Chapter 8

 

 

Giselle slept well that night and rose to breakfast in the dining hall cooked earlier by Bloat Belly. Crimson Bone had sent him back to the Jolly Jester to make sure the crew were not starving. According to the pirate captain, none of them could cook to save themselves and would be missing the big-bellied cook.

 

They were having a cup of tea when Nem-Nemon joined them and busied himself making an egg and bacon roll.

 

‘If you’ve finished your tea, we’ll leave for the wedding,’ he said.

 

‘Whose wedding is it?’ Giselle asked, wondering whether it was a king or queen, prince or princess, lord or lady.

 

‘A most unlikely bride and groom,’ the wizard replied. ‘You’ll be surprised.’

 

‘Are you sure the wedding will be a safe place?’ Stone-Fist asked. ‘Henbane seems to be able to find us no matter where we go.’

 

‘Well, many of the guests will be witches and wizards so Giselle will have all the protection she needs,’ Nem-Nemon replied. ‘And I’m hoping a solution to Henbane will present itself whilst we’re there.’

 

He led them out of the hall, munching on his roll and they passed down a few corridors. They shortly came to an arched door and on entering, found themselves in another large hall. It was quite empty, except for a large gold disc about six feet wide imbedded in the floor.

 

Crimson Bone realized they were in the wizard’s conjuring room. He had always wondered why wizards used the gold discs as they didn’t actually need them to conjure themselves or others anywhere. He took the opportunity to ask Nem-Nemon about it.

 

‘It’s true that wizards don’t need them to do conjurings, but they help,’ he explained. ‘Gold is a very pure metal and it helps to clear the mind of other distractions that might upset a conjuring. As I’m conjuring five of us, I’ll use it. Folk will have already arrived for the wedding and if I conjured all of us there without the disc, I might drop us on top of some of them.’

 

‘So… if you have to conjure to an exact spot… say the ledge of a mountaintop that a foot either side would drop you to your death, you would use the disc?’ Giselle asked.

 

Nem-Nemon chuckled.

 

‘That’s a good example, princess,’ he replied. ‘A normal conjuring can put you anywhere within a few yards of your intended destination. If a wizard wants to send someone to an exact spot, they use a gold disc.’

 

‘Is that why wizards running Wizardries use them?’ Stone-Fist asked.

 

Nem-Nemon shook his head.

 

‘No… they use them because they can do numerous conjurings a day and would get stinking headaches without them!’

 

They all gathered on the disc and Nem-Nemon took out some tiny potion bottles from his cloak.

 

‘Everyone take these conjuring sickness potions,’ he said.

 

He handed out the bottles and everyone drank them eagerly. Unless you were a wizard, being conjured somewhere made you quite nauseous and only the very brave… or cheap individual didn’t use them.

 

Then Nem-Nemon began to mutter in the strange, arcane language of a wizard casting a spell. Giselle suddenly saw the hall disappear and a bright, silvery glow surround her…

 

* * *

 

… and she found herself standing in the middle of a large grassy clearing in a wood. She could see the battlements of a castle a short distance away and wondered if it belonged to whoever was getting married.

 

The clearing itself was crowded with all manner of folk… men and woman dressed in fine clothes, dwarves in chain mail vests that looked like they’d been polished for the occasion. There were goblins in smart black suits and woodland gnomes standing on tables so as to not get trod underfoot. There were also several shifty looking mountain gnomes, invited guests its seemed but no doubt taking advantage of the gathering to do some thieving.

 

But a good half or more of the guests were wizards and witches. The witches were dressed in ink black dresses and cloaks, their hats colourfully embroided with different flowers indicating their names. The wizards were dressed in the ash-grey robes of the Dark Order or the colourful robes of the Wizardry Order.

 

Giselle knew it was very unusual to see so many gathered together in one place. Wizards and witches don’t dislike each other, but many tend to avoid one another if they can. It is of course all to do with magic and how each of them uses it.

 

Some witches tend to think of wizards as show offs with their powerful spells that can be rather colourful and noisy at times. Some wizards on the other hand think that anyone who can change someone into something that hops and croaks as just sneaks.

 

As Nem-Nemon guided them through the throng of guests, more wizards and witches were arriving. Wizards popping out of the air beside startled witches and witches arriving on crackling broomsticks, cackling with laughter as they zoomed over the heads of startled wizards.

 

Nem-Nemon took them to the edge of the clearing where there were numerous marquees, tents and pavilions. There were also tables groaning with all manner of food, wine and ale. Nothing was being touched at the moment as it was for the reception after the wedding. Even so, Stone-Fist and Iron-Ear looked longingly at the tables of ale.

 

Then they stopped before a particular marquee where a wizard and witch stood. And seated under its canopy was the oldest witch and wizard Giselle had ever seen. The witch had snowy white hair and a face deeply wrinkled with age. And unlike a witch, her eyes were white too, showing that she was blind. A walking stick was cradled in her arms.

 

The wizard too was ancient, his head completely bald and his skin drawn tight over his skull. He was wearing bright blue robes with unicorns stitched on the sleeves. He was also holding a hearing trumpet to an ear, listening to a conversation going on.

 

‘What did you say, Kilthin?’ he shouted. ‘Speak up man, I can’t hear a word you’re saying?’

 

The ancient witch wearing a pointy black hat embroided with poinsettias, patted him on a knee.

 

‘He asked whether you wanted to change your mind,’ she said, making Giselle frown as the old man appeared to hear her quite well.

