Jinx (16 page)

“I can do a concealment spell,” said Jinx.

Reven had woken up. “I’d like to meet a wicked witch.”

The thumping grew louder. Jinx wasn’t going to conceal himself if the others weren’t afraid. He looked at the ax on the ground. He’d feel safer with the ax, but he’d be more threatening. He decided to leave it where it lay.

The black shadow of a witch in her butter churn came hopping into view. Elfwyn stepped forward into the middle of the path. Jinx stayed near the ax in case he had to grab it in a hurry. Reven kept well behind both of them.

The churn came to a stop in front of Elfwyn.

The witch was a young one, Jinx saw in the firelight, not so warty nor so hairy as Dame Glammer. The grin she gave Elfwyn was very Dame Glammer–like, though.

“What’s this, then?” said the young witch, looking down at Elfwyn. “Not afraid of witches?”

“No. I’m not afraid of witches,” said Elfwyn.

“Not, eh? Then you’re not the smartest girl in the Urwald, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” said Elfwyn, looking petulant.

“Not? And whose not-the-smartest girl are you, then?”

“Berga of Butterwood Clearing’s.”

“Oh, a witch’s brat!”

“She’s not a witch. She gave it up.”

“And where are you going?”

“To see my grandmother.”

The witch appeared delighted at this. “Are you! And won’t she be pleased to see you! Dame Glammer hasn’t had a child to eat in months.”

“Dame Glammer is your grandmother?” said Jinx, surprised.

“Yes. I’m too old to be scared by stories like that,” Elfwyn told the witch.

“More fool you. And what about your boyfriends? Are they going to see Dame Glammer too?”

“They haven’t told me where they’re going.”

“Well, if you want to find Dame Glammer, go that way three days.” The witch pointed ahead of her, to the west.

“Thank you,” said Elfwyn.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t be camping so close to the Troll-way,” said the witch. “No matter how many boyfriends I had to protect me.”

She grinned at Jinx and Reven. Jinx glared at her. Her grin turned into a cackle of laughter.

“I never saw three such helpless little ducks trying to make their way through the Urwald! I certainly haven’t the heart to cast a spell on you. Smells like you’ve had three too many cast on you already. And you’re going to Dame Glammer’s house, hah! Like mice climbing into the cat’s basket.”

“She’s my
grandmother
,” said Elfwyn.

“Well, you can’t pick your relatives. And how did you get that nasty curse slipped to you, dearie?”

“It was done by an evil fairy at my christening,” said Elfwyn.

The witch chuckled gleefully. “An evil fairy? Really? An evil fairy?”

“Yes,” said Elfwyn.

For some reason the witch seemed to find this hilarious. She laughed so hard that the butter churn nearly capsized. Then she pushed her stick into the ground, and the churn hopped off down the path.

J
inx wanted to ask Elfwyn what her curse was. But he could see it irritated her to talk about it, and he was afraid of being accused of not being nice. Real girls were clearly a lot more touchy than imaginary ones.

“Did you have a spell cast on you?” he asked Reven, instead.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of from witches,” said Reven, ignoring the question. “They’re all talk.”

“Simon says that anyone who isn’t afraid of witches is a fool,” said Jinx. He guessed Reven didn’t want to talk about the spell he was under. Well, Jinx knew what the third spell was—the one Simon had done on him.

“Witches do eat children, I think,” said Elfwyn. “But only the really wicked ones, and you hardly ever meet that kind. And, you know—very small children.”

“You think it’s not so bad if the children aren’t big?” said Jinx.

“Well, no, of course not, but—”

“You’re going to Dame Glammer’s house?”

“Yes,” said Elfwyn.

“I’m going there too,” said Jinx.

“Is she your grandmother too?” asked Elfwyn.

“No, but—” Jinx decided he didn’t want to explain about his lost magic. “She’s a friend of Simon’s.”

