Backwards Moon (14 page)

“But Gentian! Penstemmon. All of you,” said Rose. “Think about it. A whole new world! That's the chance we have.”

“I'll go,” said Sedge.

“I will,” said Reed.

“I won't,” said Violet, looking around at the others.

“You would
miss out
on the Door to the other
world
?” said Nettle, incredulous.

Violet frowned. “
You
say there's a door. But you're only a witchling.”

Nettle sighed.

Nothing is ever unanimous among witches.

Aunt Iris, of course, wanted to go so she could be with Nettle and Bracken. And Scabiosa, Rose, Sedge, and Reed were all going.

But Violet, Gentian, and Penstemmon wanted to stay, come what may. “This is our
home
,” said Gentian.

“Penstemmon,” pleaded Rose. “Gentian. Violet. There's no
future
for you in this valley! Even if no more humans come, ever, what life will you have here? There will be no more witchlings without Woodfolk. The last of you will grow old, and die, and turn to dust, and that will be the end of it.”

“Better dust then than dust now,” said Violet.

“
I
would rather die than be the last witch in this world!” said Reed. “There may be
other covens
in the new world! And the Fading! Think of the Fading when the humans come! Surely you don't want to just linger on here, waiting for the end?”

“I don't care,” said Penstemmon, looking at the ground. “I'm old and tired and afraid. I want to stay in this valley even if the humans
do
come.”

Bracken looked at Nettle.

“Go on,” said Nettle. “Tell them.”

So Bracken told them about Ben and his idea.

In the shocked silence that followed, Violet had to go sit down on a boulder and fan herself with her hat. “A
human
?” she kept saying in a faint, outraged voice. “
Us
, listen to a human?”

“He's a Witchfriend,” said Nettle. “Didn't I say he's a Witchfriend?”

“That doesn't mean he knows what's best for us,” said
Violet. “Why, humans hardly live longer than, I don't know. Than
insects
! What do they know about—”

Reed interrupted her. “
I
think it's a good idea.”

“So do I,” said Sedge.

“I think we should try again on the Veil,” said Violet.

“We
have
tried,” snapped Rose. “Countless times, as you well know.”

More talk, endless talk.

Then at last the stay-in-the-valley ones (except for Violet) agreed that the idea, however strange,
was
worth a try. Aunt Iris still wasn't sure, but the stay-in-the-valley ones insisted that if you were leaving, you didn't get a say, since after all you would be gone soon.

And thus (after
that
, discussion was finally over) it was decided.

“Now, everyone fly to the village, please,” said Bracken. “Stay in your cottages until it's safe to come out. And don't argue,” she added quickly.

“They actually listened to us, most of them,” said Nettle, watching the ragged V of witches fly away. “Amazing.”

Nettle and Bracken waited until every witch in the coven was sure to be in her cottage, then flew back to the pass.

“Did they agree to it?” asked Ben.

“Close enough,” said Nettle, suddenly nervous.

“All right then,” said Ben. “Now
listen carefully
. I'm going to go over the instructions one more time. . . . You understand everything I've said?” he asked when he was done.

“Yes.” They both nodded solemnly.

“
Do not use your fingersparks at any time! for any reason!
Got that?”

“I'm staying here,” said the raccoon, wringing his hands.

“Got it?” said Ben again.

“We do understand,” said Bracken. “Really.”

So with Ben swinging between them, Nettle and Bracken flew high up above the pass and looked for a pattern of deep cracks. They needed a kind of network in the rocks. It didn't take all that long to find them.

They hovered near the first crack. Ben clambered out onto the rock. He waved them off. “Stay back,” he said, still waving. “Farther!”

He took a stick of dynamite from his rucksack and then—very carefully—he attached something called a blasting cap. It was small and silver, and it in turn was attached to a long string like a candlewick—a fuse, it was called. When he was done, he stood up, scrambled a little way from the fuse, and waved them back.

After that, they flew him to the next crack.

One by one he set all the sticks into the cliffs above the pass. Each stick's fuse snaked across the rocks to a spot where it connected with all the other fuses, so they could all be lit at once. The place where all the fuses connected was behind a big boulder, far away from the sticks of dynamite.

When all the fuses were connected, they were ready for Ben (and only Ben) to light while taking shelter behind the boulder.

Nettle and Bracken flew high, scanning the slopes for anything that moved. Nettle warned off two hawks and several ravens, who warned the marmots. Soon the news had spread to all the other animals. There was a scurrying and squeaking, then silence.

“All's clear,” said Bracken when they had flown back to the boulder.

“Good,” said Ben. “Now fly down toward the village.
I'll wait until I'm sure you are far enough away and then some.”

“You'll be safe though, won't you?” said Bracken suddenly.

“I've done this in the army,” said Ben. “I'll be fine. Now get going, and when you're far enough away I'll signal, just before I light it.”

The raccoon climbed on behind Bracken. The three of them flew away until Ben was only a small figure, watching them. They saw him wave widely, which was the signal to put their fingers in their ears. Then he touched the fuses and crouched behind the boulder.

A pause of one beat . . .

Two beats . . .

Three beats, and then . . .

BOOM!

The mountainside began to slide.

