Tangled Magick

by Jennifer Carson

  The silver badge was in the shape of a shield with a unicorn flanking one side and a bear flanking the other. In the middle was the impression of a trio of corley thistles in full bloom. “What is it?”

  “It’s the badge we wore in the Trillium War to show our allegiance to the King of Huldhill. Any of his soldiers are bound to aid the bearer of this badge, no questions asked.”

  Leif nodded and pocketed the insignia.

  “Now, I want you to go home and act as if you are upset, but willing to follow orders. Do not leave until the full moon rises. I’ll have all the provisions you’ll need ready for you by then.” Aletta pulled him into an embrace.

  Leif hugged the wizard back, his arms barely able to circle around her plump figure. He couldn’t believe this was really happening. “Why aren’t you fighting me about this, Aletta?”

  The wizard pulled away, her hands slipping up to press on his shoulders. “Because I know what it is like to have someone you love in trouble and be unable to help them. And you are right. No one turns into a grownup overnight. Only life experience can change you, and you won’t get much of that if you stay in the Wedge.”

  “Thank you, Aletta.” Leif smiled.

  “You’re welcome.” The wizard strode toward the door. It swung open, and the late-autumn chill filled the room. Leif stepped out of the cottage, his skin tingling with anticipation.

  Aletta smiled as Peck glided to Leif’s shoulder. “And may all of creation keep you safe, or I’m in for a wicked tongue lashing from Faria.”

  Chapter 14

  Mae bit her lip and hid behind her dad as they entered the dungeon. The pack ponies were still in the stalls and still nervous. Horace was feeding them and talking quietly, trying to soothe their nerves. Mae knew how they felt. With all these trolls around, how could they not be bundles of anxiety? She peeked at the other hapennies. Tory had shed his jacket, and his shirt was sweat-stained and filthy. Bailey Bluehill had dark circles around his eyes. Dale’s cheeks looked a bit haggard and thin. Thorain had a large scratch down the side of his neck. Dried blood collected at the edges.

  A large troll was talking to her dad and shaking his head. He didn’t want her down there.

  “She’ll jus’ cause a buncha’ trouble,” the troll complained. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Gots enough of that with those ‘uns.”

  “Drugan, the queen has ordered me to bring her here. She is to work with the gryphon, since you can’t seem to handle him.”

  “That beast will kill her,” Thorain yelled, pointing to the animal. For his outburst, he received a lash from a troll near him. Mae cringed at the crack of the whip.

  Drugan looked at the beast master. “Tha’ be the besty outcome.” He rubbed his hands together. “We’d get rid of one of you troublemakers and the queenie can’t stop us from havin’ a small, but tender, dinner.”

  Mae shivered as the other trolls in the dungeon guffawed. She flinched at the memory of the huge paw taking a swipe at Thorain. Trina scrambled off her shoulder and into her pocket.

  Drugan gestured to the gryphon’s cage. “You’re up, sweetmeats.”

  Tory’s brows scrunched together with worry. Bailey Bluehill wrapped his fingers in his shirttail nervously. Thorain stood with his hips thrust forward, arms crossed and a deep scowl on his face. Dale rocked back and forth on his heels. Mae bit the inside of her cheek as she approached the gryphon.

  “Whatcha’ standing around down here for, Folkvarus?” Drugan growled. “Don’tcha’ got somethin’ more important ta do?”

  Her dad nodded, sending her a glance before he turned on his heel and climbed the stairs.

  The gryphon’s gold eyes bored into her. The feathers of his wings ruffled.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” Mae said. She glanced around. Everyone was watching with bated breath. Even the trolls.

  Not wanting to show hesitance, she slowly put her hand through the bars. She tried to emit confidence that he wouldn’t hurt her while at the same time sending warm, safe feelings to the gryphon. The gryphon’s pupils grew large and round. He made a purring sound in the back of his throat. Mae took that as a good sign. Mr. Blackburrow’s cat seemed happiest when he made that sound as he curled in her lap for a belly rub.

  Her fingers touched his mane. It was dense and coarse and tangled. Gently she pulled some of the tangles loose and smoothed the fur. “I just want to help you and be your friend. My name is Maewyn, but most everybody calls me Mae.”

