The Wizards of Once Read online

“It’s short for Problem-Crusher,” said Crusher.

  “Are you all right?” cried Bodkin anxiously.

  “Of course I’m all right,” said Wish as the giant gently put her back down. “That giant really is NOT dangerous…”

  Was it possible that Warriors had been mistaken in their view of Magic all along? Could there be another way of looking at things, other than the Warrior way?

  Wish’s worldview was spinning upside down, and that is always a difficult moment.

  “Don’t listen to them, Princess!” said Bodkin. “They’re putting a spell on us! They’re trying to make us see things from their point of view!”

  Xar was looking equally thoughtful.

  “Warriors want to destroy all Magic.” He frowned, gazing at the Enchanted Sword he was holding in his hand. “Surely a Warrior princess shouldn’t have Magic objects?”

  “No, she shouldn’t,” said Bodkin. “I have been saying that for some time.”

  “Be careful with that Enchanted Sword, Xar,” urged Caliburn. “There’s something wrong with it… I can feel it in my feathers…”

  Staring at the blade, Xar suddenly realized Caliburn was right, there was indeed something odd about the sword, something so strange and out of the ordinary and downright UNCANNY that he nearly dropped it in his excitement.

  “Oh my goodness, Caliburn!” Xar gasped. “I don’t believe this! This is incredible! I’ll tell you what’s wrong with this sword! It’s made out of iron! And so is the Enchanted Spoon! They are iron and Magic MIXED TOGETHER!”

  Unbelievable!

  Inconceivable!

  “Impossible!” Caliburn gasped.

  “Where did you get this sword?” breathed Xar, turning it over and over in his hands.

  “I found it in the corridor, but it’s an Enchanted Sword so I think it made its way out of my mother’s dungeons on its own,” said Wish, her heart sinking. “That’s not your sword, Xar. It belongs to my mother! Give it back RIGHT NOW!”

  Wish made a grab for the sword and Xar whisked it out of her reach, Nighteye stepping between them and growling warningly, so she couldn’t get any closer.

  “Hang on a second…” said Xar. “What’s that?”

  Xar noticed, for the first time, the words written on the blade:

  Once there were Witches…

  The hairs stood up on the back of his neck.

  Xar turned the sword over and read the words on the other side:

  …but I killed them.

  After the word them there was an arrow that pointed to the tip of the sword, where something was now glistening.

  A single drop of green blood.

  The three humans looked at the green stain, slightly smoking.

  “Don’t touch it!” screeched Caliburn.

  6. Be Careful What You Wish For

  The three youngsters, the bird, the sprites, and the animals stared at that single drop of green blood with growing horror and, in Xar’s case, excitement.

  “Witchblood!” said Xar in delight.

  “What do you mean, ‘Witchblood’?” protested Bodkin. “Witches are extinct!”

  But he did not scoff as convincingly as he might have done had he been tucked snugly behind the seven ditches of the Warrior hill-fort. There was something about the Badwoods after dark, when the hair-ice* was prickling and growing all over each twisting twig of dead wood, that made one fear that possibly, just possibly, Witches might not be so extinct after all…

  “This is a Witch-killing sword,” said Xar. “Look! It says so on the blade. And it found its way out of your Warrior dungeons because it sensed that the Witches were walking once more in the wood.”

  “That’s not possible…” said Bodkin.

  “Although it IS true,” said Wish slowly, “that just before Xar caught us in that trap, we were being attacked by something, and I think I may have wounded the something with the sword.”

  “You were being attacked by a Witch and that is Witchblood.” Xar smiled.

  “No, it isn’t! Lots of things have green blood,” said Bodkin. “Cat-monsters! Rogrebreaths! Greenteeth goblins! Greenteeth ogres! It can’t be a Witch, because Witches are extinct.”

  “Probably extinct,” corrected Caliburn.

  “Definitely NOT extinct,” said Xar, pointing to the center of the clearing.

  There, right beside Xar’s Witch-trap, was another black feather, a feather like a crow’s but significantly larger.

  Xar picked it up.

