The Unfortunates

Part 20

Idril gently laid the smoking gnome on the old woman's table. The home was small yet comfortable, everything made of wood, woven grass or leather. Something slightly magical lingered about the place, setting Idril slightly on edge. What if this magical feeling wasn't friendly?

The old woman tutted quietly. She pulled out a small pair of spectacles and examined Mayabelle up and down, prodding her skin gently. 

"This won't do at all," the old woman said, stepping back and taking off the spectacles. 

"She's not..." Idril fought back tears, "dead?" she choked out. 

The old woman rested two fingers on Mayabelle's neck. "Not yet," she said, grimly, "but close."

"Can you make her better?" questioned Ember, gruffly. Idril could tell she was trying not to cry in front of the old woman.

"Perhaps I can," the old woman said, a bit more optimistically. 

"How do we know we can trust you," asked Ember, a bit sharply. At first, the woman looked surprised. Then she seemed to understand. She nodded.

"I suppose you have been through a rough time, haven't you? Well, my name is Maria Wisperwillow, or as some know me, Old Witch Whispers."

Idril started, instantly recognizing the old woman's name. She had learned a song about her and her quest to slay the Dobblesburry Demon. The woman's bravery and talent was fairly famous, some might even call her legendary. Whispers seemed to notice Idril's recognition, smiling and nodding her head. 

"Ember," said Idril in a hushed voice, "I trust her." Ember seemed uncomfortable still, but nodded and stepped into the shadows slightly to give the woman room. 

Idril watched as the old witch bumbled around her house, picking up a bottle of colored liquid here and bowl of crushed leaves there. Finally, with her arms laden with various substances she stopped at Mayabelle's table. In a few minutes, a cauldron full of bubbling lavender potion was smoking away as she mixed it with a long stick, chanting some sort of song.

"Lights from the east, winds from the west, green of the holly, a red raven's breast, glimmer of moondust, shimmer of old, alighten your magic again."

Scooping a ladle full of the bubbling brew, Whispers brought it to Mayabelle's lips. Her small body began to shake, her eyes glowed bluish white, she levitated off the table. Ember rushed angrily forward, but was stopped by Whispers' hand as it raised. Loudly, she started chanting in another eerie language. Wild wind rushed around the cabin, filling it with the same bluish light, blowing everyone's hair, twisting their robes and dresses around them, raising bottles and books off their shelves and illuminating every corner. 

Fear gripped Idril as a horrible black figure raised out of the gnome, a dark flaming figure which shrieked in its' horrible piercing voice. Up raised one of Whispers' hands, raising the thing further and further out of Mayabelle, her chant growing louder then, suddenly as everything had come, silence fell. 

Mayabelle drifted back onto the table, landing gently. The light and wind rushed out the open windows, the screaming had stopped. A peaceful expression descended upon Mayabelle's face. Idril and Ember breathed a sigh of relief. Whispers picked up a cup of water that sat on the counter and poured it slowly into the gnomes' mouth. Idril patted her friends' hair and Ember gripped her hand gently.

"Dearest?" the old woman said, in a hushed, gentle voice, "can you hear me?"

Slowly, Mayabelle's eyes fluttered open.