Broken Wish Page 9

She attempted to lift her left heel, but it didn’t budge. She tried her right, but it, too, was stuck as though she had stepped onto a layer of wet tar. Beads of perspiration formed on her neck as she struggled, trying not to panic. The mirror hadn’t warned her about a trap, though it was likely that whatever she was stuck in had been designed to catch trespassers.

  Elva decided to take her feet out of the boots and continue on barefoot. But when she bent to unlace them, she heard a menacing croak. A toad sat watching her from atop a large gray mushroom. The toad was no color she had ever seen in nature before—toxic purple and poisonous yellow swirled across its pebbly skin, and it had baleful bloodred eyes. It croaked again, an angry, threatening sound, as it stared at her.

  She noticed suddenly that she was standing inside a ring of huge mushrooms, all gray with red-spotted caps. Her mouth went dry at the slick, deadly sheen on each one. She had gone mushrooming enough to know that eating one of these would kill a person in seconds. She had been so focused on the trees that she had stumbled into their midst without realizing it.

  The toad croaked again; its expression was nothing short of murderous. Slowly, it hopped off the mushroom and landed about two feet away from Elva. Then it hopped once more until it was sitting on her boot, glaring up at her. Its legs tensed, preparing to hop again, and Elva knew that this time, it would fly right at her face.

  “Oh no,” she moaned, trying in vain to move her feet. “Please!”

  The toad croaked a final warning, and then its back legs launched it upward.

  Elva screamed, but not before she heard someone speak a low, guttural command. She screamed again when she saw the toad suspended in midair, helpless and inches from her nose. Whatever enchantment had been holding her feet in place disappeared. She took the opportunity to run, not waiting to see who had spoken, but was still so dizzy that she hurtled face-first into a tree. The impact sent Elva to the ground on all fours.

  For a moment, she remained still, drenched in sweat and feeling so ill that she had no energy to push herself upright. Vaguely, she noticed someone standing over her: a woman in a long flowing dress of deep burgundy wool, with black waves of hair cascading around a heart-shaped face. And then the dizziness overwhelmed her, and everything went black.

  When Elva opened her eyes, she found herself lying flat on the grass. She tried to lift her head, but the world gave a sickening lurch, forcing her to quickly lower it again.

  The woman was still there, watching her. “Don’t move.”

  “M-Mathilda?” Elva quavered.

  The woman gave a single nod and crouched down, her skirt pooling around her like dark wine. She looked no more than twenty-five, which didn’t make sense because she had been an adult when she had met Mama almost two decades ago. Her pale, freckled skin was smooth and unlined, and above her rounded cheeks were eyes bright with intelligence.

  “This is what happens when you overextend yourself with magic,” the witch said. “You should learn your limits so you don’t faint and empty your stomach.”

  “I emptied my stomach?” Elva asked, horrified.

  “No, but you will if you keep going on like this. Would you like some water?”

  “No, thank you,” Elva said, unable to bear the thought of drinking anything at present, especially from a witch who might enchant her with a potion.

  The woman snorted, as though she had heard Elva’s thought. “Well, you’re definitely Agnes and Oskar’s daughter. They didn’t like accepting hospitality from witches, either.” She tilted her head, studying Elva. “And yet their child has magic…. How ironic. There’s no other way you could have found me.”

  “You know who I am?”

  “Of course. You’re not the only one with an enchanted mirror.” Mathilda nodded at Elva’s basket. “Mine is the twin sister to that one. I made them from the same sheet of glass. I saw you coming, and a good thing, too, or I couldn’t have rescued you in time. Silly girl, don’t you know a fairy ring when you see one?”

  “A fairy ring? The mushrooms, you mean?”

  “Never step into a circle of mushrooms or stones. It’s extremely offensive. That guardian would have poisoned the life out of you as punishment.”

  “What guardian? The…the toad?”

  Mathilda rolled her eyes. “Who else? Be more careful when you leave. I don’t have time to rescue you from every trap in this forest.”