  As the feather came close to the feather that was hanging around Xar’s belt, both feathers began to glow a dull greeny glow, a glow of ominous Magic. And as Xar held the feather up to the tip of the sword, the stain glowed too, like the luminescence of a firefly but with a spookier green tinge to it.

  “Witches!” Xar grinned.

  There was a terrible silence.

  Witches might have returned to the Badwoods.

  The most dreadful creatures ever to have walked the earth, alive once more.

  The two enemy groups, animals, and sprites stepped a little closer to one another, looking out at the dark forest all around them, joining in mutual horror at what might possibly be out there…

  “If that really IS Witchblood—it probably isn’t, but if it is—even that single drop is very, very dangerous,” shivered Caliburn. “Wipe it off on that tree bark, Xar, before it hurts anyone…”

  “Oh, I’m not going to waste it…” said Xar. “There must have been a reason that I caught someone called ‘Wish’ in my Witch-trap… What are the chances of that happening? I wished to be Magic and the universe is trying to tell me that it’s granted me my wish!”

  “It could be telling you something else! The universe is very complicated!” shrieked Caliburn. “It could be testing you! It could be warning you not to make wishes as foolish as that one!”

  But Xar was not listening to Caliburn.

  Here was fate, showing him the way to get Magic out of a Witch.

  “DON’T TOUCH THAT, XAR!” shouted Caliburn, so anxious that the feathers dropped out of him like black rain.

  “Don’t touch it… don’t touch it… don’t touch it…” hissed the sprites.

  But Xar reached out the palm of his hand and pressed it hard against the tip of the sword, where the green drop of blood was glistening.

  He scratched it once, twice, in the shape of the first letter of his name: X.

  And from that moment, Xar’s story took a different path, a path that would be very difficult to come back from.

  “Nooooooooooo!!!!!!!” begged Caliburn.

  It was too late.

  Too late… too late.

  The tip of the Enchanted Sword pierced Xar’s hand…

  …and he screamed and doubled over in pain, holding his hand to his stomach.

  Caliburn took his wings away from his eyes. “Oh, Xar… What have you done????”

  Xar straightened up.

  His eyes were alight with excitement, although the pain of it was making him shiver and shake his hand like it had been burned.

  “Too late.” Xar grinned, holding up his hand, and there, in the center of it, was the Witchblood mixed with his blood in the shape of an X.

  When bad stars cross… and worlds collide… X marks the spot.

  “What did he do that for?” asked Wish.

  “I’m going to use the Witchblood to perform Magic,” said Xar confidently.

  “Will it work?” asked Wish.

  “He has absolutely no idea!” said Caliburn. “Do you think that Xar is the sort of person who thinks things through??? We don’t know what that green stuff IS! You better hope it isn’t Witchblood, Xar, because Witchblood is supposed to be exceptionally dangerous! You may be able to use it to perform Magic, but it could turn you over to the dark side… You might become one of the Witches’ creatures… Your father would lose his kingship…”

  Caliburn was even more agitated than normal. “But I have to admit,” he said, cheering up a smidgeo
n, “it is much more likely not to be Witchblood after all. There are plenty of things with green blood in the Badwoods… It could be werewolf blood—and that would just turn you into a werewolf…”

  “Bother,” said Xar, shaking his hand a little more uncomfortably. “I never thought of that.”

  “… which would be inconvenient,” said Caliburn. “All that not going out after midnight and howling at the moon and extra body hair and everything, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

  “It would’s be GREAT!” squealed Squeezjoos. “You’ds be all furry like ME! Oh please! Turn into a werewolf, Xar! Turn into a werewolf!”

  But Xar didn’t look that happy about the idea of turning into a werewolf.

  And Wish and Bodkin took a step backward, just in case.

  “And it may just be Rogrebreath blood… That doesn’t have any effect at all… as far as we know… You’re right,” said Caliburn. “I shall look on the positive side. Let’s hope it’s just Rogrebreath blood. In which case we shouldn’t really be hanging around here, because don’t forget, Rogrebreaths do try to follow you if they’ve wounded you, to get their blood back.”

  “How do they do that?” asked Bodkin, in horror.

