Wand of the Witch

by Daniel Arenson

  Grumbledook grew... and grew... and grew... until he was about ten percent larger.

  The light dimmed.

  The angelic choir fell silent.

  Grumbledook coughed.

  Noelyn shouted for joy and hugged him. "Hooray!" she said. "You've grown very slightly larger!"

  Jamie rubbed her eyes and gasped. "Is that it?" She stamped her feet. "Bloody hell. I was expecting more." She squinted at Grumbledook. "You were the size of a pony. Now you're the size of a very small horse."

  Grumbledook unfurled his wings and roared to the sky. "Behold! I am a mighty dragon! Cower around me!"

  "I'm still taller than you," Jamie said. "And I'm four-foot-ten."

  He seemed not to hear her. He blew wisps of fire at the sky. "Cower, world, at the might of Grumbledoo—"

  He began to snore.

  Jamie sighed. She sat down and buried her face in her hands. The elflings patted her sympathetically.

  "What now?" Rowyn said.

  Jamie peeked between her fingers at the sleeping, slightly larger dragon.

  "Maybe if he flies very high above the battle, he'll appear larger," she said and clearly heard the misery in her voice.

  "Maybe," Noelyn agreed, stroking Jamie's hair. "He's not much bigger, but... he's all we've got. He might be a little small and shrivelled, but he's still a dragon. That's got to be worth something, right?"

  Jamie stood up and heaved a sigh. "Let's go meet the other Bullies. Maybe they fared better." She kicked Grumbledook. "Wake up! We're going to fight."

  They walked into the sunset, Grumbledook's rings of smoke floating above them.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Montage

  Scruff kissed his wife's cheek.

  "We will save our home," he whispered to her, stroking her hair. "I promise you."

  Cobweb cuddled against him. "We wiww, Scwuff. I know."

  They sat on a mossy log, trees rustling around them. Fifty spiderlings stood around them, sharpening spears and fletching arrows. The giant dragonflies stood tethered to trees, drinking nectar from piles of flowers the spiderlings had picked.

  "It's only a small army," Scruff said quietly. "Fifty spiderlings against hundreds of monsters. But the other Bullies should be here soon. They'll bring more help."

  Cobweb kissed his cheek and held his hand. Her hand was so small in his, not even half the size, soft purple against his rough, calloused skin. She's so pure, so perfect. She deserves better than to live like this, a hunted outcast.

  He looked around the forest, waiting for the other Bullies to appear. Where were they? They had agreed to re-gather here a moon after leaving on their quests. The full moon had been two nights ago, and they still lingered. Worry coiled in Scruff's belly. What if they had died?

  "Maybe I should go look for them," he said to Cobweb. "I'll climb the mountain where Jamie went. I'll find the volcano to Hell and find Neev. I—"

  Voices came from between the trees, interrupting him.

  "Mommy, can you carry me? Please!"

  "No, Romy, I told you a million times. You can walk."

  "But my feet hurt and I'm tired. Carry me please please please—"

  "Get off me, Romy! Get OFF!"

  Dry leaves crunched, branches snapped, and Neev and Romy stepped out from between the trees. Romy was jumping onto Neev, who kept shoving her off. When they saw Scruff and the spiderlings, they froze and their eyes widened.

  "Oh hai, Scruff and Cobweb," Romy said and waved. She gasped. "Look at all those other Cobwebs! You've multiplied!"

  Neev rolled his eyes. "Those aren't more Cobwebs. She brought spiderling friends. Not all spiderlings are the same. Don't be racist, Romy."

  "Be what now?" She blinked, sat down, and rubbed her head. "I'm dizzy. I'm seeing Cobwebs everywhere." Her face brightened. "But at least I'm not seeing dozens of Scruffs. That would be a real eyesore."

  Scruff sighed. "Welcome back, Romy." He stood up, walked forward, and hugged the demon. "Good to have you back."

  He turned toward Neev. The young wizard looked like he'd been to Hell and back; which, Scruff supposed, he had. The young wizard's robes were torn and ashy. Dirt and soot smeared his face. Scruff couldn't help but grin.

  "You look horrible, brother."

  Neev nodded. "You yourself have looked better. What's that covering you? Spiderwebs and pollen?"

