The Salamander Spell

by E. D. Baker

  “That’s a manticore. I’ve seen drawings of them, but never the real thing,” Haywood whispered to Grassina. “He’s magnificent!”

  “I don’t care what he is as long as he gets rid of the werewolves,” Grassina replied.

  Pippa peeked out of Grassina’s sleeve. “How will you get rid of the manticore once he’ss chassed away the werewolvess?”

  Grassina bit her lip. “That’s a good question.”

  “I could bite him if you need me to,” offered the little snake.

  “Thanks,” said Grassina, “but I hope that won’t be necessary.”

  Having heard the manticore, the werewolves turned to face this newest threat. When they growled deep in their throats, Haywood put his arm around Grassina and drew her closer to his side. Walking stiff-legged, the werewolves approached the rocks, the fur bristling along their spines. The manticore crouched down, his tail twitching behind him as he eyed the closest werewolf. Suddenly, the beast leapt from atop the rocks, snatched the werewolf in his jaws, tossed it into the air, and caught it on the way down. The werewolf struggled to free itself and actually succeeded for a moment. Then the manticore pounced on it again, batted it with a paw, and let it go just to knock it down again.

  “The manticore is playing with the werewolf the way a cat does a mouse,” Grassina whispered to Haywood.

  He nodded. “It seems we got what we wanted. Those monsters don’t stand a chance.”

  When the werewolf no longer responded, the manticore bit off its head with a horrifying crunch and flung the body aside like a broken toy. Another werewolf approached from behind, so the manticore swung his tail, crushing the creature’s skull with one blow of the ball. The carcass hadn’t even hit the ground before the rest of the pack turned tail and ran as fast as they could with the manticore close on their heels.

  Grassina shuddered and looked away. “I should have used my spear on them. At least then they’d be turned back into humans and not . . . not . . .”

  “Eaten?” said Haywood. “Except you never could have turned them all back. One of them would have gotten to you first, and then you would have been missing a few vital organs.”

  “Maybe, but what that monster just did makes me sick to my stomach.”

  “What do you have in mind now?” asked Haywood.

  “We’ll go to the castle and tell them what happened. Will you go with me?”

  “As far as the gates, but I’m not going inside,” Haywood said. “I don’t think this is the right time to meet your family.”

  Hand in hand, they started toward the castle, studying the field around them with wary eyes. “Do you see that?” Haywood said suddenly. “There, by those trees. It looks like . . . Yes, I think it is. The manticore is back!”

  As the manticore bounded across the farmer’s field, Grassina turned to face the beast, gripping her spear firmly. “I wish I knew what he wanted.”

  “Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” said Haywood. “Manticores aren’t known for being overly friendly.”

  The manticore stopped only a dozen yards from them and crouched, his wicked-looking tail flicking across his back like an angry pendulum. “You got what you wanted,” growled the beast. “I killed a few and scared off the rest.” He took a step closer, his shaggy head weaving from side to side. “They won’t be back as long as they can smell my scent, which is why you won’t kill me.” Another step and the beast seemed impossibly huge. “If you did, you’d have to face the werewolves all over again.”

  As the manticore continued his approach, Grassina backed away, uncertain if she should throw her spear or not. One more step and his eyes were boring into hers. “You said I should be quick. Was I too fast for you? I got back before you could run away. I’m sure that wasn’t part of your plan. I’m sure this wasn’t either.”

  In a fraction of a second, the manticore rushed at Grassina, knocked the spear from her hand, and swatted her so that she flew into the air. It happened so fast that all she had time to think about was that she was going to die. She didn’t realize that she was screaming until her throat hurt. Closing her eyes, she expected to hit the ground hard, but suddenly something soft and fluttery enfolded her in its embrace. Her eyelids flew open. A cloud of moths had surrounded her, breaking her fall. “Haywood!” she breathed as the moths laid her on the ground, then scattered into the night.

