The Blue Witch

by Alane Adams

  Endera screamed once, and then silken webbing silenced her.

  Chapter 29

  Abigail paced inside her room, guilt lancing her every step. She hadn’t just sent those witchlings away; she had condemned them to certain death at the hands of some monster with eight legs. And now Calla had the spellbook and Abigail had no idea where to find her. If only she had kept her big mouth shut, she wouldn’t be in this mess.

  She stopped pacing. It was no good beating herself up. She had to fix this, and to do that, she had to get out of this room, find Calla, and get that spellbook back.

  Throwing a cloak on, she flung open the window, ready to climb down the ivy, and gasped.

  Someone had cut the vines away from her sill.

  Madame Vex.

  She must have guessed Abigail had snuck in that way. Closing the window, Abigail sank to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. She would never get out of her room now. Those girls were as good as dead, and she would be exiled from the coven forever. The thought brought tears to her eyes.

  Something pinged against her window. A surge of hope shot through her.

  She leaped to her feet and flung open the window. “Hugo!”

  Hugo sat on the back of Big Mama, who hovered silently. Calla clung to his waist, looking terrified.

  “Care for a lift?” Hugo asked calmly, as if riding on the back of an Omera were an everyday occurrence.

  “I would,” she said. She climbed onto the ledge and took his hand. He pulled her on in front of him. She had barely settled when Big Mama flapped her wings and soared away.

  Abigail wanted to whoop with joy at the feeling of flying over the rooftops of the Tarkana Fortress.

  Hugo guided the Omera to a clearing on the edge of the swamps near the far end of Jadewick.

  She glimpsed a small shack in the thick swamp before Big Mama swooped down and landed. She slid off the Omera’s back, rushing forward to give the creature’s nose a rub. “How are your babies?” she asked, as the other two jumped down.

  Big Mama nudged her and gave an eye roll.

  Abigail laughed. “A handful, I’m sure. Tell Waxer I said hello, and tell Vexer to stay out of trouble. Give Starfire a kiss for me.”

  The Omera snorted, then launched herself into the air and took flight.

  Abigail turned and gave Hugo a firm hug. “How on earth did you get Big Mama to help you?”

  “I whistled like this,” Hugo put two fingers between his teeth and trilled off key, then grinned ruefully. “But nothing happened. Baba Nana used a spell to call her. Big Mama almost ate us when she landed, but then I told her you needed help. It’s strange how she understands things.”

  Abigail turned to Calla. “You took Melistra’s spell-book. Do you know how much trouble I’m in because of you? If I don’t get that spellbook back by the end of the day, I’m going to be exiled from the coven.”

  Calla paled. “I’m sorry, Abigail. It was selfish of me. But don’t worry, Baba Nana will help us fix it.”

  “Who’s Baba Nana?” Abigail asked, but Calla was already hurrying toward the rundown shack.

  “It’s her godmother,” Hugo said. “She’s going to use the spellbook to help Calla break the curse on her.”

  Abigail frowned. “What curse?”

  “The glitch-witch curse. Hurry! We don’t have much time.”

  Inside the shack, Abigail blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim interior. The place was a mess. Dishes were stacked up in the sink. Dust clung to every surface. A small rathos scurried across the floor, disappearing into a hole in the wall.

  An old woman with frizzy gray hair was huddled over a table. Her face was as wrinkled and dry as a prune. Her clothes were nothing more than a heap of rags.

  Melistra’s spellbook was open before her. She was muttering to herself, running her finger down a page.

  Hellooo, dark witch.

  Abigail started at the whispered greeting. She glanced around, but no one else had heard it. The spellbook seemed to call out only to her. Her fingers itched to hold it.

  Yes, come closer. Such power in you.

  The old woman slammed the book shut, raising her eyes to zero in on Abigail. “You’re the witchling that used the spellbook. Don’t you know how dangerous it is?”

  “I didn’t think. I just . . . Glorian said I couldn’t use it and . . .”

  Baba Nana snorted. “So you had to prove her wrong. Just like your mother. Lissandra was always so stubborn.”

