By the time Steven had picked himself up, discovered nearly a dozen of the potatoes that had been hurled at him were perfectly good, and shuffled back up the road to the barracks part of the castle, he realized that he would have to hurry on to the forest if he wanted to get there ahead of Celeste.
Walking with a pronounced limp, Steven made his painful way uphill to the forest entrance. The confidence he'd held that morning was all but gone, and he had a faint voice in his head telling him that there was something else he should be doing after this (assuming he survived), only he'd forgotten what it was. All he really wanted to do right now was go home, turn some of the potatoes he'd picked up after his beating into soup, eat the soup and then take a nap.
But of course, that would be shirking his responsibility to deal with the witch.
On the flat plateau just outside the forest, Steve was grimly astonished to find Celeste already there and waiting for him. So much for the element of surprise.
"You've looked better," Celeste observed dryly.
Steven's plan had been to take the witch by surprise, and to kill her before she saw the blow coming. But now it turned out she was here, looking right at him. With the extensive injuries he'd sustained being pelted with potatoes, he couldn't hope to draw his sword terribly quickly, much less close the gap between them before the witch should do something to counter his attack. So he stood silently, wondering distantly whether he was even in good enough shape to try and play out the dire chinchilla hunting charade he'd used to lure Witch Celeste up here with.
Celeste continued in purring tone,"You could also-" then her voice turned harsh and nasty, "-look worse!"
As she spoke the last, Celeste lifted her hands and spears of darkness seemed to fly from her fingertips. Instinctively, Steven dropped and rolled, trying to dodge. But these weren't real spears, they were a magic spell directed at Steven, and they followed him unerringly.
Steven felt them strike against his back, and then felt overcome with a grave weariness. Staggering from this new ailment, Steven knew that the witch would kill him if he did nothing. The spell she'd hit him with was disabling, but after that first flush of exhaustion hit, Steven realized he wasn't dying from the spell. His body was weak, his thoughts sluggish, but he wasn't in further danger, except that now Celeste was moving in to finish what she'd started.
There was only one thing Steven could do. He couldn't fight now. His arms felt limp and useless, and he doubted he could lift his sword, much less make use of it. He had maybe seconds before the exhaustion became too much and he simply collapsed. There was only one chance. If he fled into the forest, the shadows therein might conceal him. He needed to lose the witch. Even if he was to die, he would prefer it be somewhere by himself in the forest, rather than in the presence of Celeste. If she would kill him, at least he would not have to look at her as she did so.
For the first time in his life, Steven found himself running from a fight. In its way, the choice to flee for his life was as painful and humiliating as being pelted with potatoes had been. In fact, it was worse, because Steven knew what the witch would do if no one stopped her. And who was left?
Lord Spaulding, who believed nothing was amiss? Guard Rhona, who only thought of Celeste as a rival for the king's affection? Guard Rupert, with eyes only for Minstrel Rhianwen? Royal Adviser Greta, with her model armies and stick? Who would stop Celeste, if not Steven himself?
Fueled by the need to outrun the feeling of guilt, and to escape from these morbid thoughts, Steven actually went quite some distance into the forest before collapsing. Only after he fell in a pile of moldering leaves did he look back and realize to his chagrin that Celeste had not even attempted to pursue him. He felt like he should know why she didn't chase him... but he didn't.
In fact, as he lay where he'd fallen, it came to Steven that he didn't really know a lot of things. And also he wasn't sure he cared. It was good to lie here, not moving, not thinking, not worrying about or doing anything. He didn't even feel hurt or hungry anymore... just tired.
Vaguely, he became aware of a distant chanting. He didn't know what it meant, and he didn't think it mattered. Dimly, he noticed a group of people -elves from the look of them- gathering around him, murmuring quietly to one another. Faintly, he recalled some proverb about witches fearing to be in the forest when dark elves were about, and he wondered if that was why Celeste had not pursued him.