“Who’s Simon?” Reven asked as they settled down around the fire and Jinx stirred it to life. None of them felt like going to sleep again.

“The wizard I work for.”

“I’d really like to meet a wizard,” said Reven. He opened his mouth as if to say more, then stopped, looking confused. “I could—he could—” he stopped again. “I mean, I just think it would be amazing to see a real wizard.”

“If you stick around the Urwald, I’m sure one will turn up,” said Jinx. He turned to Elfwyn. “I kind of mostly know the way to your grandmother’s house.”

“Oh, good,” said Elfwyn. “The directions my mother gave me weren’t very exact.”

Jinx was glad she was going his way. He liked Elfwyn, even though she was harder to talk to than she’d been in his imagination. And it was good to have company.

“I’ll accompany you too, fair lady,” said Reven. “I would fain meet your grandmother.”

“You would what?” said Elfwyn.

“He means he’d like to,” said Jinx. Some of the books in Simon’s house used old-fashioned words like that.

“But where were you going?” said Elfwyn.

Reven didn’t say anything for a moment. “I was crossing the Urwald,” he said at last, carefully. “But I should be glad to make a detour to meet your grandmother.”

How long does it take to cross the Urwald? Jinx wondered.

They headed westward along the path the next morning. Jinx thought it was odd of Reven to turn around and head back the way he’d come, just to meet Dame Glammer. In fact, there were a lot of odd things about Reven. It would have been all right with Jinx if Reven had gone on crossing the Urwald from west to east and left him and Elfwyn alone.

They crossed more paths, and of course there were no signs telling you which way to go.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” said Elfwyn after several turns.

“Yes,” said Jinx. “We’re going west.”

“We’re headed back to my country,” said Reven.

“What’s your country?” said Jinx.

“Bragwood. It’s this way.”

“Were you on your way to Keyland, then?” said Elfwyn.

Jinx remembered Tolliver the Wanderer telling him that Bragwood lay to the west and Keyland to the east.

Reven ignored the question completely. “I have to leave Bragwood, and I haven’t done it yet.”

“Yes, you have,” said Jinx. “You said you’d been in the Urwald for ten days already.”

“The Urwald belongs to Bragwood,” said Reven.

“It does not!”

“King Rufus claims it.”

“King Bluetooth of Keyland claims the Urwald,” said Elfwyn. “He lives ten days east of Butterwood Clearing.”

“The Urwald doesn’t belong to any king!” said Jinx. “It belongs to—to itself.”

“Well, I agree,” said Elfwyn, “but that doesn’t change the fact that King Bluetooth says it’s part of Keyland.” She turned to Reven. “Why did you leave Bragwood?”

“I was banished,” said Reven proudly.

“What for?” Elfwyn pressed.

“The king said I was anathema.”

“He doesn’t like athemas?”

“Anathema means, like, accursed,” said Jinx. “Probably it was for robbing people.”

“No, it wasn’t,” said Reven.

“What did you get banished for?” Elfwyn asked.

“For being too friendly with the king’s daughter.” Reven said this with his eyes looking sideways, and Jinx had the impression that it was a lie. “But I’m sure
your
king is pleased with you, fair lady,” he added.

“I don’t
have
a king,” said Elfwyn. “I’m an Urwalder.”

“Pardon me, but you said King Bluetooth—”

“I just know who he is, that’s all. But he’s evil. Everyone knows that. He killed his brother, who was the real king, and his brother’s wife and their little baby, too.”

“Ah. Yes. I heard about that,” said Reven.

“Of course the brother was pretty evil too.
His
wife died right after the baby was born, and nobody knew what of, and then he married another wife.”

Jinx had heard this story before, from Tolliver the Wanderer. He wasn’t very interested in it, except to notice that kings’ personal lives were as messy as Urwalders’. He hefted the ax on his shoulder. The path split two ways here. One branch went a little too far south and the other a little too far north. He chose the one that went south.

