The Warlock is Missing wisoh-7 Read online

  Magnus floated up and untied the chain from the limb.

  "Here now, gently! Carefully!" Kelly chewed at his beard. "Have a care when ye loose the knot—I've more weight than ye'd suspect!"

  "Why, then, I shall support thee," Cordelia declared.

  "What, ye? Why, how couldst thou, lass? Thou'rt not even near… Whuh!"

  Magnus pulled the last strand of chain, and the knot fell open. Kelly plummeted, with a shout of terror—all of about an inch. "What! But… How… Eh! But I'm drifting!"

  "Down to the ground," Cordelia assured him. "It but took me a moment to gauge thy weight."

  "Eh! But a nasty turn ye gave me!" Kelly grumbled. "Why could ye not but say… Um. Aye. Thou didst."

  Cordelia nodded brightly. "Now dost thou believe me?"

  "Aye." Kelly peered up at her from under shaggy eyebrows, while his head swung up slowly and his feet swung down to touch the turf. "But would ye be tellin' me how ye come to be able to… Oh. Ye're a witch-lass, are ye not, now?"

  "Now, or at any time," Cordelia agreed. "And I assure thee, I've borne many loads more weighty than thou."

  "I'm believing you," the elf muttered. Then he saw the white head and silver horn behind her, and his eyes rounded. "Eh! But what wondrous beastie is this?"

  " 'Tis a unicorn," Cordelia answered.

  Kelly spared her a glance of scorn. "And never would I have been guessing it! Eh, but surely!" His gaze fastened to the creature again, rapt with wonder. "Why, 'tis years since I've seen one! Hundreds of years!"

  'Two hundreds?" Gregory guessed; but Kelly seemed not to hear him.

  He stepped over to the unicorn, reaching up to touch her knee lightly, then probing with a bony finger. "'Tis real enough, truly! Eh! Magic one!"

  The unicorn lowered her head, letting Kelly touch her nose.

  "Now may all spirits of wood and dell defend ye!" the elf breathed. Finally, he turned back to Cordelia. "But how comes this magic creature to accompany ye?"

  "She came to seek us out," Cordelia explained, "for that she'd found a dragon, and needed our aid to subdue it."

  "To subdue… ? And ye… ?" The elf's voice came out as a squeak. He cleared his throat, glanced at Puck, then back at the children. "Am I to understand ye did it? Conquered a dragon, I mean. Did ye?"

  "Aye, but it did take all of our efforts."

  "Oh, did it now!" And Kelly turned away, shaking his head and muttering, "Children! Babes, they are! And a dragon? Naught but babes!"

  Then he whirled toward Puck, forefinger stabbing out. "Why, ye scurvy knave! Ye bloody boar of a Sassenach! Ye Tory scoundrel! Would ye, then, let mere babes stand against the foulest of monsters?"

  "I would not, but they did insist on giving thee rescue." Puck's eyes narrowed. "Wouldst thou believe I might truly allow these children to come to harm?"

  "Believe it? Aye—and proclaim it! Why, ye fevered son of a horse-trader, what e'er possessed thee to hazard these wee, poor babes to such peril?"

  "But," Geoffrey said, "we are not…"

  "… staying," Puck snapped, cutting him off. "Children, come! Thy good deed is done, and he whom thou hast aided doth denounce us! Turn, and away!" He spun, and strode toward the underbrush.

  The children stared at him, taken aback. Then, "Robin! Wait!" Gregory cried, and leaped after him.

  "Fare thee well, elf." Cordelia leaped on her broom and sped off after Puck.

  "What! Will ye follow blindly where the Sprite of Mischief leads?" Kelly cried. Then his face firmed, and he reached up to yank his top hat more firmly down onto his head. "Nay, I'll not have it!" And he strode off after the children.

  Catching up to them, he cried, "Fear not, children! The leprecohen will not abandon ye to the hard heart of the hobgoblin! I shall accompany ye!"

  Puck turned on him, face thunderous. "None have asked it of thee, elf! Now I bid thee—bide!"

  "And desert them to the mercies of the Sassenach?" Kelly settled himself, glowering. "Nay!"

  "Why, thou nail, thou burr, thou thorn! What use canst thou be? How much more wilt thou swell up their hazard?"

  "Hazard?" Kelly fairly screeched. "Why, what could be safer than a child with a leprecohen to guard it?"

  "A man with his head in a noose, or a lord with his neck stretched across the headsman's block!" Puck took a deep breath. "Why, what could be less use, or more hazardous company, than a leprechaun who doth allow his crock of gold to be stolen?"