  The large beak opened and a loud roar echoed through the dungeon. Mae jerked her hand out of the cage, covered her ears, and fell back on her bottom.

  The gryphon’s tongue waggled, his mouth half-open and his eyes half-shut. A wheezy grunt-laugh rang through the chamber.

  Mae stood and approached the cage again, reaching in to comb his mane with her fingers some more. “Oh, you’re very proud of yourself, aren’t you? Well, you should be. You are a beautiful gryphon. The finest specimen I’ve ever seen.” Mae didn’t bother to tell him that he was the only gryphon she’d ever seen.

  The gryphon chirruped like a bird and belly-scooted closer, like an overgrown housecat. He thrust his beak through the bars, and Mae scratched between his eyes. Then he rolled on his back and Mae reached in to scratch his belly.

  “I promise to get you out of here as soon as possible, okay?” she whispered.

  The gryphon blinked and seemed to understand, so Mae continued. “I need you to be nice to my friends, though.”

  The gryphon arched his neck to gaze at the group of hapennies slowly mucking other stalls while they kept one eye on her. Then his gazed shifted to the trolls and he narrowed his eyes.

  “Not the trolls,” Mae whispered. “Just be nice to the hapennies.”

  The gryphon chirruped again and swished his tail.

  “O-okay, Mae,” Thorain said. “Don’t push your luck. Step back now.”

  Mae moved her hand up the beast’s chest and gave one last scratch under the gryphon’s beak. “I’ll come back soon.”

  The gryphon rolled back to his belly and glared at Thorain before laying his head on his paws and heaving a great sigh.

  “I don’t think he likes it that you told me to stop,” Mae said to the beast master.

  Thorain touched the side of his neck and growled. “I don’t trust him.”

  Mae scuffed the toe of her boot into the straw-laden dirt before looking back up at the beast master. “Perhaps that is the problem.”

  “Get back to worky, you lazy good-for-nothin’s,” Drugan barked.

  Tory handed Mae a bundle of straw. “Nice work, Maewyn. Not even the great beast master, Thorain Grumblebrook, could tame the gryphon as you did.” He elbowed Thorain in a friendly manner.

  Thorain rolled his eyes and turned away, sheaf of straw in hand.

  Mae smiled at the boy standing in front of her. Despite the sweaty shirt and dirt-streaked face, he was handsome. Suddenly she was very conscious of her sloppily shorn hair and soiled dress. Her cheeks flamed as she averted her eyes from his gaze. “Thanks.”

  “Is Poppy well?” Tory asked.

  Mae nodded. “As fine as can be expected under the circumstances.”

  Drugan shoved Mae toward another cage. “Quit the chit-chattin’. If you’re gonna be down here, you’re gonna worky.”

  Mae stumbled toward the cage and pushed the straw through the bars, then patted the head of the unicorn. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you out of here soon,” she whispered to him.

  He rubbed his head against her arm, and Mae scratched behind his floppy ear. The unicorn’s horn began to glow.

  She picked up his front hoof and inspected it. It wasn’t overgrown, which was good, and the frog was firm, not spongy. At least the unicorn seemed to be healthy. With her fingers she combed the tangles from his fetlock. His horn glowed brighter. The trolls grumbled loudly and shielded their eyes.

  “Shut ’im off!” one of them growled.

  Mae took her hand away and smiled a
t the unicorn. She was beginning to understand the enchantment on the castle. It was clever, yet simple. She saw Tory grab a water bucket and stroll off toward the streaming water. She grabbed the half-full bucket in front of the unicorn’s stall, dumped the water into the trough, and hurried to follow him.

  Shoving the bucket under the stream, she cleared her throat nervously. “I have a plan to escape the castle. I’ll send word. Trust Folkvarus when he comes with it.”

  She caught Tory’s puzzled look as she swung the pail away from the stream and struggled to carry it back to the cage area. She filled the trough in the cage next to the unicorn and peered into the dark stall. At first she couldn’t see an animal, but then she saw the wall blink. Wait, walls don’t blink. She rubbed her eyes. Mae stared at the dark spot on the wall. It disappeared and then came back. Mae pulled her gaze out instead of focusing in as the stones in the wall shifted. A snakelike neck uncoiled.

