5. Charging the ball

The broom swept downwards in a sickening spiral. The poor girl had to put in all her strength to keep her lunch in place. The landing however was very gentle.

Hilda held the broom. "Where are the crystal balls?"

The girl pointed to a Swarovsky store. "In there."

Hilda looked at the window. There was crystal. She looked at the girl, snipped her fingers and said: "Absolvo." Immediately the spell broke. The girl felt she was free, turned and ran off as if the devil was on her heels. She'd probably prefer him over Hilda.

"Still got the touch, girl," Hilda prided herself. Then, broom in hand, she entered the large store.

As soon as she stepped into the place, a large man with a square chin stopped her. "You are not allowed to carry that object into the store, madam," he said.

"Good," Hilda said, pushing the broom into his hands, "then you carry it for me." She walked on a few steps and then looked at the security man. "Coming? It won't fly without me."

The man, a Star Trek fan, raised an eyebrow. "Could you come with me, please?"

"Are you taking me to the crystal balls?", Hilda asked.

"Certainly," the man said. Up until that point he had done everything well. The moment he reached out to push Hilda ever so gently towards a special room, that was when things started to go bad. You do not touch a witch. You definitely do not touch a wicked witch. And least of all you'd want to touch Hilda.

The wand was out before the eye could follow. The security man seemed to solidify beyond human standards, he literally became petrified.

Hilda looked at him and assumed her broom would be safe in his stone hands. "Thank you for holding my broom," she said, patting the statue on the arm. Then she went on the search for crystal balls, a chore where her wand could not help her.

It took her about ten minutes to locate the balls. "Hair of a unicorn, these are small," she said as she saw them. With a simple incantation she changed the glass into air and reached into the cabinet, picking out the largest of the crystal spheres. "Pretty though..." She tapped it with the wand and sampled the sound. "Good quality too. I guess this will have to do."

A saleslady then came into the section where Hilda had decided on her choice. "Ah, madam, I see you have already..." Her voice faltered when she saw the glass missing from the cabinet.

Hilda held up the ball. "I am taking this."

"Excellent choice, madam," the saleslady said, still wondering about the cabinet. "I'll take it and have it wrapped for you."

"No. I said that -I- take this. You take nothing." Hilda held up her wand.

The saleslady stepped back. "Are you threatening me?"

"Threaten? I do not need crude means like that. I am telling you, that suffices in general," said Hilda. "Now let me get to my broom and no harm will be done."

"Broom?" This threw the saleslady so much that she did not attempt to stop Hilda as the witch breezed past her. The saleslady had no idea how lucky she was.

As Hilda walked through the Swarovsky store, she tucked the ball in her shoulderbag and made the wand disappear again. Her hurry attracted some attention, but a spell handled that.

The stone man still guarded her broom. One of the other security people stood next to the statue and was busy talking on the phone about the remarkable find he had done. "No, man, honest to God, he's turned to stone... No, dammit Marty, I am not drunk! I'm on duty here! Send over the cops or so, and an ambulance-... Marty, you asshole, we don't need a sculptor here. I'm telling you, Stephen has changed into a statue and I need help with that!"

Hilda heard the conversation. She shook her head at the weird man who was talking to a small piece of metal. Then she picked the broom from the statue's hand and walked out of the shop. She did not mind the alarm going off, nor the man with the phone coming out after her. Long before he could reach her, she had already mounted the broom and flown off.

"Marty... you are not going to believe what I just saw," the man said to his partner on the other end of the line.

Hilda was high in the air, on her broom. She was looking for a spot where she could consult the crystal ball, somewhere quiet. She found a small patch of land with trees. Not large, but then she did not require that much space. She guided the broom downwards and landed beside the small foresty spot. The witch looked at the broom and shook her head. An impossible thing, she thought to herself, but so far it worked. It just cornered poorly.

Hilda walked among the trees and put the broom up against one of them. She looked at the surroundings. "Back to basic. How authentic." Her face betrayed that she did not agree with the words she just had spoken.

She kneeled down on the sand and lay her bag on it, in front of her. She took the small crystal ball and started a time-consuming ritual to charge it. A ball not properly charged would give the most insane answers, she knew. Fitting for this place, she added a thought, while a grimace hurtled over her face.

By the time the ball was charged, the sun was setting. A dark shadow fell over the town and also over the group of trees. Hilda grabbed the wand, stuck it in the soil and snipped her fingers. A bright light came from the wand.

"Now let's see if this sucker works," she mumbled.

The ball was on the bag, charged and potent. The witch held her hands over it and as silently as she dared she repeated a chant to activate the visionary powers she had summoned and put into the small sphere. The world around her grew dark. Nothing existed, except herself, the power and the crystal ball that she was working on.

