Gwylligwitch and the Exiles
“Where is she now?” asked Marie in sudden alarm. “Is she in pain? Can I still find her and save her?”
“To answer your last and most important question,” said the professor, “I wouldn’t have had you come here to us if I didn’t think there were a very good chance to save your mother from this dreadful creature. How that will be done I’m not fully sure, but I do believe it is still possible. Let me begin this tale now and fill in all the missing parts as far as I know them, up until the present. We will then discuss the best way to proceed.”
The professor opened a thick notebook in front of him, and quickly thumbed to a page. He then jotted something down, before looking up.
“It’s almost certain that the trollogre, Gwylligwitch, as it has always been called, came from That Other Place, which we’ll not discuss now. From the research I’ve done, the monster has dwelt here in the wood some two or three centuries. It’s believed it lives within some dark cave or cavern, near the Lake Gwindylo in one of the most bewitched parts of the forest. It’s fair to say the creature lived mostly on the wild animals it found, in addition to the occasional unfortunate wanderer, which it caught with its unusual stealth and its especially formidable strength. It’s suspected to wield the brute force and fury of ten men.”
Mifflin paused, considering. “I must correct myself. I’ve been referring to the monster as ‘it’, which is inaccurate. By most accounts, it is believed the trollogre is female.”
As the professor let that fact settle in, he continued. “She otherwise quietly went about her way until some one hundred and sixty years ago when the legends say Gwylligwitch discovered her fierce desire for gold. The problem was, there was no sparkling hoard to be had in this area save for a few places. The easiest to find was the old mansion, in the very center of the wood: The Giggleswick Estate, where the infamous General Caine once and perhaps still lives. Sometime in the late sixteenth century, the estate was burned down in a terrible fire that consumed much of the wood. General Caine survived, and already rich beyond dreams, he upped and left; yet he kept behind two mysterious caretakers to watch over his scorched estate and his gold, day and night. His magnificent treasure was supposedly hidden in and under the house, waiting to be reclaimed someday.
“Some tales claim Gwylligwitch heard the gold calling out to her as she passed nearby, others say she actually smelt it. However it was, the trollogre attacked the night caretaker and stole as much gold as she could carry back to her lair. Three times more in the next three nights, the monster returned. The caretaker proved unable to hinder the creature as she plundered as much as she could find. At last satisfied, she sat in her dark abode, surrounded by her ill-gotten hoard. Day and night she would gaze upon it, run her filthy claws through it, bury herself in it, even sleep within it, until— until she grew bored of it. She wanted more, but she believed— incorrectly— that she had pillaged the last of the mansion’s gold, leaving the rest of it: diamonds, rubies, and gems, which she cared nothing about. She had to have more gold and was desperate to find it.”
“I don’t understand, professor,” asked Marie. “Why did this troll thing come after my mother then, she hardly wore any gold at all?” Even as she said this, her hand quickly went up to her ears, where she felt the golden earrings she had taken from home.
“I’m getting to that,” he answered.
“She means, sir,” added Perion, “can you get to the point a bit quicker?”
“Before morning?” added Zendara.
“Before next week,” added Dyllion.
“Before— what’s it called again, Christmas?” added Tybain.
“Ignore them, please,” said the professor to Marie.
“Hang in there, Marie,” said Brage. “We’re very used to this, it does take some patience, but the professor will eventually answer your questions.”
“Doesn’t anyone care for a good story anymore?” asked the professor.
“I do,” said Courinn.
“I think we should understand though,” said Perion, “to Marie this is not just a story, this is about her mother and if she can still be saved.” Marie cast a thankful smile to Perion. He seemed to be aware of just what she was feeling.
“Yes, of course,” said the professor, nodding, “I apologize and I will try to explain with a bit more alacrity. What was I saying?”
“The trollogre needed to find more gold,” said Courinn.
“And there was none more to be found,” continued Professor Mifflin. “Until the day Gwylligwitch met up with the Helots.”
A low murmur broke out through the room. “The monster is in league with them?” asked Brage.
“Who are them … I mean they?” asked Marie.
