Witch Hollow and the Dryad Princess: Witch Hollow, #3

By I.D. Blind

Eric is on his deathbed.
Cassandra is heartbroken.
Jack is entangled in a love triangle.
Dinah is forced into a marriage.

These are the minor problems that the young residents of Hollow have to deal with. The Hunters are back in the town, and the Council is plotting another witch hunt.

To find a way to fight back against the Hunters, the young people will have fly to Walachia and receive advice from their wizard grandfather. Things become worse when three mysterious girls begin to mar the witches’ plans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: I.D. Blind
• Release date: Apr 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513065113

Book preview

Contents

1. Weird Dreams

2. Predetermination

3. Parting

4. Rumors

5. New Beginnings

6. Old Flame

7. To Marry or not to Marry

8. The Ball

9. The News

10. Suffering

11. Hunter’s Cloak

12. No Hope

13. Black Chamber

14. Bat Inn

15. New Life on the Ruins

16. Initiation

17. The Decision

18. Love Matters

19. The New Order

20. Fly

21. Featurion

22. A Past and a Future Secret

23. Orion

24. New Acquaintances

25. Martin

26. Lost in the Twilight Hall

27. Brokenhearted

28. The Nettle Field

29. Fiddler on the Green

30. The Spider Hut

31. The Dryad Princess

32. Engagement

33. Mermaid's Croon

Epilogue

About the Author

Helpful Links

Also by I.D. Blind

Excerpt from Book 4

References

Eric is on his deathbed.

Cassandra is heartbroken.

Jack is entangled in a love triangle.

Dinah is forced into a marriage.

These are the minor problems that the young residents of Hollow have to deal with. The Hunters are back in town, and the Council is plotting another witch hunt.

To find a way to fight back against the Hunters, the witches and their friends will have fly to Walachia and receive advice from their wizard grandfather. Things become worse when three mysterious girls begin to mar their plans.

1. Weird Dreams

Someone was running through the darkness of Mysterious Forest. It was a woman, carrying a sleeping child in her arms. She was escaping deeper into the woods, sometimes looking back only to see the burning firebrands in the hands of her pursuers. They were behind her, their hounds on her trail, and the woman knew soon she would be overtaken.

The moon wasn’t shining that night. Nor did the stars glitter in the smoky sky. All hope was gone. She was alone, and help wasn't coming. Deeper she treaded into the depths of the forest, fearing the creatures that inhabited the dark woods, yet not stopping her escape. There was nothing left for her but the innocent life in her arms. She pressed the child to her breast and crossed a stream in the dark. As she stumbled and fell, the child whimpered.

Hush! Hush, my girl.

The barks of the hounds were getting closer.

Don’t let her get away! someone shouted.

The woman’s heart froze. She knew what they would do to her, but would they kill her child, too? Or would they spare a young, innocent life? She knew those were hopeless wishes. To her pursuers, the child in her arms was no innocent life, but a witch, and was bound to die like the rest of them.

The flames of the firebrands were close. She had no chance, but there might be a chance for her daughter. Looking around, the woman spotted a big oak and hurried to it.

Wake up, my love.

The child opened her eyes and dreamily looked at her mother. Mommy?

Listen to me, my angel. We shall play a game now. We shall play hide-and seek. She lifted the girl up to the bark of the tree. Climb up the tree. Do it, Cassie. Careful.

The girl climbed up the bough overgrown with leaves, and lay her head down on the branch. Her mother stepped back and looked at the branch and the child sleeping on it. No, it wouldn’t help, they would still notice her. And the hounds would smell her, too. Out of despair, she pressed the heels of her palms on her temples and began to weep. Her motherly sobs didn’t leave indifferent the forest dwellers. A great brown bat fluttered out of the branches of an elm, and spreading its wide wings, landed down on the bough, covering the sleeping girl.

Thank you, the mother whispered. When the voices came closer, she ran away from the oak, deeper into the forest, taking the Hunters after her and away from the girl. The last time she turned around, the oak was gone from the sight. There was only darkness, and the barks were close already. Soon they would reach her, catch her, and the Hunters would take her to Ostband...

