The Lost Witch by David Tysdale Read Free Book Online Page A

crone, with skin as dry
and wrinkly as her voice was harsh and raspy.
    "I'm very sorry to have interrupted your party, and I don't mean to be brave or foolish,
but that cat of yours..."
    "Oftimes Brutus does thinks a little too high of his self," the witch agreed, "but it rubs
his fur wrongly that a scrawny imp, such as ye, claims to have done a thing which he, nor his
four-footed friends got no guts fer."
    "Well if I had been given the choice, I wouldn't have done it either. "
    "So ye say. But 'tis no easy thing to escape either The Wood nor The Whistler, yet ye
claim to have done both, and on this very same eve."
    "Just barely, and probably only because they were as surprised at my appearance as I
was at theirs."
    "Truth in that, perhaps." The old woman nodded, and continued with a sterner tone, "but
ye say ye fell. Was it from yer broom!?"
    Witches and cats began to snicker.
    "I don't own a broom."
    The old crone bristled with suspicion. "What kind of witch be ye without a broom?"
    "I'm not a witch at all," Carole said, "and I didn't fall from the sky. I fell from a different
dimension."
    Jaws fell open.
    "Multitasker?" The witch shrieked, and pointed a crooked finger at Carole's chest.
"Claim ye to be a Multitasker, then?"
    "I don't claim to be anything, but I know a man--Professor Philamount--who claims to
be one."
    "Melodious T. Philamount?"
    "Why yes. You know him?"
    "Know him?! He be the old fraud who stands us up this night past, causing a good batch
of brew to go to ruination. Smell ye not the stink?"
    "So, Mr. Philamount is a good friend of the Westhill Witches?"
    "Till this night past!"
    "I don't think it was entirely his fault. He said he was visiting with some friends in the
Nightshade Realm before our two dimensions collided."
    "'Tis so? A dimensional overlay? And which dimension be ye from, then?"
    Carole cleared her throat. "I... Um...happened to be in the Monobrain Universe."
    "What! Ye be a cursed monobrainer? Ye and yer kin be the cause of all the problems
such as we've got--near nine years of pesky werewolf problems. We Westhillers shall cast such a
spell as to make ye wish The Whistler had gotten hold of yer bones!"
    Without giving Carole a chance to reply, the witch began to wave her arms and to chant
under her breath. The rest of the witches joined in, adding volume to the chant, their bodies
swaying to the rhythm. Next the cats arched their backs and began walking stiff-legged about the
room, growling in time with the chanting.
    Suddenly the air came alive, as if it were being pumped full of electricity. Carole felt her
hair rise and her skin tingle. Her fascination with the spectacle turned into horror as she realized
that the witches really intended to do something unpleasant.
    "Wait, stop! I'm not a monobrainer, I'm a multitasker. Philamount was trying to help me
get home. My name is Carole Wood...Sylphwood. Carole Sylphwood. I'm from The Hub!" This
last she had to scream, so as to be heard above the growing din.
    But hear her they must have, for the chanting stopped as abruptly as it had begun. As the
sound faded from the room, so too did the prickly sensations.
    "Sylphwood?" The first witch spoke. "The lost child Sylphwood?"
    "Yes. I've been stranded on the monobrain planet for nine years."
    "Be the connector with ye also?"
    "Mr. Philamount thinks so. Back on the monobrain world, I mean."
    "Then child, ye be not a great curse but our great hope. Since The Conundrum, much
here has slid into disarray and we oft be suspicious and short of temper. My apologies fer about
to spell ye."
    "That's okay." Carole wiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead. "At least you stopped
in time. But what problems has The Conundrum caused in your world?"
    "Werewolves be the biggest ache to our heads. They be everywhere. Sprouting up like
nasty weeds. Even wolfbane be of little help, such be the mood of the wolf these days. That be
why we Westhill Witches travel so far north. Built this hall hoping fer The Whistler and