“The Helots are the two wicked servants of the Prime Darkness of Spellhollow,” answered Mifflin. “It was the Helots who offered the promise of more gold, most certainly procured through their own wicked deeds. The Helots and Gwylligwitch struck a bargain, where she would be given as much gold as desired, if she carried out the Helot’s mandate: the capture and abduction of selected folk in and around the Spellhollow region.”
“But what does this have to do with the charm in Marie’s pocket?” asked Brage, trying to piece together the professor’s explanation of past and present.
“Or Thurle, the gnome who created it?” added Perion.
“Yes, I’ve gotten ahead of myself, haven’t I?” said the professor. “Let me back up a bit.”
The boys groaned as Marie sighed. Only Courinn seemed endlessly patient, enjoying the professor’s plodding narrative.
“I explained how the monster after many years had become bored with her gold,” he continued. “The trollogre eventually reasoned that she was perhaps weary of its forms and shapes. One day on her wanderings, she captured a lone dwarf, one of the Hyldragrest clan, renown for their metalworking skill. She decided to forego eating him, instead enslaving the poor dwarf and commanding him to smelt down her hoard and re-forge it into new, precious forms— so that she might look upon it as fresh booty. The dwarf reluctantly took on this task under considerable pain and torture. When Gwylligwitch had again at length grown tired of the gold, she commanded the dwarf to melt down and reforge it once more.”
“But why didn’t the trollogre just ask for more treasure from the Helots, instead of remaking what she had?” asked Courinn.
“Because the Helots had gone away, as you know very well, Courinn,” answered the professor. “Along with their master, they left this entire region several years ago and have not been back since.”
“But sir, the globe charm,” piped in Theel, normally the most quiet of the boys, now also wrestling with the pace and clarity of the professors’ scattered account.
“Yes, yes, I must be confusticating to listen to if Theel has become impatient,” said the professor. “Very well, to sum it up plainly, the gnome, Thurle, created the globe amulet to defeat Gwylligwitch, who had captured his own son, Hennock, whom the trollogre needed when the dwarf he first abducted died from the terrible torture he suffered.”
As everyone pieced together this rambling tale segment, Mifflin then socked them with another unexpected surprise.
“Not long after this, I was approached by your mother, Marie.”
“My mother?” asked Marie in amazement. “Came to you? You knew each other?”
“No, we didn’t. She was looking for someone who might help her. She was having dreams, very frightening dreams, especially in the last several weeks of something—something horrible coming to get her. Now, I understand your father is a firm skeptic in the mysteries of ‘Spookyhollow’, but your mother believed.”
“Yeah, they argued about it sometimes,” said Marie. “But mom never tried to convince me what she thought, and I think she felt better that I listened to my father instead. What did you tell her, professor?”
“She was introduced through a friend of mine, who believed I could help. We met in the village three years ago. When she told me of her dreams, I knew immediately what it meant: Gwylligwitch was coming for her. Very soon. So I gave her the globe amulet, the same one in your pocket now.”
“I thought I saw you with it once,” said Perion. “How did you get hold of it from Thurle?”
Mifflin’s face tightened. “Thurle gave it to me as he was dying. As I explained, he had created it to try and destroy the monster and rescue his only son. Twice he confronted Gwylligwitch. The first time, Thurle was quickly defeated and managed to barely escape. He recast the globe in a yet more powerful magic spell to defeat his foe. But he miscalculated, and when he fought Gwylligwitch the second time, she badly wounded him. Again he escaped, but this time she followed. He had hardly gone more than a few miles, when he found me, doing some experimental work in that part of the wood. He fell into my arms, sorely hurt as I lowered him to the ground. He spoke to me at length, much of it in jumbles. I tried my best to make sense of his words, but I could see he had already been driven mad, no doubt suffered from the bedevilment of the trollogre.”
“Did he reveal a way to somehow defeat the monster?” asked Courinn.
“He explained to me much about the charm’s power,” answered the professor. “And a bit about Gwylligwitch, such as her ability to enter victim’s minds, affect their memories, even cast herself in one’s dreams, if she chose.” The professor stood a moment and took one of the larger candles from the table. He held it up.
