Hilda - The Challenge Read online

recovered from the hands of the motorgang.

  Hilda slammed the wood on the table. "What are you looking at?"

  William had never before heard someone talk in a way that made unease and being annoyed physically tangible.

  The goldfish looked at each other and spread out, one to each side of the teacup, to see what would happen next.

  Before William could reply, a large meat-cleaver flew through the room and landed smack in the middle of the table. He fell over backwards, crashing onto the hardwood floor, evoking a heartfelt 'oompf'.

  "Don't exaggerate," Hilda said, "it's just that dinner's ready." With a snort she yanked the cleaver from the table, got up and went to the kitchen, returning with two plates of hot steaming food in her wake.

  William was still getting up and putting the chair back in its rightful place. Again he stared, now at the plates that landed themselves on the table and forks materialising. "This is some fabulous household," he said, sitting down.

  Hilda sat down, leaned her elbows on the table and rested her face on her fists. She looked at the man who had so suddenly appeared here. "I really wonder why you are here," she said. "I have enough on my hands already, so I hope you understand that I can't be a wonderful host for you, if you are hoping for one."

  "I don't know why I am here either," William said. "I don't even know how I got here, or how I can go back. Bert will be rather annoyed too, by now."

  "Bert?"

  "The owner of the bookstore. I had a dinner appointment with him. Don't you remember him? You floored him with a big book, just before you came out to find me."

  Hilda smiled a big, bright smile. "Oh, right. Him. Had forgotten his name. Was quite a whack I gave him, yeah."

  They picked up their forks and as they were eating they reminisced about the time that Hilda had appeared in William's world, and how they had met in the coffee house at last. William had owned a large ancient book with spells that had enabled Hilda to return to her own world again, leaving the crystal ball she had created in William's truck. It had been the only tangible memory he had left from their encounter.

  Hilda relaxed a bit. She had been tensing up more and more, with the unwanted and unexpected visitor in her house, but now, over dinner and through the talking, she was feeling less upset about him.

  "William," she asked as they were well on their way through the food. "Do you want some wine?"

  "I'd really like some, yes." He was instantly curious to what this world had to offer in wine.

  Hilda nodded, made her wand appear, and with that she produced two glasses of wine. She shoved one over to him, and then magicked up a bottle of water to dilute her own.

  "Why are you doing that?", William asked. Wine with water was like cursing in a holy place to him.

  "I don't take well to much alcohol," Hilda confided. She almost whispered it, which was totally unneeded, as the goldfish as well as the house were already aware of this fact.

  "Okay," William whispered and put a finger over his lips. "I won't tell anyone."

  "No problem if you do, everyone knows already," Hilda whispered back and took a sip from her wine.

  William tasted the wine. "Jeebus," he said, "that is a fantastic wine. Where I come from, you pay through the nose if you want to get a bottle that comes close to this."

  "You think so?", Hilda asked, charging her plate again.

  "Oh yes, I am certain." William took another sip in appreciation.

  They finished their food, after which Hilda offered him another round. "There is plenty, I think. If you want two plates, that's no problem either."

  "I don't want to be impolite, but no thank you. I am almost bursting at the seams," said William.

  Hilda looked over the table to inspect him and his clothing, and decided he was exaggerating again. No signs of ripping in his clothes. "Okay." A flick of the wand later the plates were gone and the wine glasses were filled again. The wicked witch had already made a load of burning candles appear earlier, as darkness had taken over the outside world.

  William looked at the woman with the long grey hair and the jet-black eyes, who sat there toying with her glass, staring into it. She had a pretty face, he had already agreed on that with himself long time ago. Not a ravishing beauty, but definitely pretty. He was fascinated by the way she expressed herself, sometimes hard as a rock, yet occasionally she struck him as uncertain or immature. But, he thought, that could come from her not having people staying that often.

  The candlelight made her features look soft, so very unlike how she was.

  "What are you looking at?", Hilda asked without taking her eyes from the glass.

  "You."

  "Don't."

  "Why not?", William asked.

  "I don't like it when people look at me. Not like that."

  "Not like what?", William dared to ask.

