwuff!"

  He moaned. "Mmmfmfffph!" he said emphatically. "I want to stay in bed all day. The other kids all say I'm an ogre."

  The voice insisted. "Scwuff, awe you okay? Wake up!"

  His brow furrowed. Blinking weakly, he opened his eyes and saw blue skies.

  That's strange, he thought. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed like ages since he'd seen the sky. His neck hurt, his throat burned, and his eyes were crusty.

  "Whaa happened?"

  "Good, he's awake," somebody said; a different voice from the first. "To take three sleeping arrows... most would die. But he's a big boy, this one."

  He was lying on smooth wood. It was a tree stump, Scruff realized, but a huge one—six feet across and full of rings. Muttering and twisting his aching neck, he pushed himself onto his elbows.

  He gasped.

  "Oh mama."

  He lay on a tree stump, all right, but it rose a hundred feet tall. A forest spread below him, the treetops distant. The trunk towered above everything else, perfectly straight and smooth like a cathedral's column.

  "Scwuff, you'we awive!"

  Scruff turned his head and gasped. Three more towering tree trunks rose behind him, ten feet apart from one another. They also ended with wide, smooth stumps. Two spiderlings he did not recognize sat upon two stumps. Cobweb—his wife, the love of his life—sat upon the third.

  "Cobweb!" he said. He leaped to his feet, then wobbled. The distant forest rustled and swayed below him. His head spun, his knees shook, and he sat down. "Ohh.... I'm woozy."

  Cobweb reached out to him. She stood up and looked ready to jump. "Scwuff!"

  One of the spiderlings, who sat on a trunk beside Cobweb, clucked her tongue. "Don't try to jump, Cobweb. The last spiderling imprisoned on your trunk tried it. She almost made it to the trunk Scruff is on. Almost."

  Cobweb too sat down and sighed.

  "Cobweb, are you all right?" Scruff asked. "Where are we? What happened?"

  "D-d-dis is da fowest's pwison," she said. "D-d-da spidewings caught us, and shot us wit sweeping dawts." She gestured to the two other spiderlings. "But g-g-good news! We found my fwiends! Dis is Gossamew." She gestured at a spiderling with light purple skin and feathers strewn through her silver hair. "And dis is Webdew!" She gestured at the second spiderling, whose skin was a deeper purple, and whose eyes were like glittering sapphires.

  Scruff gave them a tired wave. "Hi, Gossamer and Webdew."

  He felt like a deflated bellows. We came all the way here just to fall captive. He wondered if he'd ever see his siblings again. He wondered if he'd ever leave this towering tree stump. We have to escape, he thought. But how? The log was too smooth and wide; climbing down was impossible.

  "How long have you two been here?" he asked Cobweb's friends. "And why were you also imprisoned?"

  Gossamer heaved a sigh. "It was a tough night when Cobweb was banished. We lost our friend. We had to watch the entire clan mock her. And we missed her... we missed her dearly."

  Webdew nodded. "I cried! A lot." She sniffed and tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away with her fists.

  "So we began a campaign," Gossamer said. "Bring Back Cobweb! Bring Back Cobweb! We shouted it from the treetops. We wrote it in glowing runes upon our holy stones. We planted trees in her honor. We even arranged sticks and spiders, so that they wove spiderweb letters: Bring Back Cobweb!"

  Webdew sniffed. "But the other spiderlings... they began to mock us too. They tore our spiderwebs, and one day they... they...." She sobbed for a moment before she could continue. "Oh, it's horrible, but they took skunks, and filled our home with them. The place stank so badly, and we did too. They called us stinky since then."

  "Well, they called you Stinky," Gossamer said. "I believe my nickname was Smelly."

  "Smelly is better," said Webdew. "Smelly can be a good thing, if you smell like flowers. Which you do. When you're not smelling like skunk, that is."

  Gossamer returned her eyes to Scruff. "We did not give up, even after that. We decided that we'd start our own clan. We'd find Cobweb and invite her to join. We'd be only three, but every clan has to start somewhere, right?"