“Thurle felt that light was the best weapon. Light was the creature’s enemy. She lived in a cold, dark cavern of ice, somewhere in a frozen region of Lake Gwindylo. She usually traveled by night except when at great need. Light, the gnome reasoned, would destroy the trollogre. So Thurle filled his globe with three things: a piece of black ice from the beast’s lair, some of the putrid water from where it drank, and a thin shaft of moonlight. He cast a powerful spell over it, commanding the moonlight to subdue the evil properties of the ice and water, so that if the charm were brought close enough to Gwylligwitch, it would sap the beast’s great strength and seriously weaken her. Enough that one could overtake and slay the creature.”
“But it didn’t work, did it?” asked Marie. “My mother held the charm up too and spoke about the moonlight. But it made no difference, the trollogre took her anyway.”
“The moonlight encased in the charm was not enough to stop Gwylligwitch. Thurle then tried filling his globe with a bit of sunlight instead, but he could never fully capture its intense radiance. In frustration, he refilled the charm with a more powerful shaft of moonlight along with three drops of the creature’s blood. When he fought her a second time, the charm wounded the monster, yet in her terrible rage she dealt Thurle a grievous blow that sent him fleeing for his life— leading him to me.”
Mifflin held the candle close to him, its flickering light creating an ominous shadow over his face. “Thurle knew he was dying. He offered the amulet to me, begging that I avenge his death and rescue his son. He also knew he had made a grave mistake. The light he needed to defeat the monster was neither moonlight nor sun. It was the mystical, enchanted light of the Rainbow’s End, located only several miles from the Gwindylo in the woods’ most western arm. When he found me, Thurle believed he was very close to that bewitched place, but as I said, he’d been driven quite mad, and had no idea he’d traveled in the wrong direction.”
Marie clearly saw the professor’s eyes and face within the flame grow bitterly sad, yet with a hint of anger. He spoke his next words quietly, in almost a whisper.
“I could hear the sounds of Gwylligwitch approaching closer. The beast had relentlessly tracked Thurle, even now in daylight. I tried to carry the gnome, but could not get far. He begged me to leave him; he was near death and explained that as long as I was with him, the monster would persist in the hunt. I tried again to take him with me, but it was too slow going, and I could smell the creature’s terrible stench. When I laid Thurle down to rest, I saw he was already dead. The charm was now my responsibility as were Thurle’s final wishes. I quickly tried hiding the brave gnome’s body under some brush in the hopes the monster would miss it. Then I ran for my life.”
Professor Mifflin softly blew out the candle. Marie saw through the smoke of the extinguished wick that there was a growing tear in his eye.
“I barely escaped alive, daring to hope the monster would not find Thurle’s body. My hopes were bitterly dashed when a powerful roar erupted through the woods, trailing off into a sound that, if it were human would have been a victorious, mocking laughter. I knew then that Thurle’s bones would not lie in peace.”
There was a long silence in the room as the professor lowered the smoking candle, bitterly shaking his head. The boys stared off into the space of their own thoughts, in empathy and understanding. Even at their young ages, they had been through loss and death and knew despair. Marie glimpsed Courinn wiping her eyes, while she slid her hand into her pocket and warily removed the globe charm. She placed it on the table in front of her as everyone, particularly the professor, watched.
“I returned home with that charm,” began Mifflin again, “not certain how to proceed next. I wasn’t sure how much Thurle told me was credible given his questionable sanity. I felt I at least had to try to find this place known as the Rainbow’s End and attempt somehow, to rescue Thurle’s son. As a matter of fact, I was readying myself to depart within a matter of days— when, by curious coincidence—”
“—My mother came to you first,” said Marie. “That is really strange.”
“So I thought at first,” said the professor. “But when I learned what your mother’s fears were, I had an intuitive feeling that the will of Thurle, possibly still embedded within the charm, might be at work.”
“But you gave it to my mother,” said Marie, with a sting of sudden annoyance, “knowing that its magic wouldn’t be enough to stop the monster.”
“I did not know for sure,” countered the professor. “Especially after questioning Thurle’s jumbled words. I made a decision, whether right or wrong. But I felt that giving the charm to your mother certainly couldn’t hurt, and somehow might save her or at least help in some way.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not blaming you, professor,” said Marie apologetically. “This is very hard to say but maybe it was the right thing to do, even though I’ve lost my mom. Maybe it just took this long and it’s not over yet.”