Cassandra threw her eyes open. Her heart was pounding. She sat up in her bed and looked around. She was in her bedroom, and her sisters were sleeping soundly in their beds. Cassandra lay back and tried to sleep, but a feeling of anxiety was preventing her from going back to the realm of dreams. She got out of bed and approached Electra. Her bed was near the window, bathing in silver moonlight. Electra was sleeping peacefully, which rarely happened now as they all were tormented by nightmares. Sometimes the dreams would become so scary, that they would rave in their sleeps and writhe all night. But tonight her sisters were calm.

Cassandra turned to her younger sister. Medea’s bed was at the corner of the room, away from the window so that the moon’s rays wouldn’t touch her. In the darkness, her face looked different. Or did it only seem like that to Cassandra? She snapped her fingers, and the candle on Medea’s bedside table lit up. No, her face was the same beautiful one. She looked a bit paler, though. Slightly unhealthy. But then, they all looked like that recently. They all were worried. All three suspected something. There were rumors in the town. People were whispering, and many looked at them with suspicion or sorrow. The situation on the West Bank was better, but the three witches knew that something was amiss in Hollow.

Cassandra looked at Medea for a very long time. She didn’t know what she expected to see, but for some reason she couldn’t take her eyes off her. Examining the pallor over her sister’s face, her closed eyelids, black curved eyebrows, and white hands, Cassandra blew out the candle and left the bedroom. It was five in the morning, but she couldn’t sleep. She went downstairs into the fireplace hall and began looking at the portraits of the members of her extraordinary family.

For a long while she looked at Morgaine, debating if Medea resembled her. She did, a bit. They shared the paleness and the black hair, but that was the only similarity. Their eyes, lips, the shapes of their faces, were all different. Cassandra then looked at Archibald—the man who never went out at night, just like Medea. No, Medea didn’t look like him. Archibald was red-haired, with freckles on his plump face. He was double-chinned, short, his eyes were green, and his eyebrows resembled auburn caterpillars. Cassandra settled down in front of the bookcase, took out the albums with family photos, and began examining them.

An hour later, Uncle Colin came downstairs and found Cassandra on the carpet in the fireplace hall, surrounded by old photographs.

Cassie, what’s the matter?

Cassandra shook her head. Nothing, Uncle. I was just looking for something.

For something? My dear, it’s six in the morning. What are you looking for which couldn’t wait till the afternoon?

It’s no big deal. I couldn’t sleep, and decided to employ myself with something interesting.

Uncle Colin looked down at the scattered photos, bent over and picked up the one of the three wizard brothers—Grindewald, Archibald, and Persivald. He sat down near his niece and took a photo of his wife and her parents.

I haven’t looked at these photos for some time, Uncle Colin said. For a very long time.

One after another he took the dog-eared photographs and examined the smiling faces. A whole life was passing before his eyes. Almost all those people were gone now. They had either been executed or been kept in the dungeon until their deaths. Some were buried in Hollow’s cemetery; some had been deprived of graves. And many of those who, as the rumor said, were alive, had fled Hollow, and no one had heard of them for the last fourteen years. A shiver ran down Colin’s spine when he found a half-burnt album with old photographs of his long-gone friends—Mr. Arthur Winsdale, the herbalist, with his wife and their three children; old Mr. and Mrs. Chadwiks, a doctor and a midwife; Mr. Wicker the veterinarian, and his daughter Amelia; Ralph McBury, who had a shop of cauldrons and buckets; Daniel Pickering, the owner of the Old Curiosity Shop; Rosaline MacGavin, his friend Shay MacGavin’s wife; beautiful and jolly sisters SueEllen and Belladonna, dressmakers at the Hats and Mantles—all were gone. He had witnessed some of the deaths; some of those people he had tried to save but in vain. Almost no one had been spared.

Colin closed the album and put it back into the cabinet. He stood in front of the bookcase with his back to Cassandra, hiding from her his wet eyes, and fought the lump that pressed against his throat.

So, what are you searching for? Uncle Colin asked.

I was looking for the photos of Selena.

"Selena? I don’t think you will find any."

But maybe I can find at least one?

No, my dear. Remember, we told you that many photographs had been burnt in the fire during the witch hunt. I’m afraid the fire hasn't spared any photo of Selena.

Cassandra bit her lips.

