Chapter 3

 

 

Henbane the witch was a tall woman and might have been called beautiful with her long and gleaming dark hair and pale skin. But few people would say that after they had stared into her pitiless, coal black eyes or waited for a smile that never appeared on her lips.

 

And it had been a long time indeed since anyone had called her… Mother. She despised the title that most of her fellow witches used, thinking it belittled them, but mostly because she disliked children so much. She was also unimpressed with how witches busied themselves with running Witcheries these days, rather than using witchcraft for what she thought it should be used for. Which was power!

 

No, she hadn’t studied black magic to run a Witchery selling lotions for disgusting things like boils and potions for ill, runny nosed children. She coveted power and the highest power for a witch was to become an Arch-Witch. And after a long search she had finally come across a potion that would allow her to become one. There had been many ingredients needed, some very hard to get. But she had collected them all… except the last. The lilac eyes of a girl.

 

Lilac eyes were very rare, not seen at times for hundreds of years. But she had been patient, waiting many years and searching all the time for a girl with such eyes. And then she had found Giselle. She had quickly put a spell over her father and married him she could keep a close eye on her till winter’s solstice.

 

Giselle would then be sacrificed at the stroke of midnight, her eyes plucked and added to the potion which Henbane would drink. And then she would become an Arch-Witch and no-one would be able to stand against her.

 

But the damn girl had disappeared last night, right under her very nose. Henbane was furious as she stalked through the castle, her witches senses probing its corridors and rooms like a spider web ready to ensnare a prey.

 

Henbane didn’t know how Giselle had escaped, how she had eluded the magic wards she had placed over every castle door and window. She should have locked her up weeks ago so she couldn’t escape, but that would have raised the suspicion of the townsfolk. They were already a bit suspicious over the sudden illness of their king and if his daughter vanished as well, questions would be asked. In her quest to become an Arch-Witch she couldn’t risk attracting the attention of some a do-gooder prince or adventurer.

 

She had sent soldiers out this morning to scour the countryside for Giselle, but wasn’t going to just leave it to them. If she could find out how she had escaped, she would be able to find her again.

 

As for the king… well, he was dead now. She had put him out of misery this morning after finding Giselle gone. The wasting potion she had been feeding him had done its job of keeping him out of the way and there had been no further use for him.

 

She arrived at Giselle’s bedroom and stepping inside, looked about the room. She reached out with her witch senses again and began to probe every corner of the room.

 

‘You’re somewhere!’ she muttered sourly. ‘Where did you go?’

 

Then her dark eyes widened as she felt the ghostly presence of the girl, not just in the room, but outside it, beyond the wood panelling of one wall. She walked over to it and slowly licking a finger, ran it over the wood. A green slime traced behind the finger and the wood began to melt and shrivel away. It revealed a narrow passageway.

 

‘A secret passage!’ Henbane fumed.

 

She hadn’t realized that they existed in the castle and blamed herself for not questioning the king more thoroughly when she had first met him.

 

She spun away, her black cloak billowing behind her in snapping anger. Quickly she went to her own room and to her desk. She opened a draw and lifted out a large crystal ball mounted on a pedestal of red stone. Placing it on the desk, she waved a hand over it. The crystal ball’s clear surface turned grey, then dark and a pair of slitted orange eyes glared at her.

 

Quickly she gave instructions to her deadly, winged minions.

 

* * *

 

It was mid morning when Giselle, Stone-Fist, Iron-Ear, Marble-Nose and half a dozen other dwarves climbed out of an airshaft to a bright day outside. Everyone stood around the small forest clearing, blinking in the bright light, a little dazzled after the dimmer light in the tunnels. Giselle saw that it was a different airshaft to the one she had fallen into, though this one too was roped off with silver ribbons.

 

The witch they were going to see lived in the town of Otterton that stood on the border with Giselle’s kingdom and a neighbouring one. Stone-Fist had decided to bring a large number of dwarves with them, safety being in numbers he felt. Even so, Giselle was wearing a hooded cloak to hide her identity.

 

‘We’ll slip into town quickly and see Mother Bluebell at her Witchery,’ Stone-Fist said.

 

‘Can you trust her?’ Giselle asked, not having a high opinion of witches at the moment, even though she knew most were good people.

 

‘Oh, yes. She’s a kindly witch and has treated us for injuries and the odd sniffle since we’ve been in the area,’ Iron-Ear replied.

 

‘Our biggest worry is if any soldiers from her castle are out searching for Giselle,’ Stone-Fist said. ‘We may have to move quickly if we spot any. If we get separated, everyone meet back here at the airshaft.’

 

Everyone nodded and Stone-Fist got them moving. They left the clearing and headed through the forest trees. Shortly they came across a narrow dirt road rutted from the wheels of carts. They followed it and were soon approaching the small town of Otterton that lay in a shallow valley.

 

Stone-Fist led them down the main street, nodding and greeting folk as he went. The dwarves were well known here as they had been buying supplies from the town stores for some time. They turned off the street down a narrower one and spotted a Witchery shop on the right. A sign hung above its door, that of a black cat suspended above an iron cauldron.

