Breakneck was no prettier.

The Witches swooped, but they were a blink or two too late, for the children on their door had that very second gone into a dive downward to help their friends, so the Witches’ talons closed only on empty air, and they let out screeches of infuriated disappointment.

The sprites and the children and Caliburn the raven FINALLY looked over their shoulders and realized they were being attacked.

Pandemonium ensued, as the rescuing-Squeezjoos-and-Crusher-and-the-animals mission turned abruptly into a desperate flight-from-the-attacking-Witches mission.

“AIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!” screamed the Witches.

“Goo!” cried the baby, which in baby-language means: “I’ve been trying to tell you this for ages, but nobody listens to babies, oh no…”

“FLYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!” yelled Xar, shooting arrows at the Witches as Wish desperately hauled the key back and forth in wild swiveling motions so that the door slalomed this way and that in crazy swirls to evade the mind-boggling horror of the pursuing Witches, while still following the little tiny spark of the charging Squeezjoos, who was continuing to shriek, “SOOJZEEKS TO THE RESCUE! CHAAAAAAARGE!!!!” at the top of his voice.

“Don’t worry, Princess!” said Bodkin, trying to draw Wish’s Enchanted Sword,^* but unable to get it out of the scabbard, he had to pull out his bow and arrows instead. “I’ll save you!”

But Bodkin had a bit of a disadvantage as a bodyguard. He had a medical condition that caused him to fall asleep in conditions of extreme danger.

He had barely said these last brave words before he collapsed, snoring loudly, and began to slide downward on the door.

Snore, snore.

“Bodkin! Wake up!” yelled Wish, and Xar had to give up shooting arrows at the Witches while he and Wish took hold of Bodkin by both arms to prevent him from slipping off the door entirely.

Bodkin woke up with a start, mumbling, “Who? What? Where?”

“Forest in Drood Territory…” panted the little princess. “Being chased by Witches… Squeezjoos attacking my mother’s forces entirely on his own…”

“Oh! Yes!” said Bodkin, scrambling back onto the Enchanted Door. “We can do this! My iron arrows will work much better on Witches than Xar’s bone ones!” Bodkin fitted an arrow into his bow, took careful aim, and then fell asleep again, shooting himself in the foot and falling heavily on Wish. This jogged her hand, and the key that was controlling the steering shot out of the keyhole so violently that the door went into abrupt reverse, traveling backward with such speed that it nearly shot into the open jaws of the pursuing Witches.

What with one thing and another, the young outlaws weren’t really working together in the most brilliant fashion…

The key had gotten entangled in Wish’s hair, so the fork came to the rescue, leaping into the keyhole, using its prongs as a key substitute. Wish took hold of the fork and got control of the door again, narrowly avoiding the swiping talons of the Witches.

The upside-down fork looked up smugly at the furious key, and that look meant: “Look at me, spoon, look at me!… Us forks can be important too!”

“Forks are mere food carriers—they’re not qualified to operate keyholes!” squeaked the key. “Come out of there right now or this flight will end in disaster!”

“SQUEEZJOOS! COME BACK!” roared Xar.

REEEEOOOOOOW! The flying door swooped and swirled and dodged through the treetops, shaving off leaves and nearly unseating its riders, who were hanging on for dear life. Bodkin reawoke, and this time didn’t even attempt to shoot anything, shaking the arrow out of his foot and concentrating on not falling off the door.

Wish was trying not to lose sight of Squeezjoos, who was flying at full speed over the burning trees toward the approaching torches and flares of the Warriors. Goodness knows how the little hairy fairy thought he was going to attack an entire Warrior army all on his own, but that appeared to be his plan.

Down below on the forest floor, Queen Sychorax and her iron Warriors were at full gallop as they raced through the trees on horseback.

Queen Sychorax didn’t look a bit like Wish.

It was most out of character for Queen Sychorax to have a daughter so unlike herself, but even great queens cannot entirely control what their offspring are going to look like.