Is anything bothering you?

She shook her head. Nothing. Though, I was thinking it was so cruel that Medea has never seen her mother. I have two photos of my mother, Electra has one photo of Valeria and Nicholas, but Medea has none. Electra and I at least know how our mothers looked. I wish I had photos of my father.

Anthony didn’t like being photographed, Colin said. But he loved photographing Sofia. Your parents loved each other very much. But most of all, they loved you.

Cassandra wasn’t stupid and knew that by talking about her parents, her uncle wished to distract her from thinking about Medea and her family. She asked no more about her sister’s parents; she knew that Uncle Colin would change the subject again. His behavior served as another proof that some secret had existed all these years, and had been carefully concealed by the elders.

2. Predetermination

Someone was going up the stairs of the cold castle. He was wearing a long black mantle, his head covered with a hood. As the man passed by the burning torch, his mask shone with silver light. He climbed up the helical stairs, passed across a narrow corridor, reached the iron door and looked at the guard sleeping on the floor. He stepped ahead and kicked him in the back. The guard gasped, looked around furiously, and growled at the man in the dark mantle.

He’s waiting for me.

The guard, a tall, gloomy creature with a disfigured face of a half-man, half-dog, and fangs hanging down his closed mouth, opened the iron door.

The masked man stepped into a humid hall lit by torches and guttered candles. He walked over a round symbol with four thorns in the center of the hall, and stood by a figure wrapped in black clothing, sitting on an iron throne and watching out of the latticed window. Not far from the throne, in front of the second window, an old dwarf had bowed over a bronze disk with runes.

Sheriff De Roy! hissed the man on the throne without turning his head. We are pleased to see you."

De Roy went closer, knelt, and kissed the extended hand. The nails on the bony fingers were long and blackened, the phalanges were bedecked with black tattoos that extended to the center of the palm and stretched up the hand, the rest of the patterns hiding under the black clothing.

De Roy rose from his crouch and stood still between the man on the throne and the dwarf with the disc.

Master, I have bad news, the dwarf said. I see a threat. The stars are warning me. And the planets are not moving how I have been anticipating...

Give me details, Orco, the man hissed again.

We have an enemy. The one born under the sign of Orion. He will be back soon. And he can become troublesome to the Master.

The dark man let out a long hiss. His face, hidden behind a thick veil, turned to De Roy. Sheriff, do you know whom Orco means?

I have suspicions, but I’m not sure. De Roy looked at the dwarf. Will you tell us his name?

Name? Orco raised his bushy eyebrows. I don’t know the name. He looked back at the disc where the carved runes were glittering with red and blue. Orco held the disc under the moonlight, as if trying to see a certain combination of the gleaming runes.

Do you see anything? the man on the throne asked.

No, Master, I do not. He is under the protection of the witches.

Is he a witch-man? De Roy asked.

No, not a witch-man. But he is with the witches.

And? De Roy asked impatiently.

I can’t see more, Orco murmured.

Orco, do you like my hound? the dark man asked, his jagged nails scratching the iron hand of the throne.

Why are you asking, Master?

To know if you wish to become his food.

Orco’s small body trembled. He looked around and snatched a dirk lying near. The dwarf raised his hand above the disc and sliced his vein open, dripping blood upon the runes. Suppressing the pain, Orco pressed his palm over the cut and looked into the disc, chanting words of incantation. I can see him, he said triumphantly Yes, I see him. Young. Strong. He is away, but he will be back.

What does he look like? the sheriff asked.

Orco drew a line across the disc with his crooked nail, licked his bloody finger, and muttered, Young man. Recently turned eighteen. He is a friend of the witches. Orco laughed with his hoarse voice, and as the pain shot through his arm, his laughter turned into a cry of agony. He swept the blood off the disc and whispered pleadingly, He is dangerous, Master. Please kill him.

Sheriff, did you understand anything? the man on the throne asked.

I think I did.

Do you know where he is?

I know everything about him.

At last, good news. Get in touch with our spies. We need to get rid of him.

The old dwarf slid out of the room, keeping his back bent, bowing to the man on the throne all the way to the door. When the iron door slammed, the dark man asked De Roy if he had news about the witches.

