The Blue Witch

by Alane Adams

“Do you have news about my magic?” she snapped.

  “No.”

  She frowned. “Then why are you here?”

  “You’re a crabby one,” he said, stung by her sharp words.

  “Sorry, it’s just—”

  “Endera?” he guessed.

  “Yes.” Abigail plopped down onto the ground. “She’s using that spellbook to get me into trouble. Today, she cursed me with a freezing spell that took my voice away and left me unable to move a finger. Then she floated a bucket of dirty water over my head and dumped it on me. You know, I almost felt sorry for her after the way her mother spoke to her but not anymore.”

  Hugo clasped her hand. “If you gave me a medallion with magic, maybe I could help you.”

  Abigail gaped at the boy. “You want me to give you some of my magic? Is that why you’re friends with me?” She pulled her hand back. “Because you want magic?”

  “No!” He flushed. “It’s not like that. I mean, I do want one. But that’s not why I asked. Emenor’s mad at me for taking his. I didn’t want to ask you, but . . .”

  She stared at him a long moment. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

  There was an awkward silence. Hugo wanted to apologize. But he shouldn’t have to. It’s not like he’d intended for any of this to happen, or that Emenor would have to destroy the medallion so Melistra wouldn’t trace it back to him.

  Before he could explain, the sound of voices reached them.

  “It’s Endera. Hide,” Abigail said.

  No sooner had they ducked into the nearby bushes than Endera and her two cronies came into view. Endera stopped, scanning the area, clutching her mother’s spellbook.

  “I want to go have a sweets,” Glorian complained. “Cook was baking gally melon pudding.”

  “Quiet,” Endera hissed. “Or I’ll give you a taste of my magic. Abigail came this way. This time, I’m going to get rid of her for good.” She patted the spellbook.

  “What do you have against her?” Glorian asked. “We spend all our time going after her, but she’s not that bad. She let me copy her answers in Magical Maths yesterday.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Nelly said. “She let me see her notes in Spectacular Spells. Why are you always on her?”

  Endera grabbed the girl and pulled her close. “My mother wants her gone. Do you want to go ask her to explain why?”

  Nelly shook her head.

  “Then spread out. She’s around here somewhere.”

  Nelly grumbled as she stalked down the path. Glorian slunk off to the right. Endera made a beeline for their hiding spot.

  “She’s headed this way,” Hugo whispered.

  “Move it,” Abigail said, dragging him deeper into the shrubs.

  They retreated farther into the garden, dodging among the brush. The paths were dense with foliage, and thorns pulled and tore at their clothes.

  After several minutes, Hugo pulled up in a tiny clearing. “Do you think we lost them?”

  The gardens were all quiet, save for the afternoon calls of birds. Abigail nodded, sighing with relief. “Yes, I think we’re safe.”

  No sooner had she spoken than a splintering crack shattered the air. The ground dropped out from below their feet, and they were falling into space. Hugo flailed his arms, screaming loudly. Abigail screamed alongside him. They thwacked into the ground hard. Fortunately, they landed on a small pile of hay, or they surely would have shattered some bones.

  Blurry sky peeked through a jagged hole in the roof. Hugo’s glasses had come off. He sat up, feeling a bit woozy, and fumbled for them.

  Abigail found them, wiping off the dirt, and put them back on his nose. “Are you okay?”

  “No bones broken,” he said, patting himself. “What is this place?”

  Abigail stood, dusting off her dress. “It must be part of the dungeons. I think we fell through an old hay chute.”

  “Dungeons?” He gulped. “Have you heard about the rathos that live down here?” Panic made his voice rise. “I’ve heard they feast on the bones of the prisoners. They tunnel through stone to build their nests. They’re eyes are like—”

  Abigail cut him off. “I’m a Tarkana witch. Of course, I know about rathos. Quiet now, or you’ll have them come running.”

  Hugo glared at her. “Why is it every time I’m with you, I end up in mortal danger?”

  “It’s your fault for climbing that jookberry tree in the first place,” she pointed out.

  A familiar face appeared in the opening over their heads.

