Chapter Seven: Captured!

Heron and Wist spoke little as they rode towards Thelos, away from Evermorn's glade. The destruction they had witnessed there had felt more like a nightmare than reality, and nightmares are best forgotten. Spite such as Swenhild's neither had ever seen; it was tempting to believe even now that the witch's tantrum had been nothing more than a dreadful aftereffect of the wound she had suffered.

But Tormadeus had no such doubts.

"There were evil lords and ladies in Aligoth," he said grimly, "but this Swenhild is a match for any of them. I do not think there is anything she would shrink from doing if it served her purposes. Ride, Lady Wist, and you, Heron, as fast as you may! Don't let her catch you on this road!"

"She'll take the other way," said Heron. "The long road that she came by. She won't want to risk getting lost."

"Not necessarily," the demon answered. "You may be sure that she will want the chain. And she will strike sooner rather than later, since she has nothing to fear from you."

Wist added, "Blister is with her. Blister never gets lost."

They tried to hurry, but there were few stretches clear enough for the horses to gallop. Even though they had the advantage of being mounted while Swenhild's party was on foot they began to worry more and more about being pursued. Wist found herself urging her horse to greater and greater speeds even in the wilder and more treacherous parts of the road. Still she could not shake the feeling that the witch would be upon them at any moment.

One part of the road ran between a sheer rock face on one side and a steep hill on the other, which looked down to the Eldaran. The road surface was better here than in some parts, and Wist rode it pell-mell. Heron kept the pace, though he called to her sometimes to slow down. Then came a sharp corner. Ahead the road curved out of sight behind the rock wall.

Wist rounded the corner. Too late she saw that the road sloped away sharply in the very spot where a small spring made the surface slick and muddy. Her horse lost its footing and tumbled heavily. Wist landed hard on the verge of the road and rolled a little way down the slope towards the river. She had fallen clear of the horse, and so avoided being crushed, but once she had stopped rolling she did not move.

With a shout of concern Heron sprang from his saddle and rushed to his friend's side. Tormadeus was already there, visible.

"How is she? Is she hurt?" cried Heron.

"Not badly, I trust," answered the demon. "There are no bones broken. But we won't know for sure until she wakes up. I hope that the witch did not choose this road, or that she travels slowly. Even if Lady Wist is uninjured, a long delay could cost us our lead."

Heron frowned, and glanced over at Wist's horse, which was now clambering back to its feet. It apparently had suffered no hurt.

"Maybe we should tie Wist to her saddle and ride on slowly, to stay ahead," he suggested.

"No," Tormadeus replied. "I do not think it would be safe to move her. We shall just have to wait and hope."

Five minutes passed in which Wist did not stir. Her face had lost all colour; her breathing was fast and shallow. Heron sat grim-faced beside her with her hand in his. Tormadeus stood nearby, alert for any change in Wist's condition, but also watching the road behind them. Then a groan escaped Wist's lips. Her eyelids slowly opened. She put a hand to her head and groaned again.

"Oh, my goodness, what hit me?" she moaned feebly.

Gradually Heron came into focus above her.

"Oh!" The memory of the accident came rushing back all at once into Wist's mind. "The horse! Is it all right?"

"It's fine," Heron told her. "How are you?"

"Horrible," Wist replied. "I hurt everywhere. Is Tormadeus okay?"

"Naturally," said the demon, approaching. "I can fall off horses all day and be none the worse. But you must rise and travel, Lady Wist, if you can. We have lost precious time."

"Can't I rest a bit longer?" Wist pleaded. "I don't even know if I could stand up yet."

"Why not use your healing spell?" asked Heron.

Wist smiled faintly. "Good idea! But it only works on other people. Oh, well. Give me a hand, Heron. Maybe it'll be all right."

With Heron's help she struggled to her feet, and though her face was still pale, she was not too unsteady to walk. Slowly they made their way back to the horses, which Heron had tethered to a tree by the roadside.

"Help me up," said Wist. "I think I can ride if we take it easy."

But it was too late. Suddenly there was a sound of running footsteps, and a shape like a big black shadow came hurtling around the corner and was upon them before they could react.

