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ZULA

N eo had chosen the place well: a grassy knoll, surrounded by the jungle. Anyone might be hiding in the foliage, but those standing in the middle of the clearing had the high ground, and a clear view of anyone or anything that might come at them. Zula stood with Neo, nerves dancing up and down her spine. The air was thick with trepidation, with waiting, and she was the bait. She glanced at him, hardly daring to believe he’d given her another chance. Neo stood tall, shoulders back, head held high, but the biggest surprise was the sword he drew.

She hadn’t guessed him to be a swordsman, didn’t think he had the power in his shoulders, but if she knew anything about Neo, appearances meant nothing. He, as ever, was full of surprises. Tossing the blade lightly from hand to hand, he looked at her, a calm surety in his gaze.

“Where is everyone?” Zula studied the clearing. “We’re the only ones here.”

“We only look like we’re the only ones here.”

“Ah.”

A shimmer hovered at the edge of her vision, a ripple of magic visible in the air. Zula swallowed hard, wanting to freeze, wanting to close her eyes and wish herself far away. The clean scent of the plants shifted to something foul, an omen of death. Destruction. The grass shuddered, bending over, and out of the jungle walked the witch.

She had a form now that made her appear more like a woman than an old bag of bones covered in black. Her posture was only slightly hunched, and she carried a sack over her shoulder as she approached.

Neo didn’t address her, or move, which, for a moment, made Zula wonder if she was the only one who saw the witch. But no, Neo watched as the witch paused near the bottom of the hill, looking up at them as though she had no wish to be on equal footing.

“You tricked me,” she began, swinging down the sack. It landed with a thump at her feet. Bending to open it, she reached inside, then pulled out the jeweled egg. Or at least the decoy Zula had given her. It was nothing but a gray rock, carefully painted with various colors. But there were no jewels on it.

“I didn’t know, but I’m glad of it,” Zula said defiantly.

“I thought you might be feisty. At first,” the witch admitted. Setting down the decoy, she reached into the bag and removed more treasures, one after the other, until all six were lined up. “You, Blue-Feathered Bard, decided to work with royalty, shifting your loyalties from one power to the other. I don’t take kindly to your betrayal. It’s time you learned your lesson.”

“I have learned my lesson.” Zula positioned her ukulele in her arms, fingers on the strings. She strummed a note that hovered in the air, vibrating into the shadows of the evening. “I learned that stealing is wrong, and thinking only of myself and of the coin I might earn is meaningless and harmful. I learned that my actions had unintended consequences. I gave you power, didn’t I? I almost started a terrible war and lost the trust of the man I might be falling in love with. Even though he’s a prince and everything between us is impossible. I’ve been cursed, blackmailed, and betrayed. But through it all, I learned that I also have a voice, and I have a choice. It’s never easy to choose to do the right thing. It’s hard and scary, and the risk of failure is high, so very high. But I’m making this choice now, because I finally see my purpose. I finally know what I want. It’s not treasure; it’s not something I can steal or physically hold on to. Today, I choose joy. I choose peace. I’ve decided to do the right thing, once and for all.”

The witch cackled, but Zula wasn’t listening. No more words. No more banter. No more bargains. Taking a deep breath, she let a calmness fill her senses. A golden glow hovered over her fingers and magic gained strength deep inside as she started to play. This time, a song she’d never played before poured out of her. Not one of the fast jaunts she played in taverns, nor the ballads she sang while on the road, nor the lulling tunes that sent her foes to sleep so she could steal from them. This was a song of war, a song of battle, and magic leaped from her fingertips, soaring like an arrow for the witch.

The witch lifted her hands and bolts of white lightning crackled from them. But Neo was there with his sword, warding off the blow. He moved, he twirled, he danced, and the sword was a blur, everywhere at once. But the witch was fast. She ducked and dodged, and that’s when halos of magic came out of the jungle.

Zula’s eyes widened as the entire royal family stepped forth, wielding their magic. The princess with her daggers, the crown prince with white arrows, and the queen with blood-red magic that also crackled from her fingertips like lightning. All four of them moved together in a dance of death, surrounding the witch, weakening her as Zula continued her song.

The witch stumbled, unsure which way to turn, and one by one the treasures shattered, leaving her howling as her form turned into shadow, getting smaller, darker, as though she might turn into a wisp of smoke.

It was the queen who stepped back first, followed by the crown prince, the princess, and, at last, Neo. The witch fled from them, a wordless shadow hurling into Zula. Everything burned. She heard herself screaming, shrieking as she played. Shaking herself loose from the shadow.

It left her with a cry, yet it stood before her, a vile specter, a crooked finger pointed, warning. Zula played one more note, and the witch turned to ash. Weakness filled her limbs and Zula dropped to her knees, the ukulele falling from her fingers, landing with a soft thump on the grass.

A breeze began to blow, and a thunderclap came. A moment later a cool rain began, a cleansing rain. Closing her eyes, Zula tilted back her head. She let the rain fall freely on her face, let it mix with her tears, with the weight she’d been carrying all those long years. No longer did she have to concern herself with what might become of her future, of her father’s future. She was free.