Authors: A C Gogolski
The Wealding Word (6 page)
Peter shouted, “There’s no explaining it, but the Widow’s curse upon the marsh… I believe it’s broken!” Soon birds warbled in the air and the twisted trees around the hovel straightened. Even the hermit stood taller than before, like he had just reclaimed a missing part of himself.
As the light of the golden tree spread through the marsh, tiny white flowers poked up beneath Nell’s feet. Staring down at them, she asked, “What’s the Widow’s curse?” But the hermit was already racing back into his shack, shouting that he needed to “confirm some-ill-attitude” or something.
As Peter searched inside for books, Tomkin grew impatient. Angrily he chased after Rawley, waving his stick in the air. “Now where’s that cat? We need to move if we’re to reach Lady Zel before nightfall,” he muttered.
The hermit soon returned with an armload of books. Ignoring the others, he began eagerly comparing the leaves of the sapling with an old illustration. Of course, Nell could have told him that the tiny tree was just like the old oak – but Peter needed to “verify” all the same.
Tomkin glanced up at the sun. “Come along,” he said to Nell. “It’s time to leave this fool. The day is short, and we have a long walk to Lady Zel’s tower. Our host has forgotten about us anyway!”
Nell knew he was right: she still had the witch ahead of her. But, now that both the bracelet and the acorn were gone, what was the point? She tried not to think about it. Instead, she said a sad goodbye to the hermit.
The old man poked his nose up out of the book, staring blankly for a moment before remembering his guests. “Ah, erm, leaving? Well, this was a most splendid visit! If you like, come see me again in the spring. And as for the sorceress,” he chuckled, “tell her about the tree we planted.”
“I will,” Nell said, rather unsure of his motives. “Goodbye Mr. Domani.”
“Young lady, you can call me Peter.”
With a deep breath, Nell headed back toward the woods behind Tomkin.
Though small of stature, Tomkin was a tireless traveler. The troll led his friends out of the marsh and back into the forest at a relentless pace. Nell and the animals asked often for a rest, but he pushed on, saying always, “Almost there now!” Just when the girl was about to slump down into a pile of leaves, Tomkin pointed.
Through the branches Nell spotted a steep rooftop piercing the blue winter sky. In a moment, they left the trees to stand upon a path winding past stately gardens and animal pens. The bleating of sheep filled the air, but the animals seemed far too common to live beneath such a structure.
Rising tall and slender, the witch’s tower overshadowed everything in sight. As Nell gazed upon it, with its marble accents and brightly painted columns, she realized there was no going back now. “I… I don’t think we should bother her,” she said, fearful that the sorceress turn her into a sheep.
“You asked me to bring you to the witch!” the troll squealed. “A promise is a promise!” Striding up to the tower, he pulled at a bell. CLANG! Clang.
High above, a wooden shutter crashed open and a face peered out, wide and black and furry. Now it was Tomkin’s turn for alarm. “Ahhhh! The bear! He’s here! Maybe we
should
be going now!”
But it was too late. The stone wall with the bell suddenly rippled back on itself, pouring into stairs and an arched entrance. The sorceress appeared on the top step, dressed in her purple shawl. Long white hair swept down to her feet.
“Well Tomkin, I see you’ve brought my guest of honor,” she said in a strong, polished voice.
Sola wailed, “Will she feed us to the bear?”
“Is it good to be a guest of honor?” Rawley asked.
“I brought her as a favor! She made me do it!” Tomkin pleaded.
Nell stood quietly. If she was turned into a sheep, at least she’d have a coat to keep her warm. “I’m sorry for losing your bracelet, Mrs. Witch,” she said through chattering teeth.
The sorceress looked upon her with clear gray eyes, her stern face warming into a smile. “There is nothing to be sorry for.” She descended the stairs and took Nell’s hands in hers. “I am called Lady Zel.”
“But I gave away your magic bracelet – the one that let me talk to Sola and Rawley!” It was an uncanny relief to reveal her guilt before the sorceress.
