“The first time you said the foulest thing you can say to a witch you were ignorant of what the words meant. If it happens again, I’ll know it’s on purpose.” She said, producing a dagger from within her cloak and holding it where he could easily see it. “And should it come to pass, you’ll deserve what comes after.” She returned the dagger within the recesses of her clothes and gave him a large friendly smile. “But I think we understand one another better now. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, yes we are.” He replied.

  “That makes me glad. It’s exciting being around you, your highness. Until you came along, I’d never been part of a calamity before. It’s getting late so I’m going to check on my brother. I’ll see both of you in the morning for breakfast.” Siouxsie turned about and as she walked back toward the gap in the rocks. Hoxley and the prince watched her making loud kissing noises as she did so. In response, a flock of bats came storming down out of the night air to surround her before nesting within her cloak once more.

  “They’re so strange.” said the prince.

  “Quite.” Agreed Hoxley. “None in all the lands are like their kind. And there’s something you should know about Ignatius.”

  “What’s that?” he asked. “Ignatius has a heart far bigger than himself. He cares not for his own safety as much as he cares for others. You’ve seen the silver pin he wears upon his cloak, yes? The one that looks like a buck’s head with antlers?”

  “Yes. None of the other witches I’ve seen wear one like it, not even his siblings.”

  “That’s because he earned that pin. You see, witches are not a very rich people when it comes to coin or jewelry, so to bear such a luxury is not for ego but a badge of pride.”

  “I don’t understand.” said the boy.

  “Do you remember three winters ago when the temperature dropped and every day was cold enough to freeze a person to death and the snow was knee deep for over one hundred days?”

  “I do.” Nodded the prince. “Our kingdom lost a dozen or so people to the terrible freezing cold.”

  “That winter hit the witches especially hard. They’ve always been scavengers and survivors who can live off very little when need be. But that winter, the food stores the witches managed to gather were quite meager. Even their best hunters could only bring back small birds and animals from the forests. As the winter went on, it began to look as though they all might starve to death. They had all the warmth and water they could manage, but without something to go in their stomachs, the outlook of the coven looked grim indeed.”

  “What happened?”

  “Ignatius happened. Siouxsie told me the story. She said that one morning her older brother left before dawn to hunt for deer.”

  “And he came home that night with one?”

  “No. he didn’t come home at all. For several days Ignatius Hex was missing and after the third many thought he had perished by freezing to death in the snow. But on the morning of the fourth day Ignatius returned to them on foot, his levitating broom heaped with numerous fresh deer carcasses. Robert said he looked like a ghost he was so pale and gaunt. But the deer meat sustained the people a little longer. Ignatius spent the night next to the fire, cleaning deer skins to wrap himself in before venturing out the next day. And again, he vanished into the wild with no word of where he was going or whether he would return. But a few days later, he returned again with even more meat. The food was rationed so that everyone could have some. And all winter long poor Ignatius braved a bleak and lonely coldness I don’t even want to think about just to feed his people. Because of Ignatius, Spellvale’s survival was ensured until spring. He never asked for thanks because he didn’t do it for the praise or appreciation. He did it to take care of his people and those he cared about. When spring came, the coven gathered to award him that silver pin as a gesture of their gratitude. As I said, the witches are not rich in silver so it means that much more. Any witch who sees that pin knows the story and shows him every courtesy. He’s a humble witch. Even if you ask him about it like I have he gives only the shortest answers and won’t offer the story himself.”

  “That’s really something profound.” Said the prince.

  “Indeed."

  "She’s correct." he said. "It’s getting late. You should try and get some rest before I wake you for your watch. And don’t worry, I’ll convey to the others you didn’t mean those sour words.”

  “I appreciate that, Hoxley but I should say so myself. It will mean more if it comes from me.”

  “That’s a very adult thing to do.” Hoxley smiled. “Goodnight, your highness.”

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  “Goodnight Hoxley.” He said walking away. He didn’t get but a few steps away before he stopped and looked back. “Do you think Ignatius can really do what he set out to accomplish?”