  Webdew blew her nose loudly into a leaf. "Oh, but the elders heard our plan. They had spies in the bushes, I think. And they arrested us. They said we were traitors, could you believe it? Gossamer and me! And the next thing you know, we ended up here on these tree stumps." She ended her story with a whimper.

  Scruff too felt like whimpering. Would he end up spending his life here on these stumps? He wanted to leap down and kill every spiderling below.

  He was going to speak comforting words to Cobweb when a buzzing sounded behind him. He turned to see ten overgrown dragonflies—each one the size of a horse—flying toward him. Spiderlings rode them, carrying spears and bows. Their long silver hair fluttered in the wind, and spiderweb tattoos glowed on their purple skin. Scruff recognized two of the riders: The spiderlings who had shot him. He growled and clenched his fists.

  "Fly a little closer," he muttered.

  But they would not. The dragonflies flew to hover ten feet away. Their wings buzzed deafeningly loud, and their eyes glared at Scruff, orbs of green and purple. Their spiderling riders glared too.

  "Hello, prisoners," one said, a beautiful young spiderling with silvery braids.

  Scruff swung his fists at her. He had long arms, but not that long. He missed her and wobbled on the tree trunk, nearly falling off. His head spun, and the spiderlings laughed.

  "How dare you imprison us here?" he demanded. "I am Sam Thistle III, son of a knight, a warrior of Burrfield. If you don't release me, the might of human armies will descend upon Spidersilk Forest."

  The dragonfly riders laughed mockingly.

  "We know you, Scruff," said the spiderling with the braids, spitting out his name as an insult. "You are an outcast like Cobweb. A freak. Yes, we've heard about you Bullies." She said that word as an insult too. "A band of misfits and losers, banished from your homes, roaming the world and bullying decent folk. But now you've roamed into the wrong land." She gestured toward the northern horizon. "Look there, Scruff. What do you see?"

  "NO!" Cobweb shouted. "No, pwease! You... you c-c-can't do dat to us!"

  The spiderlings only laughed.

  "Behold!" one said. "The Stairway to Heaven."

  Scruff stared north and gasped. He saw a great stone stairway rising from the forest like a cliff. It was built of craggy stone, hundreds of feet tall. The stairway led into the sky and ended with a smooth cliff. Boulders crowned the top steps, glinting in the sun. It was the largest, most terrifying monolith he'd seen, larger than ten Fort Rosethorns.

  "Hmm, I wonder how I hadn't noticed that huge, towering staircase right in front of me until now," he mumbled. He shook his head wildly. "What is it?"

  Webdew whi
mpered. "Death," she whispered.

  Cobweb nodded and trembled. "D-d-dey t-t-take you up da staiws, all da way to da top, and...." She shuddered. "Dey tuwn you to stone."

  The dragonfly riders laughed again. Their leader flew around the stumps, tossing the prisoners rotten fruit.

  "Enjoy your dinners," she said. "It may be your last. You will climb the Stairway to Heaven tomorrow, and you will stand trial upon it. If you are found guilty of threatening Spidersilk Forest, you will spend eternity as mindless boulders." She looked at Scruff and smirked. "Not that it would be a drastic change in your case."

  With that, the dragonflies and their riders flew off.

  Scruff looked at Cobweb, wanting nothing more than to hold her. She looked back, eyes watery. Gossamer sighed and Webdew whimpered.

  "Nothing's ever easy," Scruff said. He looked toward the distant stairway and shuddered.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Whale Riding

  Madrila walked alone among the graves, her robes wrapped around her. Crows stood upon tombstones, cawing. A cold wind blew, blowing dry leaves into her hair. She tightened her robes around her, but that could not warm her. She was always too cold, even by the brightest fires, even wrapped in the thickest furs. Her chill lived inside her—the chill of neglect, pain, loneliness.

  Soon she found the tombstone she sought. She stood above it, staring down at the mossy, chipped stone. She read the words upon it.

  Amabel Thistle

  Wife and Mother

  Rest in Peace

  Madrila clenched her fists. Thistle? No, she should never have been a Thistle. She should have been Amabel Rasumessen.