A small light started to shine inside the crystal and Hilda had to pay extra care now, be amazingly gentle and chant the nuances of her song in the most subtle of ways, otherwise the whole exercise would have been in vain. One wrong intonation, one slight faltering of voice and volume, and the power of the spell would rupture the crystal ball, rendering it useless. It would end up as being merely a ball made of crystal, not an actual crystal ball.

The bright spark spread through the hard mineral, slowly revolving, shining its light against the inside of the sphere. It was an amazing feat to witness, time and again, even for the wicked witch, how the light would just stop moving as it reached the limit of the ball and not go out further as light usually did. Patiently she worked on, chanting, empowering, soothing the structure of the ball so it would not crack under the strains that she was putting on it. A larger ball would have been easier, the pressure inside would have more substance to spread around in, but alas, things were as they were. The quality of this little object would have to make up for the reduced size.

Hilda closed her eyes as she projected the ultimate burst of energy right into the heart of the sphere, where the light lived and danced. She held her breath, summoning all the powers she could reach to make this work, dedicating her whole being to the work. The ball existed of pure white light now, energy flowing freely, in near obscene amounts. Then it was done. All the light vanished, darkness fell over the witch and the sphere. Hilda kept her eyes closed and was ready for the cold that was going to flow over her. It was inevitable, as so much energy had been pulled away from the environment.

The frosty cold hit her as she had taken the crystal ball in both her hands. She pressed her little gem against her heart and fainted, as the drain of energy, the lack of food and the sudden harshness of the icy wind that whistled around her took their toll.

Hilda awoke with an abundance of smells in her nose, the sensation of a soft bed beneath her and warmth on her face.

"Well, look who's awake," a voice said. "Tilly, I think it's time for some food and coffee for someone."

Hilda opened her eyes and quickly looked around, throwing off the blanket. Surprise and recognition caught her and prevented her just in time from throwing around a powerful stunning spell. She was in the house of the ancient one, the man with the white hair and the large wizard's staff.

"Ancient one?", she whispered, not understanding how she had gotten there. "Did you bring me here?"

"Haha, hear that, Tilly? She's calling me ancient one. I did tell you!" The old man got up from his chair.

From behind the table that he'd been sitting at, an old woman got up as well. She had a round face, grey hair with still some black streaks in it and large friendly eyes.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, miss," she said, "let me get you something to eat." As she went out of the room, the old man helped Hilda get up and led her to a chair. Soon after that, she was eating a good meal and sipping the dark, strong smelling stuff that the ancient ones called coffee. As she was stuffing herself in what appeared to be a frenzy, the old man told her how she had gotten onto the stretcher in his livingroom.

"I was taking the dog out for a walk, you see. Always do that in the evening. Good to get some fresh air before going to sleep, and it's good for Wilbur also. Wilbur's the dog, you see." He took a swig from his coffeecup. "So we were going down the road when Wilbur was pulling me over to the trees where you were lying. What were you doing out there all by your lonely self, anyway? You looked as if you had been thrown out of a freezer."

Hilda dropped her fork and knife. "Where's my ball?" As the old man frowned for a moment, she got up. "I need my ball. Where is it?"

"Oh, you mean the crystal ball? We kept that safe for you." The old woman, Tilly, picked it from a small jar and handed it to Hilda, who grabbed it from her hands. The wicked witch probed the power inside the sphere and found it to be working and all fine. Relieved, she tucked the ball in a pocket of her denim jacket.

"I need this ball. I charged it, and I have to keep it close to me. You understand."

The two old people looked at each other and smiled. That was enough for Hilda to know that they did indeed understand. Old mages, she knew, often did not need words to communicate.

Before she could ask, the ancient one said: "We also have your broom here, so no need to get all excited about that either."

Hilda nodded. "I appreciate that. But, of course, as you know, the ball is more important. A broom is just a broom."

"Of course, dear," Tilly said. "Would you like some more food? Or coffee?"

"Yes. Coffee. It charges me very fast. I must know the recipe for this brew, if you can share it," Hilda said, pushing the cup towards the wife of the ancient mage.

The old man looked at Hilda. "Do you really not know how to make coffee?" Astounding sounded in his voice. Hilda immediately knew that she was trouble. Clearly the making of this brew was a knowledge very common here, telling that she did not know how would make her be the laughing stock of these people.

"Of course I do. But this one is special," she tried to save her butt from pending mockery.

Tilly laughed. "Yes, you have that right. The trick is to buy more Arabica and mix that to the regular roast."

Hilda, having emptied her plate, felt like a fool, a novice, a beginner. The coffee was clearly a liquid, and these people knew how to roast it.