  Kelly's head snapped back as though he'd been slapped. Then his face reddened, his head drew down between his shoulders, and he reached up to push his hat over to a rakish angle. "Now ye've said it, now ye have said it! Now must I prove the lie ye have given—and I will, by staying with ye till the death!"

  "Thy death, or theirs?" Puck said acidly.

  "Yers, if Heaven smiles!" Kelly turned to the children. "Fear not—I'll never abandon ye to the dangers of his company!"

  "But there is no danger in his company!" Gregory cried, and Cordelia said, "None could be safer than in the care of the Puck, good elf."

  "Puck or not, his protection's uncertain," Kelly maintained. "Nay, I'll accompany ye, if for naught but to ward ye from him!"

  Gregory shook his head in confusion. "Wherefore dost thou mistrust him so?"

  "Why, because he is English!" Kelly cried, and turned away to the green of the forest.

  Chapter 4

  "Yon, children." Puck pointed to the right-hand path, where the trail forked.

  "Nay! 'Tis fraught with peril!" Kelly jabbed a finger at the left-hand path. "Yon is where ye should wend!"

  Puck rounded on the leprecohen. "'Ware, elf! Constrain me not to flatten thee!"

  "And what would ye be doing then?" Kelly said, glaring up at the bigger elf. "Smite me? Starve me? Banish me beyond the Pale? 'Twas ever the way of the tyrant!"

  'Tyrant or not, thou'lt wear webbed feet and hop, an thou dost defy me more!"

  "Puck," Cordelia pleaded, "do not…"

  "Nay, lass! The elf is not welcome—yet an he will not help, he must not hinder!"

  "Do yer worst!" Kelly cried. " 'Twas ever the way of your kind!"

  Puck's eyes narrowed, and a fly buzzed by. Kelly's head snapped up, staring; then his hand shot out to snatch the insect out of the air. Witt a glad cry, he popped it toward his mouth —then froze, staring at his closed fist in horror. Slowly, he looked up at Puck.

  The Puck grinned wickedly.

  Kelly gulped, and plucked up his courage to glare again in defiance—but it wasn't convincing.

  "Dost thou have a sudden hunger for flies, then?" Puck crooned. "Nay, fear not—the rest of thy body will change then, to fit it. Do thy shoes pinch? 'Tis naught of concern— only thy feet, spreading into frog's paddles."

  With a howl, Kelly threw the fly from him, spreading his fingers and staring at his hand as though to reassure himself it wasn't growing webbing.

  "Puck, thou must not!" Cordelia cried.

  "Wouldst thou be a bully then?" Geoffrey demanded.

  "Aye, assuredly he would," Kelly muttered. " 'Twas ever his way."

  Puck's eyes narrowed.

  Fess lowered his head to Kelly's level. "I would counsel caution as the better part of valor. Remember that the Puck delights in mischief."

  Kelly nearly jumped out of his skin. He leaped about, staring up at the great black horse. "Begorra! Is it a talking horse, then?"

  "A pouka." Puck eyed Fess askance. "A spirit horse— though 'tis a spirit of a different sort. It is made of cold iron, elf."

  "Nay, surely it cannot be!" Kelly stared up at Fess, paling. "Poor, wee tykes! What greater peril could four children be in?"

  "Why, he is our friend!" Gregory shot upward to wrap his arms around Fess's neck. "Our father's closest, and ours!".

  Kelly didn't answer; he only cast an apprehensive glance at Puck.

  The bigger elf smiled, with malice. "And wouldst thou worry about my poor self, then?"

  "Nay, surely not!" Kelly drew himself
up, color returning. "With so fell a beast by? And having wormed its way into their affections? Lead onward, elf! 'Tis the two of us must shield them, now!"

  Puck grinned, and sauntered away down the right-hand path.

  The path widened out into a little clearing, dappled with sunlight in shifting patterns as the shadows of the leaves moved gently in the breeze. The floor of the clearing was strewn with fallen leaves and underbrush, and three stumps, where woodcutters had felled oak trees.

  An old woman poked about in the underbrush, muttering to herself. She wore a shabby brown dress and a shawl, with a gray kerchief tied around her head.

  The unicorn came to a halt. Magnus hopped down off Fess's back and stepped forward. "What have we here, Robin?"

  "A hermit matron, belike," the elf answered.

  "I doubt not 'tis a poor beldame who found her friends had died, and none still living in her village gave her welcome," Kelly said. "Thus came she here, to live alone. There are many such."

