The Lazy Dragon and Bumblespells Wizard Read Online Free PDF Page A

she was going to use Moire Ain to kill a king.
    Moire Ain didn’t care if Hedge-Witch was angry about the way the stranger had spoken to her or if she was mad that Moire Ain was late. She was not going to stay to find out. Slinking back around the hut, Moire Ain pulled out her book. She flipped through, looking for anything she could use. Maybe something to silently call her pet raven, Raspberries, warning him to escape. But all the spells went on for pages, and none now seemed to be in her language. There wasn’t time to master one, even if she could have deciphered the language they were in.
    There was no choice. She had to run and hope Raspberries followed, but first she would take care of something. Since Moire Ain would not be around to cure the poison Hedge-Witch would make from the white tuber that reeked of evil, she would destroy it. Moire Ain threw it into the coals of the cooking fire burningbehind the hut.
    As it hit the flames, the plant screamed.
    Too stunned to move, Moire Ain was still staring when Hedge-Witch hurtled around the hut shouting, “What have you done? Get in the hut. I’ll deal with you later. You are too incompetent to even gather a ….” She stopped. She stuck her staff in the fire and dragged out the blackened plant. Throwing dirt on it to smother the burning parts, she picked it up and stroked it like a pet cat. A crafty look crossed the old crone’s face, and she shook her finger at Moire Ain. “You will find out what that was when I—”
    â€œFeed it to me? You plan to poison me to make me kill a king?” Moire Ain tried to scream, but her throat had closed, and everything came out as a whisper.
    The old witch smiled and started to chant.
    By the third word, Moire Ain recognized the spell. Spider webs would fly out of Hedge-Witch’s fingers in a moment. Moire Ain would be imprisoned in sticking silken ropes.
    So she ran.
    She heard Hedge-Witch screaming behind her. “Grab her. Grab the rotten thief!” Her howling brought out every villager who wasn’t already outdoors. But they slunk back into their doorways as Moire Ain fled by. They were too scared of Hedge-Witch to help Moire Ain.
    Jumping over a washing tub, Moire Ain knew whereto go. The river. Water was the thing the old witch hated most. Moire Ain sprinted faster, hugging the book so close its worn beige cover could have melted into her skin. She didn’t waste breath yelling the truth that she had stolen nothing.
    At the river end of the village, Moire Ain threw herself into the lush bushes surrounding the Greenfields’ home. She only meant to stop for a moment and then run again, but her shrunken stomach betrayed her.
    The smell of baking bread drew her onto her feet. She stood up, breathing in a warm meal, the kind she rarely had. She closed her eyes and tasted food shared with a smiling family. As she pictured steamy slices of bread passed down a long wooden table, she watched her own hand try to take a hunk, but the bread vanished, and she was jerked back to reality by shouting voices.
    Moire Ain turned to run again, but she slammed into the soft bosom of Goodwife Greenfield. The woman grabbed Moire Ain by both arms and pulled her into the family’s hut.
    Moire Ain’s heart nearly broke. She’d been captured without even getting out of the village. The goodwife she had pretended was her mother was about to turn her over to the witch.
    â€œQuiet,” Goodwife Greenfield said. She shoved Moire Ain deeper into the hut, keeping a hand on herarm. Not letting go, the peasant turned and blocked the doorway.
    Moire Ain knew there was only one escape. Unlike Hedge-Witch’s molding straw shack, this thatched home had a small window opening. Moire Ain eyed it, sure she was skinny enough to fit through. No one was keeping her prisoner until Hedge-Witch arrived.
    Moire Ain tried to shake them away, but tears of betrayal stung her eyes. That the goodwife