Curse of the Dream Witch (7 page)

Olivia and Milo looked down the well hole. It was a ten-foot jump into the dark, rushing
waters
beneath.

‘At the foot of castle hill, the river empties
into
the great marsh on the outskirts of town,’ Ephemia said.

‘It can empty into the ocean for all I care,’ Olivia replied. ‘I can’t swim.’

‘Neither can I,’ Milo piped up.

‘Not to worry,’ Ephemia assured them. ‘Just curl into a ball and hold your breath. The river will carry you to your destination.’

‘But . . .’

‘But me no buts. Would you rather wait till Leo’s uncle storms down with a hundred of his soldiers? Drowning’s the least of your worries.’

Olivia gazed into the unforgiving roar. Pretending to be a warrior princess was harder than it seemed. She whirled the cloak from her shoulders and rolled it into a ball, so it wouldn’t snag on a root and drown her.

‘Tuck the cloak into your middle and hold tight,’ Ephemia said. ‘The pysanka case is safe in its pocket, but take care it doesn’t fall out in the river’s rush.’ She stood on her hind legs. ‘Right, then. Last one in and so forth.’ She leapt into the well and disappeared in the racing current.

Milo glanced at Olivia. ‘If we don’t survive, thank you for saving me from those guards. This is a much better way to die.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Olivia clutched her bundle of cloak. ‘And thank
you
for . . .’ She suddenly realised she had nothing to thank Milo for at all. But it seemed rude to say so, so instead she said, ‘Thank you for being nice.’

And jumped.

Olivia heard the rush, the splash. Then silence as she plunged beneath the surface. She felt herself spun around, tumbled, carried far from the well. Where was up? Down?

For a second, her head bobbed above the water. She gulped a breath. The world was black as pitch – and cold and wet and –

‘Milo?’

Her cry was lost in the din. The current pulled her back under. Sucked her down feet first. Or was she falling? Spinning down underground rapids?

Water shot up Olivia’s nose. She coughed, gagged – and suddenly was spewed into an underground pool. Where? Some place where the torrent slowed at least. She sank beneath the surface and touched bottom with her toes. Pushing off, she bobbed forward.

The water was now no deeper than her neck. Good. She hadn’t drowned. Yet. She thrashed forward. Soon, the water was down to her waist. But where to go now? ‘Hello?’ she called out.

‘Olivia?’

‘Ephemia?’

‘I’m over here, on top of a boulder,’ the mouse said. ‘I can see starlight on the water ahead. It’s the mouth of the marsh.’

‘Where’s Milo?’

‘Whoah!’ There was a splash behind her as Milo shot into the pool.

‘Milo, over here, it’s shallow,’ Olivia called out. ‘Follow my voice. Ephemia’s found the way out.’

Olivia waded towards her guardian. By the glimmer of light, she saw the silhouette of Ephemia’s rock where it broke the surface. When she reached it, she put down a hand. Ephemia scurried to her shoulder.

Milo joined them. ‘We made it.’

‘What did I tell you?’ Ephemia tsked.

They sloshed their way to the opening, a low overhang of rock and root. Bulrushes grew along the outer banks. Forging through, they scrambled onto muddy ground.

‘I need to get home, let Mama and Papa know I’m all right,’ Milo said. ‘Come with me. You can hide with my family. The soldiers don’t know where I live.’

‘The Dream Witch does,’ Ephemia said, shaking the wet from her haunches. ‘Lead us to your house. I’ll check if she’s lurking. When I give the all-clear, you and your parents must flee.’

‘And you with us.’

‘No,’ Olivia said. ‘Ephemia and I have to head to the forest. I need to face the Dream Witch by dawn.’

‘She’ll kill you.’

‘Better that than her grinding up the kingdom’s children. I’m the reason they’re in trouble.’

‘I should go with you.’

‘No,’ Olivia shook her head. ‘I won’t put anyone else in danger. Besides, you need to be with your parents. They’ve already lost you once. I wouldn’t have them grieve twice.’

‘My home’s in the cornfields near the forest,’ Milo said softly. ‘Mama and Papa can give you some food.’

‘Food.’ Ephemia rubbed her paws. ‘What are we waiting for?’ 

Milo led them to the far side of the marsh. From there, they crept along the ditches that led to his family’s home. Starlight lit the shapes of fields and fences, but Milo’s feet knew the way. The nearer they got, the faster he went; soon he was running. ‘It’s just over that hill.’ He and Olivia laid low as Ephemia scouted through thistles and brambles to the hill’s crest. She ran back.

‘Is the Dream Witch near?’ Olivia whispered.

‘No.’ Ephemia wrung her tail. ‘But Milo. Oh, Milo, I’m sorry.’