  “Endera, help!” Abigail called.

  Next to Endera, Nelly and Glorian popped into view. The three witchlings looked shocked to see the two of them so far below them.

  “Please,” Hugo added. “There are rathos down here.”

  Endera’s face drew into an evil smile. “Then they’ll be well fed tonight. Enjoy your stay in the dungeons.”

  The girls pulled the broken boards over the opening until only a sliver of light shone through.

  Chapter 13

  Steam came out of Abigail’s ears. The nerve of the girl, leaving them down here like that!

  “When I get out of these dungeons, I’m going to settle things with Endera once and for all,” she swore.

  Once with a punch to her snotty nose, and for all with a kick to the shins.

  “Never mind Endera,” Hugo said. “We have to find a way out of here.”

  They looked around the chamber. There wasn’t much besides stacks of empty wooden crates. A mound of old shields gathered dust in the corner.

  A skittering sound made Hugo jump closer to her.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “Probably a legion of rathos,” she teased. “Any ideas how to escape?”

  “We could stack those crates up and climb out,” he said.

  Abigail eyed the crates. “Good idea, but there aren’t enough of them to get close to the ceiling, even if I stood on your shoulders. There must be a door.” She shoved aside some of the crates and nearly cheered at the oval outline revealed. “See? Help me move these.”

  Hugo shoved, and Abigail pushed, and together they moved the crates away, revealing an ancient wooden door. It had an iron ring for a handle.

  Hugo tugged on it. “It’s stuck,” he said.

  Abigail grasped the handle, and Hugo braced one leg on the wall for leverage, but still it didn’t budge.

  Abigail studied it. “There’re no hinges.”

  “So?”

  “So . . . ” She put her shoulder against it and pushed hard. With a pop, the door came unstuck, and she tumbled into the corridor.

  Hugo slapped his forehead. “It opens outward. Good thinking, Abigail! You’d make a fine scientist.”

  But Abigail was hurriedly backing up. “Uh, Hugo, we have a problem.”

  “What?” Hugo peered around her and squeaked in horror.

  The hallway was crawling with rathos. Their king-sized rodent bodies bristled with matted fur, eyes glittering hungrily in the dim light. The closest one bared pointy teeth, rising on its meaty back legs to hiss at them.

  “Abigail, do something,” Hugo said looking pasty gray.

  “We have to get past,” Abigail said. “I can try my witchfire, but there’s a lot of them. I could use some help.”

  “Wait here.”

  Hugo ran into the storage room, returning with a pair of rusty shields. “I’ll scare them while you blast them. On the count of three. One, two . . .”

  On three, Hugo began banging the metal discs together as Abigail released her crackling witchfire. It came easily now that she had mastered it, and she enjoyed the feel of the blue fire flowing from her fingertips.

  The vermin quickly scattered, diving into cracks and crevices in the wall.

  Hugo sagged with relief. “I really, really don’t like those things. Let’s get out of here.”

  They studied the dimly lit corridor. It was built out of stone blocks. Heavy wooden doors lined either side. Each had a s
mall window inset with iron bars. Burned-out torches rested in notches every few feet. The air was cold and musty, as if no one had been down here in eons.

  “Do you think anyone’s inside these cells?” he whispered.

  “Madame Vex said they haven’t been used in centuries.” Abigail hopped up and grabbed the bars at the first door, pulling her face to the opening. Scattered straw covered the ground. A set of rusted chains trailed from the wall ending in manacles.

  “Empty,” she said, jumping down.

  They took turns checking every cell.

  “Hugo, do you think Jasper’s right? That my mother was this Lissandra?” Abigail asked.

  “Maybe.” Hugo jumped down as they walked to the next cell. “It would explain why Melistra said she was a traitor. Jasper said Lissandra was running away from the coven with her baby.”

  Abigail checked the next cell and then jumped down. “But why would she want to leave? A Tarkana witch has never left the coven.”

  Hugo shrugged. “How did she die?”

  Abigail blinked. “I don’t know. No one ever said, and I didn’t think to ask.”