Some are back, De Roy said with a smirk. It’s no coincidence that the exiled witches and wizards are coming back now. I'm sure they are planning something. I think the witches are considering fighting back—

The dark man's loud laughter interrupted De Roy. Silly creatures, he burst out. They think they can overcome me? The darkest forces are behind me! Do they think to fight me with brooms and cauldrons? Or maybe with potions brewed of dried plants? What about the townspeople, Sheriff? How is the bribing going?

Slowly, carefully, and fruitfully.

I love humans, the man hissed. They are so easily ruled. Promise them gold and they will do anything. We shall wait. I need more anger; I want more hate. After my powers are reincarnated, we shall destroy them all.

The sheriff grinned, delighted. He was ready to wait a bit longer to be sure that the East Bank was on their side. De Roy was waiting impatiently for the beginning of the trials, like a child waits for birthday presents. Those trials were going to be his best presents; he had waited for them for so long. Almost fourteen years! Fourteen long years of expectation. After the conversation with his Master, De Roy went downstairs into the darkest dungeon of Ostband, and stared at the torture mechanisms clustered against the damp walls, rejoicing like a child in a toy store. All his toys were there. Some had rusted, but his men would mend them and bring them to a usable state. De Roy touched the iron cages, the tight manacles, the spiked chains, the racks and hooks, and those touches brought back pleasant memories. On an old shelf, he found his favorite pliers, and even the Spanish Boot was there. De Roy rubbed his hands and clenched his teeth. The time was approaching. Soon he would use all those marvelous items again.

3. Parting

Did you hear that? Was it your name? Are we late?

Calm down, Mom, it wasn’t my name. I’m not late.

Look at the hour. The plane will depart in twenty minutes, and you’re still in the terminal!

Jane, really, calm down. He'll be just in time.

Eric and his parents were hurrying through the airport terminal, trying to squeeze in-between the crowds of people with luggage trolleys. They had overslept in the morning, and Eric’s mother was sure he was going to miss his flight. Eric and his father tried to persuade her that there was still time, but Jane O'Brian was famous for her overanxiety. At last they reached the gates, and it was time for Eric to say goodbye to his parents. He was going back to Hollow.

Six months had passed. All those six months, Eric had been communicating with his friends with the help of magic ink, and receiving news from them. Electra’s notes were always warm and full of love, but Jack’s were ambiguous and worrisome. The witch hunt hadn’t begun yet, but Jack was sure it was only a matter of time, and that the Council, along with the sheriff and the judge, were planning something. The smoke was coming out of the towers of Ostband. The stronghold’s residents hadn’t left; the Hunters still inhabited the recently abandoned castle. It was a sign that the witch hunt was inevitable.

Since reading Jack’s last letter, Eric had lost his sleep. He had nightmares about Hollow lost inside flames and smoke. He saw the blue castle crashed to the base. The Old Curiosity Shop was burnt down, and the Enchanted Garden was destroyed once again. Everything that Eric loved about Hollow appeared in his nightmares burnt and ruined. The disturbing dreams had deprived him of rest and sleep. He had wished to go back to his friends at least for a week, but he had classes in college. His father hadn't agreed to let him abandon the classes even for a short time because Eric might be expelled. He had his midterm exams in March, and as it was the only possible way he could leave for Hollow, Eric spent the sleepless nights getting ready for the exams, passed them earlier, and asked his father for permission to visit Hollow for a week. David O'Brian didn’t think it was worth it to spend so much money on a one-week trip, but Eric was persistent, and seeing how diligently his son had studied in college, David gave in.

Sweetheart, please be careful and dress warmly, his mother said when Eric bent to retrieve his suitcase.

Sure, Mom, I'll do as you say. He threw a quick glance at the screen of departures with destinations and time.

Remember to call us when you get there, Jane O’Brian told him.

Eric shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, then searched inside the pockets of his jacket. I think I forgot my phone, he said. He squatted by his suitcase, opened it, and began searching for the phone.

Is it there? his father asked, squatting nearby.

No. Eric rummaged through his luggage. I think I left it on the desk in my room.

Stop it, sweetheart, you will crease the shirts, his mother said. I spent the whole of last night ironing them.