  “Leave?”

  “Did that mother of yours teach you to be a parrot? Yes, I said leave,” she snapped. “And be warned: If you tell anyone where I am, they’ll encounter worse than fairy rings.”

  Elva’s heart sank. Clearly, the witch was still angry with Mama. “Please, won’t you speak with me first? I came all this way looking for you.”

  “I don’t care. I owe you and your mother nothing. Don’t think to trespass and then manipulate me into helping you. I’m sick and tired of being used.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend,” Elva said quickly. “Of course I don’t expect you to tell me anything. I only hoped you would.”

  The witch furrowed her brow. “Why did Agnes send you to me after all this time?”

  Elva tried to sit up again, because it didn’t seem right to have this conversation lying down. Thankfully, her stomach appeared to have settled. “I sent myself. I found the letters you and Mama exchanged years ago and read enough to understand that your friendship ended because of your magic. I thought you might be the right person to help me.”

  Mathilda’s frown deepened.

  “It’s just that…” Elva took a deep breath. After ten years of hiding her secret, she didn’t think she would ever get used to talking about it. “I’ve been able to see the future for as long as I can remember. I look into water—into any reflective surface—and I see things that will come to pass…and things that have already happened, too,” she added, as a thought occurred to her. “When I used the mirror to look for you, I saw Mama as a young woman. And you crying because of her.”

  “Who taught you how to do this?”

  “No one. The first time was when I was five or six. But I’ve tried to hide it ever since because Mama and Papa wanted me to.”

  The woman snorted again. “Of course.”

  “I knew I had to see you—not just to ask for help but to apologize for my parents, too. Mama kept your letters all these years. She still regrets what she did to you.”

  “That doesn’t mean a thing to me,” Mathilda said scornfully. “Her guilt isn’t important. I cut her out of my heart long ago, and if she has a magical daughter, that’s her problem.”

  “But you saved me from that toad, knowing who I was,” Elva persisted. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I don’t believe in a child paying for the sins of her mother. I would have done it for anyone else, and that’s that. Now I think you should be on your way.”

  “Please,” Elva begged. “Won’t you help me prevent something terrible I’ve foreseen?”

  “I don’t know why you think I have any answers for you,” Mathilda said in a tart voice. “The forest path is waiting for you beyond the willow tree, and for heaven’s sake, keep your eyes open this time because I won’t be rescuing you again.”

  She walked away, her dress trailing behind her, and Elva noticed suddenly that they were in a clearing with a cottage in the center. Its pale-gray stones shone against a lush garden with a beehive. Smoke rose from the chimney, and despite the hour, the windows all glowed with soft, comfortable yellow light. Elva was in the witch’s sanctuary, and for a moment, hope rose within her. Mathilda wouldn’t have taken her in if she was absolutely against helping her.

  But when the witch kept walking and didn’t turn back, Elva knew it was a lost cause. She would be no better off than when she had left her parents’ house. “All right,” she called, dejected. “I’m sorry to disturb you. Here’s your mirror back.”

  Mathilda didn’t respond, so Elva put the glass on the ground and got up to go. She had walked about ten
paces toward the willow tree when she heard the witch tell her to stop.

  “You got the mirror to show you how to pass through my enchanted boundary. How?”

  “I don’t know,” Elva said honestly. “I’ve had visions before, but they were all random. I’ve never asked to see something specific. Today was the first time I tried.”

  The witch let out a contemptuous sniff. “No wonder you were half-dead for ten minutes! You need to work up to your magic, girl! You can’t just sap your energy all at once.”

  “How was I to know that?” Elva protested. “That’s why I’m here: to learn about my ability and find out how I can stop the terrible things I’ve seen.”

  Mathilda stared at her. “You want me to help you use your powers? Not to take them away and make you a normal girl, as your darling parents undoubtedly want?”

  “You can do that? Make me normal?”

