Untitled Starfell #2 (Starfell #2) - Dominique Valente Page 0,10

never told the witch what her power was …

5

The Wizard Beyond the Wall

At first, as Willow followed the witch into the heart of the Howling Woods, she thought that maybe visiting a healing tower before she tried saving Nolin Sometimes wasn’t the worst idea in the world …

Though there was a tiny part of her that looked at the tall, fearsome witch and her imposing tower, which was covered in moons and stars and gold glitter, and thought … was all this really necessary? Wasn’t it just the sort of thing that made people without a magical ability a bit suspicious of those who had one?

Still, it wasn’t exactly an opinion she dared venture out loud.

‘Come on in, child,’ said the witch, leading Willow into a bright and airy room on the first floor of the tower. It was filled with rows of steel beds and sleeping patients who were quietly snoring.

Willow’s eye fell on the witch’s foot as she walked in front, her steps making that clink-clank-clink sound as she moved. Willow caught a glimpse of something that seemed to glint, like metal.

Pimpernell saw her looking and twitched her dress back over her foot. ‘This way,’ she said, and the witch made Willow sit on a low stool while she took down a large bottle of tonic from a heaving cabinet full of all sorts of dried herbs, potions and cures.

On a long wooden table nearby there was a pestle and mortar and several odd things in jars. Some of them gave Willow the creeps, like one that seemed to be full of eyeballs that were regarding her rather intently. Willow swallowed nervously. From the hairy green bag there was a faint ‘Oh no.’

The witch handed her a steaming goblet, which smelt a bit like feet. ‘This be one of me best blends – sorts out most problems pronto-like.’

Willow took a sip and shuddered rather violently – which was when things went wrong rather fast.

As soon as the tonic touched her tongue, the bottle and spoon vanished with a loud pop. The witch looked at her suspiciously, and suddenly more and more items in the tower began to disappear. The witch started to wail in fear as beds, mugs, carpets and plates all began to vanish.

‘Wot yeh doin’, child! Stop it!’ she cried, but Willow couldn’t. The table went. Then the cabinet. People started to wake up, falling to the floor and screaming as the beds beneath them disappeared. It was pandemonium in seconds.

The witch blinked at her, then seemed to nod. ‘’Tis a bad case yeh got here … Extreme measures will need ter be taken! But I’m gonna help. We’ll get this tempest outta yeh, one way or another, child! I’ll have ter get yeh outta here pronto, though. Ter the top with yeh – there’s nothin’ much up there so it won’ matter if yeh make it disappear.’

With that, Pimpernell picked Willow up as if she weighed nothing and whisked her up the stairs, making a clinkclankclinkclankclink sound as she ran. The witch shoved Willow and her hairy carpetbag into a room at the very top of the tower and quickly locked the door.

‘’Tis fer yer own good, child!’

‘Oh no! Oh NOOOOO, oh, me ’orrid aunt!’ cried Oswin, from where the bag had landed on the cold wooden floor.

‘Oh nooooooooooooo,’ was pretty much how Willow summed up their current predicament as well.

As the heavy attic door was bolted behind her, Willow was just working up to a full, panic-heavy scream of her own when a smoky, gravelly sort of voice interrupted.

‘Psst, girl.’

Willow turned round in surprise, but couldn’t make out where the voice was coming from. She squinted into the gloom.

‘Over here,’ said the voice.

Willow looked. But all she saw in the small room were dusty wooden floorboards, on top of which sat a small iron bed with peeling green paint, a chair, a small table stacked with old newspapers and, in the corner, an old green stove covered in cobwebs. Propped up next to this was a poker shrouded in dust.

There was no one there.

Her glance flicked upward, towards the rafters, where there were some rather large spiderwebs. She swallowed nervously. ‘Um?’ she whispered.

‘On yer left,’ said the voice.

The hairy carpetbag began to shake. ‘Oh nooooooooo, me greedy aunt! Wot new eel is this?’

Willow’s breath caught in her throat. What new eel indeed? Had she somehow been locked up inside a dangerous witch’s tower with a ghost?

‘Lass, yer other left, here,’ said the voice, sounding