  "Like I am a person worth looking at for the looking. I am not. I am a witch, and I want people to look at me in awe. Or with fear. Not for..." She could not find the proper word, or didn't want to find it. "Just so you know."

  "Fair enough," William agreed. "Maybe you want to tell me what's on your mind then? You've mentioned something like that a few times already, so it must be something big."

  Hilda looked at him and sighed. She reached over the table and picked up a piece of paper from the small mountain that was there. "Here."

  William took the paper, looked at the emblem, felt the consistency of the paper and wondered what it was made of. Then he read the calligraphically written note, all the way down to 'to the death'. "Oh, right. I would not feel too tickled with that hanging over my head..."

  "I've had more of those before. Got out of them alive," Hilda said, trying to make it sound as if it was not a big deal.

  "And yet you are worked up about this one," William said.

  It was exactly the thing she did not really want any ordinary to know. But then, she reasoned with herself, William was not your average ordinary. He was, after all, the person who had been crucial in her returning home so many years ago.

  "Lamador is a powerful sorcerer. Powerhungry even. And he's spending far too much time on becoming even more powerful. I don't know what drives him. It can't be king Herald, that guy's powerful and wealthy enough." Hilda filled their glasses again.

  William rubbed his chin. As he moved, Hilda's eyes were glued to his hand for a moment, then she watched her glass again. "Has it appeared to you that perhaps this Labrador has gained power over king Herald, and that this king is only a puppet in the sorcerer's play?"

  "Lamador. Not Labrador," Hilda said. She thought of what William had said. "You might have a point there," she nodded, "it would not be beyond Lamador to cast a spell over his king in order to expand his power even more."

  She looked at William. "Is it warm in here or what?" The wicked witch touched her cheeks. "Ooh, very warm... I should go open a window or so..."

  As she tried to get up, it was as if suddenly lead was delivered into her legs. She had to grab hold of the table so she could remain on her feet. "Oh, crappedy crap," she groaned. She had forgotten to dilute her last couple of glasses of wine and now she was paying for the price.

  Hilda fell back in her chair and groaned some more. "All your fault," she said accusingly to William. "Without you I would not have drunk so much and talked so much and maybe found a problem to my solution- oh wait... that should be the other way round. I think."

  The witch had for certain hit the bottle in the right way, which to her was the worst way imaginable: she was drunk.

  Hilda shook her hand, hoping for a wand to appear. That could get the alcohol out of her. Alas, the alcohol had temporarily disabled her ability to summon the wand, so she was facing the ultimate catch-22.

  "No... no... I don't want this..." She stared at William. "I don't want to feel like this, William. Make it go away, yes?" Again she struggled herself up from the chair, and this time she appeared to succeed, but attempting a step forward proved too daunting
a task. Hilda stumbled and fell over the table, grabbing at anything that could give her some hold before she would slide down to the floor.

  William had quickly reached out and caught her hand in his, holding her onto the table that way. He got up, holding her hand, and then wrapped an arm around her. He lifted the skinny witch up from the table and held her so she could stand up. It was obvious that without help she was not going anywhere but to the floor.

  "No, William, you cannot hold me like that," Hilda muttered as she tried to pluck his arm away from her. She could just as well attempt to lift a mountain; her strength had left her completely. "I am a witch, you know, a very wicked witch."

  "I think you are a very drunk witch at the moment, Hilda, and I should get you to bed," William calmly said. "So if you tell me where to take you, I'll make sure you get there safe and well."

  "No! You cannot go into my bedroom!", she shouted, once more trying to free herself from the arm.

  As the attempt failed again, she turned around in his arm, so she faced him. She put her hands on his shoulders. "Now listen- Oh... strong shoulders. Did you know you have strong shoulders, William?" She started giggling as she squeezed the man's arms. "You are strong, William, but you cannot carry a witch to her bed. No no no, you cannot- whoops!"

  William had lifted her up in his arms and was walking towards the stairs. This was a tricky thing as there were no candles anywhere. Nor a lightswitch.

  "Hello, house, can you supply some light here?", William gave it a try.

  The house remained silent, and