  “Sorry, Abigail,” Hugo said. “I had to tell her the truth to get her to help us.”

  “You knew my mother?” Abigail asked.

  Baba Nana waved her hand. “Not now, child. We need to bring those witchlings back.”

  “Then give me the spellbook,” Abigail said. “I’ll take it to Melistra and she’ll fix this.”

  Baba Nana shook her head. “There’s no time, child. Every minute we delay, your friends are closer to death. And if they die, you will be like me. Banished forever.”

  Abigail drew closer. “So how do we reverse the spell?”

  “It won’t be easy. You sent those witchlings to the netherworld.”

  “The netherworld?” Hugo asked. “Where is that?”

  “It’s where banished creatures are sent by the gods,” Baba Nana explained. “It’s ruled over by the Arachnia, a race of nasty ravenous spiders. Their queen is Octonia, an eight-legged beast who can suck your insides dry. They will most likely have captured the witchlings by now. You’ll have to go there, find them, and convince Octonia to release them.”

  “How can we do that?” Abigail asked, thinking it sounded hopeless.

  Baba Nana paced. “Your only hope is to outwit Octonia. Trade her something she wants more than your little friends.”

  “Like what?” Hugo asked.

  “We’ll have to think of something more tempting than three young witchlings,” Baba Nana mused. “The Arachnia are ravenous things but not very smart. As I recall, Queen Octonia is very full of herself.” The old witch rummaged around her counter, knocking over jars, and then lifted a handheld mirror. She spat on it and polished the glass. “She’s just vain enough that this might work,” she muttered.

  “A mirror?” Abigail asked doubtfully.

  Baba Nana shoved it in her hands. “It’s up to you to convince her it’s a worthwhile trade. When you have your friends, don’t hesitate. You must recite the return spell, dominus delirias daloros, three times.”

  Abigail tucked the mirror into the pocket of her cloak, reciting the words to herself.

  “I’m coming with you,” Hugo said.

  “And me,” Calla added. “This is partly my fault. I want to help.”

  As much as she wanted the company, Abigail couldn’t risk her friend’s lives. “No, it’s too dangerous, Hugo. You don’t have any magic. And sorry, Calla, neither do you.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m coming,” Hugo said. “You’ll need help.”

  “And I am too, so it’s settled.” Calla was pale but firm. She took Hugo’s hand in hers and held her other hand out to Abigail.

  Abigail hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  Calla clasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. “It will be my first adventure. Come on, Baba Nana, cast the spell and we’ll be off.”

  “Be careful, child.” The old woman stepped closer and put one gnarled hand on Calla’s cheek. “You’re all this old witch has to care about in the world.”

  “I will. Just, please, while we’re gone, try to find something in that book that can help break the glitch-witch curse,” Calla said.

  Baba Nana gave a nod and then licked her lips, looking at Abigail.

  “Are you ready?”

  Abigail nodded.

  Baba Nana lifted the spellbook and began reciting the words.

  “Gally mordana, gilly pormona, gelly venoma.”

  A tingle ran up Abigail’s spine, and then a sharp wind blew in her face. Ice filled the marrow in her bones, and then blackness e
ngulfed her.

  Chapter 30

  Where are we?” Calla asked.

  Hugo sat up. Solid rock rose up on every side.

  A light mist hung in the chilly air. Definitely not Baba Nana’s hovel.

  “The netherworld, I suppose,” he said. “But how do we get out of here?”

  “Up there,” Abigail said, pointing.

  Hugo looked up. A mass of thankfully empty webbing crisscrossed the shaft.

  “It looks like we’ll be climbing,” he said briskly.

  “I wish I’d never opened that stupid spellbook,” Abigail sighed.

  “What’s done is done,” Hugo said. “Now we have to fix it.” He tested the strands. “It’s sticky, but I think it will hold us.”

  Hugo went first. Spider silk clung to his hair and face. He kept brushing it away, but soon his hands were a mess, and his clothes were streaked with webbing.