Courinn and Perion stared at Marie proudly, trying their best to understand how hard and how objective it was for their friend to admit such a sentiment aloud.
“You are a wise young lady, Miss Meehanan,” said the professor. “And you’re quite correct, it’s not over yet, by any means. The time has come to form our plan.”
“But professor, please tell me,” asked Marie with a thought that had been impatiently nagging at her, “where has my mother been these past three years? Is the monster keeping her a prisoner? Tell me she hasn’t been kept like a slave, being tortured by that horrible thing!”
“Not likely. She is no doubt being kept— as are all the trollogre’s victims until they are to be delivered to the Helots upon their return— partly conscious in a powerful, spell-woven sleep.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” said Marie, prematurely relieved.
“However,” continued the professor, “I know this will be hard to learn, Marie. She may also be asleep while frozen within a blanket of ice beneath the Lake Gwindylo.”
“Oh, please no!” cried Marie. She stared hard into the globe, its normal faint glow becoming brighter.
“Yet the good news,” he explained, “is that since a part of her consciousness can communicate with you through the charm, she is unharmed in this frozen state.”
Once again, the image of Marie’s mother appeared. Marie shouted into the globe with nervous exhilaration, “Hang on, mom! Hang on! I’m coming for you, I promise!” The reflection of her mother smiled proudly, then faded. And then another image formed, growing out from the blackness. A horrible face with red eyes, the same that Marie glimpsed through the fog that terrible day. Marie turned away and covered the globe with her hands. They all stared at her, knowing what she had just seen.
“Let us begin, then,” said the professor. “We have much to yet go over and prepare.”
In the professor’s home later that night, Marie was lying in a comfortable bed, trying to shut her eyes. After the day she had, with so little sleep the night before, Marie should have passed out from exhaustion. But she could not shake from her thoughts the hideous trollogre that held her mother prisoner.
She was in a rather plain bedroom on the second floor. It was sparsely furnished yet had a cozy air, which made one feel safe and secure. Through two windows, the moon crescent shone again, a bit less bright than the night before. Marie’s magical charm was in the top drawer of a dresser across from her. The professor had suggested that tonight, in order to get some good sleep she should keep it away to avoid looking into it repeatedly. He explained she would have plenty of time with it in the coming days.
Too much was in Marie’s head as she tossed and turned: helots and famous generals and gnomes like poor Thurle and his son. And of course, a woods she had lived near all her life, a woods that her father had always said was just like any other, but only now realizing was a whole other world within itself— filled with things straight out of every fairy tale and nightmare she’d ever heard.
Marie knew she would never get to sleep now, not like this. She got up, put on the freshly cleaned night robe that lay next to her bed and stepped out from her room.
The house seemed even bigger now than she thought this afternoon. Passageways led past room after room on just this floor. No doubt about it, thought Marie, it was a strange house in many ways. She saw many things as she walked, paintings, beautiful but odd, old looking weapons and piles of other peculiar oddities like tools or devices or— machines were they? All scattered about, around every corner. It looked more like a museum in a far off place of the world, but unlike any she had ever seen.
As Marie passed another bedroom with its door half open, she peered in and saw Perion snugly asleep. Marie thought about what a day he had had, and the adventure they shared with the enemy mydrus trees. About to turn away and continue on, Perion stirred. As he did so, his arm brushed aside a lock of his long hair. Marie caught her breath. Perion’s arm revealed a sharply pointed ear. She stared a long moment before stepping away.
Wandering down a new hallway on the first floor, Marie heard a sound, quickly realizing it was a piano being played. She noticed a light from a doorway ahead. Poking her head in, she saw Professor Mifflin sitting, softly playing a sweet melody. In the room were many photographs, both on the walls and on the few pieces of tasteful furnishings. Marie watched for some minutes as he played on with a dreamy wistfulness, as if recalling some pleasant memory. Then the melody changed, becoming sadder and darker and a deep pain seemed to wash over him, until abruptly, he at last ‘felt’ Marie standing there. He looked up and the melancholy shadow quickly disappeared.