‘What do you mean you’re sorry?’

Ephemia could say no more.

Milo dashed up the hill. A faint breeze carried the scent of burnt wood and straw. Where his home had been was a smouldering ruin. To its left, he could see his mama and papa huddled together by a small campfire.

Milo bolted to his yard, followed closely by Olivia. At the sound of their approach, his mother scrambled to her feet.

‘Who’s there?’

‘Me. It’s me.’ Milo ran inside the gate.

His father raised a pitchfork. ‘Stay back.’

‘Papa?’ Milo froze in confusion.

‘Who are you? Why are you calling me calling “Papa”?’

‘Don’t you recognise me?’

‘Why should we?’ his mother demanded. ‘There’s none but fiends and ruffians loose at this hour. Which are you? What do you want?’

‘I don’t want anything,’ Milo gasped. ‘Just to be with you.’

‘Why? Can’t you see we’ve nothing? We’ve lost our boy, our home, our everything. If you have any decency, leave us to our grief.’

‘But Mama, Papa, it’s Milo!’

His father’s tears glistened in the firelight. ‘How dare you taunt us? Our boy is gone forever.’

Milo trembled.
Your parents will never see you again
, the Dream Witch had said. It was true. Their eyes saw a stranger.

‘Despair is her mightiest spell,’ Ephemia murmured from the grasses. ‘You’ll never break it.’

Still, Milo tried: ‘What would you do if I said you’ve been bewitched? That the Dream Witch has blinded you with pain.’

Milo’s father gripped his pitchfork. ‘I’d slay you for being the cruellest thief who ever lived: A thief who’d use our love for our dead son to gain our trust.’

Olivia stepped forward. ‘Milo is alive, no matter what you think. You mustn’t give up hope. That’s what the Dream Witch wants you to do.’

His mother peered hard. ‘And who are you?’

Olivia hesitated. Who’d believe a muddy girl was their princess? Worse, what might they do if they knew her as the reason the Dream Witch stole their child? ‘I’m a friend of your son.’

‘So am I,’ Milo said. ‘I was with him in the witch’s cavern.’

‘You lie, the pair of you,’ Milo’s mother exclaimed. ‘We’ve never seen either one of you before. As for you, rascal, how could you be in that devil’s den and live to tell the tale?’

‘By luck, by grace. Call it what you will, but here I am,’ Milo answered. ‘And I swear to you, your son is in my head even as we speak. The words, “Mama, Papa, it’s Milo,” are his.’

Milo’s father turned his pitchfork from one to the other. ‘So now you claim to be a conjurer? Why should we trust you?’

‘Because I know things only Milo could know.’ Milo nodded to his father. ‘The last time you saw him, you were whittling a bird from a piece of birch wood.’ He nodded to his mother. ‘You were peeling potatoes.’

His father’s pitchfork dropped to the ground. ‘You know!’

‘And more besides. Milo was storming off to the cornfields. You begged him not to go. He wouldn’t listen. And he said a terrible thing. He said he wished to run away and never see you or this place again.’ Milo’s voice grew thin. ‘It wasn’t true. But he said it. And now it’s too late to unsay it. And he wants you to know he’s sorry,
so
sorry, for all the pain he’s caused you.’

‘No pain, never pain,’ his father said. ‘Our boy brought us nothing but joy. It was our fault. We were too hard. We wouldn’t listen. Oh, if he were only with us now, everything would be different.’

‘You say you were together in the witch’s cavern,’ his mother whispered. ‘Is he all right? Did he escape, too?’

‘Yes,’ Milo nodded. ‘We fled together.’

 ‘Where is he now?’

Milo waved his arms helplessly. ‘As near as breath, as far away as happiness.’

‘Don’t torture us with riddles,’ his father pleaded. ‘We have to see him. Take us to where he’s hiding. Please.’

‘I can’t. I don’t know how. All I know is that he loves you. He loves you more than anything.’ Milo began to cry. His mother went to him and held him tight, and for a moment he felt safe and home again.

‘There, there.’ She stroked his hair. ‘Why, you’re wet and cold. You’ll be catching your deaths of pneumonia, the pair of you. Come by our fire and dry yourselves. Friends of our son are like our own.’ She brought them into the warmth.

 ‘The night our boy was taken, we went to the forest to smoke the Dream Witch from her lair,’ Milo’s father said. ‘But the moment our torches touched the trees, she burned our home to the ground.’ He opened a bundle. ‘Neighbours gave us some food and these clothes. Take them.’

‘We can’t,’ Milo said.

‘Please. Giving them to you will be like giving them to Milo.’