  More leaves and branches crunched, and two demon girls emerged into the clearing, holding hands and skipping. They led a host of strange, furry creatures. They looked like boars, but had red horns and clawed feet, and smoke rose from their nostrils. Some had pink ribbons in their fur.

  Romy gestured at them. "Meet Mandy, Annie, and the hellhogs! They're here to fight with us."

  The hellhogs—there were about fifty—ran around the clearing, snorting flames. The giant dragonflies startled and spiderlings rushed about, trying to calm them. Squeals, grunts, howls, and cries rose across the camp.

  "Shh!" Scruff said to everyone. "Madrila's forces still scout this forest."

  Nobody seemed to hear him. Romy climbed onto a boulder and began to sing a rowdy bar song. Mandy and Annie, the little demon girls, ran in circles squealing. The animals raced around howling. Scruff stared helplessly. If there were grunters a mile around, they'd hear the racket.

  "Everybody QUIET!" he shouted, so loudly that a tree broke.

  Silence fell at once.

  Everybody stared at him, down to the last hellhog.

  "Good," he said. "And keep it quiet."

  For a few blessed moments, the forest was peaceful. Scruff heard nothing but the breeze and rustling leaves. Then Jamie emerged from between the trees, grumbling over her shoulder.

  "Oh be quiet, you wrinkled old toad!" she was saying to somebody behind her. "If you complain about your sore feet one more time, I'll—"

  Jamie noticed the crowd in the clearing, and her voice died. Her eyes widened. "Scruff!" she said. "Neev!"

  The elflings emerged from the forest too, bruised and battered and a little haggard, but their eyes were still bright, and their goldencharms still glowed. Finally, behind the elflings, a dragon emerged into the clearing.

  Scruff exhaled slowly.

  "I've never seen a dragon before," he said, "but I've always imagined them a bit... bigger."

  The dragon glared at him from under bushy white eyebrows. "And I've always imagined humans to be smaller, but you're about the size of a bloody walrus, you are." He coughed, spat, and grumbled. "Now get me some tea to drink, a bed to sleep on, and bones to chew."

  Jamie rolled her eyes. "Ladies and gentlemen—Grumbledook the dragon."

  Scruff walked toward her. He couldn't help another grin. "Nice catch, sister."

  She snorted. "It's still a dragon. You and Neev only brought some bugs and pigs."

  The Bullies all shared hugs, handshakes, and pats on the back, and then surveyed their forces. Fifty spiderlings and dragonflies. Two demon girls and a herd of hellhogs. Three elflings and one small, snoring dragon.

  "Well," Scruff said. "Are we ready to go kick Madrila's butt?"

  A hellhog snorted. Grumbledook snored. Romy was busy picking something out of her ear. Everyone else stared at him, silent.

  Cobweb put a hand on his shoulder. "Not yet, Scwuff. Fiwst... we need a twaining montage."

  Strangely, music began to play across the forest. Scruff looked around him. He could see no musicians, but the music still blared. Suddenly he found himself lifting a heavy log. Cobweb sat on one end of the log, and Romy on the other.

  "Madrila!" he shouted as he lifted the log over his head.

  "Madrilaaaaa!"

  What was going on?

  He ran up a snowy mountain, a hellhog slung across his shoulders. Wind howled around him. Dragonflies flew at his sides. Sweat soaked him, and he grimaced, but managed to keep running. He reached the mountaintop and jumped, fists in the air.

  "MADRILAAAA!" he shouted, voice echoing across the mountain.

 
The music swelled.

  Cobweb stood among the trees and pulled back her bowstring. Fifty spiderlings drew back arrows around her. The arrows flew toward grunter dummies of straw and old clothes, but all missed.

  "Attack!" Romy cried and pointed at bushes. "Kill!"

  The herd of hellhogs looked at her, then lay down and began licking themselves.

  The music pounded.

  Scruff lifted the log again, and this time the elflings sat upon it too. His face was red, and sweat soaked his hair.

  "You can do it, Scruff!"

  "BURRFIELD!"

  Jamie tossed apples into the air. Grumbledook flew toward them, and tried to roast them with fire, but his flames were only weak spurts.

  "Fire!" Cobweb shouted.

  The spiderlings shot their arrows, but only hit the trees and bushes.

  Scruff lifted a wagon full of hellhogs, grimacing and groaning. His muscles bulged.

  "Go on, move it, move, kill!" Romy cried, kicking hellhogs. They snapped at her feet and groaned.