  "Wife?" Madrila whispered. "You should have married my father. You should have married Jan Rasmussen, a true wizard. He wasn't Dry Bones then. He wasn't a skeleton when he planted me inside you." She bared her teeth at the grave. "Mother? Mother to who—my half-siblings? The wretched Scruff, Neev, and Jamie? Were you ever a mother to me?"

  Madrila drew her wand with a flash, pointed, and shot lightning at the tombstone. A crack appeared, effacing the word Mother. Madrila laughed bitterly.

  "Oh, you were a mother to them. You raised Scruff, Neev, and Jamie in your home, held them, fed them, loved them. They were born to Sir Sam Thistle, the handsome hero." Tears stung Madrila's eyes. "But what of me? What of your first daughter?" Madrila trembled. "You abandoned me!"

  She looked at the church which rose above the graveyard. It was a beautiful church, even as its windows were smashed and its doors cracked. I could have prayed here among beauty. But no. She had prayed in filthy dark corners, her back scarred. She had eaten gruel. She had screamed and wept when Friar Robert beat her.

  "I roamed the forests," Madrila whispered to the grave, her eyes stinging, her voice shaking. "I sought my true father. But he didn't even recognize me. He didn't even acknowledge me. Your son, your Neev, he went to the Coven as a real student. He learned in comfort from the brightest minds in magic. I did not have that pleasure."

  She shivered to remember her youth—learning magic from traveling warlocks and witches, wrinkled old creatures who'd teach her a spell or two for a chance to grope her body. She'd huddle in the forest—in caves, in huts, in wolf dens—studying from tattered old books. She remembered the taste of unicorn blood, a giver of power and magic. She caressed her wand, the unicorn's whorled horn, her beacon of might.

  "But I became strong, Mother," she said. "Stronger than Neev. Stronger than Dry Bones. Stronger than anyone would have imagined." She growled. "And I've taken this town! This town that should have always been mine. And I will kill your true born children, Mother. I will kill Scruff, Neev, and Jamie, and I will kill their friends too. Can you hear me, Mother? I hope so. I want you to know what you've done."

  She shot another bolt of lightning, and the tombstone shattered. Eyes stinging, Madrila turned and walked away, heading back to her new home. Fort Rosethorn rose above her. Madrila allowed herself a trembling, vicious smile.

  "No more huts, caves, or forests for me," she said. "This is my castle, my center of power."

  Grunters saluted as she entered the castle. Hundreds of them filled the courtyard, the towers, and her main hall. She walked toward her throne, sat upon it, and clutched the armrests.

  "Soon the Bullies' skulls will lay at my feet," she said softly. Grunters squealed around her, fangs bared, claws scratching the air. "Soon all will fear, worship, and love me."

  * * * * *

  "Down, boy!" Romy cried. "Down! Bad lava whale!"

  The creature howled before her, filling the tunnel. Lava splashed around it and sprayed from its mouth. Droplets sizzled against Romy's skin. She stabbed the air with her torch, holding the whale back.

  "Sit, boy, sit! Good lava whale."

  The whale growled and snapped its teeth, each one the size of Romy's body. Its flippers slapped the tunnel walls, and its tail splashed in a sea of lava below. Its eyes were pools of molten rock, glowing red.

  "Romy, you cannot tame this demon like a dog!" Neev shouted. He stood behind her, fingers crackling with lightning. "We learned about them in the Coven. This is a great archdemon, a being of pure evil!"

  "And he's a bad boy," Romy said. She poked the whale's nose with her pitchfork. "Roaring at us like that! You are bad, very bad."

  The whale roared. Lava sprayed from its mouth. Romy marched forward and slapped it across the face.

  "NO ROARING!" she said.

  The whale moaned. Romy slapped it again.

  "Don't you moan at me," she said. "You will be a good lava whale. Good. Good... Just like that." She patted its head. The whale grumbled, growled, and glared.

  "Romy, be careful!" Neev whispered behind her. "Step back."

  But Romy kept patting the whale, though its head rose taller than her. Its skin was hot and smooth, and lava bubbled in its mouth.

  "Good lava whale, good boy. There you go. Nice and easy. Feeling calmer now?"