  “Be careful, Maewyn!” Thorain Grumblebrook yelled in her ear. He wrapped his arms around her and yanked her backward. A blast of hot flame curled out of the cage as they landed in a pile on the dungeon floor. If Thorain hadn’t pulled her back, Mae wouldn’t have had to worry about her short hair anymore; it would have been torched off by the creature’s flame.

  “Wh-what is that?” Mae asked, her voice trembling. The flute in her pocket trembled too.

  “That’s a fire wyrm,” Thorain answered.

  “A dragon?” Mae leaned forward, straining against Thorain’s hold, and peered into the stall. Two nostrils flared and lit up from the fire within the dragon’s belly. The flame lit up his eyes as well. They were emerald green with rectangular pupils, like goat eyes. Slowly the dragon revealed himself, dropping his camouflage and turning a bright blue-green. Spots of gold flecked his scaled skin. Long whiskers grew out from behind his nostrils and his long ears. He opened his mouth and a hiss escaped.

  “He’s not one who’s bound to be friendly anytime soon,” Thorain mumbled against her ear.

  He released his grip on her and Mae stood up. Her flute shook again. Mae laid her hand over it, pressing the instrument into her leg to quiet its vibrating. Sometimes it liked to burst into song when there was something important about to happen. Aletta said she’d enchanted the flute without knowing it. The last thing Mae needed was her flute to start playing by itself down here.

  The dragon rattled his wings and lit the dungeon up with his flame again. “He’s just scared, and probably hungry. Who knows how long he’s been down here?” Mae turned to Thorain. “Why do you think the queen is holding all these creatures captive?”

  “Some people think that by owning a creature, you own its essence, its power,” he said. “These creatures must have something she wants.”

  “The unicorn horn is used for certain powerful potions,” Mae said. “And the tears of a dragon are said to cure any ailment. A flight feather of a gryphon used as a quill to sign a contract is said to magically bind the signer until the deed is performed.” Mae approached the next cage. It took her a minute to realize what she was looking at was a huge tortoise. Moss clung to her shell and saplings grew out of the moss. She blinked slowly and moved toward Mae.

  “Tortoises are known for their long life,” she said to Thorain. “If you grind their shed scales into powder and add them to your drink, you inherit those properties.”

  Thorain stepped next to Mae and peered into the cage as the huge tortoise stretched out her long neck and rose on her hind legs. She was a little taller than Maewyn as she rested her front feet on the bars and stared at her. Her mouth turned down. Her eyes were sad and watery. She pumped her throat to smell Mae. Mae rubbed her head and noticed where some scales had been pried off her leg before they were ready to shed. It was all coming together now. “These animals are being kept for the purpose of dark magick. The queen isn’t magickal. She may be keeping the animals, but she’s not the one behind their capture. She’s being manipulated by someone else.”

  “Who would do such a thing?” Thorain asked as he ran a finger over the tortoise’s injury.

  “Geindride,” Mae answered. “A wicked wizard who’s in league with the trolls, I bet.”

  “Hey! Lil’ sweetmeats!” a troll screeched from across the room. “Your rescue is here.”

  Mae sighed and pulled away from the cage.

  Thorain clamped a hand on her shoulder. “Be careful, Maewyn.”

  Mae nodded and walked toward the stairwell, where Mr. Whiteknoll was waiting for her. “Where’s my—” she stopped herself from saying dad. “Where’s Folkvarus?”

  “Folkvarus sent me,” Mr. Whiteknoll said. “Let’s go.”

  Mae followed the old tailor up the stairs. He seemed to have regained the bounce in his step. As they rose out of the stairwell, he began to hum, but Mae could barely hear it over the noise in the Great Room. Trolls were singing (if that’s what you could call it) and banging their goblets on the tabletops. A lot of growls and grunts were mixed in with the singing. The words began to make sense as they floated down the hallway. Mr. Whiteknoll stopped and held a protective hand out to keep Mae behind him.

  Fifteen years agone we were losin’ the fight,

  Until Geindride came and offered a light,

  In exchange for a powerful wizard on our sidey,

  A princess we’d steal and in a tower we’d hidey,

  A spellzy was laid on the castle and then

  Ole’ Geindride changed her into a troll’s best friend.