  Although Grassina was on her feet in an instant, the manticore was already there. This time when the beast batted at her, a flock of owls caught her clothes in their talons and lowered her gently to the farmer’s field. She had no intention of playing the manticore’s game of cat and mouse, so when the beast pounced on her and rolled her over with its paw, she shouted, “Now, Pippa, bite him!”

  Growling deep in his throat, the manticore pinned her to the ground with his paws, letting his decay-scented breath wash over her. Up close, his shaggy head was even bigger than she’d thought; it was at least three times the size of hers, with a mouth large enough to swallow her head and shoulders in one bite. The monster’s drool was running into Grassina’s ear when Pippa slithered out of her sleeve. Winding herself around the manticore’s leg, the snake latched on with her fangs.

  A strange look came into the beast’s too-human eyes. As the little snake’s venom coursed through the monster’s veins, the manticore swayed and shook his head. His pupils were dilated, and his breathing was shallow when he slumped toward Grassina. Certain the creature was collapsing just like the werewolf had when Pippa bit it, Grassina tried to squirm out from under him. Instead of crushing her, however, the manticore shook his head again as if he had just awakened from a deep sleep, blinked, and said, “My! I feel so relaxed!”

  “Uh oh,” said Pippa. “That wass not ssuppossed to happen!”

  Grassina tried not to flinch when the manticore smiled down at her, grinning so broadly that it looked as if his face might split in two. “I did what you wanted,” he said. “Now I’m going to do what I want. You never said that I couldn’t eat you.”

  “I wish you—” began Grassina.

  “Uh, uh, uh,” said the manticore, covering her mouth with his paw. “No magic spells out of you, witch!”

  “Hey, monster, over here!” shouted Haywood.

  The beast’s great head swung toward the young wizard, his eyes narrowed to glittering slits. “Wait your turn. I’ll get to you next.”

  Grassina struggled to breathe, but the manticore’s huge paw covered her mouth and her nose. She was writhing under the weight, desperate to break free, when Pippa sank her fangs into the manticore’s leg, but without enough time to replenish her venom, her bites had little effect.

  Then Haywood shouted, and a moment later the man-ticore screamed. When he suddenly lifted his paw from her mouth, Grassina gasped for air.

  “Ow!” exclaimed the manticore. “Those things can bite! Ow! That hurts!” Plopping down on his haunches, the manticore kicked at his head with his hind foot, then began twisting and thrashing as he snapped at his sides.

  “Run!” Pippa said into Grassina’s ear, sliding beneath the neck of her tunic.

  The beast was rolling on the ground whining when Grassina scrambled out of the way and turned to look. Fire ants were streaming across the monster’s fur, biting as they went.

  “Quick, over here!” said Haywood, taking her hand. Riddled with crevices, the boulders offered more shelter than anything else they could reach. As they ran, Haywood used his magic to call a bat to lead them to a hiding place. They followed the little creature, climbing over the boulders while the manticore continued to rage. The opening the bat had found was awkwardly placed halfway up the pile of boulders, and almost too narrow for Haywood’s shoulders. He squirmed in first, then helped Grassina wriggle through. The manticore had followed them and was sniffing at the bottom of the pile as Grassina pulled her feet in after her.

  “Do you have anything elsse in that bag that could help?” asked Pippa.

  Grassina shook her head. “That was
all I had. I can try to think of a spell, but I’m not very good at it.”

  “Ah!” said the manticore from outside their hole. “Here you are!”

  Grassina lurched backward when the manticore’s paw reached inside to grope the air only inches away from her. “I know you’re in there! Do you honestly think a few rocks are going to stop me?”

  “About that spell . . . ,” said Haywood.

  A grinding sound made them scoot as far from the opening as they could manage. The manticore was moving the boulders, trying to force his way inside. “I can’t think when he’s doing that!” said Grassina.

  Haywood sat back and placed the wooden box on his lap. “Then I guess it’s up to me. I was hoping I’d never have to try this, but I don’t have any choice. What I’m about to do is very dangerous, so don’t come any closer.”