  The old woman looked up at the sound of voices, frowning. "Who comes?"

  Magnus waited for Puck to answer, but he didn't hear a word.

  "'Tis four bairns!" the crone snapped. "What dost thou here? Begone, now! Shoo!"

  Magnus looked down at Puck for advice, but the elf was gone. He looked around, surprised, to find that Kelly had disappeared, too.

  Cordelia leaned over to murmur in Magnus's ear, "They do not wish grown-ups to see them."

  "Wilt thou not mind thine elders?" the old woman cried. "Begone, I say!" She snatched up a stick and threw it at them.

  The unicorn shied, but Magnus reached out and caught the stick, frowning. "We've done naught that ye should scold us so." Then he remembered his manners. "Good day, good-wife."

  " 'Goodwife,' is it?" the old woman spat. "Nay, never was I wife, nor would be! How is it even bairns do think a woman must needs marry? Nay, not old Phagia! I had no need of men—nor of any person! And of children least of all! Begone, I say!"

  "If I've offended, I regret," Magnus said.

  "Do not say so," Geoffrey snapped. "Ye've done naught to give offense!"

  "Aye." Cordelia said, puzzled. "Wherefore should she hate us so, at first sight?"

  "Dost'a not hear me?" the old woman screeched. "Go!" And she began to wade through the underbrush toward them, catching up sticks to throw.

  Without even thinking, Cordelia stared at a stick. It leaped up into the air and flew away.

  Phagia watched it go, eyes widening. But they narrowed as she looked down at the children. "So 'tis witch-brats come upon me, eh? Well, I've tricks of my own at hand!"

  Suddenly, sticks burst from the floor of the clearing all around the children and shot toward them.

  "Catch!" Magnus cried, and the sticks sailed on up over the treetops as all four children thought at them at the same time.

  Phagia turned ashen. "What manner of warlock-lings are these, that do catch things with their thoughts? Only witches may do so!"

  "Nevertheless, that power's ours, come to us from our father," Magnus explained.

  "And wilt thou, then, bedevil a poor old woman with this power of thy sire's?" Phagia spat. "Nay, then! Contend with this!"

  Nuts suddenly rained down on them, as though a thousand manic squirrels had jumped in for target practice.

  "Ouch! Oh!" Cordelia wrapped her arms around her head and ducked. Her brothers howled with dismay; the nuts hit hard.

  "We must meet this all as one!" Magnus cried. 'Together, now! Up!"

  The other children squeezed their eyes shut and joined their thoughts to his, and the rain of nuts backed upward, away, leaving a dome of clear air about them, as though the small missiles were bouncing off a huge, invisible umbrella.

  "Wilt thou then band against me?" Phagia snarled. "Nay, I must teach thee manners! Avaunt!"

  Flames leaped up about the children, roaring toward them, leaving a wake of char behind.

  "Be mindful!" Magnus shouted. "Fire's but the heat of molecules in motion! Slow them, still them! Make them cool!"

  All four children stared at the flames, thinking tranquil thoughts, slowing movement, spreading it over a much wider area, transferring energy throughout the floor of the clearing. The day seemed to grow a little warmer, but the fire died.

  Phagia stared at the smouldering char, appalled.

  Magnus heard Geoffrey's thoughts: Brother, leave her or subdue her. An we do neither, she shall attack again.

  Magnus nodded. We might then injure her as we fought back—and Mama and Papa would be angered.

  Nor should we leave her free to follow, Geoffrey added.

  Magnus agreed. "Let us do what we must."

  Phagia's head snapped up, fear suddenly contorting her features. She lifted a clawlike hand—but Cordelia stared at the crone's feet, and they shot out from under her, whipping up level with her shoulders. She screeched; then her face hardened with determination and her feet slowly moved downward.

  Cordelia bit her lip, face tightening with strain, and the witch's feet moved upward again. She howled with rage, and they steadied.

  Magnus glanced at a vine that had wrapped itself up high, around a tree. It uncoiled, whirling backwards around and around the trunk, then groping out toward Phagia. Geoffrey frowned at it, and the vine broke off near its root, then whipped about the witch five times, pinning her arms to her sides. Phagia shrieked with horror, then clamped her jaw shut and heaved at the vine with all the strength of an adult mind. Sweat beaded Geoffrey's forehead as he fought to keep the vine in place—but as he did, Gregory reached out with mental fingers to whip the ends into a square knot. Phagia screeched, but Geoffrey relaxed with a smile. "Well done, tadpole."

