Broken Wish

by Julie C. Dao

  Elva couldn’t help hugging him again.

  “I found this clearing ages ago and it made me think of that story about the fairy queen who loved a human, but she could never be with him, so she turned the wedding ring she meant to wear into a circle of trees.” He gestured to the slim white birches surrounding the clearing. “That’s what I thought of when I saw this place. It was empty, but I kept coming back to it. I had a feeling there was more to it than met the eye. And yesterday, that well suddenly appeared.”

  Elva shivered. “It wasn’t here before?”

  He shook his head. “No, and I came three or four times. Something kept pulling me back. I guess I could sense that there was water here. Maybe the well was testing me to see if I was worthy, and I was!” He tried to sit up again and winced when his leg moved. “Do you think Mathilda can help with my leg? It hurts something terrible.”

  “Here, put your arm around my neck.” Slowly, painfully, Elva helped him get up on his uninjured leg. As she did so, she heard the voices of the search party calling faintly and shouted back at them. “Mama! Papa! I found Cay!”

  They heard leaves rustling and twigs crackling under approaching footsteps, and within a minute, Herr Bauer and two of his farmhands appeared with Mama and Papa right on their heels.

  “Oh, Cay!” Mama sobbed.

  “I’m fine,” he told her brightly, as she put her hands on either side of his bleeding face, kissing him. “My leg’s just broken, that’s all.”

  The tension lifted as the searchers let out sighs of relief and shook their heads at Cay’s incorrigible cheer. Papa lifted Cay carefully in his arms and carried him to a wheelbarrow one of the men had brought. Cay was wheeled out of the forest with Mama and Papa half running, half walking by his side. Elva put Mama’s books back into Cay’s basket, knowing he would want them, and followed the group back onto the path.

  But no sooner had they emerged from the North Woods than a red-faced Peter Bauer appeared, panting. “Pa, the trial,” he managed to gasp to Herr Bauer. “They went ahead with it and it’s pandemonium. They’re calling for the witch’s immediate execution.”

  “What?” Elva cried, her stomach sinking like a stone. They had been wrong, then: The trial had gone on, even without Papa and Herr Bauer present. And Mathilda had been there all alone.

  “They’re taking her to the gallows,” Peter said, and then Elva was running like the wind. She heard voices calling after her as she tore down the path and across the bridge into town.

  It was pandemonium, just as Peter had said.

  Elva arrived at the town hall to see the building crammed with people, all pushing and shouting. She forced her way through the crowd to the center of the room. The councilmen were on their feet, their benches abandoned, all talking loudly at once. Herr Werner, the head of the council, banged a gavel and yelled for quiet, but no one heard him in the commotion. Finally, he picked up the end of one bench and dropped it on the floor with a crash. “Silence!” he roared.

  That seemed to do the trick, at least with the people closest to him. Elva pushed past them and saw Mathilda facing the councilmen with her head held high, eyes full of rage.

  “You heard her!” someone in the crowd screeched. “She admitted to all of her crimes!”

  “She tried to kill those boys!”

  “Witch! Murderess!”

  Disturbed, Elva tore her gaze from the councilmen nodding at these awful exclamations. The crowd was so thick, she couldn’t find a way to get through it. “Mathilda!” she called, and the witch glanced at her as Herr Werner dropped the bench again for attention.

  “Woman! You stand accused of poisoning good citizens of Hanau,” he said to Mathilda, his voice hoarse. “Mere boys who were only having a bit of fun. Do you deny this charge?”

  “No.” Mathilda did not speak loudly, but her voice carried throughout the noisy room.

  “You also stand accused of cursing Frau Lina Bergmann with…erm…reptiles in the throat when she was a young woman. Do you deny this charge?”

  Mathilda’s eyes sparked. “No.”

  “You have also knowingly sold wart potions that you claimed to be love tonics to people you considered your enemies. Do you deny this charge?”

  “No,” Mathilda said defiantly, “and I would do it again if I could!”