  The lava whale nodded. The tunnel shook.

  "Mhm," it managed to say, its voice rumbling like an avalanche of rocks. "Goooooood."

  Romy grinned and turned to look back at Neev. "See, Neev? He's harmless."

  Neev slapped sparks off his robes. "He is most certainly not. Romy, great demon whales with mouths full of lava are not harmless. Caverns of ravenous killer molemen are not harmless! Venomous hellsnakes are not harmless!"

  She kept patting the whale. "Well, we're still unharmed, aren't we?"

  "Well, I—" His mouth hung open. "We— I mean, we are—" He sighed. "No thanks to you, Romy."

  "Completely thanks to me!" She glared at him. "Who flew us over the molemen cavern? Who tamed the lava whale? When the hellsnake bit you, who made sure to—"

  "Okay, Romy, okay!" His cheeks turned red. "Drop it. Can you just... get this lava whale out of the way, so we can continue? The damn thing's filling the whole tunnel."

  The whale grumbled, shaking the tunnel. Dust rained. Romy pouted and kissed it. "Oh, don't you listen to him," she said in a baby voice. "He's just a big mean cranky warlock. You're my sweet lava whale, aren't you?"

  It nodded. "Mhmmmmmmmm."

  It stuck out its tongue, ten feet long and lumpy, and licked her from toes to head. Slime covered her.

  "Eww!" she said. She shook herself like a wet dog, spraying the slime everywhere, including onto Neev. The whale chuckled.

  "Now, Mister Whale," Romy said. "We have to get across the lava sea, and I can't fly and carry Neev for too long. He's too heavy. Will you give us a ride?"

  Neev spoke up behind her. "Romy, I'm not sure that's a great idea."

  She ignored him. She kept patting the whale. "You'll give us a ride, right? If you do, I'll give you a nice treat." She turned her head and whispered to Neev. "Neev! Come here."

  Neev approached gingerly, hands raised and sparkling with lightning. He would not remove his gaze from the whale's eyes.

  "Come on, closer! Don't be afraid."

  He took three more steps
, until he stood by Romy and the whale. She reached into his pack, rummaged, and pulled out a string of sausages. The whale's eyes lit up. Drool dripped from its maw.

  "Hey, those are mine!" Neev said.

  "Oh be quiet." She dangled the sausages before the whale. She pulled them back when its tongue reached toward them.

  "Fooooooood," the whale said, voice rumbling and shaking the tunnel.

  "Not yet!" Romy said. "First you give us a ride. Then you can eat." She dangled the sausages before him.

  "FOOOOOD!" the whale demanded.

  Romy slapped him. "Not yet! Ride first." She began climbing up its head. Its skin was hot, dry, and rubbery; she could easily grab folds between her fingers. Soon she reached the top. She lay on her stomach, her arms dangling across its forehead. The tunnel's ceiling rose a mere foot above her.

  "Come on, Neev!" she said. "Climb up beside me, or we'll roast you with a blast of lava."

  "No thanks," he said, giving both her and the whale a suspicious look.

  Romy dangled the sausages in front of Neev. She wiggled her eyebrows. "I'll give you a sausage," she said temptingly.

  "FOOOOOD," the whale said.

  Neev sighed. He put his hand against the whale and grimaced.

  "Go on Neev, you can do it," Romy said.

  "DOOOOOO EET," said the whale.

  Wincing, Neev began to climb. The whale stuck out its tongue and pushed Neev's feet up. Grumbling and cursing, Neev reached up. Romy caught his hand and pulled him up beside her. He lay beside her, pale as a ghost.

  "BEHOLD!" she said. "The mighty warlock!" She mussed his hair and kissed his cheek. "What would you do without me?"

  He muttered something under his breath, then added in a louder voice, "Just get this whale of yours to move it."

  Romy slapped the whale's head. "Hear that, big boy? Let's move. Take us into the sea of lava and swim across. We're going all the way down to Hell."

  The whale wriggled and pulled back from the tunnel. Romy and Neev held on tight. Lava splashed behind them. The whale and the tunnel shook wildly.