Abby the Witch (36 page)

Cold spread
across his chest as if someone had opened his mouth and forced him
to swallow ice. The Colonel knew, he knew.

'I know you
are from Fyture.'

Though the
Colonel pronounced it strangely, the word pressed out any further
warmth that had remained in Pembrake's bones.

'Fyture, the
capital of Elogia. I knew that they would send people to
assassinate me, but I would have hoped for a more capable
pair.'

Pembrake
choked. His throat constricted and he rocked forward from the force
of his realisation. Fyture? The capital of Elogia? The Turn About
must have overheard them talk about being from the 'future' and
assumed it more likely they meant Fyture....

A part of him
wanted to laugh.

'I see this
shocks you. I know all about Elogia's plans to destroy
me. I have known for some time. You feel threatened by my power in
Bridgestock,' the Colonel was now leaning so far forward in his
chair, he was practically out of it, 'and you should be worried.
Once I have control here, and I will get it, I will use
Bridgestock's vote in the Westland's parliament to send us to war.
I will crush your home, sir, count on that,' the Colonel was
shifting his eyes across Pembrake's face, obviously waiting for him
to break down with emotion.

'You know it
all then,' Pembrake confirmed with as much gravitas as he could
manage. 'We knew that you in power would mean war with Elogia. Can
you blame us for seeking to remove you from the equation?'

~~~

'Abby where
are we going?' Charlie hadn't calmed down any, but Abby just held
onto him tightly and continued to run through the halls.

'I have to do
something, Charlie!'

'No you don't!
I take it all back, you don't have to do anything at all!'

Abby shot
through the corridor and headed for the kitchen. 'You were right,
Charlie, not doing anything is just as bad as doing the
wrong thing.'

'No, I was
wrong, I was really, really wrong!'

He was right.
She had forgotten, or perhaps she had never learnt, the most
important lesson of being a witch. Ms Crowthy had told her time and
time again – choice is the origin of all magic.

A witch had to
be clear about what they were doing. They had to be decisive. They
had to choose a path and steam along it like an unstoppable train.
It was not the place of a witch to stand by the wayside, thinking
of this and that, weighing up one option against another. No, a
witch had to be at the helm, directing the ship forward at all
costs, staring out at all who may cross her path with the steeliest
of gazes.

Witches made
things happen.

And this witch
was going to save the Prince.

'Seriously
what's your plan, Abby? Are you just going to go in there and grab
the Prince and lock him in a box somewhere until all this is over?
What are you going to do?'

'I'll start by
finding him.'

'And
then?'

'I'll save
him.'

She would go
into the kitchens and ask Martha where she could find the Prince.
That seemed like the logical thing to do.

Martha had
been baking a giant batch of cookies when Abby had walked in.
According to Martha, Abby could find the Prince on the roof.
Apparently there was quite a view of Bridgestock to be had from up
there.

Abby had
rushed, with equal determination, up the several flights of stairs
and winding corridors that led to the roof.

Sure enough
she'd found the Prince leaning against the railing, staring down at
the deep-blue ocean spreading out from Bridgestock.

She put
Charlie down.

The Prince
turned to her. 'Have you come for the second part of the tour?'

She shook her
head firmly. She was going to do this. She was going to warn the
Prince and do what it took to save his life, no matter what the
cost. 'Your highness, there's something I have to talk to you
about.'

He did not
quip or laugh her off. It was obvious he could pick up on the
concern in her voice. He just waved her over.

'This is quite
hard to say – so I'm just going to say it all at once. I believe,
no, I know someone is going to try and kill you.'

The Prince did
not yelp with concern or ask her what the pleck she was talking
about, he just nodded solemnly.

She took a
breath.' It's the Colonel, I'm sure of it. I know that the
Colonel is planning to assassinate you.'

There, she'd
said it.

The Prince
nodded once more. 'I believe you, Abby, you don't seem the kind to
lie. But can you be sure?'