“Marie,” he said. “I didn’t hear you sneaking up! I used to be far more alert of my surroundings you know, but I’m getting older now— actually, I’m still quite young I suppose. Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“Yes, I am,” said Marie. “The bed is very comfortable and I do feel so safe in your house, but—”
“—You have much to think about now,” said the professor, “and much of it is quite frightening. Please, come in and sit with me.”
Marie entered and sat down in a chair the professor pulled up for her. He then rested his chin and cheek in his hand and studied her a moment.
“Are you unsure now about what you must do?” asked the professor, after he felt he had read enough of what her eyes told him.
“No, sir,” she replied. “I will save my mother. But I’m not sure I understand something. Why you are letting me go and do this? I’m darn sure my father wouldn’t feel the same way, even if he believed the truth of what really happened.”
“One might think,” began Mifflin, “how cruel I am to permit a young girl to head off into such danger with such bleak hope of success. But the truth is, of course, even if your own father or I stopped you, well, short of keeping you locked in a closet all day and night, you would find another way to escape and go anyway— whatever the cost, through any danger. I have seen what young people can do when accompanied by the right friends and comrades, when their hearts and purpose are true. Besides, your own mother has asked you to come to her. Nothing can substitute for the love that exists between a child and their own parents. Does that sound corny?”
Marie shook her head and smiled warmly. “Thank you, professor, very much. By the way, why do they call you professor? It seems like you study and work with magic much more than any um … science.”
“Confusticate magic!” he said in frustration, then followed it with a smile of his own. “Please understand, I am a man of science first, yet I cannot deny the existence of other forces that run contrary to scientific phenomena, most especially when it has to do with Spellhollow Wood.”
“But you understand people too,” replied Marie. “I realize now why you told the story of what happened to my mother the way you did, slowly and all in pieces. It was to prepare me, little by little, for what was coming. You were thinking of me the whole time.”
The professor grinned with admiration. “Your mother once mentioned to me what a bright girl you were, Emily.”
“She told you my name?”
He nodded. “She was right. She always knew how gifted you were.”
“I miss her so much.”
“You will see her again soon. A claim I dearly hope others in this house will someday be able to make.”
This was all the lead-in Marie needed. “Professor, please tell me about the boys. I know they’re not … like us. Perion, all of them … are from that other place you spoke about, aren’t they?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Everything about them, especially Perion. I just now saw him asleep. He moved and under his hair I saw one of his ears.”
The professor nodded. “I suppose you’ve never seen anything like that before. Yes, they are from that Other Place. It’s their home. They all have families like you and they desperately want to return again.”
“But why can’t they?”
“They have been banished here for the rest of their lives,” said the professor sadly. “That’s all I’ll say right now. If you’d like, ask Perion more when you get a chance. I know how fond he already is of you.”
“I will, sir.”
“How about trying to get some sleep now? Can you find your way back to your room?”
“Yes, I think I’m ready now,” said Marie. “But only if you close your piano for the night and go to bed too.”
“I accept your terms. Good night and sleep sound.”
The next morning after a late breakfast, adeptly prepared by Brage and Theel, Marie stood next to Courinn outside the big house. She wore the change of clothes she had carried in her book-bag. She had slept well past ten o’clock and was feeling wide-awake though snugly full, after three large pancakes and three sausages.
Perion, Brage and Tybain were checking the contents of several light backpacks they would be carrying before loading them into the professor’s 1962 Ford truck. Professor Mifflin was fiddling under the hood with a spark plug wire. It was another beautiful spring morning, sunny and warm with few clouds above. The boys finished just as the professor lowered the hood. Zendara stepped up, holding two HT’s, small handy-talkie radio’s. He handed one to Brage.
“Checking one, check two,” his voice filtered through the radio clearly.
“Ready,” Brage assured him.
“As we should all be now,” said the professor. “Everyone pile in, please.”
The six boys leapt up into the deep truck bed with Dyllion and Tybain wrestling for a spot nearest the rear gate, which they both took. Marie and Courinn sat up front with the professor as he started the truck.
