“Oh, my apologies, was I interrupting your rest?” Loxo asked with feigned shock. “My apologies, my apologies.”

  “You should have told me.” Ignatius said to Hoxley. “I could have done something.”

  “There’s nothing that can be done.” she said, keeping her eyes on the blade as she hacked further. “Fresian’s heart is cold and unfeeling. Leave him to his own path and he’ll eventually get what’s coming to him.”

  “One day he’ll pull that club of his on someone more skilled than him and they’ll put him in the dirt.” Added Atticus. “No matter how strong or skilled you are, there’s always at least one person out in the world who is bigger or more skilled.”

  “I wouldn’t be scared of him at all.” Said Loxo. “Why even a large centaur is no match for a master swordsman.”

  “That kind of thinking is a quick way to find an early grave, Sir.” Atticus said. Siouxsie opened her cloak a little and held the blood slicked tooth above the flap while making a whispering noise. Morell in turn watched in amazement as a tiny white bat emerged from within, took the tooth and disappeared back into the folds of the witches’ clothes.

  “Now don’t try and eat that.” she told the bat. “Just put it in a pouch for later.” A reply came in the form of two small squeaks.

  “How do you get them to do that?” Morell asked.

  “Quite a bit of training.” Siouxsie said, looping her arm through his to walk side by side. “Tell me what happened in the dungeon. I bet it was scary. Were you frightened?”

  “Of course, I was!” he said. “It was terrifying!” Ahead of them, Hoxley made a few more wide swings before the undergrowth and brushes cleared a path to open land.

  “There.” She said to the others as she peered to the east. “Everyone, stay low. We need to keep our silhouettes from breaking the horizon, otherwise scouts may see us.”

  “See that? That’s a good tactic.” Atticus told the prince. “I taught her that.” The companions followed her orders and hunched down to stay hidden behind the hill at the crest of the cliffs. Occasionally Hoxley would pop her head up to see if anyone was watching only to drop it back down. It didn’t take long to reach open land before they came upon a tree line. The whole group sprinted in and didn’t slow down until the last of them was out of the open. Inside the grassy grove with the thick canopy, they moved silently.

  “I can take my brother back if you’re tired of carrying him.” Ignatius told Atticus.

  “I don’t mind if you don’t.” The bushy grey eyebrows and wooleyworm moustache replied. “He doesn’t weigh anything at all. I think he’s cute as a button sleeping like that. tell you what, let’s let him sleep and if I get tired later you can have him back.”

  “As you wish.” Said Ignatius.

  “I can’t honestly remember the last time I was around any witches.” The soldier confessed. “Your type tends to keep to yourselves. I’d see one of you flying overhead one or twice a season. And I can’t say I’ve ever ventured anywhere near Spellvale.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “It’s a nice place.” Said Ignatius. “We always accept those who enter with open minds to our customs. We don’t try to convert anyone to our ways. But a word of warning; those who enter to subvert or take advantage of us seldom leave unscathed.”

  “That sounds like a fair exchange.” The man reflected. “Perhaps one day I’ll take a chance to visit.”

  “Any of us would happily receive you.” Ignatius smiled. Everyone stopped as Hoxley froze in her tracks and hissed to quietly get everyone’s attention.

  “Scouts!” she whispered sharply while swinging her arm in a wild arc. “Scatter! Hide!” Atticus gently laid his dark bundle behind a tree and laid flat with the others while Siouxsie and Ignatius mounted their brooms and jetted into the tree tops high overhead. At first, no one saw them. Morell couldn’t see a thing at all.

  “Who are we hiding from?” He whispered to the soldier. Atticus replied by putting a finger over his lips for the boy to be quiet before pointing far into the distance by a cluster of trees.

  “There. A hundred paces out near the thicker part of the grove. Four men. A scouting party trying to find us.”

  “How did you see them?”

  “You have to know what you’re looking for. Be still and be quiet. If we’re lucky, they’ll pass us by.” The tall, wild grass of the grove offered some concealment. Hoxley contorted her lower half to lay as flat as possible. It’s not always easy to hide half a hooved animal when you need to and Hoxley hoped the elevation of her horns didn’t give her away. No one moved. The scouts advanced cautiously, stalking their way across the grove. Two walked with swords while another two held bows nocked and at the ready. Closer they moved, closer. The prince’s fist tightened around the tough straps of his shield as Morell brought his mace around to rest under his chin. Loxo unsheathed his sword but held it down at his side. Swaying trees heralded cool breezes to ruffle their hair. The black pile of clothing next to them began to stir.

  “Wha-what’s happening?” asked Robert, still lying in a huddled ball

  “Scouts.” Said Atticus. “Be silent.”

  “Where’s Siouxsie?” he asked.

  “She and your brother are watching from overhead.”

  “I should be with her.” He started to move, pulling at the straps of his hammock. “She’s going to need me to-“

  “Stay where you are.” Said Atticus, placing a firm hand upon Robert’s chest to keep him still. “You’re going to draw attention to us.”

  “Old man…” Robert growled. ”If you don’t take your hand off me this second, I’m going to cook you from the inside out-“

  “Master Robert.” Loxo interjected, scotting close enough to continue to speak in whispers. “He’s quite right. We need to stay hidden until they pass, or we’ll all be in danger.” The eyes glistening just inside the shadow of the brimmed hat looked to the pirate before switching to the soldier then back again. He winced in pain and mumbled something unintelligibly foul before the eyes closed and he fell silent once more. The scouts drew closer.

  Hoxley tried to remain motionless as she watched but felt more vulnerable lying still than taking a defensive stance. By chance, a large tree was nearby and she angled her head diagonally so that her horns were hidden behind the trunk. Anxious fingers grasped the spear to her side. The scouts were fifty paces away, each of them honing their senses to catch a hint of the presence of those they pursued. Whether it was their intent to engage them or simply report back to their commanders was irrelevant. If they encountered any of the companions, none of them could be allowed to leave the grove. Thirty paces, twenty. Hoxley’s mouth and tongue felt dry, her stomach turned a little as her nerves twisted inside her. A tight grasp pulled the spear close to her chest.

  “If I get up, you stay here.” Atticus whispered to Robert. “You’re in no condition to fight.”

  “Mmurrmmph.” Robert moaned.

  “Well, I for one am not going to just lay here and wait for them to trip over us.” Said Loxo, lowering his hands to push himself up.

  “Pirate, don’t you dare.” hissed Atticus. “We have the element of surprise on our side.”

  “Oh, fiddles and pish.” Said Loxo as he stood up and started walking north to draw their attention. “Ahoy there, warthog pizzles! who wants a fancy pirate for a prisoner!?” Hoxley watched in horror from her hiding place as Loxo unraveled every bit of their stealth in a single blast of his obnoxious voice. What happened faster than that was the speed in which the first archer pulled his string and loosed and arrow in his direction. “YOU’Ll have to come and capture me if you- ahhh!” he squalled as the arrow caught him square in the coin purse, spilling his coins in the grass. Hoxley’s eyes shot back at the scouts. The two with bows advanced as one of them pointed back the direction they’d come and ordered the fourth man away.

  “The scout!” cried Prince Damron. “He’s running back to reveal our position!”

  “Not if I can help it.” Said Atticus assuredly. The burly body jumped up to its feet with the vigor of a younger man, a lean spear in his hand. With a flip of the wrist, he grabbed the spear with the tip facing the bottom of his fist, raised it back behind his shoulder, took a stutter step, and heaved the weapon long and far through the air. Seeing the big man reveal himself, a pair of arrows cut the air. They might’ve struck home on the big target if not for the prince intervening to thrust his shield in front of Atticus’ torso.