Lady Zel laughed, “I don’t remember losing a bracelet that could do that. Never mind it now. Come, join us.” Nell followed her inside, still wondering whether she was in trouble or not.
The tower was huge and lovely beyond imagining, its countless rooms connected by a stair winding like a mahogany serpent up through its core. Each chamber was well furnished, housing an exquisite array of antiques and effects: splashing fountains, alabaster statues, divans of supple leather, hanging crystal globes, and rugs so finely knotted they looked like paintings on the floor. Lady Zel led the group up the steps and past several ornate doors accented with marble. Finally they came to the dining hall, and there at one end of a long table sat
the dreaded bear. He had a cupcake in one enormous paw, and a dainty napkin in the other.
“Just couldn’t wait, could you?” the sorceress scolded. Licking icing from his furry lips, the bear simply shrugged and pawed for another treat. Lady Zel introduced Nell to everyone at the table. There was a crow called Rake who liked to sit on the sorceress’ shoulder. A silver-blue unicorn named Queen thanked Nell for helping the forest, while a plump woman named Miss Elder served tea, giving Nell as much honey as she pleased. Everyone seemed to know about the golden acorn. Even the grumpy bear grunted, “Good for you,” when they were introduced.
The girl’s boots were laid by the fire to steam. Nearby, Rawley dried his fur and Sola soothed her paws on the toasty bricks. When Nell was finally warm, Lady Zel began, “Nell, you did a very great thing today – for all of us. Have you ever heard of the Widow of the Sea?”
Nell shrugged. “No, but I heard the Queen of the Grumlins lives on the sea.”
“They are one and the same. The Widow of the Sea is a rival of mine, a sorceress who keeps Vodvani – grumlins, as you say – under her spell. Years ago, she enchanted the upper reaches of the marsh as well.”
“Enchanted? Cursed is more like it,” growled the bear.
“Call it what you like,” the sorceress conceded. “The
curse
drained the life from the land, and made the Widow’s own magics stronger. Over time, the borders of the enchantment grew and grew, and her grumlins were able to sneak farther into the forest. None of us could prevent it from spreading. But the spell is broken now, I can feel it. And it’s all thanks to you.”
“Help springs from an unexpected source,” came a regal voice. Turning, Nell realized at once that it belonged to the unicorn, Queen.
Lady Zel nodded. “As we know, the power to break an enchantment always rests with the one under the spell. In this case, it was the weald itself.”
“Hmmph. Rhiannon’s fortune-telling tiles missed that one,” the bear rumbled.
Lady Zel said to Nell, “We have all heard about your conversation with the Aureate Oak – it’s been the talk of the weald for weeks now. By giving you the acorn, the old tree made it possible to unravel the Widow’s curse, though Rake here was not able to explain how Peter made it grow.” The crow cawed, hopping onto the back of Nell’s seat.
Queen spoke next, “The golden tree hasn’t given an acorn away in at least a hundred years. For as long any anyone can remember, he has only ever spoken to Lady Zel, and he’s not done that in a very long time.”
The sorceress was perusing a tray of candied ginger and chocolate. “It’s true,” she sighed, “Though I wish it were otherwise, I could use his wisdom now.”
Nell thought for a moment. “But if you want to talk to trees, why don’t you make another magic bracelet?”
Lady Zel laughed at the notion. “It wasn’t the bracelet Nell. Do you recall the day we met?”
Nell thought hard, but shook her head. She remembered little else beside the silver bracelet shining on her wrist that day. The sorceress continued, “I gave you a gift better than any bracelet: the Wealding Word.”
Queen and Miss Elder shared a look as if some suspicion had been confirmed. Lady Zel went on, “I whispered the Word in your ear that day. It quieted something in you, and awoke something very rare instead. It’s why you can hear the voices of the animals and trees. Magic can be a fickle thing though. Its power may take different forms as time goes on.”
Nell vaguely recalled Lady Zel speaking to her when they met, but she couldn’t remember her words, and even now she was not certain she understood what the sorceress was saying. Perhaps that was the way with magic. “I-I guess I understand,” she stammered. She was no longer terrified, however, and part of her conversation with the oak came back to her. “Lady Zel, is it true you were once a queen? The tree told me so.”