  The drums beat.

  Neev stood casting spells, shattering and burning boulders with lightning and fire.

  "MADRILAAAAA!" Scruff shouted hoarsely, face red. He was doing push-ups with one hand, Cobweb and Romy standing on his back.

  As the music soared to new heights, Cobweb and her fifty spiderlings drew more arrows. Fifty bowstrings twanged. Fifty arrows hit their targets, slamming into the grunter dummies.

  "Yeah!" Cobweb cried.

  Romy pointed toward the bushes. "KILL!" she shouted to the hellhogs. The beasts ran forward, snarling, and began tearing the bushes apart.

  "You did it!" Romy cried. "You did it!"

  The music pounded through the forest.

  Scruff climbed a cliff, carrying the other Bullies on his back, and reached the top. The music soared, shaking the forest. Scruff dropped his friends atop the cliff, raised his fists to the heavens, and roared.

  "MADRILAAAAAAAA!!! AHHHHH!!!!!"

  The music exploded. The world spun around him.

  Scruff found himself back in the clearing where he'd been. Once more, Cobweb stood with her hand on his shoulder. The others stood around him.

  Scruff wiped his forehead. "Well, that was strange. Are we ready now?"

  Cobweb nodded and stared at him solemnly. "We'we weady. Wet's go save Buwwfiewd!"

  They cheered and the forest shook.

  * * * * *

  John Quill burst into the throne room, panting. His hair was wild and his eyes wide.

  "My lady!" he cried, voice echoing through Fort Rosethorn's hall. He stumbled toward Madrila and fell to his knees before her throne.

  Madrila stared down at him in distaste. "Stand up! What do you want?"

  "The Bullies!" he said, chest rising and falling. "They've gathered an army, and they intend to attack Burrfield."

  Madrila leaped to her feet and sucked in her breath. "The Bullies planning an attack! How do you know?"

  Quill smoothed his clothes. He cleared his throat, turned his head, and called to the doorway.

  "Enter, friends! Come speak to Madrila."

  Hesitantly, three heads peeked around the corner. They looked like woodsmen; their faces were rough, and they wore fur hats. Quill gestured them forward. The three entered the room, looked around, gulped, and approached the throne. They wore furs and leathers sticky with sap and nettles. They bowed before Madrila.

  Quill placed his hands on one's shoulder.

  "Tell her, my friends. Tell the Lady Madrila what you saw."

  One of the woodsmen cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, then hastily removed his hat and placed it against his chest. He looked around nervously, bowed his head, and finally spoke.

  "My lady, we saw the Bullies in the forest. We are but humble loggers, and stumbled upon their camp."

  Madrila leaned forward in her throne. "What did you see? Tell me everything."

  The woodsman licked his lips nervously. "They mustered a mob, my lady. They summoned foul beasts—flaming hellhogs, and purple barbarians riding dragonflies, and...." He gulped. "A dragon. A little one, but a dragon still."

  Madrila leaned back in her throne. So, the Bullies want to fight back. Very well. Let them come. Let them crash against the walls of my town, and die under the towers of my fort. She snorted.

  "A few hellhogs and spiderlings?" she said. "A little dragon? It would take more to defeat me. Do you know why, my friends?"

  The woodsmen shook their heads.

  "No, my lady."

  She raised her wand. It was a beautiful wand, ancient and whorled, pure white and gold.

  "Because I have this. Do you know what this is, friends?"

  The woodsmen shifted their weight. "A... a wand, my lady."

  She placed it flat upon her palm. "Yes. A wand. But not any wand. Most wands are carved of wood—cherry or birch, mostly. They carry the magic of old trees, of leaves that kiss the sky, of roots that dig into the earth. Most wands are crafted in covens and towers; councils of great wizards carve and imbue them with magic. But I never studied at covens or towers. I never had great teachers to grant me a wand. No. I made this wand myself. Do you know what it's made of?"

  The woodsmen looked pale. They shook their heads.

  Madrila caressed her wand. "A unicorn's horn. I killed the unicorn myself, and drank its blood to learn its secrets. Its horn is more powerful than any cherry or birch root. It is a wand forged from wonder, from death, and from magic itself. Do you think that I fear hellhogs, or spiderlings, or even dragons?"

  The woodsmen shook their heads emphatically. "We meant no offence, my lady! We simply... read about the Bullies in The Burrfield Gazette, and read about the reward for information, and... well, we figured that...."