  The crowd exploded with anger. Two men burst from the sides of the room and grabbed Mathilda by the arms, roughly. One of them had a fistful of her hair. The sight of it incensed Elva. She pushed the people in front of her with all her strength and rushed toward the witch.

  “Let her go!” she screamed, and her heart nearly stopped when she saw that the two men were none other than Willem and Klaus. “Don’t touch her!”

  “Drag the hag to the gallows!” the crowd shouted.

  Herr Werner grabbed Elva. “Stay back, my girl. You don’t want to get involved in this.”

  “Oh, but she is involved. More than you know, sir,” Willem told him, his hand still clenched like a vise around the witch’s arm. His eyes glittered at Elva, and she swallowed hard. She fully believed him capable of revealing her secret, right then and there. “Why do you look so frightened, Elva? I only meant you were supposed to be a witness for her,” he said icily.

  Elva thought that if she had the power, she would open a hole in the earth to swallow him. She looked desperately at Herr Werner. “Let me speak on Mathilda’s behalf, please!”

  “It’s too late,” he said excitedly. “Don’t you hear the crowd? They’ve given the verdict.”

  “Gallows! The gallows!” people screamed, and the councilmen did nothing but nod, some of them smiling at the sight of the witch trapped between Willem and Klaus.

  “You heard them! Take her to the gallows, boys!” Herr Werner cried.

  Klaus’s cold gray eyes met Elva’s as he and Willem dragged Mathilda toward an open set of doors overlooking the back of the town hall. Through them, Elva saw the sharp edges of the gallows against the blinding sky, the nooses dangling in the breeze like flags of deadly surrender.

  “Mathilda, get out of here!” she shouted.

  The witch struggled between the two men, breathing hard, her face bright red and furious. Her long dark hair had come out of its bun and hung over her cheeks in limp, tangled waves. She shook them aside and glared at Elva. “Where were you?” she cried, her anguished face streaked with tears. “You promised to be here! You were supposed to be here for me!”

  Elva’s heart broke over and over, looking into Mathilda’s devastated eyes. “I’m sorry,” she wept. “I’m sorry! Let her go!” She pulled at Willem, but he reached out with one hand and shoved her away. She fell onto the floor, landing painfully on her elbow.

  Suddenly Papa was there. He grabbed Willem by his work shirt, yanking him away from the witch, and held him to his face. “Don’t you ever touch my daughter like that!” he roared.

  Herr Bauer was there, too, yelling at the councilmen. “What on earth is happening here?”

  Elva cradled her elbow on the floor, spotting a heavy wooden bench rising into the air by itself. The crowd screamed as the bench floated for a few seconds, then moved forward at lightning speed, mercilessly knocking down several councilmen in its path. It headed straight for Klaus, who turned just before it crashed into his head. He fell without uttering a sound.

  Now free, Mathilda looked at Elva again, her eyes full of tears and quiet fury, and then she spun in place. One moment the witch was standing there, and the next, there was nothing but empty space beside Klaus’s unconscious body.

  The townspeople began stampeding out of the hall, braying with fear.

  “She’s gone!” Herr Werner sputtered, looking around him in bewilderment.

  Elva leaped to her feet, still cradling her hurt elbow. “Papa, I have to go to her,” she said, and without waiting for a response, she hurried outside with the crowd. She needed to get to Mathilda at once, to find her and explain why she had not been there to defend her.

  T
he path blurred before Elva’s eyes as she ran, her hair plastered to her tear-streaked face. It had all been a mistake, this horrible plan of hers. She didn’t know why she had ever thought it would work. She had torn Mathilda from her home in the woods and thrown her to the wolves. She might as well have been dragging the witch to the gallows with her own hands.

  Hanau was no place for people like them.

  She had thought differently, hoped differently once. And perhaps elsewhere in the world, they would not have to hide. But this town would never accept them, no matter how much her heart dreamed otherwise. It would always see them the way that Willem saw them, and even the way Papa saw them: as unnatural creatures to be feared.

