The Witch's Apprentice: Chapter 39

Back in Heatherholm

Hello and welcome back to The Witch’s Apprentice. if you’re new here, I recommend starting from chapter 1. Otherwise, welcome back!

In the last chapter, Sarah, Radley, and Lix discovered that the fae planned to unleash the Wild Hunt on Earth during an upcoming planetary alignment. While searching an elven office, they found a calendar predicting the event and recovered the Dryad’s Tear needed to cure Radley. Morgana Le Fay appeared but, instead of stopping them, she opened a portal to Heatherholm and urged them to be more careful in the future. It all seemed too good to be true, but who knows when your dealing with the fae.

We return to the story, in Walmund Gallacher’s office where the trio is explaining what happened in the Wild Lodge.

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Chapter 39: Back in Heatherholm

“And then she opened a portal to Heatherholm,” Sarah said quietly.

She stood near a high-backed chair, the Dryad’s Tear warm in her palm. The fire crackled behind her, filling the room with heat and the faint bite of something scorched. Walmund did not react, only watched her with sharp blue eyes that gave nothing away.

“She said it was a favor. And that her name was Morgana Le Fay.”

At that, something shifted in his face. Just a flicker, a tightening at the corner of his mouth.
Radley moved along the shelves, brushing his fingers over cracked spines as if to steady himself.

Henry leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. Lix hovered close, his scales catching the lamplight.

“Morgana,” Walmund repeated. His voice was low. He leaned back in the chair, wood creaking under him. “She offered you a favor.”

Sarah nodded. “She also said to give you her regards.”

Silence settled over them. The brass device on the desk clicked softly.

Lix fluttered closer, his tail flicking. “She called us children. Like we were insects.”

“Less flattering comparisons have been made,” Walmund said. He lifted a chipped cup and sipped, steam curling around his face. “And she spoke of Gaia?”

Sarah swallowed. “One of them said, ‘Soon we shall return to Gaia.’ They meant my world.”

Lix’s wings twitched. “The Dirt World,” he muttered.

Sarah set the Tear on the desk. The carved wood was warm under her hand. She looked up, the thought hitting her all at once.

“I didn’t think about it before,” she said. “But Morgana Le Fay… isn’t she the one from the Arthurian legends?”

“What’s that?” Lix asked curiously. “I don’t remember any legends about someone called Arthur.”

“There’s this legend about a king from ancient times and his knights. But weren’t those stories just about Britain?”

“You are correct. She is the one from Arthurian legend,” Walmund said, lowering his cup. For a moment, he studied her with an appraising gaze. “I did not know you were a scholar.”

“Hardly,” Sarah scoffed. “But I did always like the old stories. Though they’re supposed to be just that. Legends and mythology.”

“Did you think your myths came from nothing?” His voice was calm but heavy. “Some say she was a witch or a sorceress. Others claim she was a goddess, or the ruler of the Nine Sisters who watched over Avalon. Still others insist she was the half-sister of King Arthur himself. If anyone ever knew the truth, that knowledge is long gone. But whatever she began as, she has not grown weaker with the passing of ages.”

Sarah took a slow breath. The air smelled of dried herbs and smoke. “But why would she care about New York?”

Radley stopped pacing. His hand rested over the dark pendant at his chest. “And why help us at all?”

“She’s probably toying with you,” Henry said. “Maybe she just wanted to see what you’d do.”

“Perhaps,” Walmund said, setting his cup aside. “Or she has her own reasons. Fae alliances are never simple. If she helped you, it served her purpose.”

Sarah’s pulse beat in her throat. “She said the Hunt was coming. If they ride into my world…”

“Then you must stop them,” Walmund said.

“But how?” Her voice was rough. “We’re just…”

“You’re just what?” His eyes were steady on hers. “A girl who’s in the wrong place at the wrong time? A witch’s apprentice? It doesn’t matter. What matters is what you do.”