  The two girls followed close behind. No one complained, though their arms ached by the time they finally reached the top and stepped onto a wide ledge. They brushed off the webbing that clung to their hair and clothes and took a look around. A pair of tunnels led in opposite directions.

  “Which way?” Calla asked.

  They listened, but there was only silence.

  Hugo pointed to the right. “I say we take this one and see where it leads. If it’s a dead end, we’ll come back and try the other one.”

  “I say we split up,” Abigail said. “We’ll cover more ground. You and Calla stick together.”

  Hugo hesitated, but Abigail had already hurried off down the first tunnel.

  “Give a whistle if you run into trouble,” he called.

  Abigail seemed worried. Or guilty. He could understand that, but it wasn’t really her fault. It’s not like she’d meant to harm those witchlings.

  “Come on,” he said to Calla.

  They began to walk down the other tunnel, carefully picking their way around rocks. The air was cold, but there was just enough light to see. Water dripped from the ceiling, occasionally splatting him with cold drops. Strands of webbing clung to the walls. He kept expecting giant spiders to leap out at them.

  They came upon another chamber that went down several stories. This one had spiders actively spinning webs. They tiptoed past and didn’t make a sound until they were well away.

  “Do you think we’ll find them in time?” Calla asked.

  “I hope so.”

  “I should have never taken the spellbook,” Calla said, wringing her hands.

  The scientist in him couldn’t argue with that. “True. Melistra would have brought them home already.”

  Her face crumpled, and snuffled tears followed.

  They walked in silence while Hugo searched for the right thing to say.

  “If I had a chance to get magic, I probably would have taken it too.”

  Calla smiled weakly, swiping her tears away with her sleeve. “Thanks. But it looks like we’ve wasted our time.”

  Hugo looked up to see they’d come to a dead end. Tumbled rocks blocked their passage. They would have to turn around and hope Abigail had had better luck.

  They turned to go, when a faint breeze tickled Hugo’s face. He paused, turning back to study the barrier.

  “There might be an opening somewhere,” he said. “Help me move some of these rocks.”

  They strained to shove and lift the stones out of the way. After a few minutes, a small opening appeared.

  “Stay back,” Hugo warned in a low voice. “There could be an army of spiders waiting.” He carefully crawled forward on hands and knees.

  “What do you see?” Calla whispered. “Spiders?”

  “No. It’s . . . They’re beautiful!”

  Calla squeezed in behind him.

  “Oh, my!”

  They stood up and gawked.

  They were perched on a ledge inside a giant cavern. The ceiling was lit up with crystals that glowed faintly like scattered stars. Below them, a pond was lined with giant ferns. Purple insects zoomed across the water. Their double set of wings fluttered rapidly as they skimmed over the surface. Their bodies were as long as Hugo was tall.

  “They’re dragonflies!” Calla said. “Really, really big ones.”

  “What are they doing here?” Hugo asked.

  “Maybe we can ask them for help. They might know how to get the witchlings away from the Arachnia.”

  Before Hugo could stop her, she gave a little shout.

  “Hello there! We’re friends in need of help.”

  Instantly all the fluttering halted. A swarm of insects lifted off the ground in unison and began arrowing toward them, buzzing loudly.

  Hugo stepped back. “Uh, Calla, I think that was a bad idea.”

  “Nonsense. They’re dragonflies. They won’t hurt us.”

  But no sooner had she spoken than the lead dragonfly opened its jaws, revealing a small set of sharp teeth. It looked as if it was aiming to bite Calla’s head off.

  Hugo tackled Calla, knocking her to the side.

  “Stop!” he shouted. “We’re here to defeat Queen Octonia!”

  The swarm of dragonflies hesitated, hovering in midair.

  The lead dragonfly settled down onto the ledge. Its eyes were large bulbous things that reflected Hugo’s image in their metallic depths.

  Twin sets of sheer wings fluttered delicately. Its body was purple-green with tinges of blue. A golden crown sprouted from its head, as if it were molded onto the dragonfly’s body.

  “Who sent you?” His voice was deep, commanding, as if he was used to being obeyed.