  We’ll go, Mathilda and I, Elva thought feverishly, as her footsteps thundered over the bridge. She took the path back to the North Woods, running as fast as she could. We’ll pack our bags and find some safe place to live, far away. She would make it up to the witch somehow.

  Mathilda’s cottage still looked empty. The only signs that she had come back were the open door and the wagon outside, hitched to a small donkey that stared accusingly at Elva. It had a ginger coat and eyes like green sea glass, and Elva blinked at it in shocked recognition—it was Mathilda’s cat, enchanted into a different form. The wagon behind it contained an assortment of boxes and bundles, and one crate held porcelain dishes, bowls, and cups cushioned with straw. The two cozy chairs that had sat by the fire were upside down on the kitchen table, with Mathilda’s leather-bound diary tucked securely between them.

  Elva’s stomach clenched as she hurried inside. “Mathilda! What are you doing?”

  The woman did not answer, nor did she look at her. She was sweeping as though her life depended on it, getting the straw of her broom into every crack in the floorboards. She had not tidied her hair, which was half in her disheveled bun and half flying into her eyes.

  “I know you’re angry with me,” Elva said, trembling. “You were waiting for me, and you were all alone at the trial, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there.”

  The witch’s head flew up. “You’re sorry?”

  “Y-yes,” Elva stammered, taking a step back at the blazing look in her eyes. “Cay got lost in the woods and we were searching for him. When Peter Bauer came and told us about the trial going wrong, I ran. I’m so desperately sorry about everything.”

  Mathilda snorted. “I don’t know why I listened to you, or why I even wanted to be a part of this cesspool of a town,” she said, sweeping furiously. “If that council is made up of your finest, upstanding citizens, then it’s an incredibly poor sample of humanity.”

  “What happened?” Elva asked, very low.

  “I came to the town hall an hour early, hoping to collect my nerves and to see you there. I thought if I could get people used to my presence and show them I could be quiet and harmless, they would be more comfortable.” The witch threw her head back and laughed. “All my life, I have worried about them. I have lowered my voice, I have bowed my head, I have made myself smaller. I hid myself in this cottage in the middle of nowhere to please them. No more!”

  Elva stayed silent, her heart aching.

  “Do you want to know what else you missed?” Mathilda spat at her. “When the councilmen came in, they all started snickering and whispering behind their hands like overgrown schoolboys. Their words grew louder and louder, and I can hardly think of what they said without feeling sick. It doesn’t deserve to be repeated. But rest assured, they covered everything about me, including my face and body, in sordid detail. Like I was meat in a butcher’s shop!”

  “Oh, Mathilda,” Elva whispered.

  “They accused me of breaking up several betrothals and marriages. Such skill and talent as they gave me, considering I had never seen any of them in my life!” Mathilda ranted on. “And when they had finished talking about me, they talked at me. Asking me what love potions I had used to poison the brew at the pub, which animals I had killed lately, how many times I had flown naked to the moon. There were one or two men who looked uncomfortable and didn’t join in, but they never once spoke up in my defense, either.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Elva said, her eyes burning with tears. “So sorry you endured that alone.”

  Mathilda’s voice grew quiet. “I sat like a statue in the corner. I didn’t look at any of them. I told myself words could do nothing to me and I had heard much worse before. I reminded myself, over and over, that you would come and I would not be alone. I would have someone who truly cared about me there.” Her eyes met Elva’s, cold and empty. “But you did not come.”

  “You were on my mind the whole time,” Elva sobbed. “I meant to walk to the town hall directly after breakfast, but Mama found Cay’s bed empty. We were so frightened for him.”

  The witch leaned her broom against the wall in silence.

  “Remember that vision I had of the well in the forest, and the body I was bent over? It was Cay after all, and I was afraid the worst had happened,” Elva said shakily. “When Papa and Herr Bauer and all of our neighbors were searching the forest, I came to your cottage to find you, but you were gone. Your mirror helped me find Cay.”