His gaze shifted to the Tear. “You’ve done well to bring this. We need to brew a cure for Radley, so he doesn’t run away again, and then we need to come up with a plan. The notes you found should show us when the alignment happens.”

Lix cleared his throat. “So… we’re going to stop the Hunt. And save the Dirt World?”

Sarah almost laughed. It came out as a thin breath. She looked at Henry. He nodded once. She turned back to Walmund.

“Yes,” she said. “But we’ll need your help.”

For the first time, the old wizard smiled. “We have much to plan, my girl, but first I’m afraid there’s more bad news.”

Sarah rubbed her temple. “Of course there is. There’s always just one more thing.”

Walmund let out a small huff that might have been a laugh. He reached for a scroll and unrolled it across the desk, weighing down the curling edges with a brass astrolabe and a cracked glass jar. Strange symbols wound along the parchment in precise, spidery lines.

“I have not been able to repair the Talisman of Thought Protection,” he said. “The fracture is too deep, and the binding matrix is unstable. However, I know what it requires to mend it.”

Sarah braced her hands against the desk. They needed the amulet if they ever hoped to reach the Tower of Thalnor, but it was all starting to feel like too much. She was not sure how much longer she could go on. “And what exactly would that be?” she asked, her voice low.

“As the witch of High Rannoc, I take it you’re familiar with Heroes Hollow.”

“The Dungeon? Yes, but I’ve only really scratched the surface.”

“Good. Deep beneath its chambers lies a portal to a realm simply called the Strange. A land of friendly demons, errant magic, and structures that obey no sense of geometry. Once you adjust to the confusion, it can be rather quaint.”

Henry’s eyebrows rose. “Quaint?”

Walmund ignored him. “The demons there prize many rare substances. Among them is something called wyrd water. Glowing, living water that can fulfill any requirement if it is prepared properly. That is what we need to repair your talisman.”

Lix perched on the desk, his tail curling around an inkwell. “Friendly demons,” he said slowly. “You are sure about the friendly part?”

“They enjoy guests,” Walmund said. “As long as you follow their customs and mind your manners. Never take something without asking. Never refuse a gift without offering one in return. And be cautious with what you eat. They love to play pranks on mortals who sample their food without care.”

Sarah rubbed her temple. “So we go to the dungeon, find that weird water, and then what?”

“Wyrd water,” Walmund said, adjusting his glasses with a sigh. “But there is more. To enter the Strange, you need the permission of the Dark Ruler of the Underlands, Master of Shadows and Custodian of the Gate.”

Henry let out a long breath. “That sounds perfectly reasonable,” he muttered.

“Is all this really necessary?” Sarah asked. “Can’t you just… magic up a solution?”

Walmund’s eyes narrowed. “If I could, do you think I would waste your time? Magic items require magic components. If it were that simple, every two-bit adventurer would be hauling artifacts in their backpacks.”

Sarah sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Fine. We will find the water.”

“Good,” Walmund said. “While you are in the Hollow, Radley and I will stay here to learn what we can about Gaia, Morgana, and this land called America. I suspect we will have more questions than answers.”

Radley nodded, though his face was tense. “But first, we should make the cure. I would rather not vanish again before you come back.”

"You're right," she said, touching his arm lightly. "I don't know how I would have gotten back from the Wild Lodge without you, so I wouldn't want you to disappear on me now."

She looked around the lab, taking in the cluttered tables and shelves crowded with jars, stained tools, and scraps of parchment. Her mind was already sorting through the steps she had copied from the witch’s journal.

First, they needed to crush the colossal chips into a fine powder. Then heat the Dryad’s Tear until it melted, so it could be boiled with the powder. After that, they would stir in the starlight pigment until the mixture turned pale and bright. And when it had cooled, they would pour in a measure of Elven wine without stirring.

She rubbed her hands together, looking at Radley and then at the wizard. “Master Gallacher, may we use your laboratory?”

Walmund waved a hand toward the cluttered workbench. “Of course. Be my guest. Maybe Radley can learn something.”

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