One of the elves hesitantly reached out and touched him. Getting no reaction, the elf grew bolder, and gave Steven a bit of a shove. When Steven still didn't react, the elf scampered back to where the others of its kind waited. They held what sounded to be an urgent conference.
Still conscious, but uncaring, Steven watched through dimming vision as the people of the forest deliberated. The wood elves were notoriously shy, but also potentially quite dangerous to the unwary. Steven had heard stories of people being trampled by startled wood elves. He'd also heard that there was some sort of magical tree in the forest which belonged to the elves, and many who had stumbled across it had sought to cut it down and take it for themselves, only to discover that elves protected their sacred tree very enthusiastically. Steven supposed that being trampled wouldn't be any worse than the rest of his day had been. In any case, he was too weak now to get up, much less defend himself.
Then a new elf stepped forward from the group. With as much shock as his weary brain could register, Steven found he recognized her. This was the elf child he'd seen attacked in the village. Gently she stepped forward, and knelt beside him, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder.
"I could not express my gratitude to you before," she said in soft glowing voice, "But I shall do so now, by lifting the witch's curse from you. Truly I do not feel the world's beauty would be lessened by the death of those villagers, and would not mind the witch's destroying them all, making more room for our forest to grow. But you saved my life, and thus I offer you this cure as thanks."
As she spoke, Steven felt such energy as he should have had coming back to him. His fogged brain began to clear. Before the process was complete, the elves had departed, leaving Steven alone to recover his strength and senses, and to wonder if he had hallucinated it all. At least, he wondered until he happened to look down and saw that three mana stones had been left in a pile. Steven had no use for the stones himself, but he recognized their rarity and value nonetheless.
Thoughtfully, he put them in his pocket, and got to his feet.
It was time to put an end to this. The Witch Celeste must die.
Steven found Lord Spaulding in the castle study, hunched over the scribe table therein and writing furiously. On the other side of the room, Greta was waving her strategy stick menacingly at an unhappy looking guard whose name Steven had not learned yet. She appeared to be coercing the guard into strategizing. Steven opted to ignore that, at least for the moment.
Patiently, he waited for Lord Spaulding to finish his writing. But before he could get a word in edgewise about the witch, Lord Spaulding leaped to his feet indignantly.
"Where have you been?" Lord Spaulding demanded, "I notice that singing pirate is still singing, so either you didn't beat him up, or you didn't do it well enough. Might I recommend some sort of choking maneuver?" he mimed the move he had in mind.
"I've been in the forest," Steven began, "I went there-"
"To avoid the pirate, I imagine," Lord Spaulding interrupted, "Fine knight you are, hiding from a pirate in the forest. If I wanted real security, I would've built a tower for the spy instead of a barracks for you. Then at least I would know someone was out there trying to assassinate the nuisances of the world."
"But I've been trying-" Steven did not get to finish.
"Yes, I'll say you are. Very trying," Lord Spaulding replied, "Yesterday it was a witch, this afternoon it was potato throwing peasants, and now you'll be telling me the forest elves are back."
"Actually-"
"Forget it," Lord Spaulding cut him off smoothly, "I'm sorry you lost your temper. But I'm far too busy to be bothered with whatever it is you're trying to bother me with. I've got to go kiss my beloved Rhona goodbye before I sail off to... erm... another country for a... uh... diplomatic exchange."
"So you've chosen Rhona for your wife?" Steven managed, scrambling to try and follow this.
"Yes, and I've decided to follow the Jacoban faith, because I like churches with spires, the kind it looks like you could just impale someone on," Lord Spaulding said, "Things are far too sunny and bright around here. We need a little doom and gloom to liven up the place."
"Uh... yes, my Lord," Steven replied uneasily.
"Besides, having a wedding in the town square is ridiculous. Believe me, I've tried it. I'd try it again if I had to, but marrying in the church should simplify things enormously."
"I'll take your word for that," replied the baffled Steven.