His mother held up a blanket for Olivia; his father held up one for him. Soon the pair were dried and dressed: Olivia in a cotton frock; Milo in a shirt and breeches; both with rough woollen capes and new boots.

Milo’s mother gave them milk and corn bread. She couldn’t abide mice, but had to smile at the sight of Olivia feeding crumbs to the tiny rodent at her feet. ‘You’ll stay the night?’ she asked. ‘Our son is gone, but while you’re with us it’s a little like he’s here.’

‘Thanks for your kindness,’ Olivia said. ‘But I must go. I’ve much to do before I sleep.’

Milo’s eyes welled. ‘I have to go, too. If the Dream Witch finds me here, who knows what she’ll do to you.’

‘There’s nothing more she
can
do,’ his mother said.

Milo hugged his parents goodbye. ‘Your son wants you to know that he’ll be fine. You’re not to worry.’

‘True or not, it’s kind of you to say,’ his father said.

‘Why not come with us?’ Milo blurted. ‘We could keep each other safe. You could be my parents. I could be your son.’

‘And what if our boy came home at last to find us gone? What then?’

‘But what if he can’t come home, not ever?’

‘Then he’ll be with us, still, in memory,’ his mother said. ‘This is the place where Milo was born; the place he first saw first dawn. He’s in the air we breathe. Oh, lad, we’ll never leave this place. No. Nor eat, nor sleep, until our boy is back or we have joined him on the other side.’

His father patted him on the back. ‘Safe journey lad.’

‘Peace be with you,’ his mother said.

Olivia led Milo through the gate and away from his home.

Milo shuddered.

‘Don’t look back,’ Olivia whispered. ‘Don’t look back.’ 

Back at the castle, the Duke of Fettwurst was marching a parade of soldiers along the dungeon corridors; Prince Leo ran at his heels. The pounding of the soldiers’ iron boots shook the dank air; the walls shivered under the flickering torchlight.

The duke strode past the well into the torture chamber. He turned to his nephew and stomped his foot. The company halted.

‘This is the last place you saw the princess and the knave?’

‘Yes, Uncle.’

‘And it was here you encountered the ghost?’

‘Yes. The Headless Hunchback of Horning. She was in that cell just past the well.’

‘She?’ His uncle frowned. ‘You fled the dungeon because of a She?’

‘We didn’t flee,’ Leo exclaimed indignantly. ‘We went for reinforcements.’

‘Because of a SHE???’

‘A she, a he, I don’t know,’ Leo stammered.

‘Can’t you tell the difference?’

 ‘The ghost didn’t show itself.’

‘Then how did it manifest?’

‘It howled,’ Leo said. ‘And I think it cackled. Yes, it had a definite cackle.’

‘What else? Did it toss things around or make a terrible whirlwind.’

‘No,’ Leo admitted. ‘But it rolled a tin cup.’

The duke’s eyelid twitched. ‘It rolled a tin cup?’

‘Yes. From the back of the cell,’ Leo added helpfully. ‘The torturers screamed.’

‘Oh they did, did they? Where are those cowards? I’ll give them something to scream about.’

‘Uncle, it was very frightening.’

‘A rolling cup frightening? I’ve seen scarier sights in a sausage shop!’

‘It said it wanted new dead for its dungeon games.’

‘Did it indeed.’ The duke stormed to the ghost’s cell and banged his armoured fist against the bars. ‘Hear me, Headless Hunchback of Horning,’ he bellowed. ‘I’ll find your rotted skull and use it to bowl ten-pins. Show yourself, now, if you dare.’

The dungeon was quiet as a bat blink.

The duke glared at Leo. ‘That’s how you tame a ghost.’

The soldiers applauded. The duke bowed. Leo blushed.

‘But while we’ve lost a ghost,’ the duke said coldly, ‘we’ve lost the princess and our prisoner, too. Where are they? Who was guarding the top of the dungeon stairs?’

‘We four, your Grace,’ said a stalwart brute. He pointed to his comrades. ‘We never seen the princess come down nor up.’

Leo shivered. ‘Maybe she made herself invisible. Maybe she’s a demon.’

‘And maybe I’m a newt,’ his uncle snorted. ‘No. There must be another way out. A secret passageway in the walls. A trap door in the floor or ceiling.’ He paused, and suddenly became aware of the sound of rushing water. He stared at the well. ‘Of course! The answer is under our noses. The vixen and the boy jumped down the well and were carried away by the river.’

A soldier peered down the hole. ‘But where does it empty?’

‘Tell me when you find out,’ the duke said and gave him a push.

There was a scream and a splash.

The duke put a hand on Prince Leo’s shoulder. ‘I’ll stay here to keep the castle secure. As for you, Nephew, take fifty men and hunt down your damsel.’