  “Of that I have no doubt.” she assured him. Prince Damron nodded and continued on before slipping through the gap in the rocks again once more. Hoxley, standing on her own, looked to the dark northeast, the direction Ignatius had traveled to return to Oldvale.

  “Hurry, Ignatius.” She said to no one. “Fly swift, for I think we’re in danger.”

  (Hours later)

  “They’re almost upon us! keep moving!” Hoxley shouted as she galloped across the grassy field still blanketed in morning dew. The rising sun to the east was blinding to the companions as they sprinted as fast as their legs could allow, like a race amongst mad people. Robert grumbled and groaned in his hammock strapped across the faun girl’s back.

  It was by luck that they’d managed to escape the rock formation in time. Just before sunrise Morell’s young sharp eyes caught a glimpse of movement to the north while on watch. By alerting Holey and the others, they managed to quietly and stealthily escape and move a little further south before Lord Baltus’ scouts starting volleying arrows.

  “This…this is madness!” Atticus huffed as he ran. “I thought the witch taking the crown away from the group would keep them…keep them from finding us!”

  “As did I!” said Hoxley. “Their net of scouts must be far wider than we thought!” Those in better health and longer limbs led the group with Loxo’s lean frame running full tilt at the lead. Prince Damron and Morell weren’t far behind him. Bringing up the rear were the aging soldier and tiny witch whose small legs and preference for flying as a primary means of travel didn’t offer the same staying power at running. Hoxley was able to aid Atticus with his burden of carrying Robert by slinging the hammock between her shoulders, but the old man’s constitution was dwindling fast. She could have stayed toward the front but couldn’t bear to watch the black clad girl fall from behind. Her hooves thundered upon the ground as she circled back and snatched Siouxsie by the scruff of the neck on her cloak. She lifted her and held her feet from the ground long enough to hurry to the front of the pack and set her down again.

  “Keep going!” Hoxley encouraged them. “We’re almost there!”

  “Almost where?” said Loxo, stopping for only a moment to catch his breath. “I don’t even know where I’m going!”

  “I know where we are!” “Hoxley shouted to him. “We have to make it over the next rise!”

  “Hoxley, look!” shouted Morell as he pointed somewhere far behind them. She turned to look and saw what had gotten his attention; horsemen. Ten mounted soldiers rode war horses hard and fast right at them. Stampeding hooves and sharp swords in the air were speeding instruments of death closing fast.

  “I…I can’t run much further at this pace.” Huffed Atticus. “No more running.” He said, pulling his sword as he came to a stop. “Better to fight here while we still have strength.”

  “We’re not stopping.” Hoxley told him. “We can’t outrun them, so we’ll make a gauged retreat once we’ve discouraged the horsemen. To arms!” she called to the others. Upon her command, swords and maces and daggers revealed themselves to gleam in the golden morning sunlight.

  “To arms!” Cried the others in unison.

  “Loxo!” She called to the pirate. “Carry Robert. I can’t defend myself, let alone him, if I can’t swing my weapon.

  “Mmmrnngghh.” Grumbled Robert. “No one is carrying me. I can fight.”

  “No, you can’t.” she told him. “You’re injured and need rest.”

  “I’m not going to get any rest if there’s warhorses running about. Put me down.” Hoxley did as he asked, unslinging the hammock so he could slide off her back half. Robert grunted in pain as his winklepickers touched down in the dew glossed meadow. It took a moment for the groggy boy to get his balance but once he did so, he raised his arms in a “V” to begin casting. White hot coiling spheres of fire levitated above his upturned palms. “I’ve never cooked a horse before.”

  “Everyone, stand nearby but keep space between yourselves!” Hoxley commanded. “Spread out! They can’t drive their horses over us if we don’t stand in a cluster! Prince Damron! Come to the center so they can’t pluck you off the edge of the group! They’ll likely try and scatter us by scaring us with their horses! Don’t be intimidated!”

  “Well said, Hoxley!” added Atticus. “Once they see that we’ll not be scared by their nags, they’ll likely surround us and then we’ll have them right where we want them! Ha ha!” Loxo noticed the frightened expression on Morell’s face and slapped him across the back of the shoulder.