Wand of the Witch (22 page)

The elflings climbed into the nest too. Grumbledook frowned and coughed smoke rings at them. The elflings waved them aside and stared, wincing. Grumbledook seemed ready to rant and shout some more, but Jamie patted his head, which seemed to soothe him.

"So this is your great Grumbledook?" she asked the elflings. "I've seen larger ponies. How the hell is this tiny old thing going to help us fight Madrila?"

Rowyn sighed. "Oh dear, he's shrunk some more."

"A
lot
more," said Ellywyn.

Noelyn approached and patted the dragon. "Oh, Grumbledook."

The dragon puffed out his chest and flapped his wings. "Nonsense! Nonsense, I say. I might have shrunk a
little
bit. The nest does seem a bit roomier than usual. But mostly you have grown, elflings. Grown to ten times the size! Behold the mighty Grumble—"

This time, it was not a cough that interrupted the dragon's words. It was a snore. Grumbledook's eyes closed and he slept.

Jamie shook her fists to the sky. "Great! Just great, elflings.
This
is your champion! This is what we fought devil dogs for and climbed a mountain for! Oh, I know. Forget dragons. Let's find an elderly turtle with one eye and a gammy leg. I'm sure it could fight Madrila." She swung her sword around. "Or why stop there? Forget turtles. Maybe we can find a drowned mouse in a coma with ingrown toenails and consumption; surely no witch could face that sort of fierce creature." She clutched her head. "Oh bloody hell, I don't know why I bother."

The elflings stared silently. Grumbledook snored.

With a sigh, Jamie sat down on an old shield. Suddenly her quest seemed hopeless. Madrila had armies of monsters—real armies, enough to conquer a town and fortress. She had defeated hundreds of soldiers at Fort Rosethorn. How could they hope to face her like this? Only three little elflings—beings as small as she—and a shrivelled up, narcoleptic dragon?

"The other Bullies better have more luck finding help," she muttered. But she was not hopeful. The spiderlings had banished Cobweb; would she truly find help among them? And as for Neev and Romy... Jamie groaned to remember all the times Romy had made a mess of things: Getting drunk at Queenpool, blabbering out loud while sneaking up on Vanderbeak, drinking one of Dry Bones's growth potions and growing a hundred feet tall....

Jamie froze.

She leaped to her feet.

"That's it!" she said. She jumped up and down, rattling the nest. "Growth potion!"

Grumbledook woke up and glared. "Aha! I knew you elves were getting bigger. You've been drinking growth potion! I am large and fierce as ever, I—"

"Not for
us
!" Jamie said. "For you, Grumbledook. We're going to get some growth potion in you, and you'll be as big as ever."

The old little dragon raised an eyebrow. "Is that anything like tea with honey and milk?"

"Something like that. Now come on! Dry Bones's old tower lies miles away from here. We'll have to move fast."

Grumbledook rose to his feet and nodded. Smoke unfurled from his nostrils, and he tossed his head back. "Come, onto my back, little ones! We will fly."

Jamie scrunched her lips. She doubted Grumbledook could carry one of them, let alone all four. She patted his head.

"Save your strength. We walk this time. But once we find that potion, you must help us, Grumbledook. We will return to you your size and strength. In return, you must help us fight a witch."

Grumbledook blew sparks of fire at the sky. "I'll burn her to a crisp! I'll tear her limb from limb! I'll—"

His eyes closed and he snored. Jamie sighed.

"Guys," she said to the elflings, "help me lift him. He's going to need some help getting down the mountain."

Jamie had imagined leaving the mountain riding a dragon. As the snow flurried, a dragon descended the mountain, riding Jamie and the elflings.

* * * * *

Scruff moaned. His eyes fluttered open, then closed. Light fell on his eyelids.

"Mmgghfff," he said and tossed an arm over his eyes. "I don't
want
to wake up."

A voice, impossibly distant and muffled, called to him. "Scwuff! Scwuff!"

He moaned. "Mmmfmfffph!" he said emphatically. "I want to stay in bed all day. The other kids all say I'm an ogre."

The voice insisted. "Scwuff, awe you okay? Wake up!"

His brow furrowed. Blinking weakly, he opened his eyes and saw blue skies.

That's strange,
he thought. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed like ages since he'd seen the sky. His neck hurt, his throat burned, and his eyes were crusty.