  She nodded. "Ah. So you're in this for the reward, I see."

  The woodsmen looked at one another, gulped, and nodded.

  "Quill!" Madrila barked. "Pay them. A golden coin each."

  The printmaker bowed his head, fished in his pockets for coins, and tossed them. The woodsmen caught them, pocketed the coins, and bowed. They turned to leave.

  Before they could reach the door, Madrila called out. "Oh, just one more thing...."

  The woodsmen turned to face her, faces pale.

  Madrila pointed her wand at them. "You see, this wand is only useful if I use it."

  She shot three rapid bolts of lightning, hitting the woodsmen. The men screamed, trembled, and fell to their knees. Smoke rose from them. They twisted, bulged, and bubbled. Their bones shifted. Their skin melted and reformed. One man grew orange fur, red horns, and long fangs. The other grew leathery wings, a lizard's head, and scales. The third man grew horns, hooks, and spikes across his body, and rows of sharp teeth filled his mouth. The three monsters roared before her.

  "You will serve me now," she told them. "You will fight against the Bullies. You will be my warriors."

  The monsters growled and bowed, fur bristling, scales clinking, and fangs snapping.

  Quill blanched. He stared at the monsters, sweat beaded on his brow, and he clasped his fingers behind his back.

  "Uhm... marvelous work, my lady!" he finally said. "Marvelous. Shall I, uhm... show them to the barracks?"

  She shook her head. "No, you come with me. We're going for a walk."

  She stormed down the hall, robes swishing. She snapped her fingers.

  "Monsters! You come too."

  Soon they were walking through Burrfield. A cold wind blew, scented of winter. Dry rose petals fluttered around her feet. Burned buildings rose at her sides, their windows boarded shut. Blood still stained the cobblestones. Once, Madrila imagined, children played on these streets, puppeteers and jugglers performed, and farmers hawked their produce. Today the people huddled indoors. She saw only a stray cat, an old beggar, and grunters standing guard at street corners.

  It was quiet. Too quiet, she thought. She heard only her footfalls, the grunts of monsters behind her, and Quill's wheezy
breath. But soon war would come. The town would shake with howls, clanging steel, whistling arrows, and screams.

  My half-siblings are on their way.

  She pointed her wand at the beggar. Black magic swirled. The beggar screamed, twisted, and soon drooled as a bristly old monster. His fur was grey and maggoty, and drool dripped from his fangs. Madrila patted him.

  "Join us, old friend. Join my army of dark wonders."

  She walked down the street until she reached the Porcupine's Quill. One wall of the tavern was burnt. Holes peppered its roof, and several of its windows were smashed. Yet Madrila still saw people crowded inside, huddled over beers. She opened the door and stepped in, her monsters behind her.

  When she had first invaded this town, she found many people here, cheering and singing by the hearth. When she stepped in today, she saw only a dozen sullen townfolk whispering in the corner. Low embers glowed in the fireplace.

  When they saw her, the townfolk started. One bowed. Several froze. One reached for a knife.

  Madrila shot her wand. The man with the knife doubled over, screaming. Horns grew from his head. Fangs grew from his mouth. Black fur grew across him, and muscles tore through his clothes.

  The other men cried in fright. Several turned to flee. Several raced toward her, grabbing knives, chairs, and candlesticks. Her wand shot from side to side. Bolts of magic flew. Madrila laughed. She hit the men who ran toward her, and they fell, smoking and twisting. One turned into a python. Another became a great scorpion with a human head. The others grew bat wings, scales, horns, and claws. They hissed and drooled.

  "Join us, friends! Join us." She laughed. The monsters crowded around her, bowing. "Serve me, your ruler. Serve me in this war. We will make this town a center of dark magic, a wonder to the world. We will defend it from the Bullies who seek to destroy us."

  She left the tavern. She walked through the town, kicking open doors, smashing windows. By afternoon, a hundred monsters followed behind her, grunting and drooling and oozing. By evening, three hundred creatures crawled, scratched, hopped, and flew around her. She laughed in the darkness.

  "Climb the walls, friends!" she called, arms raised. Lightning crackled overhead. "Man the posts. Guard the doors. Stand atop every tower and every roof, and wait. Wait for the Bullies. When they arrive, kill them. Kill them all."