  " 'Tis well thou didst teach me that knot last Friday," lisped little brother.

  "A pox upon thee!" old Phagia raved. "Thou knaves, thou curmudgeons! Hast thou naught else to do, but thou must needs torment a poor old beldame?"

  "We did naught to trouble thee," Geoffrey contradicted.

  "Nor would we have, hadst thou not turned upon us." Cordelia spoke more gently, trying to balance Geoffrey's contrariness.

  "Turned upon thee! Eh! Innocent children, thou knowest not what those words do mean! Turn upon thee! Nay! But wait till thou hast had all the folk of a village come to chase thee, hounding thee from out thine home to harry thee throughout the countryside! Wait till they have caught thee, and bound thee to a ducking-stool, to sink thee in deep water, deprive thee of thy breath! Wait till thou dost feel thy lungs clamoring for air, till thou canst no longer bear it and must breathe, yet know thou'lt suck water in if thou dost—then they hale thee up into the air, at the last second, screaming, 'Vile witch, confess!' And thou dost not, for whosoe'er it was that did the wrong they've found, it was not thou! Yet they will blame thee, aye! Doth a cow's udder run dry? 'Twas thou who caused it! Did a sheep then sicken? 'Twas thou who cursed it! Did a child fall from out a hayloft? 'Twas thou who tripped him! It must be thou, it needs be thou—for naught but thou art a witch!"

  "But we have not, we shall not!" Cordelia cried, pale and trembling. "We never would!"

  'Tell that to these gentle souls who have lashed thee to the ducking-stool, and now plunge thee deep again! And if thou dost hold fast, and never dost confess to deeds thou hast not

  done, they'll take thee off to torture thee, with fire and steel, till the pain, the agony, and the sight of thine own blood do so afright thee that thou dost cry at last, ' 'Twas I! 'Twas naught but I! Say what thou wilt have me say, and I will speak it! Only leave off thy hurting of me!"

  Ashen-faced, Cordelia had clapped her hands over Gregory's ears, but he waved her away impatiently. "I'll but hear her thoughts as she doth speak them!" He looked up at Magnus "Can it truly be as she doth say?"

  His brother nodded, face set and grim. "Mama and Papa have told us that the witches are ill-treated. Yet they've only hinted at such horrors!"

  "Thy bold bluff peasants will do more than hint," Phagia assured him. "At the l
ast, they'll lash thy torn and bleeding carcass to a stake, and pile fagots about thy feet, bundles of sticks as high as thy legs, and thrust a torch within them! Then wilt thou truly scream, as flames mount up to sear thee!" And she turned away, sobbing.

  Cordelia faced her brothers, trembling with emotion. "Small wonder that Papa and Mama are so angered with folk who speak against witches!"

  Magnus nodded, his face set like rock.

  Gregory stepped forward shyly, and knelt by Phagia. "Is this why thou didst seek to chase us? Because thou didst fear we would summon folk to hurt thee?"

  Phagia's head turned about, eyes staring at him. "Nay, little lad! Poor little lad! 'Tis from another cause—the one that made me hide myself away, where none would find me!"

  Gregory frowned. "What cause is that?"

  "Not the hurt that they did me," Phagia explained, "or that I did them; but hurt that was done to them because of me."

  Gregory shook his head, not understanding.

  "Done because of thee?" Magnus came up. "Who did it, then?"

  "Lontar." She shuddered at the sound of the name. "Even in his youth, he had determined to work evil in every way he could. He courted me; 'Why should not two witch-folk wed?' quoth he. 'How much stronger will their wizardly get be!' Yet I knew him for what he was; his evilness fairly oozed from him; he reeked of it. 'No,' I said, and 'No,' again, and yet again; but he would not heed, till at last he sought to pursue me through my cottage door, and I slammed it into his face. He fell down, stunned, whiles I bolted the door and collapsed

  against it, shaking. When he came to his senses, he could but rave—for warlocks cannot make locks move of themselves, praise Heaven!"

  Gregory shared a quick glance with his two older brothers.

  "What might he do then, but rail about my door? Yet that he did—and most puissantly. He laid a curse upon me, that anyone I might befriend would die, and in a fashion most horrible. I did credit him not; but within a fortnight, everyone I'd counted as a friend lay dead, and in a manner most repulsive. They lay… No!" She squeezed her eyes shut, clamping down on the thought before it could form fully in her mind. "I shall not speak of it to children!"