Boulders came thundering down, like a thousand games of Catapult all played at once. A great cloud of dust rose.

And when at last silence fell, there was no more pass into the valley.

Ben stood back up and waved.

“It worked,” said Ben as soon as Nettle, Bracken, and the raccoon had landed next to him. “Mission accomplished.” He seemed very quiet.

They looked down at the valley from what was now the top of an unbroken wall of mountains. It wasn't long before a fluttering black V arose from the village and sped toward what had, until a minute ago, been the pass.

When the witches drew close, they scattered, each witch soaring this way and that over the rubble. Nettle could see them leaning over and muttering.

“I hope they like it,” said Ben. “Because there's not a lot we can do if they don't.”

“I
did
wonder,” said the raccoon. “Dynamite and witches—it seemed like a bad combination.”

“I
think it worked just fine,” said Nettle.

Still, none of the witches seemed to be saying anything as they landed.

“Well?” said Nettle.

“It's good,” said Scabiosa slowly. “I think it's a good thing. In the balance, anyway.”

“But such a mess,” said Violet. “Rocks sliding everywhere, everything out of place . . .”

“Violet,” said Penstemmon under her breath. “Show some gratitude.” She bowed shyly to Ben. “We thank you, Witchfriend.”

“Ben,” said Ben, bowing. “Ben Niskenen. It won't work forever, but it ought to hold them off for a while.”

“Ben Niskenen, we thank you,” said Gentian.

“Well, I'm glad it worked out,” said Ben. “Now, well . . . I think I'd better be getting on back.”

“You're going home, then?” said Bracken.

“I think so. I'll need a ride back to the truck, though.” “You're going right now?” said Nettle. She realized suddenly that she hadn't given any thought at all to what Ben would do next.

“I think so,” repeated Ben, quietly.

There was an awkward pause.

“Why not stay with us?” said Penstemmon shyly. “You—and the raccoon too—could come live in the valley with us. We'll have plenty of spare cottages when the others leave. You can have your choice.”

“That's very nice of you,” said Ben, looking startled.

“You have helped us greatly,” said Penstemmon. “All of us owe you a great debt.”

“It was a good idea, I admit,” said Violet grudgingly.

Ben thought for a long moment. “It's nice of you to ask me, it really is. But it doesn't seem right, somehow, for a human to live in a witch village. I think I'd best be getting home.”

“But you'll be
lonely
,” blurted Nettle.

“Oh, maybe. But there are worse things. I'll miss you,” he said to Bracken and Nettle. “It would be nice if you could come home with me, but you can't. That's not the way things are.”

The raccoon tugged Bracken's skirt with his little hand. “Tell him
I'll
go home with him.”

“Sure,” said Ben when Bracken told him. “That would be nice.”

So that was the way it was.

Ben climbed into the hammock and waved. Then Bracken and Nettle flew him and the raccoon back to the truck.

No one was there. No humans seemed to have noticed the explosion. So Ben fetched the license plates from under the rock and put them back on the truck.

“I had one more idea,” said Ben. “The well on my place, it's very deep. And far from any city. Why don't you take a jug of well water back with you? It
might
work for making a new veil. You never know. I thought you could give it to the ones who are staying behind.”

“Good idea,” said Nettle.

“They can try,” said Bracken, though she seemed doubtful. “Thank you.”

Ben took out a jug and set it on the ground. Then he and the raccoon climbed into the truck. “Here goes,” said Ben, putting the key in the starting place. The truck made a horrid grinding noise, then another and another.

Bracken went to the window and peered in. “What's wrong?”

Nettle crowded next to her and craned in to see.

“It won't start,” Ben said. “I was afraid of that.”

“But how will you get home?” said Bracken.

“Oh, we'll manage all right,” said Ben, looking worried. “We'll have to, I guess.”

“Start, please start,” said Nettle to the truck. It roared into life.

“Yikes,” said Ben.

Bracken bowed her hat solemnly. “Fare-thee-well and merry be,” she said softly. “And thank you, forever.”

Ben put his hand to his cap. “So long,” he said. “It was good to know you both.”

“Good-bye,” said the raccoon. “Likewise!”

“Good-bye,” said Nettle, bowing. How she hated good-byes!

They watched quietly as the truck rattled its way down the mountain.

“It was strange, how the truck just started right up when you told it too,” said Bracken. “It was almost as though . . .” She stopped dead. “Nettle, could you have been touching the necklace? You were leaning against me! Could you have been touching it by mistake, and then wished the truck would start?”

“Oh . . .” said Nettle, as the horrible realization of what that might mean sank in.

It seemed as though maybe she might have been touching the necklace. And she'd
so
wanted the truck to start. “I didn't mean to make a wish. Does thinking count for making a wish?”

“I don't know!” said Bracken.

“Try to remember!” said Nettle. “What did Toadflax say, exactly?”

“All she said was three wise wishes. I thought she meant for me, but maybe others could wish too, once the first spell unlocked the necklace. Oh . . .” She put her head in her hands. “It wasn't at all clear! Not at all.”

“Of course not,” said Nettle bitterly. “Nothing ever was with Toadflax.”

Bracken looked sick. “Nettle,
what if all the wishes are used up
?”