"Whaa happened?"

"Good, he's awake," somebody said; a different voice from the first. "To take three sleeping arrows... most would die. But he's a big boy, this one."

He was lying on smooth wood. It was a tree stump, Scruff realized, but a huge one—six feet across and full of rings. Muttering and twisting his aching neck, he pushed himself onto his elbows.

He gasped.

"Oh mama."

He lay on a tree stump, all right, but it rose a hundred feet tall. A forest spread below him, the treetops distant. The trunk towered above everything else, perfectly straight and smooth like a cathedral's column.

"Scwuff, you'we awive!"

Scruff turned his head and gasped. Three more towering tree trunks rose behind him, ten feet apart from one another. They also ended with wide, smooth stumps. Two spiderlings he did not recognize sat upon two stumps. Cobweb—his wife, the love of his life—sat upon the third.

"Cobweb!" he said. He leaped to his feet, then wobbled. The distant forest rustled and swayed below him. His head spun, his knees shook, and he sat down. "Ohh.... I'm woozy."

Cobweb reached out to him. She stood up and looked ready to jump. "Scwuff!"

One of the spiderlings, who sat on a trunk beside Cobweb, clucked her tongue. "Don't try to jump, Cobweb. The last spiderling imprisoned on your trunk tried it. She almost made it to the trunk Scruff is on. Almost."

Cobweb too sat down and sighed.

"Cobweb, are you all right?" Scruff asked. "Where are we? What happened?"

"D-d-dis is da fowest's pwison," she said. "D-d-da spidewings caught us, and shot us wit sweeping dawts." She gestured to the two other spiderlings. "But g-g-good news! We found my fwiends! Dis is Gossamew." She gestured at a spiderling with light purple skin and feathers strewn through her silver hair. "And dis is Webdew!" She gestured at the second spiderling, whose skin was a deeper purple, and whose eyes were like glittering sapphires.

Scruff gave them a tired wave. "Hi, Gossamer and Webdew."

He felt like a deflated bellows.
We came all the way here just to fall captive.
He wondered if he'd ever see his siblings again. He wondered if he'd ever leave this towering tree stump.
We have to escape,
he thought. But how? The log was too smooth and wide; climbing down was impossible.

"How long have you two been here?" he asked Cobweb's friends. "And why were you also imprisoned?"

Gossamer heaved a sigh. "It was a tough night when Cobweb was banished. We lost our friend. We had to watch the entire clan mock her. And we missed her... we missed her dearly."

Webdew nodded. "I cried! A lot." She sniffed and tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away with her fists.

"So we began a campaign," Gossamer said. "Bring Back Cobweb! Bring Back Cobweb! We shouted it from the treetops. We wrote it in glowing runes upon our holy stones. We planted trees in her honor. We even arranged sticks and spiders, so that they wove spiderweb letters: Bring Back Cobweb!"

Webdew sniffed. "But the other spiderlings... they began to mock us too. They tore our spiderwebs, and one day they... they...." She sobbed for a moment before she could continue. "Oh, it's horrible, but they took skunks, and filled our home with them. The place stank so badly, and we did too. They called us stinky since then."

"Well, they called you Stinky," Gossamer said. "I believe my nickname was Smelly."

"Smelly is better," said Webdew. "Smelly can be a good thing, if you smell like flowers. Which you do. When you're not smelling like skunk, that is."

Gossamer returned her eyes to Scruff. "We did not give up, even after that. We decided that we'd start our own clan. We'd find Cobweb and invite her to join. We'd be only three, but every clan has to start somewhere, right?"

Webdew blew her nose loudly into a leaf. "Oh, but the elders heard our plan. They had spies in the bushes, I think. And they arrested us. They said we were traitors, could you believe it? Gossamer and me! And the next thing you know, we ended up here on these tree stumps." She ended her story with a whimper.

Scruff too felt like whimpering. Would he end up spending his life here on these stumps? He wanted to leap down and kill every spiderling below.

He was going to speak comforting words to Cobweb when a buzzing sounded behind him. He turned to see ten overgrown dragonflies—each one the size of a horse—flying toward him. Spiderlings rode them, carrying spears and bows. Their long silver hair fluttered in the wind, and spiderweb tattoos glowed on their purple skin. Scruff recognized two of the riders: The spiderlings who had shot him. He growled and clenched his fists.

"Fly a little closer," he muttered.