Wist turned frantically to Tormadeus.

"Hide!" she ordered him. "Make yourself invisible!"

A strong hand seized her collar, and swung her roughly around.

"Blister!"

The tall woman snickered. She was not even out of breath.

"Wist! A pleasant surprise! What, were you just going somewhere? Tut, stay a while and chat, won't you? And by and by someone else will be along for you to meet. Won't that be nice?"

Heron had been standing motionless beside his horse during this speech, trying to make up his mind what to do. Now he ran - back up the road, towards Evermorn. Surely the sorcerer would not refuse to help. As for Swenhild, he could get past her. Perhaps he would hide behind a tree as she went by.

Alas, he was no match for Blister. With a hoarse laugh she tucked Wist under her arm and set off in pursuit of Heron, and caught him in half a dozen of her long strides.

"Now don't be shy!" she scolded him as she dragged both children back to where the horses were. "You're invited too, young man!"

Here for the first time she noticed Tormadeus. The demon was sitting casually on Wist's saddle facing backwards. Wist was shocked to find him visible after she had ordered him to vanish.

"I thought I - " she began. But Tormadeus quickly put his finger to his lips; she took the hint and stopped.

"Well, well!" exclaimed Blister. "What have we here? I think my mistress will be very interested to see you, little fellow! Yes, very interested! And look! Here she is!"

It was true. Just at that moment Swenhild rounded the corner at a rapid walk, her four hapless henchmen puffing along behind her. Wist at once noticed something strange about the witch's face - a snow-white marking the size of a hand that covered her forehead and part of one cheek. But there was not time to wonder about it. Swenhild took one look at the little scene that greeted her and uttered a shriek of delight.

"My faithful Blister!" she cried. "Good work, good work!" She bent down close over Wist so that their noses almost met. "Hello, my dear! Wist, isn't it? Now what is it you are going to give me, Wist? Is it a chain?"

The monkey creature had appeared from somewhere to sit on the witch's shoulder. It chittered angrily when Wist replied, "Nothing. I'm not giving you anything."

But Swenhild said, "If I had the whole use of my power, little Wist, I would turn you into a grasshopper for saying that. Luckily for you, even the magic of our good friend Master Evermorn has not made me all I once was. So I will just do - this!"

Suddenly she lashed out at Heron, who was close by her left hand. Her bony fist struck him full in the face. Heron cried out, and blood began to pour from his nose.

"His face was already ugly," Swenhild remarked coolly, smirking at the horror on Wist's face. "Shall I make it uglier still? Or will you give me the chain?"

Numbly Wist reached for the clasp on the golden chain. Swenhild leered at Tormadeus.

"Meet your new boss, pipsqueak," she said. The demon bared his lips in a snarl but he was overmatched and knew it. Then he vanished as Wist removed the chain. Swenhild took it and put it around her own neck.

"Now we shall see what we shall see!" she muttered as she fastened the clasp. "If this works - " She broke off abruptly to exclaim in an awed voice, "Well, great toads and trouble! Will you look at that?"

She put her hand out in front of her and touched the chain-demon's knee. His head loomed high above her - as far from the ground as the roof of a tall house. His legs were as thick as tree trunks, his body as solid and strong as a castle tower. "Greetings, mistress!" he boomed in a voice that rocked the very hills. "My name is Tormadeus. How may I serve you?"

"Ha, ha!" crowed Swenhild. "How may you serve me? A good question, slave! First I will make a trial of your strength. Do you see yonder great tree?"

"Aye, mistress!"

The tree was a beautiful old oak not far from the road, gnarled, massive, and twice as tall as the demon himself.

"Pluck it!" commanded Swenhild.

A short step brought Tormadeus to the tree. He bent to grasp its lowest branches, and pulled smoothly upwards, no strain showing on his golden face. The earth at the base of the tree bucked and heaved, then gave way, and the roots came free. Where the tree had stood there was now a deep pit in the ground. Beside it Tormadeus held the great oak high over his head in his two hands. Even Swenhild gaped.

But she recovered quickly enough, and her gloating smile was wider than ever as she shouted, "Now hurl it into the river!"