“That old tree breaks a century of silence for gossip?” The sorceress laughed, her hair a cascade of shimmering silver. “Yes, I was once a queen. But the woods suit me better than the walls of a castle. After all, I grew up in this tower. It’s where I started learning sorcery, long ago while in thrall to my mentor.”
Shadows of the day flowed quickly about the tower as they spoke, and Nell began to yawn despite herself. Getting here had been a very long journey.
Lady Zel tisked her lips at the slanting light. “So early to be getting late. Well, I imagine you will be needing to get home for dinner.” She showed Nell to the large, open window in the room. “Can you tell me where you live?”
Nell’s eyes flitted far over the forest. In the distance perched the castle on the hill, a bright orange moon climbing just above its highest tower. “There across the weald, in the town beneath the castle,” Nell said.
The sorceress nodded her approval. “In that case, getting home will be quite simple. You’ll fly in the shape of a dove, and your pets can follow tomorrow.”
“A dove? Yes please!”
Nell said her farewells to Tomkin, the bear, and Miss Elder. Last, she raised the hem of her homespun dress to curtsy before Queen.
“I suspect we will meet again,” the unicorn said in parting.
Gathering her powers for the spell, Lady Zel offered one final caution. “The Wealding Word is a part of you, Nell, and the world
is your teacher now. It may open you in ways that I cannot begin to explain. Keep the Word alive by listening with more than just your ears. If you persist, someday you may return here to learn more.”
Nell bobbed her head, “I… will try to listen. Thank you Lady Zel, for not being mad about the bracelet.”
The sorceress smiled. Slowly she raised her arms for the spell. In another instant Nell was bouncing across the windowsill on bird feet. A wind rose up from all around, whisking leaves about in a great whirl. It lifted Nell in its invisible arms and she tried her wings for the first time. “Ah, my dear Wind,” said Lady Zel, as if greeting an old friend. “Please return this little dove safely home.” With a backward glance at the unicorn, the sorceress added, “And I think it’s time you see to my great-grandson too. He has wandered long enough. Goodbye Nell!”
The last rays of sunset made everything golden like the light of the hermit’s tree. Nell soared over the shining marsh that had once terrified her, but now she was swift and light and fearless. The Wind kept her flying right on course, and helped her land safely in the garden behind her cottage. At once she was a girl again, and she was home, just in time for dinner.
One spring morning, Nell woke to the insistent clap of the castle bells. They only sounded like that on holidays, or when something bad happened. She lay quietly, listening to the clamor and wondering which it was.
“Nell,” her mother called. “Time to get up! There’s going to be a parade today!”
When she came out for breakfast, Nell saw both her mother and father at the table, sipping steaming mugs of tea. It was a surprise, since her father was usually pounding shoes in his shop long before sunrise. She was glad to see him still home. “Why are you here Dad?”
Chase laughed. “The royal fleet was sighted at sea several days ago. Seems the wind finally decided to blow the king home. In honor of his return, Queen Pharisij has declared today a holiday. No work!”
As the family ate their porridge, they chatted about the wandering king. Nell’s mother said that King Reginald had been gone for so many years that he might not know his own son, Prince Ryan.
“Prince Ryan!” Nell exclaimed. She remembered the pale boy to whom she gave the sorceress’ bracelet – he was called Ryan too. She wondered if they were the same.
“Yes,” said her mother. “And we just might see him today. We’re all going to cheer for the king when he rides from his ship. I’m sure the prince will be there to greet his father.”
Later that day, Nell and her family walked toward the wooden docks on the far side of the castle hill. The sea air was crisp, but the promise of spring made a small thing of the cold. It seemed like all the people of the kingdom had assembled to see their king again. Ten years had passed since his campaign began, and with no news of him during that time, many feared the fleet had met with disaster. Their faces pale with worry, it was easy to spot the wives and children of soldiers who sailed so many years ago. Many on the street murmured about what became of the other ships, since only a fraction of the fleet had returned.