  Grassina held her breath while Haywood muttered a spell and removed the lid of the wooden box. For the first time she could see what was inside. A bed of hot coals filled the box, and on the bed slept a small red lizard, glowing even brighter than the smoldering coals.

  “Who is that?” asked Pippa.

  “What is that?” asked Grassina.

  “It’s a red salamander,” said Haywood. “I was learning how to handle it when I started the fire in my father’s stable. Red salamanders know more about fire than any other creature, besides dragons, that is, but they are very hard to control.”

  “You’ve had that with you all this time and never told me? Oh!” she gasped. “Is that what made those burn marks in the swamp? And I thought it was a dragon! But that salamander is so little. What can it do against a monster like the manticore?”

  “You’ll see,” said Haywood. “I have a spell I can try. . . . I just hope it works.”

  Little salamander friend,

  Take your flames and with them wend

  ’Round the manticore so dire

  To protect us with your fire.

  Make a wall to force him back

  And forestall his next attack.

  When Haywood held up the box, the salamander took a burning coal in its mouth and scurried out the opening of the shelter. Once out of the box, the little creature shed crackling flames wherever it went. Smoke wafted back into the hole where Grassina and Haywood had taken refuge, making them cough and rub their eyes.

  The manticore bellowed close enough to the hole that the rocks around them shook, and Grassina feared that they would be buried alive. Frightened, Pippa wrapped herself around her wrist so tightly that Grassina’s hand began to turn blue.

  The commotion outside continued, then suddenly grew fainter, and the rocks around them stilled.

  “Thank goodness!” said Grassina. “I’m glad you thought of that salamander spell. I didn’t know that small magic could make such a difference. I guess it depends on how you use it.”

  “That’s true of any magic,” said Haywood. “Have you come up with your spell yet? The salamander won’t get rid of the manticore, just hold him off for a while.”

  “I think I’m ready,” said Grassina. “But I want to see him when I say the spell to make sure it actually works.”

  “I’ll go firsst.” Unwinding her body from Grassina’s wrist, Pippa slithered out the opening. “That manticore almosst got in. He moved a lot of rockss. You can come out now. He’ss too bussy to notice you.”

  Getting out of the shelter was easier than getting in had been; the manticore had moved most of the smaller rocks out of the way. Grassina crawled out on her hands and knees, saying, “Haywood, I’m glad you had that box with you to . . . Oh, my!” She had spotted the manticore.

  It had run about a hundred feet from the rock pile before the salamander had trapped it. A wall of flame rose up around the manticore; each time the beast tried to leap over the fire, the flames shot higher, singeing its fur and making it fall back, bellowing.

  “This is close enough,” Haywood said as he got to his feet behind her.

  Grassina nodded. “I think so, too.” Raising her arm, she pointed at the manticore and said,

  Fierce and nasty you may be,

  But you will not frighten me.

  Though you’re big and though you’re strong,

  You won’t stay that way for long.

  Shrink in strength and shrink in size

  Till you wear a kitten’s guise.

  Let your scent be all that stays

  To remind us of your ways.

  The manticore was pacing within his fiery cage when he began to shrink. He was smaller than a newborn lamb when the salamander ran off into the night, letting the flames die away. Having extinguished his fire, the little creature was almost impossible to see in the dark.

  “Where’s he going?” asked Pippa.

  Haywood shrugged. “I don’t know. I doubt I’ll ever see him again.”

  “But I will,” said Pippa, raising her head to taste the air with her flicking tongue. With her head still raised, she slithered off after the salamander.

  Grassina hadn’t taken her eyes from the manticore. It had stopped shrinking when it reached the size of a three-week-old kitten, but looked in every other way exactly as it had before. “Why doesn’t he look like a kitten?” she asked. “He was supposed to after that spell.”

  “A manticore’s a magical beast,” said Haywood. “Our magic doesn’t work the same on them.”

  The manticore tried to bellow, but instead of the blare of a trumpet, it sounded more like the tootle of a flute. Frustrated, the beast ran at Grassina as if to attack her again. When it reached her feet, she clucked her tongue and picked him up by the scruff of his neck. The manticore mewed pitifully when she held him at arm’s length. “That’s much better,” said Grassina.