  They continued until they made it to the end of the hallway. There was only one cell left.

  Abigail pulled herself up and peered inside. Besides the scattered hay, there was an old bucket and the bones of a long dead rathos. About to tell Hugo it was deserted, she squealed when a furry green creature moved out of the shadows and sat down on its haunches.

  It was the oddest looking thing she had seen. It must have been double-jointed, because its knees went up to its ears, which were long and drooping, hanging down past its shoulders. Ignoring her, it started calmly chewing on its own toenail.

  “There’s something in there,” Abigail whispered to Hugo.

  “Talk to it. Find out who it is.”

  Abigail cleared her throat. “Hello there. Who are you?”

  The creature paused its chewing to ask, “Who are yoooou?”

  “I asked you first,” she said.

  “I asked you second, and two is greater than one,” he answered snappily and went back to chewing on his toenail.

  Frustrated, Abigail hopped down.

  “Well?” Hugo asked.

  “It’s an annoying little pest. It spoke utter nonsense to me. You try.”

  Hugo dragged an old bucket over, and they both perched on it. The creature was busily examining its toes one by one and then delicately nibbling them.

  “HELLO!” Hugo shouted. “CAN YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

  The creature slowly lowered its leg, raising large almond-shaped eyes to look at them. “I assure you, child, my ears”—he flapped them—“are working quite perfectly.”

  Hugo looked at Abigail for guidance, and she gave him a nudge to go on.

  “I’m Hugo, and this is Abigail.”

  The creature bowed its head. “I am Fetch. How kind of you to pay me a visit.”

  “He sounds intelligent,” Abigail whispered to Hugo. “Ask him if he knows the way out.”

  “We’re trapped down here, Mr. Fetch, sir. Do you know how we can get out?”

  Fetch laughed, rolling from side to side on the floor as if it were the funniest thing he had ever heard. He finally stopped, sitting up to wipe tears from his eyes.

  “Boy, if I knew that, I would have shaken this place days go. The food is abooooominable.” He gave a visible shudder, and his furry green face turned a shade of purple.

  “What did you do to end up here?” Hugo asked.

  “My master, His Highest, sent me to look around.”

  “You’re Odin’s spy!” Abigail said, recalling Hestera’s words.

  “You’re the one Jasper’s looking for!” Hugo said at the same time.

  Fetch lowered his head. “Indeed, you are both correct. I’m afraid Jasper is in for a long wait. Hestera has vowed to remove my head.”

  “Then we have to get you out of here,” Abigail said.

  Hugo turned to look at her. “Use your magic to open the door.”

  They jumped down. Hugo stepped to the side as Abigail shook out her hands and planted one foot. She took a deep breath. “Fein kinter,” she whispered.

  A familiar tingle ran down her arm as she flung her hands out. Blue fire sprang from her fingertips and blasted the hasp of the iron lock that hung on the door.

  The lock grew red, and then the hasp burst open and tumbled to the ground.

  Fetch crouched on the other side. “No time to waste. Let’s make haste,” he said, nimbly brushing past them and running up the steps on his spindly legs.

  Abigail and Hugo quickly followed. At the top of the stairs, the corridor split into a forked path.

  “Which way?” Hugo asked.

  Fetch sniffed the air and pointed left. “This way.”

  They ran down the corridor, but as they came around a corner, muffled footsteps echoed ahead of them.

  Fetch pulled them into the dark shadows of a small alcove carved into the rocks. They pressed themselves into the wall as the swish of skirts grew louder.

  “This green pest will answer my questions or lose his head this very day!” Hestera’s shrill voice demanded.

  “Yes, madam.” The deep male voice sounded like one of the Balfin guards. A sword rasped as he drew it out of its sheath.

  The pair passed by without seeing them.

  When the corridor was clear, they began to run. Behind them, a high-pitched scream of rage echoed as Hestera discovered her captive was gone.

  They burst out of the dungeons into an outer corridor. Fortunately, no one was about, but Abigail was still in the middle of the Tarkana Fortress with a Balfin boy and a furry green creature to hide. She tried to think. They couldn’t get to the gardens without crossing the wide-open courtyard in front of the classrooms.

