The First Witch Chapter 7
By Eric Marsh
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Chapter Seven.
The Witch’s Cottage.
Back at the campsite, Jasmine and Emdan slid down from Das’s back. Jasmine set the dragon‑skin box carefully beside the campfire and removed her helmet.
For a long moment they simply stared at the box.
“What do we do now?” asked Emdan. “Open it?”
“No!” shouted Jasmine and Das together.
Das sniffed the box cautiously. “There is very powerful magic inside,” he said. “I’m not sure either of you should touch it again. I’ll carry it to the Witch.”
He reached out and tapped the box gently with one claw. Nothing happened.
“Is it really dragon skin?” asked Jasmine.
Das nodded. “And I know whose it was.” His voice grew sad. “Many, many years ago, Great‑great‑grandfather A, ” He stopped. “Let’s call him Arthur. Not his real name, but it will do. When Arthur grew very old, he went… odd. He left the Islands and lived near a human city. And there he did something terrible. He began to eat people.”
Emdan blinked. “But I thought dragons did eat people.”
Das shook his head firmly. “No. People only think that because of Arthur. No self‑respecting dragon would ever eat human flesh. For a start, it tastes disgusting.” He added quickly, “Or so I’m told. Anyway, the people of the city brought him victims until they grew tired of it. Then they sent for a famous knight, Graham, Gordon, George, something like that. I can never remember his name.”
Jasmine and Emdan exchanged a look.
“By then Arthur was nearly dead,” Das continued. “His fire had gone out, and the human flesh had poisoned him. He was almost blind. The knight killed him easily. The people rejoiced. That night the dragons came from the Island to take Arthur’s body home. You can imagine their horror when they found a great patch of skin missing. They searched for years, but never found it.”
He looked at the box with deep sorrow. “If the Witch allows it, I will take this box back to the Island, to rest with the rest of Arthur.”
“I hope she’s in a good mood,” said Jasmine.
A rustling in the bushes made all three jump.
Aldan stepped out, grinning. “You really ought to keep a better lookout. You never know who might be sneaking up on you.”
“I thought you’d gone back to the Castle,” said Emdan.
“I tried,” said Aldan. “But the others insisted on coming back to rescue you from the dragon. You seem to be more popular than you thought.”
Emdan shook his head. “I doubt it.”
“Anyway,” Aldan went on, “they’re not far behind me. I suggest you leave in the next few minutes.” He turned to Jasmine. “And I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to send a message to your parents yet.”
“Come on,” said Emdan. “Das can carry us both again.” He blushed. “If you don’t mind, Das.”
Jasmine frowned. “I don’t see why you need to come. It was Das and me the Witch sent.”
Emdan stepped back from the dragon. “I have to come. You’re wearing my father’s armour, and I’d like to return it to him.”
“Oh no,” groaned Das. “Here they go again.”
“There’s no time for arguing,” said Aldan. “Both of you, on the dragon. Now.”
Jasmine sniffed, a very un‑princess‑like sound, and climbed onto Das. Emdan followed.
“What about the carriage?” he called.
“I’ll see it gets back to the Castle,” said Aldan. “Now go, or you’ll be dodging arrows.”
Das didn’t hesitate. He leapt into the air and flew south.
He landed in the field near the Witch’s cottage. As always, the rooks erupted into furious screeching. Jasmine and Emdan climbed down. Before they could reach the path, Calizone appeared.
“You took your time,” she snarled. “I’ve been watching you. Now give me the box.”
Das held it tightly. “Not until I get my scale back.”
“How do I know you’ll hand over the box if I give you the scale?” Calizone demanded.
“Dragons always keep their word,” said Das calmly. “But I have one request.”
“What?” Calizone snapped.
“That when you have opened it and taken what you want, you return the box to me. If the Royal Dragons discover you have it, they will burn you and your cottage to a crisp.”
“So be it,” said Calizone. She threw the scale onto the grass. “Here. I keep my word.”
Jasmine and Emdan stared at Das, astonished by his courage.
Calizone turned to them. “Well now. And who do we have here?”
She strode to Emdan and took his chin in her hand. He found he couldn’t move.
“He is Prince Emdan,” said Jasmine quickly.
Calizone nodded. “The offspring of Prince Aidan and Princess Emma.” She peered into his face. “Your father’s looks, your mother’s brains.” She released him and he stepped back quickly.
She turned to Jasmine. “A fine suit of armour you’ve acquired. Shadow‑people armour. And lined with their cloth too. I thought I had the only supply outside the Shadow Lands. Interesting.”
Emdan stammered, “I have a cloak made of it, so you can’t put a spell on me either.” He wrapped the cloak around himself.
Calizone chuckled. “We shall see. Now, the important thing. The box. Dragon, hand it over.”
Das placed the box on the grass. Calizone pulled on her gloves and reached for it, then yelped and snatched her hand back.
She tried again. And again. Each time she recoiled as if stung.
“You, Princess,” she snapped. “Pick it up.”
Jasmine stepped forward and lifted the box. Even through the armour she felt a faint tingling in her fingertips.
“Carry it into the cottage and put it on the table,” ordered Calizone.
Jasmine walked up the path. Emdan followed.
“You don’t need to come,” Jasmine called over her shoulder.
“Yes, I do,” said Emdan. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you. And besides, I want to see what’s inside.”
“On your own head be it,” said Calizone.
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