“I don’t think we’ve ever had the truck this crowded,” he said, glancing at them with a smile. The truck cabs’ rear window was removed, so the professor could talk— actually more like yell back to whomever was sitting in the bed behind.
Mifflin wrenched the transmission into gear with a slight grind and drove off. His long driveway, a narrow road of its own, led a good half-mile through the woods to a short service road, which then looped around to the main highway. Mifflin chose the southbound lane and they were off. He turned on a police radio, carefully setting it to a particular channel. As they traveled, the woods sped by them on the right. On their left were the vast farmlands of the neighboring county. They only saw a few other vehicles on the road, as there was not much travel within those parts of Gulliver County.
Marie stared at the woods. She thought how strange it was, driving in a regular truck along a normal highway, looking at the edge of an everyday patch of woods, yet knowing that only a short distance inside was a world unlike any she had ever known.
“Have you ever driven to the far side of Oak Tree Road?” asked the professor, his glance indicating the question was for Marie only.
“The far side?” asked Marie. “I’ve never been past Woldred, where I thought it ended.”
“Most think it does,” said the professor, “or don’t ever wish to continue further along than Woldred. The road narrows considerably and is almost hidden at some points after, but on it goes, along the far edges of the wood. It eventually ends another twenty miles or so north. That’s where we’re headed.”
“But aren’t we going to the Rainbow’s End,” asked Marie, “like we discussed last night?”
“Yes we are. It lies in one of the most mysterious regions of the woods, somewhere past the southern and western shoulders, though I’m not sure exactly how far.”
The professor merged off the highway at an exit with an obscure sign indicating ‘Highland Pointe, eight miles ahead and Woldred, fifteen’. Upon the new road, half-paved, half-stone, they saw a small run-down building, with a sign clearly marked ‘Reddit’s General Store’. Everyone from the area knew of old Reddit, the owner, as the meanest, most unhappy man in all of Gulliver County. The highway travelers who stopped in for food and beverages, were always taken aback to see that most of the store was filled with cheap trinkets and lousy souvenirs, trying to capitalize on the Spellhollow legends. But year after year, no one really cared and his business scheme never caught on, which only made old Reddit even angrier and meaner.
They drove several more miles in silence, while in the truck bed the boys playfully carried on, accompanied by whooping howls, like any boys of that age.
“What’s that?” asked Courinn, straining her eyes as she peered ahead. The professor was already steering the truck roadside. Marie glared at the sight before them as a sudden pang of guilt took her. It was a roadblock by the sheriff’s men.
“They’re looking for you,” said the professor. “The sheriff’s not leaving any stone unturned today.”
“My father must be worried sick,” said Marie. “It’s not fair what I’m doing to him. He went through this once already with my mother. I have to send him another message, to let him know I’m okay.”
“Easy enough to do,” replied the professor, “as soon as we get out of here before we’re seen.” He turned the truck around, heading back the way they had come. He turned up his police radio, but it was quiet.
“Unfortunately,” the professor continued, “this road is the only passage leading west. Which leaves us little choice.”
“We have to go through the woods,” said Marie, understanding.
Professor Mifflin nodded as he handed Marie the transmitting mic from his police radio. Marie took it, unsure what the professor was suggesting.
“Press the button and speak,” he explained. “I’m certain the sheriff is listening. And I’ll venture a guess your father is with him.”
Marie nodded to herself that it would be the proper thing to do, considering the circumstances she had put them all into. “Hello, dad,” she began as she keyed the radio mic. “Daddy, can you hear me? It’s Marie, are you out there?”
Sheriff Dan couldn’t believe his ears as he turned up the volume on his radio. He hit the brakes of his car, stopping along the dirt of Luck’s End Loop. They were back here in the woods for the second day, driving through the loop just as they did for much of yesterday, finding no clues. The sheriff turned to James Meehanan next to him, who stared back in wonder. The sheriff grabbed his radio mic.
“Marie Meehanan, is that you? Where are you?”
“Sheriff, is my father with you now?” came the sound of Marie’s voice again. “Please let me speak to him.”
The sheriff handed James the mic, who eagerly took it. “Marie, are you all right? Tell us where you are.”
Courinn and the pro