(AUTHORS NOTE:) Merry Christmas to all my readers! Now on with the story!

  “Indeed.” Ignatius assured him. “It waits fifty feet above the temple suspended midair as I’ve lashed it to Siouxsie’s broom. Now that you’re here, we’ll retrieve it. Come everyone, I’ll take you there now.” He beckoned, stepping backward into the open.

  “Is it safe?” asked Loxo.

  “Quite safe.” He said. “I’ve been canvassing the greater area to keep watch for Lord Baltus’ men.” The companions each took an extra careful glance to the left and right before stepping out. It felt good to step into the sunlight and feel the warmth upon their skin. They only got a few steps out before Ignatius noticed that Morell was riding Hoxley and had a makeshift bandage about a shoeless foot. With it, he also noticed the medicinal gum on Hoxley’s forehead. “What’s happened here?” Ignatius asked Hoxley, pointing to her head.

  “A scratch.” She said, looking away. “Nothing more.”

  The witch didn’t look convinced. “And Morell’s foot?”

  “I tripped over a snake hole on the plain while we were fighting the horsemen.” Offered the boy. Hoxley grimaced at his words as she knew the next words to come from the silver haired witches mouth.

  “What horsemen?”

  “Oh, you should have seen it, Ignatius!” spewed Loxo as he waved his arms to gesticulate with his account “It was a grand battle on the plains outside Steelbrair! Our small but mighty band was beset on all sides by ten, no twenty ferocious and evil horsemen! They tried to run us down but thanks to the fearless leadership of brave Hoxley, we stood our ground and vanquished them all! There were clashings of steel and stomping of hooves, danger on all sides, I say! And you should be most proud of your brother Robert as he dispatched half of them with fiery hell! I even managed to best a handful myself! It was a raucous melee unlike anything I’d ever seen!”

  “Is this true?” Ignatius asked Hoxley, looking even more concerned now.

  “It is.” She nodded. “We were caught in the open. We tried to outrun them, but ten horsemen surrounded us, and we were forced to fight to keep them from taking Prince Damron.”

  “I thought you said there were twenty.” The witch asked Loxo.

  “Oh, ten, twenty, fifty-five, who can really say? What’s important to the story is that we were outnumbered by at least five to one and we still won the day!”

  “Ten?” Ignatius asked Hoxley.

  “Ten” she replied.

  “Ten is still a lot. I’m relieved you’re all well.”

  “The prince tackled a horse!” Siouxsie gushed. “A stampeding man was set on trampling Atticus and Hoxley and Prince Damron threw himself between them to knock the horse on its ass, blickity-blam!” Ignatius face twisted with confusion.

  “He tackled a horse?”

  “It’s true!” offered Atticus. “Saw it with my own eyes! He jumped into the path of a charging horse and that special shield of his clobbered a horse covered in war armor! Bravest thing I ever saw!” Ignatius looked to the prince.

  “Special shield or not, if that horse had crushed you into the dirt, then all of our efforts would be for nothing.” He said. “Well done, but you can never do such a thing again.”

  “I understand.” Said the prince. “I only did it because I thought it was the right thing to do.”

  “Then you’re closer to earning that crown, I suppose. Come, I’ve collected a bounty of nuts and berries. There was even a lone gumfruit tree so we can harvest the nutmeats. Let’s go. When we get inside, I may even be able to help Morell with his foot.” The idea of more food sounded appealing, and the party walked a little faster. And just as Siouxsie had said, Oldvale came into view. Even in daytime with a clear sun shining it seemed a desolate place. Upon closer inspection, the remains of the temple somehow looked tired. As if the very rock had given up hope of being rebuilt and could collapse upon itself. It seemed sad and lonely, looking pitiful for an inanimate thing stripped of its dignity and waiting to die. Hoxley tried not to think about it.

  “Oldvale, eh?” asked Atticus “I haven’t been here in years. I camped just inside the threshold there. I think the place is haunted.”

  “Haunted?” asked Morell

  “I heard whispers the whole night through. There were voices in the walls.”