 

Stone-Fist left Marble-Ear with the other dwarves outside and with Iron-Ear, took Giselle inside. Inside the air was heavy with the scent of flowers and incense the Witchery sold. Wooden shelving lined the walls where bottles and jars of potions and lotions sat. There was a serving bench at the rear of the shop piled high with flowers for sale and standing behind it was an elderly witch. She was dressed in black like all witches and her pointy black hat was embroided with bluebells.

 

‘Hello, Stone-Fist,’ she greeted with a smile. ‘Need something today do we?’

 

‘Not quite, Mother Bluebell,’ Stone-Fist replied. ‘We have a problem.’

 

‘Ah…a problem,’ Mother Bluebell said and eyed the hooded figure of Giselle. ‘Found another princess in trouble have we?’

 

‘Ah, nothing gets by you, Mother,’ Iron-Ear said.

 

‘I should think not!’ Mother Bluebell quipped. ‘I am a witch you know. Perhaps we should talk out the back.’

 

She led them out the back to a kitchen, Mother Bluebell having a house at the rear of her shop.

 

‘I won’t offer you tea as I don’t think you’ll be staying long,’ she said and turned her attention to Giselle.

 

‘Come, child,’ she said. ‘You’re safe here. I’m well acquainted with the dwarves fine Society.’

 

Giselle slipped off her hood and Mother Bluebell gave a sharp gasp as she saw her eyes.

 

‘Lilac eyes!’ she exclaimed. ‘My word, they are very rare.’

 

She fixed Stone-Fist with a grim look.

 

‘Now don’t tell me… some witch wants them for an Arch-Witch potion?’

 

Stone-Fist nodded.

 

‘Giselle escaped last night from her castle where her stepmother, Henbane…’

 

‘Henbane!’ Mother Bluebell said in some disquiet.

 

‘You know her?’ Giselle asked.

 

‘I’ve heard of her and that’s quite enough,’ the witch replied. ‘She’s a dangerous, evil witch.’

 

‘She has Giselle’s father, the king, trapped in her castle where he is very ill. I was hoping you could give us some advice of what we can do.’

 

‘Very little I’m afraid,’ Mother Bluebell replied. ‘We witches aren’t allowed to meddle in each others affairs, unless we are directly threatened.’

 

‘Is there any hope for my father?’ Giselle asked.

 

Mother Bluebell took Giselle’s hand in her own  and gave it a gentle pat.

 

‘I’m afraid not, my dear,’ she said sadly. ‘Once you escaped, this Henbane will have killed him.’

 

Giselle hung her head, tears in her eyes.

 

‘I should never have left him,’ she said in a stricken tone.

 

‘That’s silly, princess,’ Stone-Fist lightly scolded. ‘If you had stayed, both of you would have been victims.’

 

‘Stone-Fist is right, my dear. The important thing is that you must be taken into hiding,’ Mother Bluebell said, then paused, a thoughtful look in her face. ‘Yet hiding might not be enough in this case. Henbane will never stop looking for you, not till you’re older and your eyes have lost their potency for her spell. You’ll have to get rid of her somehow.’

 

Stone-Fist nodded.

 

‘The Society has had to do that in the past with wicked witch stepmothers,’ he said. ‘Usually we find a brave prince or adventurer to help us.’

 

‘Henbane might be too much even for them in this case,’ Mother Bluebell said. ‘I suggest you find a wizard of the Dark Order and claim his protection. He would be bound by his Order’s code to protect Giselle and you might even talk him into ridding you of Henbane.’

 

‘That that’s what we’ll do… we’ll smuggle Giselle out of the kingdom and find a wizard of the Dark Order,’ Stone-Fist said.

 

‘And I think you had better leave… now!’ Mother Bluebell suddenly urged.

 

At that they all heard the sudden sound of thudding hooves from galloping horses approaching the town.

 

‘Troll’s breath!’ Stone-Fist cussed. ‘Soldiers!’

 

‘You had better get out of here,’ Mother Bluebell urged.

 

Stone-Fist and Iron-Ear bustled Giselle out of the Witchery, dashing into the street to look for Marble-Nose and the other dwarves. They found them across the street outside an inn where they had just brought pints of ale.

 

Now dwarves will never lose an opportunity to have an ale or two and whilst Stone-Fist wouldn’t have minded one himself, this was not the time.

 

‘Drink those down!’ he roared. ‘Soldiers are coming!’

 

The pints were thrown back quicker than Giselle had ever seen them drunk and then Stone-Fist led the whole group down an alley by the inn. They turned a corner and dashed down another alley, all the time the thunder of hooves growing louder.

 

‘They’re coming from all directions!’ Iron-Ear shouted. ‘They’ve got the whole town surrounded!’

 

‘I know!’ Stone-Fist growled as he led them down a third alley.

 

Then they suddenly came upon a large pigsty, full of mud and muck and a dozen or so contentedly grunting pigs. The sound of thudding hooves was almost on top of them now, coming from all directions it seemed.

 

‘We’re trapped!’ Marble-Nose said. ‘What do we do now?’

 

Stone-Fist looked at the pigsty and then looked at Giselle.

 

‘Forgive me, princess,’ he said. ‘But this is our only chance.’

 

He then picked her up and threw her into the air. A startled yelp escaped her and then she slapped into the mud amidst some rather startled pigs.