  “You don’t want to know,” said Caliburn. “Let’s just say they’re kind of attached to their blood, so their methods of recovering it aren’t pretty.”

  “Well, whatever you say, I’m still hoping it’s Witchblood,” said Xar obstinately. “But even if it isn’t, I still have the sword, don’t I?” Xar hung the sword from his belt.*

  “That’s not your sword!” said Wish. “Give us back our sword!”

  “Sword?” said Xar, innocently opening his eyes wide. “What sword?”

  “The Enchanted Sword that belongs to my mother and is presently shoved into your belt,” said Wish.

  “Oh that sword,” said Xar, vaulting onto Kingcat’s back. “That sword has been given to me by fate, so I can be the boy of destiny and lead my people to fight back against you Warriors. You can’t argue with fate.”

  “It hasn’t been given to you by fate!” yelled Wish. “You’re STEALING it! Give us back our sword, you burglar!”

  Xar ignored her and turned to the others, saying, “Come on, everyone! We need to get back so I can beat Looter in the Spelling Competition.”

  “Hang on a second, what about us?” asked Wish. “We can’t go home, can we! Your sprites’ spells have sent my pony to sleep.”

  The pony was, indeed, still snoring peacefully in the center of the clearing.

  “Well, you really shouldn’t have gone out in the Badwoods after dark if you didn’t want anything bad to happen…” advised Xar with sheer, unbelievable, Xar-like cheek.

  At that moment there was a distant sound of stamping horse-feet and a cry of dogs, and the sprites hissed in alarm: “WARRIORS!”

  Queen Sychorax’s iron Warriors had spotted the giant in their Badwoods territory (Xar had been right about the deep thoughts, the smoke) and were galloping out of iron Warrior fort to investigate.

  “There you are; your problem is solved,” said Xar to Wish. “Your people are coming and they can take you home.”

  “But we’ll be in big trouble because we sneaked out of the fort without permission!” said Wish. “Please, will you help us get back to our own fort without them finding us?”

  “I haven’t got time to do that before the Competition starts,” said Xar, “but I’ll very kindly let you come with me, and you can stay the night in my room in Wizard camp.”

  “That’s BURGLARY and KIDNAPPING!” said Wish furiously. “Take us back to iron Warrior fort and give me back my sword, you horrible Wizard!”

  “Well, I really don’t see what that’s got to do with me?” said Xar in surprise. “Why should I care about the problems of a couple of enemy Warriors? I’m doing my best, but you’re being very difficult.”

  If Wish had been doubting that Wizards were as bad as everybody said they were, she instantly changed her mind.

  “My mother was right about you Magic people!” stormed Wish. “You’re cheats, and you’re treacherous, and you have no morals, and you’re completely out of control, and—”

  “She’s right, Xar!” squawked Caliburn. “You get back from the universe what you give to the universe. And kidnapping this girl and stealing her sword means you can expect something truly dreadful from the universe in return: Do As You Would Be Done By, or You Will Be Well and Truly Done…”

  “Well, the universe ought to be very pleased that I’m not leaving them here to be attacked by Witches. I can’t understand why you’re not all happy for me.” Xar frowned. “It’s terribly selfish of you. I AM THE BOY OF DESTINY! I AM THE CHOSEN ONE!”

  He turned to his animals and the giant.

  “Nighteye! Forestheart! Crusher! Bring these stupid Warriors and their pony to the fort after me!”

  “I’s’ll fly with the Warriors too!” squeaked Squeezjoos. “I’s’ll stay with them and look out for jagulars!!!”

  “Don’t feel you have to, Squeezjoos,” said Xar, rather offended.

  “I’s WANTS to!” sang Squeezjoos, ever enthusiastic. “I likes her! She’s a bit funny-looking… and she’s only got one eye… but she smells more like an apricot than a humungular being… and I likes her hair!”

  Squeezjoos flew into Wish’s hair and fluffed up the back of it so it made a fuzzy little bird’s nest for him to hide in.

  “Well, there’s no accounting for tastes,” huffed Xar crossly. “I’d have thought you’d want to hang out with the boy of destiny, but if you feel sorry for these poor weirdos, it’s up to you, Squeezjoos…

  “Come on, everyone!” yelled Xar. “Race you back to the fort!”