"Oh, and before I forget, here. Take this."
Lord Spaulding handed Steven a smooth gray object that fit in the palm of his hand.
"Use that whistle to call Firefly. I'm far too busy with this wife and child thing to be dealing with two birds at once, and the parrot brings treasure and shiny objects, and I appreciate that. So I leave it to you to take good care of Firefly."
"I will, My Lord," Steven replied, not at all certain how to 'take good care' of any bird, much less an expensive and exceptional creature such as a gyrfalcon.
"Anyway, I'm off," Lord Spaulding said, calling over his shoulder as he stalked out of the castle, "Good luck with executing the witch. If you can pull that off, I'll make you a captain."
Steven watched his king go, head spinning with incomprehension (or was that just a potato related injury?). Finally he managed to latch onto one key piece of information. He had his Lord's permission to kill the witch. It wasn't signed permission, but it was permission nonetheless. Steven decided to take that and run with it, before circumstances changed and he found himself floundering again. For the moment, he knew what he had to do, and he had received formal permission to do it.
Just as Steven was trying to leave, Build Master Krispin returned from whatever he'd been doing, at which point Royal Adviser Greta abandoned the poor guard she'd been harassing in favor of this new target. Greta and Krispin met in the doorway, preventing Steven from actually leaving. Just as Rupert had asserted, they began almost at once to do some very steamy kissing there in the doorway, apparently not caring a bit if anyone on either side wanted to get by.
Several minutes later, they disengaged long enough to step out of the doorway, allowing Irving the Servant to get into the room to mop the already quite thoroughly spotless floor, and for Steven to escape the castle and go out in search of Executioner Bailiff.
Tired, still badly hurt, very hungry and recently cursed, Steven was in no mood for anyone's nonsense. He'd had all he intended to take. Therefore, he was quite short with the Executioner.
"Executioner Bailiff," he began formally.
"Yes, Sir?" Bailiff replied.
"See that woman over there?" Steven asked, pointing to where Witch Celeste was once more attempting to cast spells in the town square.
"Yes, Sir."
"Well, she's a witch. Lord Spaulding would like you to execute her. Think you can do that?"
"Yes, Sir," Bailiff replied.
"Are you sure?" Steven asked, "Because she's very dangerous. She's already cursed me once."
"I'm sure, Sir," Bailiff told him with a kind of flat confidence.
Unconvinced, Steven followed the Executioner as he shuffled downhill from his posting in the Judgment Zone, and into the town square.
"You there," Bailiff said to the witch, "I've come to see to your execution."
To Steven's intense surprise, Witch Celeste did not protest or even try to escape.
"Yes," she said quietly, "I see."
"Come along with me, and we'll get you executed right away," Bailiff said.
"Okay," the witch answered, sounding... almost meek.
In growing disbelief, Steven watched as the witch was escorted to the Judgment Zone. Executioner Bailiff didn't have to prod her, she simply walked down the plank, and hopped into the Pit. Steven remained suspicious, sure she must have a way out of this one. But, to his amazement, the Beast arose from the depths, and grabbed onto the witch, and swallowed her almost at once with a loud gulp.
The suddenly gathered crowd, a highly skilled group of professional gawpers, watched the brief fight, and applauded its conclusive end, before dispersing. For once, Steven was not off-put by their behavior. He was more than happy to have witnessed the end of Witch Celeste. As far as he was concerned, that end was long overdue. Still...
He turned to Bailiff, "She gave me a devil of a time, but she didn't give you any trouble at all."
"Of course not, Sir," the Executioner replied flatly, "Nobody argues with a duly appointed servant of the Grim Reaper."
"Why not?" Steven asked.
"Why..." Bailiff answered rather incredulously, "It simply isn't done!"
"I see," Steven sighed, "Well... I'm going to go home. And I am going to sleep."
"Yes, Sir," Bailiff replied, "You do that, Sir."
Steven found he could not argue with that.