The River Eldaran was a long bowshot distant, even allowing for its being downhill. Tormadeus eyed his target, and the muscles bunched in his arms, legs and back. His face showed concentration but not doubt as he made his throw.

The tree seemed to fly from his hands. High above their heads it sailed, then higher, till it seemed that it would never come down. It was the wrong shape for flying - too awkward and wide with its crown of long branches, and its straggling roots dragging behind like a bushy tail - but the strength of the throw made up for that: it flew like a stone from a sling.

Then it fell, ever so slowly and, after what seemed like minutes, though it was much less, it dropped with a splash into the middle of the river.

Heron and Wist turned from the spectacle to look at each other in mingled awe and horror. Tormadeus' new power surpassed anything they had imagined. What evil scheme was beyond Swenhild with a servant like that? But they had other concerns as well.

Still grinning fiercely Swenhild turned to her new assistant.

"What shall we do with the brats, Blister my dear?" she inquired. "Have you any ideas?"

"Kill them now," suggested Blister. "Voltan doesn't have enough money to pay a decent ransom, and the same goes for the boy's mistress. There's no use keeping them alive."

"Hmm, perhaps you are right," the witch said thoughtfully. "But we won't kill them quite yet. I have a little idea as to how they might turn out to be useful when we get to Thelos. Just tie them up, Blister. But don't make the knots too obvious - it wouldn't do to make a stir as we ride through the streets."

"No?" answered Blister. She pointed at Tormadeus. "What about him then?"

"Yes," Swenhild agreed. "We should save him up to be a surprise, shouldn't we? For tonight."

With a little sigh of regret she undid the chain and the demon disappeared. Meanwhile Blister tied Wist and Heron at the wrists, being careful to conceal her handiwork by drawing up their cloaks over the knots. Wist scowled, partly to conceal her fear, partly in anger, partly in pain from the tight knots.

None of that was enough to keep her silent.

"What do you mean, for tonight?" she asked Swenhild. "What are you going to do tonight?"

"I'm going to have a rehearsal," replied the witch, "for a show that I am planning. There is a city called Tumbol, child, have you heard of it?"

Wist shook her head, but Heron said, "The capital of Eladeria, isn't it?"

"Ha, ha, clever boy - for all the good it will do you! Yes, the capital of Eladeria! It is a large city, as large as Thelos itself."

"Well, what of it?" asked Wist.

"Rude girl! But I will tell you. It is hard to destroy a city like that, child, even for someone like me. But that is what I will do - destroy Tumbol, and everyone in it! I will smash the palace to its foundations then grind the ruins to powder! I will find King Theobald, that feeble-minded old fool, and while his family watches I will hack off his legs and his arms, and finally his head! Insolent Prince Corbold I will turn into a spider; he will live out his days in a glass jar beside my throne! Princess Julia shall be my slave, and catch flies for her brother to eat! It will be fun, I assure you! They will regret most sorely that they crossed paths with me! But to destroy a city takes more than magic - it takes power, power even I do not have. But I have found it! And where? Why, around your silly neck, little Wist, in this golden chain! Tonight I will test my power! Tonight Thelos falls! Ha-ha-ha!"

Pale, trying not to shake, Wist struggled with her horror and fear as the witch's mad, gleeful laughter rang out and for a long minute did not stop. But she managed at last to ask, "Why? Why do you want to destroy whole towns, thousands of people?" An image of Aligoth, deserted and depressing, flashed into Wist's mind as she thought of what destroying a town really meant. And Swenhild would go even further, not stopping until every trace of Thelos, and then of Tumbol, had been wiped out. "Why?" she asked again. "Can't you imagine how sad it would be?"

Swenhild scowled.

"You remind me of another nasty little girl I once met," she hissed. "And in the end she will suffer as you will, or worse! But your turn will come first! Now, let us be on our way! I am in no temper for idle prattle!"

So saying she started abruptly down the road, leaving it for Blister and the four men to follow as best they could. Blister walked between the two horses, holding fast to the reins. Robon and his three fellows marched stiffly along behind; it was impossible to say how much or how little they knew of what was happening around them.