Abby nodded
her head so strongly she almost pulled a muscle in her neck. 'I
know it's him. Please believe me, your highness, I know he
wants you dead.'

Finally a
little colour seemed to drain from the Princes' cheeks. But he
still did not dismiss her, he simply turned around and stared out
at the city of Bridgestock below.

'I beg you to
leave the Palace, sir, you have to get the pleck away from here. I
know he's planning an assassination, but I don't
know when and I don't know how.'

'I see.'

'Please,
please just leave. He tried already with your sister and failed...
but I don't think he intends to fail with you.'

The Prince
nodded. 'My sister... I see.'

'Please
believe me. Please believe that the Colonel is capable of
this.'

The Prince
finally turned back to her. 'Oh, Abby, I believe that the Colonel
is capable of murder. I believe he would stop at nothing to have
this kingdom, nothing. But I also believe that, if as you say,
he has decided to move now – there is nothing we can do.'

Abby paled and
took a shuddering breath.

'The Colonel
is a man of powerful means,' the Prince continued evenly, 'there is
no one in Bridgestock more connected, nor more determined than he.
He would employ methods and tactics that I do not have available to
me. There is simply no where for me to run, Abby.'

Her heart was
actually sinking in her chest, it had to be, she
could feel it dropping through her rib cage. 'But there
has to be something. If you run away now, surely he won't be
expecting it. Surely there is a way? Can't you escape to the
Mountains? Or the South Islands? I'm sure even Elogia would take
you. There has to be a way!'

'I imagine
Elogia would be thrilled to support any kind of move destined to
weaken the Colonel, but I have no means of getting there. Abby,
nothing happens in this city that the Colonel does not learn
about, nothing. He has spies everywhere – in the palace, in
the ports, in the slumps. I know for a fact he has a Turn About
working for him. With fire power like that, Abby, I am destined to
lose, and I will not lose good men putting up a fight.'

'But, but you
have to go! If you die, it will be horrible. Bridgestock will
become the most horrendous, terrible place. Believe me, without
you, the future will be unbearable.'

'You sound
like you already know the future, Abby. Martha did say you were a
witch…' his voice was kind, 'my only counsel is this: there are
many events that add up to make the future.'

'No, you don't
understand,' she shook her head again, 'I know what will
happen if you are assassinated.'

'There is
nothing I can do.'

'Yes there
is!' Abby took a breath, 'you can try!'

The Prince
considered her for a moment. 'If only we were all as proactive as
you, Abby – the world would be a much better place,' the Prince
turned back towards the view, 'I'm afraid I believe in destiny
though. What should happen will happen. We must not get in the way
of what is meant to be.'

Something was
bizarrely familiar about this conversation. But before Abby could
push on, she spotted an object flying across the sky. She knew what
it was long before it landed on the roof.

Both Abby and
the Prince turned around to see the Head Crone demount from her
broom and sniff wildly. 'Thought you'd be up here,' the witch
walked up to the pair, continuing to sniff like a putting engine.'
Patrick,' she said by way of a greeting.

The Prince
nodded, a little surprised, but still polite.

'You better
come with me, young Abby,' the Crone walked right up to them,
'you'll be in trouble if you stay here any longer.'

Abby was
reeling from the quick change in circumstances. Things were
happening so fast at the moment. 'I… what?'

'Are you
telling me you still don't know? What a bad cat you have then,' the
Head Crone took a moment to glare at Charlie, 'I've been sending
warnings on the wind and with the birds for several days now! Has
that cat of yours still not told you?'

'About the
Colonel?' Abby managed to ask.

'Yes, about
the Colonel. And don't you be using that tone. You should be filled
with a good bit of worry when talking about him, my dear, he
has horrible plans and I'm afraid you might be featuring
in them, youngin.'

Abby swallowed
and tried to sniff but gave up and just swallowed again.

'So you come
along with me, youngin, because we don't have much time.'

'But where