Sorry, Mom, but maybe it’s somewhere under the shirts. Though I’m almost sure I left it in my bedroom.

Alright, leave it, David O’Brian said. Take mine. He gave his cell phone to Eric. It’s not fully charged, but if you don’t use it much, you can give us a call when you arrive.

Eric took the phone. Thanks, Dad.

No frays, no fights, no quarrels, his father said.

Eric grinned. Of course not.

Dress warmly, eat well, and don’t anger poor Riona. Be a good boy, Jane told him.

I'm always a good boy. Eric smiled to his mother and bent to retrieve his suitcase once more. He had just turned around when a sudden feeling of fear made him stop and look back. David and Jane were standing at the gates, looking at him and smiling. There was something sweet and sad in that smile, or was it only his imagination? He felt a sudden sorrow, and for a second didn’t want to leave. Eric put the suitcase down and hugged his mother as tightly as he had never hugged her before.

I love you, he said, holding her in his arms.

I love you, too, my boy.

Eric didn’t want to let her go. He felt he might not see her again. He then hugged his father, hardly holding back the tears. He had never felt so tearful before. Through the high windows of the terminal, he saw the large planes, one of which would be taking him back to Hollow. He was going home, for that’s where Eric felt best, and considered Hollow to be his real home. And yet something seemed to be forecasting trouble. He looked around, searching for signs and omens. Nothing around him boded ill, but the feeling of alarm was only increasing. If Eric lingered for another second, he wouldn’t leave at all. Fearing his own hesitation, he moved forward.

Be careful, his father said.

Eric nodded. Passing through the gates, he turned around and looked at his parents for the last time. Jane was sad but had a smile on her face; David had hugged her, and they were looking after their only son without blinking so as not to miss a glimpse of him. Eric threw a last glance at them and smiled back.

He was never going to see them again.

4. Rumors

Cassandra left the veterinary hospital and took a stroll along the Sirtalion. She was happy that she didn’t have to cross the bridge to reach her patients anymore. After the fire destroyed the hospital, Raymond offered his financial help, and soon Dr. Robinson had a new hospital on the West Bank, where Cassandra resumed her job.

Raymond found Cassandra on the snow-covered bank of the Sirtalion, sitting on her knees and staring at a white hare that was looking back at her and not moving. For some time Raymond looked at Cassandra, trying to understand what she was doing, but neither she nor the hare stirred.

Are you trying to cure it with your glance, my love? he asked Cassandra, sitting near.

Raymond! she gasped. You startled me.

The hare darted away and disappeared into the white bushes.

So, what were you doing?

"I was practicing exchanging bodies. I think I had almost succeeded. If you hadn’t scared him away, I would have exchanged my body with the hare."

Raymond chuckled. I don’t think I want to take a hare to the ball in Ornshire instead of my beautiful lady.

Cassandra stood up and reached out to him. Let’s go to the blue castle, have some tea and warm up.

Or maybe we could have a walk instead? The weather is fine today; not like the freezing cold and the blizzard we had yesterday. Spring has come.

Yes, spring has come, Cassandra agreed, eyeing the heads of the snowdrops peeping out from under the thin layer of snow.

I want to talk to you about something, Raymond said. We talked about this last year, and I’d like to know what you think of it now.

Cassandra had spent long nights thinking about his proposal, trying to convince herself that she was ready for a marriage. She had to be, otherwise she might break the heart of the man she loved more than anything. Marriage isn’t such a scary thing, she kept telling herself. And sooner or later we will have to get married. But with all her reasoning the idea of her upcoming marriage still scared her.

I want to spend my whole life with you, Cassandra said.

A smile spread over Raymond’s face. He stopped under a maple and hugged her. I love you very much, Cassie. And I too want to spend my whole life with you. Nothing could make me happier than spending the rest of my life with the women I love the most—Grandmother, Bonnie, and you. I can’t wait until we all shall live together in Ornshire, live happily-ever-after, with no troubles and no problems. Just me, my grandmother, my sister, and you. I can’t wait until you meet each other. Grandmother will love you just as much as Bonnie does. But no one will love you more than I do, Raymond said, and again pressed her tightly to him.

Cassandra shuddered from the thought of meeting the Duchess. Every time she thought about the old Dowager, she had a feeling of