scary ones best. Dad called them Knightscares, with a k. Kind of like nightmares only scarier.
Across from the fireplace was Mom and Dad’s room. Their door was open, and that was odd. They usually slept with it closed.
The house was completely silent. Even the whooshing noise had stopped.
I turned to Jozlyn with an inquisitive look. She shrugged and nodded, sensing it too. Something wasn’t right. The night had become too quiet.
As we inched forward, the floor creaked like a moaning spirit from one of Dad’s stories. Then a more terrible sound drowned out everything else.
“Ehh-he-he-he-he-heh!” A witch’s shrill cackle pierced the quiet night.
My heart jumped into my throat, pounding wildly, and my insides shivered so hard I thought they would become outsides.
Jozlyn whimpered softly and hugged Rosie to her chest. “In there,” she said, pointing a shaky finger at our parents’ bedroom.
She was right. The witch’s cackle had come from straight ahead, from somewhere in our parents’ room.
We climbed to our feet at the same time. We weren’t thinking about being brave. We just acted. The witch had our parents, and it was up to us to do something about it.
We dashed into the dark bedroom and tripped on a blanket on the floor. It dragged us to the ground, and I landed hard on my elbow. Jozlyn tumbled down on top of me.
I looked at our parents’ bed. I looked around the room. Both were empty.
Our parents were missing.
“Ehh-he-he-he-he-heh!” The witch cackled nearby.
3: CLEOGHA
BEFORE we untangled ourselves from the blanket on the floor, Jozlyn and I heard the witch cackle again. The sound was close outside the window above our parents’ bed. We flinched at the terrifying sound before creeping closer for a look.
My elbow bumped against the window ledge. “Be quiet, Josh,” Jozlyn warned me. She was acting as if she was in charge the way big sisters do.
I scowled at her, rubbing my sore elbow, then carefully peeked out the window.
It looked like a town meeting or gathering of some kind was happening outside our house. Townsfolk stood in their night clothes talking in angry voices. There was a large crowd, and I recognized most of the people.
Mayor Garlo, with his bushy mustache and frumpy top hat, was there. So were Mr. and Mrs. Cobblesole, the Chandler family with their baby Wick, Widow Marmelmaid, stocky Mr. Sootbeard the blacksmith, and many others.
Sheriff Logan stood nearby, too. As usual, he wore his leather battle armor and a long sword on his hip. He was the only person in town who carried a weapon at all times. I’d never seen him without one.
For some reason, he made me nervous. He had a dark look about him. I knew he was supposed to help people and protect the town. That’s what the sheriff does. But he never laughed or smiled.
Right then, Sheriff Logan gripped a long dark broom painted with purple spots. He held it at arm’s length the way a girl might hold a snake. The knuckles of his fingers were white.
I’d held Rosie that way before, so I knew how he felt.
With relief, I spotted my parents in the crowd. Dad had his arm around Mom’s shoulders. That was a good sign. The two of them were always hugging or holding hands. Neither one of them looked afraid.
The townsfolk formed a ring around someone. I stared hard to make out the person and saw that it was Cleogha the witch.
Cleogha was ancient. Her snarled, long black hair was streaked with silver, and her round face was creased with wrinkles and covered in dark splotches like bruises on an apple. She had a hairy wart on the tip of her round nose.
She wore a shiny black dress trimmed with red at the collar and cuffs, long boots with toes that curled up, and a tall, pointed black hat with a wide brim.
The mayor pointed at her angrily. His face was almost as red as the trim on her dress.
“Now listen here, Witch Cleogha,” he told her angrily. “You’re disturbing the peace with all that flying to and fro. My, my. There’s laws against that sort of behavior.” He puffed up his chest and his mustache flapped with every word he spoke.
“But … but Mayor Garlo, ’tis a witch’s eh-he-he-he-holiday,” Cleogha argued in her cackling voice. “’Tis Cauldron Cooker’s Night. I should be allowed to celebrate. ’Tis a free town, after all.”
The crowd of people muttered their objections. No one seemed convinced by Cleogha’s argument.
“You woke our son,” Mr. Chandler accused in a grumpy tone. Baby Wick fidgeted in his mother’s arms.
“Aye, disturbed my work, too, you did,” the blacksmith, Mr. Sootbeard, growled in a deep voice. “I was just finishing up a new shield for the sheriff here when you flew by and surprised me. The shield’s ruined. I’ll have to start again.”
I was getting a bad feeling. I looked over at Jozlyn and saw that she was frowning. I think she felt the same as I did.
