The Witch's Tower by Tamara Grantham (uplifting novels .txt) đź“–
- Author: Tamara Grantham
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“So, you were aiding them this whole time. Are the shears even the real thing? Or was that a trick, too?”
“They’re real,” Aunt Gwynna said. “Your mother convinced us to give them to you. We had to agree that it would be greatly entertaining to watch you kill the high sorcerer. As we said, we bore easily.”
“Then you’ll let us leave?” the dragon woman asked. “All of us?”
They laughed, though it was a mirthless sound filled with no cheer. “Not you, of course. You are our prisoner.”
Odette ground her teeth. “I’ve been here for so long. You have to set me free!”
“Absolutely not. You are our prisoner, and you shall always be. However, we might be willing to come to an understanding.”
“An understanding?”
“We want to see Varlocke dead, and since he is attempting to burn down the tower and kill his own daughter to gain ultimate control of our lands, we have little time to waste. We will remove your curse for a time so you will be able to fly Gothel and two others to the tower during nightfall, but one must remain here and take your place until you return. After that, you must become our prisoner once again.”
She balled her fists. “This isn’t fair.”
“Fair?” Aunt Gwynna said. “This is the law of magic. Fair or not, this is our kingdom, and you will live under our rule.”
“Let me do it,” Drekken said, standing tall, what remained of his lute clutched in his hands. “I will remain here.”
“Very well,” the witches said. “He will take the dragon’s place until she returns—and she had better return.”
“No, you can’t make him do this,” the dragon lady said.
“Will you challenge us?” they asked. Blue flames danced around their bodies and shone in their eyes. The heat scorched my skin. Aunt Neleia raised her hand, and the flames wrapped around the woman. She cried out. Flames licked at the exposed skin of her face and arms. Its crackling heat smelled of burned flesh.
“Stop this!” An overpowering heat coiled painfully tight in my chest. A blue glow radiated from my skin, then blasted outward. Magic flew from my fingers, striking Aunt Gwynna in the chest. Buzzing filled my ears as the air went quiet, and my aunt’s magic no longer surrounded Odette.
Drekken caught the dragon woman as she fell.
“You,” Aunt Gwynna said, looking murderous as she stared me down. “How dare you strike one of us!”
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know that would happen.”
“She’s using her magic?” Mother asked, stepping forward. “I can’t believe it.”
“Gothel, your hair,” Raj said, stepping beside me. A strand fell over my eyes. It glowed blue.
“I should have known,” Mother said.
“Known what?” Raj asked.
I shook my head, not wanting Mother to say anything else.
“Leave her be, Aethel,” Aunt Neleia said. “She’s to be punished.”
“No, she’s my daughter, and you know as well as I who she is.” She smiled, stepping close to me. “Oh, Gothel, I always knew you were special.”
“Special? What do you mean?” Raj asked.
“Why, my dear boy, don’t you know? Only the offspring of two magic users can produce a person with natural powers—powers that she just demonstrated.”
I stood stunned, rooted to the floor, not wanting to move.
“Oh, Gothel,” Mother said. “I’m so pleased. This is such wonderful news.”
I couldn’t speak. My lungs squeezed tight, and I couldn’t draw in a deep breath.
“Does this mean her father isn’t who she thought?” Raj asked.
“That’s exactly what it means,” Mother said. “Her father is Varlocke.”
Varlocke? No. I couldn’t speak, didn’t know what to say in the first place.
“Is it true?” Raj asked.
“Yes,” Mother answered. “There’s no other explanation.”
“It can’t be true,” I whispered, my hands trembling.
“It is true.”
“No,” I said, my voice barely audible. “If it’s true, then why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because I never believed it was him, although I always knew there was a possibility. Since you didn’t possess natural magic, I assumed you weren’t his child.”
“She’s a late bloomer,” Aunt Neleia said.
“Yes, very late,” Aunt Gwynna added.
He’s my father. High Sorcerer Varlocke is my father. I couldn’t believe it. It had to be a lie.
“This is such wonderful news,” Aunt Gwynna said. “Gothel, you remember what we told you all those years ago, don’t you?”
I couldn’t find the words to answer.
“Yes, of course she remembers,” Aunt Neleia said. “She’ll become a great sorceress. And she’ll do it by killing someone close to her.”
“That’s not true. It can’t be,” I said.
“My dear, it is true,” Aunt Gwynna said. “We’re so happy for you. You’re more like us than you know.”
Mother ran her fingers through my hair. “I always wondered why it was blue. Do you suppose she’s had magic in her hair all along?”
“Yes, it must’ve been,” Aunt Neleia said. She smiled when she looked at me, but it didn’t put me at ease. “You, Gothel, will use your magic to kill your father.”
“My father is dead,” I said to my aunts, who stood smiling as if they’d just given me the best news—that my father was a maniacal killer and I would be the one to kill him. But I didn’t believe them. How could it possibly be true? “Varlocke is an evil monster. It can’t be possible.”
“He wasn’t always a monster,” Mother said. “There was a time when I loved him, and when I believed he loved me.”
As the truth sank in, the truth of who I was and the truth of my mother’s past, bitter bile rose into my throat. “You were unfaithful to Father. With him?”
“Sadly, yes. When my husband was away, traveling for months at a time, I became lonely, and I allowed Varlocke to get too close to me. I believed he loved me. There were times he wasn’t so bad, when he pretended to be kind. But I should have realized who he was. I was wrong to trust him.
“When you were born, I knew there was a chance Varlocke was your father, but I put it out of my mind after I discovered you possessed no natural magic. It seems I was wrong. You do possess magic, and Varlocke is your father.”
I glanced at Raj, tears forming in my eyes. Would he hate me now that he knew who my father was—the man who had butchered his people and burned his city?
My aunts had warned me of my heritage. They’d come to visit the castle when I was younger, and I’d always feared them because of it. But I still couldn’t accept it.
“No,” I said. “You’re tricking me. It isn’t true.”
“It is true,” Aunt Gwynna said, her voice surprisingly calm. “You are his daughter, and you will be the one to stop him. Go now, before he kills Rapunzel. Stop him from claiming King Duc’Line’s kingdom and taking our land.”
The world spinning around me, I closed my eyes, wishing I’d never come on this quest.
Raj placed his hand on my shoulder, as if reassuring me, yet I didn’t know how he could stand to be near me. This was all wrong.
“We can still do this,” Raj said. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“Except that I’ll have to kill my own father.”
“He isn’t your father. Perhaps by birth—but he didn’t raise you, so you’re not his.”
I took a deep breath. Raj was right. This changed nothing. We’d come this far, and we had the shears. We only had to return to the tower and save Rapunzel and the prince. Squaring my shoulders, I faced Raj, my only friend through all of this.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s finish this.”
“Very well,” Aunt Gwynna said. “Leave now, but one of you stays behind.”
I looked at my companions, frustrated that we couldn’t all leave together.
“It will be me,” Drekken said.
“Someone else can do it. It doesn’t have to be you,” I said.
“Yes, it does. I’m a lost soul from a foreign land. No one will miss me if I’m gone. But you—all of you—have a greater purpose than me. I only ask that you remember me.”
Odette stepped forward. Behind her, the sun rose, catching the coloring on her gown, which I now realized was covered with tiny shimmering scales.
“Your heroism won’t be forgotten.”
“I appreciate your words, but the question is,
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