  “Of course not! But that’s what I assumed you would want.” The witch pursed her lips, thinking. “You’d better come inside. I’m not promising anything,” she added brusquely, as a hopeful smile spread across Elva’s face. “But I want to know what you can do, and what these terrible things are that you would risk your own safety to prevent.”

  “My own safety?”

  “Haven’t you listened to anything the townspeople have said? Or read the Grimms’ tales?” Mathilda asked, striding away. “I could be luring you into my cottage to throw you in the oven. Watch out for the trail of candy in the grass.”

  Elva couldn’t help peeking at the ground. She looked back at the willow tree, wondering if she ought to take this opportunity to go. She could return to Mama and never speak of what she had seen…but then she would also lie awake every night wondering if, or when, that horrible storm would come.

  Put that way, there was no real choice in the matter.

  She placed the mirror back into her basket and timidly entered the cottage. The place was homey and bright, and had been built in the same style as the witch’s old cottage. There was a large, sunny central room, a fire roaring in the hearth, and a kitchen table covered with jars of bright wildflowers. The ginger cat Elva had seen in the mirror looked up from the windowsill, its deep green eyes narrowing with judgment at her.

  Mathilda hung a kettle over the fire and set two delicate porcelain cups on the table. “So you came here despite having heard how dangerous I am?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Mama calls it evil gossip, what people say about you.”

  The witch’s eyes met hers for a moment. “You had better take a seat, then,” she said ungraciously, cutting two slices of fluffy, deep brown cake that smelled of butter and nutmeg. “Tell me more about your visions. What happens when you look into water—what you’re thinking about, how long the images last, and so on and so forth.”

  Elva obeyed, grateful that Mathilda had chosen to listen. When she described the great storm, the witch set down her fork, intent. “So you see, that storm is why I wanted to find you. I want to know how we can stop it.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, with magic.” Now that Elva was saying it aloud, it sounded foolish. But she forced herself to continue. “It also occurred to me that perhaps…well, perhaps you might be responsible for the storm…as revenge against Mama?” She winced, half expecting the witch to fly into a rage.

  Mathilda only looked at her calmly. “The only thing you’re worried about is this storm destroying your parents’ farm, then? You’re not thinking of using your powers for profit?”

  “Of course not! That never even crossed my mind,” Elva said indignantly, and when she saw the witch nod, she realized she had passed some sort of test.

  Mathilda handed her a cup of chamomile tea. “I don’t know why the storm is coming. It has nothing to do with me. Why would I wait seventeen years to destroy your parents’ farm? If I ever wanted to do such a thing, I already would have.”

  She spoke with such disdain that Elva had no choice but to believe her. “But why can I see it coming? Why do I have this ability in the first place?”

  “It may have to do with your mother’s broken promise.” The witch’s hands, wrapped around her cup, were as oddly youthful as her face. “Every magic-wielder has a gift that comes more easily than any other. Yours, I suppose, is seeing the past and future. Mine is potions. I’ve always had a way with anything that grows from the earth: trees, flowers, roots. When I found out that Agnes desperately wanted a child, I offered to help and she agreed to be my friend in return.” She paused, looking severely at Elva. “Every spell comes with a condition laid down by the spellworker. If it’s a promise and the promise is kept, the magic will be satisfied because both parties kept their word. Understand?”

  “I think so,” Elva said slowly. “It’s like a contract.”

  The witch nodded. “Your mother disrupted the balance of magic by breaking her vow. She produced consequences that no one can control.”

  “Me. I’m the consequence, aren’t I?” Elva uttered, slumping in her chair. “You helped Mama have me, but she got a daughter who was more than she bargained for. A daughter who isn’t normal.”

  Mathilda’s mouth twisted. “Normal according to whom? To those shrieking villagers who are scared of anything they don’t understand? There are more people like us than you think, my girl. Don’t be so quick to disrespect the tremendous skill you’ve been given.”

  Elva stared at her, never having heard anyone describe her ability that way. “But is it a gift or a curse? Will I be able to use it to protect my family?”