  “This way,” she said, veering away toward the stables.

  They snuck into the back door of the barn. A couple of Balfin groomsmen were hitching a pair of horses to a wagon piled with rotting kitchen garbage. Another flung a tarp over the pile to hold it in place.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Abigail whispered. “You two hide in the compost wagon, then jump out when it’s outside the fortress. I have to get back to my room before Endera tells Madame Vex we were down there.”

  “You want us to climb in that?” Hugo asked, eyeing the smelly heap.

  “Unless you have a better plan.”

  Hugo shook his head.

  Fetch put one soft furry hand on her cheek. “Nice, indeed, Abigail Tarkana, to see you again.”

  “Again? But I’ve never met you before.”

  The funny little creature just nodded.

  They waited until the other groomsman cleared out.

  Fetch and Hugo ran behind the wagon and climbed under the tarp.

  Abigail sighed with relief. Now she had to hurry back to her room and hope she wasn’t spotted. She slipped down the corridor, hugging the wall and keeping to the shadows. When she reached the dormitory, she hurried around back and quickly climbed the ivy hand over hand, tumbling into her room in an exhausted heap.

  For once, not having any nosy roommates came in handy.

  Quickly shrugging off her torn and dirty clothes, she tied them in a bundle, and hid them under her mattress. Next, she put on a fresh uniform, brushed her hair, and braided it into neat pigtails. She sat down on the edge of her bed and opened her book on Potent Potions.

  Her heart was beating fast, but she sat quietly. She turned the pages slowly, pretending to read, when the thundering sound of feet signaled visitors.

  The door to her dormer flew open. Madame Vex stood in the doorway, eyes blazing. Endera and Nelly peered out from behind her. Glorian caught up, red-faced and puffing for air.

  “Hello, Madame Vex,” Abigail said sweetly. “What-ever is the matter?”

  “You . . .” The headmistress looked confused to see Abigail sitting calmly on her bed. “I heard you were in the dungeons.”

  Abigail frowned. “T
he dungeons are off limits. I remember you telling us that on the first day. I’m sorry I went into the swamps last week. Endera was being so mean I just had to get away.” A tear escaped down her cheek. “But I learned my lesson. I’ve been here in my room studying for Potions class all afternoon.”

  “Liar, I saw you!” Endera snarled.

  Abigail blinked, keeping her face innocent. “I don’t see how that’s possible. Or perhaps it was you who was in the dungeons? Where were you all afternoon, Endera?”

  Endera gawked at her.

  “She’s lying,” Nelly said. “I saw her at the bottom of a hole. She fell in a secret entrance with that Balfin boy she’s always hanging around.”

  “Yeah,” Glorian added. “We can prove it.”

  “You mean prove you know where there’s another entrance to the dungeons?” Abigail asked. “I’m sure Madame Vex will want to know exactly where it is and what you were doing there. Unless, of course, you were just making it up to get me into trouble?” She smiled sweetly at Endera and then went back to reading her book.

  “Well?” Madame Vex said, looking from her to Endera. “Is there a secret entrance or not?”

  Endera opened her mouth and then closed it. Without another word, she shoved past Nelly and Glorian and left.

  Abigail thought Madame Vex was going to pop a vessel. “Endera Tarkana, do not walk away from me! It will be detention for you every day for a month!”

  She gave one last look at Abigail, then snorted her disgust and slammed the door.

  Chapter 14

  The smell of rotting garbage made Hugo want to gag. Worse, he kept expecting an army of witches to descend on them and blast the carriage to bits. Fetch lay next to him, humming softly under his breath, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  The wagon stopped, and there was a loud rumbling as the gate rolled up. Then the wheels bumped forward, and they were outside the fortress. Relief made Hugo go limp. Behind them, bells clanged as an alarm was sounded, but the wagon kept going.

  Hugo ticked off the minutes in his head until he was sure they were safely away from the Tarkana Fortress. He lifted one edge of the tarp, inhaling fresh air.