The Witch's Revenge (2 page)

Bertie's little round bedroom was opposite the study.

Without switching the light he removed his Cosy Claws slippers, pulled on his tartan nightshirt and drew back the duvet. He hopped into bed and cuddled down. Within seconds, he was asleep and snoring.

Bang, bang, bang!

Bertie forced open his eyes and grimaced.
What now?
he thought, sitting up and ruffling his feathers.

Bang, bang, bang
.

A muffled voice seemed to be calling his name. The dodo glanced at his bedside clock: it was seven in the morning. Who would be calling at this time?

With a dark cloud of irritation hanging over him, the bird got out of bed and stomped out into the hallway.

“Lights!” he squawked, and the hallway was immediately lit by the soft glow of a hundred little Moonstones sunk
into the ceiling. Muttering angrily to himself about rude people waking him up too early, he made his way to the front door.

Bertie lived in a burrow under a grand old oak tree. Gnarly as a witch's hands, the tree stood in the middle of the Oval, Marnoch Mor's park. The dodo wasn't the only resident of this large green space; fairies, elves and wood nymphs had houses in the trees, or under them, and their lives were taken up with making the Oval as beautiful as possible.

His burrow went far belowground, stretching between the tree roots, and over the years he had dug out new rooms when he felt he needed them. So far, the burrow had a bedroom, a study, a large kitchen, a living room and a guest room (although Bertie was always too busy to entertain). A long tunnel led from the bedroom up to a round front door cut into the base of the tree. The door was grass green, with a brass plate that announced his full name:
Albert Alonzo Fluke, Trainee Wizard
.

It also had a brass door knocker shaped like a pineapple that someone was currently banging very hard while shouting his name through the letterbox.

“All right, all right, I'm coming!” he yelled.

“Bertie! Hurry up. I must speak to you!”

Ever cautious, the dodo squinted through the letterbox. All he could see were black shiny buttons and a fuzzy red coat.

“Who is it?” he called, his voice wavering. “Stand back and show yourself!”

The person bent down quickly and a pair of blue eyes stared back at him.

The bird shrieked with fright and fell backward to the floor, clasping his downy chest with a wing and breathing rapidly.

“It's me—Morag,” said the person. “Are you all right?”

“I'm … fine … fine,” the bird spluttered. He sat up and dusted down his trembling feathers. “You just gave me a bit of a turn, that's all.”

“Sorry … I didn't mean to … Look, will you let me in! There's something I need to speak to you about!”

Breathing deeply to calm his speeding heart, and with one wing fanning his hot beak, Bertie shakily stood up and unlocked the door.

“Come in,” he said as the cold November air blasted him.

Morag didn't need a second invitation and scuttled into the warmth. To be safe, Bertie took a quick look outside to check that she hadn't been followed. Despite its being morning, it was dark and gray. There was a sharpness in the air that Bertie knew heralded the winter's first snow.

“I didn't know who else to talk to,” a rosy-cheeked Morag said as she took off her red duffle coat and white bobble hat, hanging them on the coat-stand. “Shona would only panic.”

“Oh no. Has it happened again?” Bertie asked.

The girl nodded. She patted her pocket. “I've written everything down,” she said.

They sat at Bertie's big wooden table, and as the dodo
made tea, Morag pulled out a battered leather-bound book. It was the only reminder she had of her parents, who had left it with her before they disappeared when she was a baby. She fished out a piece of paper from between the pages and handed it to him.

Bertie took it and read it, his eyes widening at every sentence.

“Another dream about the drowned maid from Murst,” he said when he'd finished. He folded it over and handed it back to Morag. “How many is that now?”

“Five,” replied Morag with a stifled sob, “but this was the worst. She says my life is in danger and I am going to be joining her soon.”

“But why should you take them seriously? They're only nightmares, just like the ones you had after you killed Devlish.”

“I didn't kill him, the Eye of Lornish did it,” she said firmly. “Oh, Bertie, they are so real. I wake up shaking after every one.”

“And it's definitely her?”

“Yes, she told me how she died. She said Mephista had chained her up and dropped her into the sea near the jetty.”

“But why is she coming to you? You didn't know her,” said the dodo, pouring her a cup of tea. Morag took it gratefully.

“It must have something to do with the Eye of Lornish,” she replied. “The night Devlish was killed on the jetty something strange happened to me. I can't quite explain it, but since then I've been dreaming about dead people. I talk
to them in my dreams. I'm scared, Bertie. What am I going to do?”

“I've never come across anything like this before,” he replied. “And it cannot be ignored. The time has come to tell Shona, whatever your misgivings. She is your guardian, after all. Hopefully she'll know what to do.…”

Shona was in her kitchen when Morag and Bertie arrived. She was polishing the bright buckle of her Special Chief Constable's helmet. The Marnoch Mor Volunteer Police Force had been set up by Montgomery after the theft of the Eye of Lornish. The evil warlock Devlish had spirited it away to his lair on the DarkIsle of Murst. From there, he had planned to use its magic to enslave Marnoch Mor and attack the human world. Without its protection Marnoch Mor had been thrown into chaos and had started to crumble. Montgomery was certain that if it hadn't been for Morag and her friends, the stone would never have been restored to its rightful place at the top of Marnoch Mor's tallest tower. He had established the Police Force to ensure it would never happen again, giving his trusted friend Shona the dragon the top job. Although at this stage the
Volunteers were still a straggly group of well-meaning townspeople led by a grumpy dragon, it was just as well he had done this, for the evil powers on the DarkIsle continued to threaten them. Both Montgomery and Shona were convinced of that. And so they kept a watchful eye on the town, each in their own way.