  “No one. Some witchlings were sent here by accident,” Hugo said. “We’ve come to rescue them from Queen Octonia.”

  “Impossible!” the regal dragonfly said. “Queen Octonia is invincible. You must go, or we will all die!”

  Chapter 31

  Abigail made her way down the tunnel, wrapping her cloak tight around her. The place smelled musty and damp, like rotting bones. She had been walking for what felt like hours, but the tunnel stretched on in an endless line. By now, Queen Octonia had probably devoured the witchlings and was ready for a fresh set to swallow.

  Might as well eat me, Abigail thought glumly. Anything was better than exile.

  With one spell, she had thrown away her future. She would never be a great witch now. She wouldn’t be a witch at all.

  Abigail halted, gulping back the pain.

  They would strip her magic. She looked at her hands, wondering if it would hurt.

  But was it any worse than what the witchlings she had sent here had endured?

  Tears blurred her eyes as she continued on. She had no business feeling sorry for herself. This was all her fault. The tunnel began to climb upward, and she came to a stone archway carved with a spider over the top.

  Queen Octonia’s lair.

  Abigail carefully peered around the opening.

  A giant cavern spread out before her. Shiny black spiders crawled along a web that stretched from side to side. In the middle of the cavern, three large objects hung suspended in webbing, wrapped in white silk, like bundles of cotton.

  Abigail looked down. Far below, on the bottom of the cavern, scattered bones made an ominous pattern. A draft blew upward, making the web sway.

  Near the top, a monstrously large spider sat on a ledge. It was larger than an Omera and twice as wide.

  That must be Queen Octonia.

  Piles of fuzzy gray balls were heaped up in a squirming pile behind her.

  Eggs, Abigail realized with a shudder.

  A pair of spiders began rolling one of the still figures across the web over to the queen. The giant spider reached one hairy leg out and pawed the stiff form.

  “Mmmm!” The fat spider buried her face in the silky bundle, as if she was inhaling its smell. “Delicious and fresh . . . Your queen is pleased.”

  The Arachnia queen rolled the girl closer and bared a pair of glistening fangs, ready to bite down on the bundled witch
ling.

  “Not so fast!” Abigail shouted, shooting a blast of witchfire across the chasm. It bounced off the queen’s backside and a high-pitched shriek echoed off the walls.

  “Intruder!” the queen bellowed. “Kill her!”

  Immediately, the colony of spiders began skittering nimbly across the web toward Abigail, repeating the queen’s words over and over in a loud chorus.

  “Kill her. Kill her.”

  Abigail held a ball of flickering witchfire over her palm. “Come near me and I will incinerate that pile of eggs.” She launched the warning blast across the top of the squirming gray balls.

  “Stop!” The queen commanded, and the approaching spiders froze. She moved in front of the eggs. “Don’t you dare harm my beautiful babies.”

  Abigail held another ball of witchfire. “Give me my friends back and we’ll leave you in peace.”

  The queen clacked her jaws, waving a leg at the colony of spiders. “Why would I give them back when I have so many mouths to feed?”

  “Because I have something to trade, a special gift for you much better than some scrawny witchlings.”

  The queen was silent. Abigail held her breath, waiting to see if she would take the bait.

  “A gift you say?” Her mandibles clicked with excitement. “I do love surprises. Come closer so I might see this gift.”

  The Arachnia promptly spread out, forming a bobbing line that led from the opening where Abigail stood to the giant spider’s perch. She let the witchfire go out and took a wobbling step onto the back of the first Arachnia. She stepped from spider to spider, using their hard torsos as stepping stones.

  Too soon, she reached the ledge where the queen sat. Octonia had six pairs of eyes, every one of them studying Abigail. Tiny newborn spiders crawled all over the giant Arachnia’s body. Queen Octonia affectionately moved the hatchlings about.

  “How delicious of you to enter my realm.” She leaned in closer. “Such a fresh young thing. My hatchlings will enjoy feasting on you.”

  “I demand that you release my friends,” Abigail said boldly. “The Tarkana witches have the Great Mother spider as their totem.”