  “What have you done to me?” squealed the kitten-sized beast.

  Grassina set the creature on the ground, hardly noticing when he swung his tail and tapped her on the wrist with the ball. “Nothing that you don’t deserve,” she said. “You were right when you said I didn’t want to kill you, but then, I didn’t want anyone else to be killed either. Good-bye, little one. You should be happy. You wanted to be free to do whatever you desired, and now you are.”

  As the manticore darted off into the grass, Haywood once again took Grassina’s hand in his. “What’s this?” he said.

  “Hmm?” said Grassina. Turning back from watching the manticore, she let her eyes follow Haywood’s. There was a ring on her finger now, a green ring made of a single stone carved to look like overlapping leaves. “Oh,” she breathed and glanced up at Haywood. “Do you know what this means? That’s the ring of the Green Witch!”

  “Which means that you hold the title now,” said Haywood, his words clipped and dry. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” said Grassina. “I have to go tell my family. Greater Greensward has a Green Witch again!”

  “It is wonderful,” said Haywood, “for the kingdom.”

  Eighteen

  Grassina and Haywood had almost reached the castle when they ran into an armored party mounted on horseback. Prince Limelyn was at the head of the column, leading King Aldrid’s ten bravest knights. “What are you doing here, Princess?” he said, his armor rattling as he doffed his helmet. “It isn’t safe. We’ve come to do battle with a terrible beast that’s been heard in the forest. We’ll escort you back to—”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Grassina. “It was a manticore, but we’ve already taken care of it.”

  Prince Limelyn looked astounded. “Was it you, good sir?” he asked Haywood. “Tell us how you were able to perform such a marvelous deed!”

  “I helped, that’s all,” said Haywood. “Princess Grassina did most of it herself. Look!” he said, holding up Grassina’s hand. The green ring glittered on her finger as it caught the morning sun.

  “Is that . . . ?”

  “It must be!”

  “Princess Grassina is the new Green Witch!”

  The knights urged the
ir horses forward, forming a circle around Grassina. Removing their helmets, they gazed at her with respect and admiration. Although she tried to keep hold of Haywood’s hand, he had seen the expressions on the knights’ faces, and it seemed to make him uncomfortable. “Good-bye, my darling,” he said, raising Grassina’s hand to his lips. “I must go now. You have to tell your family your news. I’m sure there will be work for you to do as well. You don’t need me any longer. These gentlemen will see you safely home.”

  One of the knights struggled to dismount under the weight of his armor. When he finally had his feet on the ground, he stood between Grassina and Haywood. Draping the reins across his horse’s neck, he turned to Grassina, saying, “Your Highness, please do me the honor of riding my steed back to the castle.”

  “Just a minute,” she said, trying to look around him. “Haywood! I need to talk to you. Don’t go!”

  The knight stepped aside, but Haywood had already slipped past the horses. “Your Highness,” said the knight. Leading her to his mount, he helped Grassina into the saddle. She could see farther once she was seated—far enough to see Haywood disappear into the morning mist.

  Grassina was still thinking about Haywood when the horses clattered across the courtyard to the foot of the stairs. She didn’t notice that her mother and sister were waiting in the midst of Chartreuse’s suitors until Olivene called out, “Is that you, Grassina? What are you doing with those men?”

  “We have excellent news,” said Prince Limelyn as his squire helped him dismount. “Princess Grassina wears the ring of the Green Witch on her finger!”

  “She can’t!” blurted Chartreuse. When all the princes turned to look at her, she added, “I mean, she wasn’t wearing it yesterday.”

  “Let me see!” crowed Olivene. “I know what it looks like better than any of you.” Grabbing Grassina’s hand, she yanked so hard that she nearly pulled her daughter off the horse. “That’s it, all right. Congratulations. You now have the worst job in the kingdom. It’s about time someone in this family did a little work around here, besides me, that is.”