  Kingcat leaped forward in a silvery-gray bound, and the animals followed in a wild, crazy pack, the sprites zooming ahead.

  Turning back time is impossible.

  Probably.

  But…

  IF Xar could have seen Wish after he left her in the clearing, and…

  IF he could have seen the look on her face as she suddenly realized she couldn’t make things right by putting back the sword, and that her mother would inevitably now discover her disobedience in that uncanny way that mothers do, and…

  IF he could have known that Wish’s mother wasn’t the kind of mother who had given her daughter the impression that she would forgive her daughter for anything…

  IF he could have seen Wish crying, with a spoon who couldn’t talk trying to comfort her with no words, and the Assistant Bodyguard, also sad, patting her on the back, and Squeezjoos pulling faces and turning cartwheels to try to cheer her up…

  IF he could have seen all that, would Xar have wanted to turn back time, even though that is impossible?

  Possibly.

  But…

  Looking into other people’s lives when they are not right in front of you is also impossible…

  Probably.

  I say “probably” because turning back time and looking into other people’s lives when they are not right in front of you are both things that require the kind of Magic we call “imagination.” Xar had not developed that kind of Magic yet, any more than he could move objects with the sheer power of his mind or fly without the helpful addition of wings.

  So as soon as Wish was out of his sight, Xar promptly forgot about her, and carried on with the much more important task of congratulating himself on how clever he’d been as he rode on Kingcat’s back to Wizard camp.

  Meanwhile, back in the clearing, Wish had stopped crying because Wish was a practical person, and crying wasn’t going to help.

  “What are we going to do now?” said Bodkin, with round, goggling eyes, bulging with dismay at the way the situation had developed.

  “We’re just going to have to follow that cheating burglar of a Xar-boy to his Wizard camp, and steal that Enchanted Sword back off him, and then we can sneak back into our own fort before morning,” said Wish. “That sword is Magic-mixe
d-with-iron, and we mustn’t let it fall into the hands of the Wizards.”

  “Oh, is that all we have to do?” said Bodkin hollowly. “And here I was thinking we had a problem…”

  “On the plus side, we DO get to ride these snowcats,” said Wish.

  “That’s a plus side?” said Bodkin, looking in horror at the gigantic wild beasts standing uncomfortably close to them. “But they’re banned animals! It’s against the rules!”

  Timidly, Wish put out her hand, and touched the unbelievable softness of Forestheart’s head. She had been absolutely dying to ride on one of the snowcats from the moment she set eyes on them.

  Gingerly, Wish climbed onto his back.

  “Will you be following us, Crusher?” Wish called up to the giant.

  Crusher looked delighted to have his feelings consulted. “I’m a bit slo-o-ower than those snowcats,” he said, giving a great smile like a cracked pumpkin. “But I’ll be right behind you. I’ll be fine. I’m a giant!”

  Of course, what was she thinking? A giant could take care of itself. He was probably a terrifying fighter, even if he was a vegetarian.

  “Follow Xar, please, snowcat,” said Wish.

  Forestheart leaped up and bounded forward with velvet suddenness. I’m actually riding a snowcat, IN REAL LIFE… thought Wish with disbelieving excitement as the lynx weaved smoothly through the trees, the night wind blowing back Wish’s hair. Wish forgot the peril of the moment and whooped in joy.

  By holly and mistletoe and Witches’ toenails and the stinky breath of the Goggle-Eyed Goblinhopper! thought Bodkin, all alone in the clearing. That little princess was more like her mother than she looked. Stubborn! Reckless! Pigheaded! And the Wizard boy was even worse! What was it with royalty? Maybe all the rich food they ate went to their heads.

  But what could poor Bodkin do? He couldn’t stay here all alone in the possibly werewolf-infested wood, enjoying the cool night air and playing spot-the-Rogrebreath.

  And besides, he ought to be protecting and controlling the uncontrollable little princess—that was his job. So, reluctantly, he climbed on top of the second banned animal, who equally reluctantly allowed himself to be climbed on, and leaped forward after Wish.