  “I can’t tell you what you want to hear,” the witch said. “I don’t know if your power is ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ nor do I think it matters. What I do know is that magic-wielders have tried to play games with time in the past, and they have always lost. They have killed others or died in the process, or worse. Some of them have given up their very souls in the attempt.”

  Elva shuddered. “So there’s nothing anyone can do to amend the future?”

  “I didn’t say that. I said that no one has been successful.”

  “It’s not impossible, then! You just said I have tremendous skill. If you taught me more about my visions, I could be the first person to change time.”

  Mathilda shook her head. “I won’t encourage you in something so dangerous. I will only consider helping you if you accept this: Warn your family but do not expect to change the future. Too much is affected when you toy with time.”

  Elva’s hope deflated at her resolute tone. The disaster would come, and she would not be able to stop the farm from being torn apart. She would have to watch, as helpless as the rest of them…. But at least they could prepare if they knew it was coming. And if she learned how to hone her magic, she might be able to protect them some other way, too. “All right,” she said resignedly. “I accept that the storm will happen. Now will you teach me about my ability?”

  “I said I would consider it. I need time to think.” Mathilda crossed her arms. “And you need to decide what learning from me would mean for you. You are already going against your parents’ wishes. Would you be able to continue doing so? Would you risk the other townspeople finding out about you? Would you willingly enter into the evil art of witchcraft?”

  “But I don’t think you’re evil,” Elva argued. “Mama wouldn’t regret losing you if you were. And you saved me just now, and all this time you could have hurt me, but you haven’t.”

  “Witches aren’t all bad, then?” Mathilda asked tartly.

  “I don’t know anything about witches, except ones in storybooks who lock up princesses and eat children,” Elva admitted. “But now that I’ve met you, I’d like to think they’re like anyone else and can choose who they want to be.”

  “And what have I chosen, then?”

  Elva took her in: her dark hair, her well-made clothes, and her strong and lovely face. She seemed to have lived a peaceful, quiet life, yet she had spent all these years hidden among the vanishing trees of the forest. Her old c
ottage had not been so far apart from the rest of Hanau, and now she might as well be on the moon. She had removed herself entirely from the world.

  Elva tried to imagine the same existence for herself, a life without Papa’s hugs or Mama’s smiles or the ability to walk freely about town.

  “I think you chose not to hurt anymore,” she said, and surprise flickered on the witch’s face.

  Mathilda rose and glanced out the window. “You’d better go before it gets dark. I need time to think, and you do, too.” When she looked at Elva, her expression was almost angry. “You need to consider whether you want to study with someone who would poison children for destroying her hedges or make reptiles come out of her enemy’s throat.”

  “But those are just rumors—”

  “No,” Mathilda interrupted fiercely. “There are many lies told about me—that I kidnap children, for example. Where on earth would I put them? How would I feed them all? It’s absurd. But the poisoned candy, and the snakes and toads from Lina’s throat…those stories are true, and now you know that they are, from my own lips.”

  Elva watched the play of emotions across the witch’s face, and fear rippled down her spine. At least some of what the Brothers Grimm had written in their books had happened.

  “I won’t apologize for trying to survive,” Mathilda went on. “But I want you to know the truth. I want your eyes wide open before you decide to associate with me. Your mother came to the conclusion that I wasn’t worth it, and you may as well.”

  “But she didn’t understand. She’s not like us,” Elva said softly.

  Mathilda was silent for a moment. “If you decide you still want to learn from me, come back in three days at moonrise. I will tell you whether I can help you then.” She crossed the room and opened a wooden trunk from which she removed a pair of beautiful, flat-soled dancing slippers. They had been fashioned of deep rose-red satin, with ribbons sewn onto each side of the heel, so the wearer could tie them around her ankles and let the ends flutter prettily. “These are for you. They’re only a loan,” she added sourly, when Elva’s mouth opened in astonishment. “Don’t go expecting presents just because you’ve managed to charm me into not throwing you off my property. Put them on.”