But they would not. The dragonflies flew to hover ten feet away. Their wings buzzed deafeningly loud, and their eyes glared at Scruff, orbs of green and purple. Their spiderling riders glared too.

"Hello, prisoners," one said, a beautiful young spiderling with silvery braids.

Scruff swung his fists at her. He had long arms, but not that long. He missed her and wobbled on the tree trunk, nearly falling off. His head spun, and the spiderlings laughed.

"How dare you imprison us here?" he demanded. "I am Sam Thistle III, son of a knight, a warrior of Burrfield. If you don't release me, the might of human armies will descend upon Spidersilk Forest."

The dragonfly riders laughed mockingly.

"We know you,
Scruff
," said the spiderling with the braids, spitting out his name as an insult. "You are an outcast like Cobweb. A freak. Yes, we've heard about you
Bullies
." She said that word as an insult too. "A band of misfits and losers, banished from your homes, roaming the world and bullying decent folk. But now you've roamed into the wrong land." She gestured toward the northern horizon. "Look there,
Scruff
. What do you see?"

"NO!" Cobweb shouted. "No, pwease! You... you c-c-can't do dat to us!"

The spiderlings only laughed.

"Behold!" one said. "The Stairway to Heaven."

Scruff stared north and gasped. He saw a great stone stairway rising from the forest like a cliff. It was built of craggy stone, hundreds of feet tall. The stairway led into the sky and ended with a smooth cliff. Boulders crowned the top steps, glinting in the sun. It was the largest, most terrifying monolith he'd seen, larger than ten Fort Rosethorns.

"Hmm, I wonder how I hadn't noticed that huge, towering staircase right in front of me until now," he mumbled. He shook his head wildly. "What is it?"

Webdew whimpered. "Death," she whispered.

Cobweb nodded and trembled. "D-d-dey t-t-take you up da staiws, all da way to da top, and...." She shuddered. "Dey tuwn you to
stone
."

The dragonfly riders laughed again. Their leader flew around the stumps, tossing the prisoners rotten fruit.

"Enjoy your dinners," she said. "It may be your last. You will climb the Stairway to Heaven tomorrow, and you will stand trial upon it. If you are found guilty of threatening Spidersilk Forest, you will spend eternity as mindless boulders." She looked at Scruff and smirked. "Not that it would be a drastic change in your case."

With that, the dragonflies and their riders flew off.

Scruff looked at Cobweb, wanting nothing more than to hold her. She looked back, eyes watery. Gossamer sighed and Webdew whimpered.

"Nothing's ever easy," Scruff said. He looked toward the distant stairway and shuddered.

Chapter Seventeen

Whale Riding

Madrila walked alone among the graves, her robes wrapped around her. Crows stood upon tombstones, cawing. A cold wind blew, blowing dry leaves into her hair. She tightened her robes around her, but that could not warm her. She was always too cold, even by the brightest fires, even wrapped in the thickest furs. Her chill lived inside her—the chill of neglect, pain, loneliness.

Soon she found the tombstone she sought. She stood above it, staring down at the mossy, chipped stone. She read the words upon it.

Amabel Thistle

Wife and Mother

Rest in Peace

Madrila clenched her fists. Thistle? No, she should never have been a Thistle. She should have been Amabel Rasumessen.

"Wife?" Madrila whispered. "You should have married my father. You should have married Jan Rasmussen, a true wizard. He wasn't Dry Bones then. He wasn't a skeleton when he planted me inside you." She bared her teeth at the grave. "Mother? Mother to who—my half-siblings? The wretched Scruff, Neev, and Jamie? Were you ever a mother to me?"

Madrila drew her wand with a flash, pointed, and shot lightning at the tombstone. A crack appeared, effacing the word
Mother
. Madrila laughed bitterly.

"Oh, you were a mother to them. You raised Scruff, Neev, and Jamie in your home, held them, fed them, loved them. They were born to Sir Sam Thistle, the handsome hero." Tears stung Madrila's eyes. "But what of me? What of your first daughter?" Madrila trembled. "You abandoned me!"

She looked at the church which rose above the graveyard. It was a beautiful church, even as its windows were smashed and its doors cracked.
I could have prayed here among beauty.
But no. She had prayed in filthy dark corners, her back scarred. She had eaten gruel. She had screamed and wept when Friar Robert beat her.