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  “Perhaps the souls of the fallen.” Ignatius pondered. “I can’t believe there wouldn’t be something of them left behind. Perhaps it’s the spirit of the lightning witch.”

  “The lightning witch?” asked Loxo. “She sounds divine, but I can’t say I’ve heard of her.”

  “She was a powerful witch hundreds of winters ago.” Siouxsie excitedly told him. “Legends say she was immortal and when she got old, she would reform as a lovely maiden and live her next life. On the night of the Dark Harvest, she vanished and her spirit hasn’t been seen since…”

  “Since what?”

  “Since her.” Said Ignatius. “Siouxsie is the first witch to cast lightning in over five hundred years. All other witches are wind and fire.”

  “Perhaps you’re the reincarnation of the spirit.” said the prince.

  “That can’t be.” She said. “I don’t remember any past lives, and I don’t remember being old. How can I be the lightning witch if I can barely contain it? I’m still learning to cast without hitting people I care about. No, the Lightning witch vanished but she hasn’t died. She’ll reappear one day. The legends say that the Lightning Witch was a scion of abundance and prosperity, and none of that has come to pass since I’ve been alive. I hope she’ll return to us. I believe she must if our people are to survive.” Siouxsie said as kicked a patch of weeds. “She could make this land fertile again, make it give forth abundance again.”

  “When is she supposed to return?” asked the pirate

  “No one can say.” Answered Ignatius. “There was a prophecy that said: When the bad winds blow and the dead fire burns, the white vision will split the sky to herald her return. And when doom bears its teeth and hope has lost its sight, her voice will call all colors to reunite.”

  “A riddle?” asked Morell “I can’t fathom what the answer could be.”

  “None can.” Said Ignatius. “For five hundred years, witchly scholars have wracked their brains to find its meaning or perhaps uncover a clue that could hasten the time in which she will come back and guide us. There are also prophecies that say she’ll fly without aid of a broom.”

  “That’s how we should know it’s nonsense.” Robert finally said from his hammock. “Nobody flies without a broom.”

  “That’s very true.” Said Ignatius. “However, you won’t be one of those walking much longer, brother.”

  “Why’s that?” he asked.

  “During the time I had alone to wait and watch I made the effort to fashion you a new broom.”

  “You did???!” erupted Robert. “Atticus! Put me down, put me down! Let me out!” His frantic shifting almost tilted the old man off his feet.

  “Alright, alright.” Atticus told the boy. “Quit squirming or I’m going to drop you!”

  “Fine! Drop me if you have to, just let me out!”

  “Alright alright,” the man said, lowering the writhing bundle of black to the grass. Robert popped out of the hammock and quickly collected the straps to attach them to his clothes once more. “Gracious,” He huffed. “If I’d known you still had all this strength earlier I wouldn’t have carried you those last twenty hills.” Robert practically sprinted to his brother to throw his arms around him.

  “Where is it?” Robert begged him. “Please let me have my new broom!”

  “It’s at the temple.” Ignatius told him, peeling the eager black mass off his waist.

  “Where in the temple?”

  “On the upper level in the eastern corner. Bring back your sisters as well.” he said, handing Robert his own broom.

  “Thank you, thank you, I will!” and before anyone could react, the witch was already mounting it and launching himself skyward.

  “He certainly has a sudden abundance of strength for someone recovering from being shot with an arrow.” Remarked Loxo.

  “He’s elated to get a broom of his own. I would wager a silver coin that he’ll be sorry later when he’s sore from frolicking with a healing flank wound.” Ignatius assured him. Across the field they walked, the ground giving way to dust plumes from every hoof and footfall.

  “It’s so dry here.” Remarked the prince. “Why is that, Ignatius?”

  “Oddly, that too has a tie to the lightning witch, your highness. Long ago when our kind needed rain for crops the white witch would begin casting but never call the lightning. The collected clouds would grow so swollen and full that they would ultimately deluge upon the land bring the needed rain to the fields. Without her aid the land remains dry and barren. There seems to be a curse upon the land that without her presence nothing can grow.”

  “And is there no way of summoning her?” asked Morell.