By the time they came to the fork north of the gate, and then passed into Thelos, the afternoon was declining into evening. The streets were less busy in this part of the town than they had been earlier, as most people were either in their homes or at an inn for the evening meal.

For a long time none of the party had spoken. Now, as they were getting deeper into Thelos Swenhild said, "We'll need a place to work from. Let's not choose a hovel, though. Where do the rich folk live?"

"In the west part of the town," answered Blister, "there is a well-to-do neighbourhood. It isn't too far."

"Good," her mistress replied. "Let us go there then."

They turned west at the next street. Before they had gone very far they came upon a man and a woman dressed in travelling clothes riding in the opposite direction. Besides their own horses they led two others with empty saddles.

By now the streets were shadowy, so that it was not until they had nearly passed them by that Heron and Wist suddenly recognized the travellers.

"Yinna! Voltan!" they cried, almost together. And Wist added, "Help us! Please help us!"

Swenhild's face darkened with displeasure at this unlooked for interruption, but she halted, and signalled to Blister to do the same.

"Well, what's all this about?" she asked gruffly. And turning to Blister she asked, "Do you know these people?"

Voltan answered on Blister's behalf.

"Oh, slightly, slightly," he said in an amiable way. "That's you, Wist, isn't it? And your friend Heron. Well, well. And Blister! You have found our stray apprentices, I see! Are you even now on your way to Grey Garland Hall?"

"Now, see here, you," said Swenhild sharply. "There's some mistake here. Blister is my servant, and these children are my apprentices, not yours! Be off with you!"

"Oh, don't listen to her Voltan, don't listen to her!" cried Wist in alarm. "She kidnapped us, and Blister has tied our hands. She's a witch! She wrecked Evermorn's glade, and she's going to destroy Thelos, tonight, if..."

"Enough of your lies!" shouted Swenhild. "Children!" she said to Voltan in an exasperated voice. "They let their imaginations run wild, sometimes! As for you, sir, if you dispute my claim to these apprentices, I suggest you consult a lawyer."

"Hmm. I suppose I'd be willing to let you have Wist," replied Voltan slowly. "She did run away from me, after all." He turned to Yinna. "What about young Heron?" he inquired. "I don't suppose you'll be wanting to make any trouble on his account?"

Yinna yawned, and scratched her cheek with the back of her hand. She seemed to find the whole conversation boring.

"Let him make his own way," she said. "I don't care much for runaways."

"Good, good. Very sensible of you both!" exclaimed Swenhild. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we simply must run! Come along, children!"

Blister immediately began to lead them away, only too eager to escape Voltan's company. Wist eyes were full of tears as she cried out, "Oh, Voltan! Voltan! Save us!"

But Voltan only said, "Come now, Wist. Don't be a crybaby. I hope you are happy in your new life."

With that, he and Yinna started off again, and did not so much as cast a backward glance at their former apprentices.

Soon Swenhild's party came to the neighbourhood Blister had mentioned. The witch did not take long about selecting a fine big house to accommodate them, one with stout doors and heavy locks. She marched confidently up the front steps with Blister at her side and knocked loudly.

A servant answered, a round little man in a red uniform. Swenhild nodded to Blister, who knocked the unfortunate fellow out with one punch. They trooped inside. A man and a woman appeared, apparently the owners of the house. Blister dealt with the man; the woman made the mistake of letting Swenhild look into her eyes for an instant too long. She slumped to the floor beside her husband.

When these three were tied up Blister locked them in a broom closet, then went through the house looking for further inhabitants. There were none. The house was Swenhild's.

"Find a room where you can lock up the brats," the witch said when Blister returned. "Make sure they're not going to get loose. Then meet me in the kitchen. I'm starving, and we have plans to make."

Outside it was nearly dark. In the shadows on the other side of the street two figures stood, and spoke in low, worried tones. One was a sorcerer in a brown cloak. The other was a thief, and wore black.

By the time the lamplighter came around to light the street lights a few minutes later, the two had departed again. Within the house, Swenhild the witch went on with the preparations for her night of destruction.