  Sweet Hilda, so pleasants, yet so quick to turny,

  She yearns for the things that only trolls yearny,

  Disorder and chaos, and the leisurely life.

  She forgot about wantin’ to be someone’s wife,

  And her beloved soldier, so fair and so strong,

  Has been lookin’ for her all these years long.

  When travelers are near who are ripey for plunder,

  We slip her a potion that’s near to a wonder,

  More troll than princess the potion does wake

  Her inner nasty, and for marauders’ sake,

  Sweet Hilda becomes a true trolly queen,

  And serves up a brew that can’t be foreseen,

  And sends them off swoonin’,

  While we take our fill

  Of food and drink and booty until

  We tie them all up and force them to be

  Slaves to our troll queeny and makers of tea.

  “Are they going on another raid?” Mae asked. She grabbed Mr. Whiteknoll’s hand and he pulled her along.

  “I’m afraid so,” he answered. “Geindride has spotted another traveling party and, by the sound of it, the soldier who has been looking for the missing princess for many years.”

  Mae’s heart raced. Her owl must have found her way to the Wedge! Aletta must have gotten humans to help them. “How much do you know about the Trillium War, Mr. Whiteknoll?”

  The old tailor stopped in his tracks and turned to her, whispering fiercely. “How do you know about the Trillium War?”

  Mae shrugged. “Callum told me.”

  Mr. Whiteknoll nodded. “Yes. Yes, he would have, wouldn’t he? By rights, you should know. I fought in the Trillium War. I was younger then. I fought next to humans and hapennies from other villages far away, and wizards too. Arwen and Gilbey were great commanders in the war.”

  Mae must’ve looked shocked, because Mr. Whiteknoll covered his heart with his hand. “It’s true! It was a bloody war, with the trolls giving in only after they’d captured the king’s daughter. No one knows how it was done. One moment she was in the castle, the next she was gone.”

  “There was a wizard on the trolls’ side,” Mae said. “Didn’t you just hear that in the song? It was Geindride.”

  Mr. Whiteknoll pushed his hand through his hair. “That pompy wizard? That’s not possible. He’s far too young to have fought in the war.”

  “He’s been making a potion to stay young!” Mae said, piecing things together. “That expla
ins the animals in the dungeon. Their powers help keep him young and strengthen his magick!”

  “Does the troll queen know he’s using her castle for such means?”

  “He has her enchanted too. And after hearing that song, I’m pretty sure she’s the princess that was captured during the war. I think I understand how to break the enchantments, but I must get back to her chamber to do it.”

  “I’ll get you there, Mae. No doubt about that.” Mr. Whiteknoll stopped at a round tower full of windows. It faced east, and it was the first room of panes she’d seen that weren’t broken or covered in tangled ivy. Mr. Whiteknoll pointed to the river that flowed away from the castle. On the bank was a tiny cottage. Thin curls of smoke rose from the chimney. “That’s where Arwen and Gilbey are being kept. The queen makes me take food to them every day, but they don’t eat much. They are too consumed with trying to untie the knots in a never-ending rope. She promised them she would release them when they finished. It’s magicked, but they won’t listen to me. They just keep at it. Why would she have them doing something so useless?”

  Mae laid her hand on the old tailor’s arm. “Perhaps she wanted them out of the way for some reason we don’t understand. Don’t worry, we’ll get them out.”

  Mr. Whiteknoll laid a hand over hers. “Thank you, Mae, for saving us all.”

  “But I haven’t done anything yet. I just have a plan, and who knows if it will even work?”

  “Come on, let’s get you back to the queen’s chamber.” They half-jogged back down the hallway, but instead of walking through the Great Room, they cut through the kitchen and then through a passage under the dais that opened on the other side of the Great Room. Mr. Whiteknoll held the hidden door open and gave Mae a nod. She nodded back and quickly cut through the corner of the Great Room, running down the hallway. The queen’s chamber door whooshed open as Mae approached.

  The chamber was dark. No candles burned. No fire was lit. The windows were draped with curtains to keep out the last rays of the setting sun. It was quiet. Too quiet. Mae took out her wand. “Shine brightly,” she whispered.