  Mathilda’s gaze darkened. “If so many people were out searching for him, he would have been found eventually,” she said through clenched teeth. “So many eyes could not fail to turn him up. You could have left the search to them and come to the town hall. You swore you would be by my side. You made it sound like it was important to you, like I was important to you.”

  “It was important, and so are you! But I thought my brother’s life was at stake….”

  “Cay would have been found!” the witch shouted. “All that time, I sat alone, waiting and waiting for you. I took their hatred and abuse because the thought of you coming kept me strong. And time slipped by and you didn’t care to show your face….”

  “He was by the old well with a broken leg and a head injury!”

  “There were dozens of people there to take care of him!”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” Elva cried. “I’m sorry, all right?”

  “For god’s sake, stop saying you’re sorry!” Mathilda screamed.

  They stared at each for a moment, breathing hard.

  “You were worried about your brother’s safety,” the witch went on, her voice cracking. “I understand that. But what about me and my safety? What about when the councilmen’s insults became threats? When they told me they had never planned to have a trial at all but had lured me there to kill me, once and for all? To see me swinging from my neck before all of Hanau?”

  Elva swallowed hard, pressing her hands over her eyes.

  “Those were the men who were supposed to be keeping the peace, and instead, they incensed the crowd. You heard a little of what people were saying. You saw how those men grabbed me by the hair.” Mathilda gave a low, bitter laugh. “So you don’t need to tell me you’re sorry. Everyone is always so sorry when they’ve broken a promise. However much you look like Agnes, I used to think you were different….”

  “Please don’t bring Mama into this.”

  “You always kept your word. I thought I could rely on you,” Mathilda went on, ignoring her. “But the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. It seems I was mistaken about you.”

  “If by being like Mama, you mean that I put my family first, then yes, I do,” Elva said, low and pleading. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I would have come, of course, if I hadn’t been sure my brother was in danger.”

  The witch shook her head slowly. “A conditional promise. Which, if you think about it, isn’t really a promise at all. It’s a maybe. It’s contingent on people who matter more to you.”

  They stared at each other, and then all of the fight seemed to go out of Mathilda. Her shoulders sagged, weary and heartbroken. The distance between them was only about the length of the kitchen table, but somehow Elva could feel it growing in the silence that followed the witch’s words. The broom against
the wall suddenly crashed to the floor, shattering the quiet.

  Elva jumped, but Mathilda didn’t so much as flinch.

  “I told you that when I met Alfred, the woodcutter,” the witch said quietly, “and when I met your mother, I thought they would turn out to be different, too. Every time I dared to open myself up to someone, I hoped for the same thing. And in return, I always got the same thing: pain. You may have meant well, but my heart can’t take any more, Elva.” And then, without another word, she picked up the broom and walked out of the cottage.

  “Wait!” Elva cried, following her out to the wagon. “Mathilda, please!”

  “Go home and don’t bother coming back,” Mathilda told her, taking hold of the donkey’s harness. “I won’t be here, and neither will the cottage.”

  Elva’s heart clenched like a fist. “You’re ending our friendship over this?”

  “I’m tired of being let down,” Mathilda said, her voice thick with tears. “I’m tired of being an afterthought, the person people go to when they have no one else, and when they’ve gotten what they needed, they forget me. I’m too old to keep doing this with my life.” She wiped her face. “I’m exhausted, Elva. Let me go. I’ve helped you however I could. My work is done.”

  “Is that all you think I wanted from you?” Elva cried. “You thought I came every evening for months, sat by your fire, learned from you, ate cake with you, and asked about your life…because I wanted to use you? All because I couldn’t keep my word today?”

  The witch did not respond.

  Elva ran her eyes over the wagon full of the possessions of a solitary life. She thought of the vision she had first seen of Mathilda in the mirror, a young woman surrounded by scattered belongings, weeping in the forest. “You don’t have to do this,” she pleaded. “You don’t have to go. I want you to stay here so we can go on as we have, together. Or better yet, I will go with you. I’m not wanted here any more than you are.”