The mayor waved his arms, calling for silence before he spoke again. “My, my. Tiller’s Field is indeed a free town, Witch Cleogha, but your rights may not infringe upon anyone else’s freedom. I’m afraid that I cannot allow you to ride your broom after sunset.”
Something mysterious flashed in Cleogha’s eyes. Something devious. Even in the moonlight I could see that she was up to no good. Her eyes seemed to glow and she took a deep breath.
She was going to cast a spell, I realized. I grabbed Jozlyn by the shoulder and pulled her back with me away from the window.
4: BROOMSNAKE STICK
CLEOGHA’S hands shot up and she waved them furiously. In a loud voice, she chanted the words to a spell:
Slither scale, hiss, and spit.
Wiggle tail, slap, and hit.
To my hand, I know command.
Magic make that broom a snake!
At the end of her chant, she tossed some glittering dust high into the air. It sparkled and hissed like a serpent as it fell. Some of it landed on the sheriff and he shouted in alarm.
I gulped. Whatever was happening, it was bad. Sheriff Logan was as brave as a dragon. He wouldn’t cry out for just anything.
The crowd gasped and Jozlyn shrieked loudly in my ear. Everyone took a step back, their eyes on the sheriff and on what lashed about in his outstretched hand.
The purple-spotted broom was gone. The sheriff now held a big snake with a long forked tongue.
Deep green and covered with purple splotches just like the broom had been, the snake thrashed violently in the sheriff’s hand. Its tongue shot in and out of its mouth menacingly.
Sheriff Logan hurled the snake to the ground with a gasp, jumped back, and whipped out his long sword in one blazing motion. There was hardly time to see him do it.
Shing! His blade whisked free of its scabbard.
“Look out!” Jozlyn screamed. She held Rosie in front of her for protection like one of Cleogha’s charms against trolls.
I hoped Rosie protected against snakes.
The snake wiggled and slithered toward Cleogha. Sheriff Logan leaped forward like a pouncing cat to chop the scaly thing in half, but Cleogha bent down and snatched the snake up in her wrinkled hands.
The snake flicked its tongue across her skin the way a puppy licks his owner.
Disgusting! I thought.
Cleogha held the snake above her head and the crowd watched in fear. “End the doom! Snake to broom!” she shouted, and the snake went very still, becoming as straight as a knight’s lance. It glowed brightly and I had to shield my eyes.
When the light faded and I could look again, Cleogha held nothing but her broom.
“This broom be mine. You were wrong to take it from me,” Cleogha declared to the stunned onlookers.
I was amazed. I’d never seen actual magic performed before, except for Wizard Ast’s tricks on Trooping Fairy Day. This was different. It was real and terrifying.
Mayor Garlo adjusted the top hat on his head and stepped forward. He tugged on his long white mustache with one hand.
&
nbsp; “My, my. Riding your broom after sunset and casting spells in the moonlight. Even on Cauldron Cooker’s Night, these things cannot be tolerated. You leave me no choice, Witch Cleogha. I hereby revoke your license to do business in Tiller’s Field.”
The crowd murmured again, this time in approval. I couldn’t help agreeing with them. Cleogha was dangerous.
Sheriff Logan still held his sword before him. He wasn’t taking any chances.
“And furthermore,” the red-faced mayor continued, “you must leave Tiller’s Field at once and never return. We cannot tolerate your snakes and spells within the city limits. You are ordered to go. Now!”
Cleogha cackled her piercing witch’s cackle and another shiver slithered up my spine. I couldn’t stop thinking about the green and purple snake, and about the witch’s magic.
What else could she do? Could she turn me into a snake? Could she turn me into something even worse? “So be it, Mayor,” Cleogha hissed, “but I will be back. Tiller’s Field be my home and I will return.”
She straddled the brrom-that-was-also-a-snake and floated into the air.
“I will return!” she spat, pointing at the mayor. Then she rotated slowly and pointed at various people in the crowd. “Mark my words, all of you!” she shouted, kicking her legs like a little kid on a rocking horse.
Suddenly she spun to face Jozlyn and me. We crouched low, but it was too late. Cleogha had spotted us. I heard Mom gasp.
Dad shouted at us. “Jozlyn, Josh—run!”
Jozlyn raced back into the living room but my legs wouldn’t respond. I was frozen in place, paralyzed by the witch’s stare. Her dark eyes made my skin crawl, and I stopped breathing.
“I will be
Cauldron Cooker's Night (Epic Fantasy Adventure Series, Knightscares Book 1) Page 2