 

‘Of course I’m not going to change my mind!’ he shouted. ‘Should have done it a century or two ago. My old bones feel the chill of the grave too often now and there’s nothing like a warm body at night to stop me from thinking about it.’

 

Giselle was stunned. It appeared the wedding was for the elderly pair, which was very unusual as witches and wizards rarely married each other.

 

‘Well, I hope you know what you’re doing, Tolin,’ said the wizard Kil-Kilthin. ‘A warm fire is just as good for cold bones I say.’

 

‘What did you say? Speak up man!’ shouted Tol-Tolin.

 

‘He said a warm fire is good for your chilly bones,’ said Mother Poinsettia.

 

‘You can’t have a fire in your bed, man!’ Tol-Tolin snapped.

 

Kil-Kilthin waved away his reply and turned to Nem-Nemon. ‘Nemon, good to see you! Who have you brought with you?’

 

‘Oh, just some orphans sheltering from a storm, Kilthin,’ Nem-Nemon replied.

 

‘Up to another adventure, eh?’ Kil-Kilthin said agreeably. ‘Not a hard guess with a pirate, a pair of dwarves and a girl who doesn’t want her face seen. What is it this time? Reclaiming a lost throne, searching for a kidnapped prince or something darker.’

 

‘Something darker I’d wager,’ Mother Poinsettia said, looking directly at Giselle even though she was blind. ‘Come here lass, I won’t bite. Let me see you properly.’

 

Giselle stepped forward a little hesitantly, wondering how she could ‘see her’ properly. She had to stoop as Mother Poinsettia’s hands came up to her face hidden under the hood of her cloak. They were surprisingly warm and soothing as they held her face.

 

‘Mmm… lilac eyes!’ Mother Poinsettia said in an interested tone.

 

Giselle was a bit startled, wondering how she could have known. But the witch patted her on an arm.

 

‘Don’t worry, my dear,’ she said. ‘I may be blind, but my magical senses are very acute. Take off your hood. You’re safe her.’

 

‘Lilac eyes…’ the other witch said thoughtfully as Giselle slipped back her hood. ‘How rare indeed! Don’t tell me… another witch is after them!’

 

Nem-Nemon nodded.

 

‘I’m afraid so, Mother Snowdrop,’ he replied.

 

An expression of distaste filled Mother Poinsettia’s face.

 

‘Lazy, lazy way of becoming an Arch-Witch,’ she said in a scolding tone.

 

‘Lazy?’ Crimson Bone enquired.

 

‘Very lazy!’ Mother Snowdrop said with a disdainful sniff. ‘There are quite a few ways of becoming an Arch-Witch, most of which are rather difficult to accomplish. Plucking a living scale from every species of dragon in Kingdoms is one… not easy to do with some of the very dangerous ones. Then there’s collecting a feather from every species of bird… whilst they’re flying.’

 

‘Ha!’ Tol-Tolin laughed mischievously. ‘Don’t forget kissing a thousand wizards!’

 

Mother Snowdrop gave another sniff.

 

‘Yes… there is that way,’ she said sourly. ‘And I suppose you dwarves are from the Dwarven Society for the Rescue of Princesses from Wicked Stepmothers?’

 

Stone-Fist and Iron-Ear nodded proudly.

 

‘Such a noble organization!’ Mother Poinsettia said agreeable. ‘Who’s the witch in question?’

 

‘A witch called Henbane,’ Stone-Fist said.

 

‘Henbane!’ Mother Poinsettia said in sudden anger. ‘I know her! Bitter and twisted she is… hates being called Mother. She’s been involved in some nasty business over the years with her magic.’

 

‘Yes, didn’t she get called before the Kingdoms Council of Witches some years ago?’ Mother Snowdrop asked.

 

Mother Poinsettia nodded.

 

‘Yes, she was changing folk into frogs and toads for fun. She was given a sound warning to stop it.’

 

‘Well, she’s after Giselle’s eyes now,’ Stone-Fist said. ‘Luckily she stumbled upon us, but we’ve been running ever since.’

 

‘She’s under my protection as a wizard of the Dark Order,’ Nem-Nemon said. ‘But she can’t stay a prisoner in my castle. We need a solution to Henbane.’

 

‘Mmm… we’ll have to think about that… put our heads together,’ Mother Poinsettia. ‘If Henbane becomes an Arch-Witch she could become a real problem.’

 

‘You know we can’t meddle in her affairs, Mother,’ Mother Snowdrop said.

 

‘Yes, yes! I know that,’ Mother Poinsettia replied and then smiled slyly. ‘But we can offer advice.’

 

‘What’s this about?’ Tol-Tolin shouted. ‘Can’t hear a word you’re saying!’

 

‘We’ve got a problem with an evil witch, dear,’ Mother Poinsettia explained to him.

 

‘Ha! Conjure her to the Temple of Aaarrr in the Kingdom of the Sun!’ he said gleefully.

 

Mother Snowdrop turned white at that suggestion as the Temple of Aaarrr was very famous for its witch burning.

 

‘Thank you, dear,’ Mother Poinsettia said to her betrothed. ‘We’ll keep that in mind.’

 

‘I suppose Henbane’s on her way here now,’ Mother Snowdrop said.

 

Nem-Nemon nodded.

 

‘She’ll get here soon I imagine,’ he replied grimly.

 

‘Well, she’s not going to spoil my wedding! Let’s get the nuptials underway and when she arrives, I’ll have a little chat with her.’