will you take me?' Abby looked sideways at the Prince who was
watching with interest.

'Somewhere
safe. Don't you worry, the Colonel will have no idea.'

'I see,' Abby
nodded, 'then take him,' she pointed with a firm, witchly finger at
the surprised Prince.

The Crone
narrowed her eyes. 'What?'

'Take the
Prince. If you can take him somewhere safe, then do that. I'm
staying here.'

The Prince
began to splutter something about that being a horrible idea and
how Abby had to leave and save herself right away.

Both the Head
Crone and Abby ignored him. The Crone looked at Abby very keenly,
employing her fully-fledged withcly faculties to make the glare
pierce right into Abby's soul.

Abby held
it.

'No use in
spluttering, boy,' the Crone finally released Abby's gaze, 'she's
made up her mind. It seems this youngin is becoming a witch. She's
taking her destiny in hand. It might be best for everyone if we get
the pleck out of her way.'

Was that a
test? Had she just passed some kind of test?

The Prince
tried to complain, but after a stern talking to by the Crone, he
shut up.

'You do what
you have to, Witch of Bridgestock,' the Crone nodded at Abby one
last time before taking off with the rather surprised Prince in
hand.

Witch of
Bridgestock? Abby, Witch of Bridgestock... The Head Crone had
called her Witch of Bridgestock...

'Woah, Abby!
Stop staring off like that! We have company coming up those
stairs!' screamed Charlie suddenly.

The door to
the roof swung open and the Colonel walked out.

It was on.

He threw her
in prison. After all, what was one unarmed witch against a Colonel
and a Turn About?

She'd gone
quietly.

He'd walked
onto the roof with that man behind him, his whole presence dripping
with danger. He'd walked right up to her, but she had not flinched
once.

'Witch.'

'Colonel.'

'What have you
done with the Prince?' his voice was so bitter and clipped, it was
clear that he thought he was talking to the lowest form of
humankind.

'Taken him
away from you.'

He'd snarled
and the man behind him, the sallow-skinned, yellow-eyed Turn About
from the slumps, had smiled unnervingly.

What a
pair.

'I see. Or I
saw rather. I saw the old witch take the Prince away on a broom...
or did I see her kidnap him?' the Colonel cocked his head to the
side.

Abby
flinched.

'Or maybe I
saw her stab him in the back and throw him into the ocean from a
great height?'

'They'd never
find the body,' the Turn About spoke with little whips of his
tongue.

'Much easier
than actually killing him this,' the Colonel smiled.

Abby did not
flinch again. Keep on rolling past trouble like a stone tumbling
down the mountain, that’s what a witch should do. 'But the Crone
will send word and the Prince will come back one day. She'll take
him somewhere safe, but they will tell people – people will
know he's still alive and they'll know what you were planning.'

It was the
Colonel's turn to flinch.

'I admire your
indifference in the face of such a development, Colonel. But face
it, things have changed.'

'Elogian witch,' the Colonel's face had turned red, a fat,
ruddy red. 'you've made a move, I'll grant you that. But don't
think it will save you. You've given me a setback – but if you
think you can stop me altogether, you are wrong. I still have
the upper hand,' he nodded at the Turn About who snapped over to
Abby and grabbed her by the shoulders, 'and will use everything in
my power to achieve my goals.'

With every
moment Abby had to remind herself that she was the Witch
of Bridgestock.

The Turn
About's thin fingers dug into her arm like tight ropes and he
pulled her along after the Colonel.

'It's prison
for you, witch.'

Abby held her
head high, making brief eye contact with Charlie as he hid behind a
chimney stack.

The Colonel
may have had the upper hand, but she had two magical bracelets –
that had to be worth something.

As they walked
through the halls, staff and guests turning to see, Abby felt both
the bracelets clink in her pocket. They were not exactly heavy, but
she was still sure they were there.

~~~

The prison
cell was cold and damp. All prison cells were meant to be, after
all. Incarceration was not meant to be comfortable. It was meant to
be dark and smell of earth, like a freshly dug grave. Being locked
up was meant to remind one of the fragility of life. Prisoners be
damned.