“Hello, Bertie,” Shona said as the dodo entered the room. She gave the brass buckle one final rub before quickly plonking the hat on her head. “Sorry, I can't stay and chat. Got my first job as a detective. Something has disappeared from the Museum of Weird Things and Magic.”

“But …,” started Morag. “We need to speak to you. It's important!”

“Can't it wait till later?” the dragon asked, opening the back door.

“No, we need to speak to you now!” Morag insisted.

“Her life might be in danger,” the dodo added.

Shona narrowed her large yellow eyes. Muriel Burntwood, the Curator of the Museum of Weird Things and Magic, had told Shona she was needed urgently, as something extremely dangerous had been stolen. But now her best friend was looking frightened for her life. What should she do and who should she help first? She chewed her lip and let a spiral of smoke escape from her nostril in frustration.

“Come with me and you can tell me about it on the way,” she said as she led them into the garden.

The museum was not far from Morag and Shona's cottage, and unfortunately it was quicker to walk than to order
the Super Glider service, where a witch would pick you up at your front door on a hover bike and drop you off at your destination. Shona led the friends toward the gate, past a castle-shaped birdhouse on top of a tall pole. Here Morag stopped, and before Shona had time to complain the girl yanked a rope that was hanging down. A bell tinkled in the silence of the wintery garden.

From inside the birdhouse came sounds of scuffling and scratching. Then a window shutter opened and a pink nose and pair of whiskers twitched in the cold air.

“Who is it? Why did you wake me? Is it spring yet?” a yawning rat was heard to say.

“No, we can't wait until spring,” called Morag. “Get dressed and come down quickly!”

Aldiss poked his hairy face out and blinked. When he saw how troubled his friends looked he disappeared back inside, calling, “I'll be there in just a moment.”

Seconds later he bounded out, dressed for the weather: a neon-pink bobble hat on his head (with two holes for his ears to stick through) and a matching scarf casually slung around his neck. On his legs, he wore fuchsia-colored legwarmers. “Ready!” Aldiss squeaked as he scampered down to the ground. “Let's go.”

Bertie was appalled. “If this wasn't an emergency I'd insist you go back up there and change.”

As they walked, Morag told Shona and Aldiss how she'd dreamed about the ghostly maid, and how her terrible
warnings had frightened her. The dragon listened quietly, taking in all the details.

“Talking to spooks in your dreams?” wondered Aldiss, whiskers twitching. “Is that even possible?”

Shona frowned. “Back on Murst in the old days they said it was possible, but such things were outlawed by the time I was a dragonlet. I can't believe you didn't tell me before,” she scolded. “We could have done something about it.”

Morag looked crestfallen. Sighing, the dragon took pity on her. “Montgomery must be told,” Shona said firmly. “He'll know how best to keep you safe while I investigate.”

“And who's the suspect?” cried Aldiss excitedly.

“That's the trouble,” Shona said. “If someone is sending you bad dreams they're bending the laws and using powerful old magic to do it.”

“But who would do such a thing?” asked Morag.

Shona placed a huge claw around Morag's small shoulders and gave the worried girl a hug. “Don't worry about it, Morag, we'll get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, I want you to stick closely to me. I'll protect you. No one's going to try anything while I'm here.”

Morag smiled at her, feeling a bit better.

They turned the corner and set off down Merlin's Walk, Marnoch Mor's main street. The scent of freshly made Snook Bread wafted toward them from Patty the Hag's Patisserie. Patty sold a wide range of strange but tasty pastries, including Morag's favorite: Exploding Donuts, which crackled in your mouth and turned into stars.

Morag could not help noticing how quiet the town had
become. Yes, there was a bitter wind whistling between the buildings, but that normally didn't put people off. The streets were usually heaving, yet that morning only a handful of townsfolk were about. Even outside Erbium Smyte's Department Store, which sold
Everything You Never Knew You Wanted
, they saw hardly a soul. A lone dodo carrying an empty wicker basket scuttled by; a unicorn stared at top hats in the milliner's window; and a tiny flower elf, smaller even than Aldiss, cried out indignantly when Morag nearly stood on him as he waited for a Super Glider. But that was it.

Mrs. Milda's Old-Fashioned Coffee Shoppe (
Concessions for Those over 200
), usually packed, was deserted when they looked in its bay window.
Strange
, thought Morag,
where is everyone? It's Thursday, and the streets are always busier than this
. She dismissed her worries for the moment as they reached the Museum of Weird Things and Magic, the town's oldest building.

Three hundred and fifty years ago it had been Colm Breck's cottage, where he had hidden magical folk fleeing the human world. Up until then they had lived peacefully with humans. Then one of their own, a warlock named Devlish the First, had persuaded men that magic folk and strange beasts should serve humans. Kelpies, witches and elves were rounded up and unicorns and satyrs were hunted. Those who escaped headed north as word spread that there was only one place left to hide: a tiny cottage in a clearing behind the mountains.

As more came to Colm Breck, he built a couple of shacks
near his own, and then a few more appeared, until a little village had grown up around him. Knowing that Devlish and his tribe would seek them out, Colm Breck used the Eye of Lornish to create a shield around the settlement to make it invisible.

Many years passed and Marnoch Mor grew. Beautiful larger houses, made from sandstone and slate, were built; a palace was created for Marnoch Mor's first ruler, Adela Augusta, its towers and spires stretching higher than any in the human world; and the streets, paved and clean, ran straight. By then, Colm Breck's old house was falling down; its roof was rotting and its door was hanging off its hinges. A small army of magical people took it upon themselves to do something about it. Together, they raised their wands and prepared to bring it down.

But Queen Adela had intervened, crying, “Stop! Leave the building as a monument to the past. Let us turn it into a museum so that none of us may forget what has happened and where we came from.”