“Anyway, I don’t care about kings,” said Elfwyn. “I’m from Butterwood Clearing. It’s the best clearing. We’re famous for our butter and our cows and—oh, and we’ve just been invaded by barbarians.”

“That’s terrible!” said Reven.

“No, it sort of worked out all right. Some of them seem like pretty nice barbarians. My mother is marrying one of them.”

“Oh,” said Reven.

“Only she thought they might not like me, because of—well, because. And so she told me to go live with my grandmother. Are you sure this is the right path, Jinx?”

“Of course I’m sure,” said Jinx.

“It’s a much wider path than any I’ve seen so far,” said Reven. “Do you think it’s the Troll-way? I was told to stay off of that.”

“It’s not the Troll-way,” said Jinx. “The Troll-way goes up into the Glass Mountains. This path isn’t going up at all.”

“Maybe it climbs gradually,” said Elfwyn.

“There are claw marks here in the mud,” said Reven.

“There are claw marks everywhere in the Urwald,” said Jinx.

“Do you think we’ll see real trolls?” Reven sounded eager.

“This isn’t the Troll-way!” Jinx was getting really annoyed with them, especially because this path did seem too wide to be the one that he’d gone on with Simon to Dame Glammer’s house.

Elfwyn put a hand on his shoulder. “Jinx, I really think we should go back and look for a different path.”

“Fine!” They had probably come a mile on this path already. But if she wanted to turn around and waste all that effort, fine. Jinx spun around and marched back the way he’d come, and the others followed.

Without saying anything about it, they all started to walk a lot faster.

“I hear something coming,” said Reven.

He got down and put his ear to the ground, which Jinx thought was pretty stupid considering they were now trying to move as quickly as possible.

“Something running,” said Reven. He pulled the knife from his belt.

Elfwyn set her basket down on the path and pulled a big knife from it.

“I’ll do a concealment spell,” said Jinx. “Come here.”

Feeling rather self-conscious, he took hold of Reven’s and Elfwyn’s arms. He concentrated hard on not being there. He felt power coming up through his feet and filling him. We’re not here, he thought.

They could all hear the running clawed feet now. There was a smell of rotten meat; then the troll burst into sight around a bend in the path. Jinx’s legs were telling him to run. But this time he
knew
he’d done the concealment spell right. Then it all went wrong.

Reven pulled away from Jinx’s grip and stepped into the troll’s path.

“Reven, stop!” Jinx said. “Get back here!”

Reven raised his knife. The troll grinned a huge, broken-tusked grin and swiped at Reven with its clawed hand. Jinx ran forward and swung his ax. Then there was troll everywhere, thick hairy arms and grabbing clawed hands, an ugly roaring face—Jinx never forgot a face. He forced his eyes to stay open even though he wanted to hide his head, and he swung his ax again and again. He heard howls and screams and had no time to wonder whose they were or what was happening. Something sharp raked across his face. He swung his ax, it met resistance, he pulled it free again. He swung again, hard, as though trying to split a thick oaken log.

Then he was lying sprawled on the ground. A shadowy form blotted out the sun. Jinx swung his fist at it.

“Stop it!” said Elfwyn. “I’m just trying to look at that cut on your face.”

Jinx sat up. Reven was sitting beside him, his arm bandaged in a red-and-white checked napkin. The troll was gone. There was blood on the path. And something large and inert. Jinx’s stomach did a flip flop. It was the troll’s arm. Jinx put his hand to his face and it came away bloody. The things that had just happened began to sort themselves out in his head. Jinx never forgot a face, even one that appeared on the wrong sort of body.

“Wow, a troll!” said Reven. “That was my first troll.”

“That troll was my stepfather,” said Jinx.

He saw Reven and Elfwyn exchange a glance.

“I think you hit your head pretty hard when you fell,” said Elfwyn. “Maybe you should lie back down.”

“Bergthold. My stepfather. I cut off my stepfather’s arm.”