Queen Sychorax was dressed for war, with an iron breastplate, iron helmet, and so many weapons she looked like a statue to some alien god of war. She was also loaded with jewels, furs, and clothes of the finest materials the early Iron Age could supply, for Queen Sychorax felt that if she was going to be forced to travel into the wilderness of the godforsaken forest in pursuit of a disobedient daughter, she should jolly well do it in style, for mistletoe’s sake.

She was in a bit of a mood.

“Witches,” breathed Queen Sychorax, looking upward from the back of her galloping horse. “I knew it! I KNEW they’d be after her! SHOOT DOWN THE WITCHES!”

ZING! ZING! ZING!

Arrows shot upward from the forest floor, narrowly missing both the door and the Witches.

“Your mother’s shooting at us!” said Bodkin in amazement. “As if we haven’t got enough problems…”

“She’s not shooting at us—she’s shooting at the Witches,” said Wish, grim with determination as she flew that door—really rather well, actually, considering that she was having to use a fork in the keyhole instead of a key, if anybody had had the time or been in the mood to appreciate her growing door-flying skills—at astonishing speed just above the smoke and the chaos of the burning forest.

Arrows rained upward, narrowly missing their targets.

“Oh for goodness’ sake!” snapped Queen Sychorax to her Warriors. “Can’t you even hit a couple of great gawping Witches at close distance?”

She sighed.

“If you want something done you have to do it yourself…” Queen Sychorax pulled up her horse, got out her bow and arrow, and took careful aim.

REOOOOW!

Wish made another desperate turn of the door through the billowing smoke, but this time it was just a smidgeon too late, and one of Ripgrizzle’s talons got hold of the door and sent it revolving in circles, shooting into the talons of Breakneck. Breakneck got a good hold of the spinning door and kept it steady, and Ripgrizzle gave an evil grin as he prepared to swoop.

They couldn’t get away now.

But one final zing! from below, and Ripgrizzle’s grin of gloating triumph turned to an expression of acute surprise.

And then Ripgrizzle fell from the air, dead as a stone, with one of Queen Sychorax’s arrows in his heart.

BOOM! He landed on the forest floor, scattering the Warriors in all directions from the ensuing Witch crater and a whole load of billowing green smoke.

With a whine of horror and fright, Breakneck let go of the Enchanted Door and fled for her life in a whirr of black feathers.

Sychorax’s arrow also stopped the charging Squeezjoos.

On the arrow’s path to Ripgrizzle, it had skimmed so close to Squeezjoos that it had removed the tip of one of Squeezjoos’s antennae, giving the little hairy fairy such a shock that he stopped mid-charge. He blinked twice and the green faded from his little spotty eyes, as if he was just waking up from a sleep, like Bodkin, and—

“Where am I?” squeaked Squeezjoos, giving a violent start as he took in Sychorax’s Warrior army gathered in horrifying masses below him.

“Save meeeeeeeeeeeeee!” He panicked and turned around, flying as fast as his little humming wings could carry him back to what he thought was the safety of Wish and Xar and Bodkin on the back of the door, and hiding himself in Wish’s hair beside the spoon and the key.

“Good shot, Queen Sychorax!” said Bodkin in relief, looking down over the side of the door and trying to see Wish’s mother through the smoke of the Witch’s landing way below. “Yes, you were right. She was shooting at the Witches. Thank goodness she’s such a good shot…”

Xar hated Queen Sychorax, but even he was impressed. “Maybe she’s not as bad as I thou—Hang on a second! What is she doing?”

Sychorax straightened herself on her horse. “Now shoot down the door,” she ordered her deputy. “I’m presuming you can at least hit something as large as that?”

“But, Your Majesty!” spluttered the deputy. “Your own daughter is on the back of that door!”

“My own daughter,” spat Queen Sychorax, grinding her pretty little teeth, “has more than one life.^* And if she didn’t want her door shot down, she shouldn’t have gotten born with this Magic-that-works-on-iron in that abnormal and eccentric fashion. SHOOT DOWN THE DOOR!”