The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

That grey and terrible voice which had spoken only once before said, "Oh, is she?"
And then the shrill, whining voice began, "Oh, bless his heart, his dear little Majesty
needn't mind about the White Lady - that's what we call her - being dead. The Worshipful
Master Doctor is only making game of a poor old woman like me when he says that.
Sweet Mastery Doctor, learned Master Doctor, who ever heard of a witch that really
died? You can always get them back."
"Call her up," said the grey voice. "We are all ready. Draw the circle. Prepare the blue
fire."
Above the steadily increasing growl of the Badger and Cornelius's sharp "What?" rose
the voice of King Caspian like thunder.
"So that is your plan, Nikabrik! Black sorcery and the calling up of an accursed ghost.
And I see who your companions are-a Hag and a Werewolf!"
The next minute or so was very confused. There was an animal roaring, a clash of steel;
the boys and Trumpkin rushed in; Peter had a glimpse of a horrible, grey, gaunt creature,
half man and half wolf, in the very act of leaping upon a boy about his own age, and
Edmund saw a badger and a Dwarf rolling on the floor in a sort of cat fight. Trumpkin
found himself face to face with the Hag. Her nose and chin stuck out like a pair of nutcrackers,
her dirty grey hair was flying about her face and she had just got Doctor
Cornelius by the throat. At one slash of Trumpkin's sword her head rolled on the floor.
Then the light was knocked over and it was all swords, teeth, claws, fists, and boots for
about sixty seconds. Then silence.
"Are you all right, Ed?"
"I - I think so," panted Edmund. "I've got that brute Nikabrik, but he's still alive."
"Weights and water-bottles!" came an angry voice. "It's me you're sitting on. Get off.
You're like a young elephant."
"Sorry, D.L.F.," said Edmund. "Is that better?"
"Ow! No!" bellowed Trumpkin. "You're putting your ' boot in my mouth. Go away." `
"Is King Caspian anywhere?" asked Peter.
"I'm here," said a rather faint voice. "Something bit me."
They all heard the noise of someone striking a match. It was Edmund. The little flame
showed his face, looking pale and dirty. He blundered about for a little, found the candle
(they were no longer using the lamp, for they had run out of oil), set it on the table, and lit