“But where are you going, Maewyn?” the princess asked.
Mae grabbed Huldfrejya’s hand and squeezed it. She glanced at Poppy standing in the stable door. Her face was twisted with anxiety. The unicorn bleated urgently. “Just go—take Poppy and the others to safety. I’ll follow you soon. I promise.”
The princess nodded as Mae released her hand. She watched Tory reappear in the doorway and grab Poppy’s hand. She smiled at him as he tugged her outside just ahead of the princess and the unicorn.
Large stones tumbled around Mae as she laid a hand on Dale’s arm.
“I couldn’t get up enough courage to let him out.” Dale’s lip trembled. “I was too afraid.”
“It’s okay, Dale. You go with the others. I’ll meet you outside.”
Dale’s face burned red, but he nodded and ran for the door. Mae breathed deep. Her hand clenched around her wand. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said to the dragon. Her flute trembled in her pocket.
The beast snorted and shook his head. His nostrils began to glow.
Mae held her free hand out, palm up. Her voice shook as she tried to reason with the dragon. The sound of dirt raining down the crumbling stones made her nerves jangle like a dinner bell. She stepped closer to the cage and her flute vibrated furiously. Why did it want her attention now?
“I just want to let you out of that cage, but I can’t do that if you blow fire at me. So, do we have a deal? You keep your fire to yourself, and I’ll free you?”
Fire blasted through the bars and singed the ends of Mae’s close-cropped hair. The blast threw her on her back and knocked her flute from her pocket. Mae shoved her wand in her pocket, grabbed her flute, and put it to her lips. It worked on pigs; perhaps it would work on dragons? There was only one way to find out.
Mae played without even thinking about what she would play. The sweet notes of the lullaby every hapenny mother sings to her little ones surrounded the dragon. He circled in his cage as if working up a new blast, but as he glared out through the bars again, the hard edge of his stare faded. His pupils grew large and round and his ears drooped. The webbed spikes on his back relaxed, and the glow behind his nostrils dimmed to a soft yellow. Mae stepped forward, and as she continued to play with one hand, she pulled her wand out with the other. She pointed her wand at the lock and took a quick breath, letting the flute fall from her lips. “Hunigar!”
The cage door creaked open, and Mae backed away as the dragon uncoiled from the stall.
He was magnificent, as tall as a castle tower and twice as long. No wonder he’d been cranky; besides being imprisoned, there wasn’t enough room for him to even stretch a foreleg. With a shaky hand, Mae shoved her flute into her pocket as the dragon shook and stretched, his scales gleaming. He bowed his head to Mae before dashing toward the dungeon doors.
A squall drove through the dungeon as the dragon gathered speed, knocking Mae into a big pile of straw. She stumbled to her feet, spitting stalks from her teeth and pulling them from her hair. She breathed a sigh of relief to still be in one piece as she scrambled for the door. Little feet pattered all around her. The brownies were streaming out of the castle too.
The air was crisp and stiffened the hair on the backs of her ears. The dawn sky was gray, and her nose twitched at the smell of snow in the air. Pocketing her flute and wand, Mae buttoned her jacket and pulled on her gloves as she joined the group of hapennies gathered around the ponies and the wagon on the lawn. Everyone was there except…Callum!
A very large groan filled the air, like the sound the giant River Weed Starr had made when he visited the Wedge. Mae ran for the edge of the trees where the hapennies were assembled, crouched, and covered her ears as the castle crumbled behind her. Glass cracked and shattered, and rocks were pushed out of the foundation as the walls fell in. Large timbers crashed into each other as smaller stones shot out of the debris like arrows. The stones that made up the tower Callum was held in tumbled to the ground. Only a thin spike of stone remained, supporting a platform of floor that had managed to cling together. The table Callum had been lying upon was gone, but in the middle of what remained of the floor lay what looked like a heap of rags. Callum’s robe flapped in the wind. The end of his long beard floated in the air like a kite, but he did not stir.
Mae fell to the grass and cried. Everything she’d done, and Callum was still under Hilda’s enchantment. Why wasn’t he released from the spell? Perhaps she had taken too long to figure it out. Aletta’s voice echoed in her head. He’s not the spring chicken he once was.
Hilda knelt beside Mae and rubbed her back. “I’m so sorry, Mae. I wasn’t myself when I did all those awful things.”
“Leave her be,” Mae’s dad said, shooing the princess away.
Mae raised herself from the ground and threw her arms around her dad. She cried into his chest, her warm tears soaking the front of his shirt. He patted her hair. “There, there. You were clever enough to break the spell on the castle and the princess. You’re clever enough to figure this out too.”
“But I don’t know what to do,” sobbed Mae. “I don’t even know where to start!”
“Then we’ll figure it out together.”
“Not now we won’t,” Thorain growled. He pointed down the winding road that led to the castle.
Chapter 20
Leif swiveled his ears, straining to hear past the snores and shuffles of the sleeping men. He peered over the fallen mossy log, new wand in hand. Something shifted in the forest beyond their camp. Lumpy shadows emerged from the straight tree trunks. He rubbed his eyes, not certain if they were playing tricks on him in the predawn darkness. “Brynjar, are you—” he whispered.
“Aye, I see them,” the soldier whispered back. He whistled a short tune, and the other soldiers stirred, quietly reaching for their weapons.
The air was so full of anticipation, Leif thought he might snap. Hearing a shuffle behind him, he jerked around, holding his wand out. Large fangs gleamed in the firelight; two black, beady eyes narrowed at him.
“Trolls!” Leif shouted.
Brynjar struck the troll with his blade. He grabbed Leif’s arm and pulled him into the dark forest. The soldier shoved him into the hollow of a tree. “Stay there, out of harm’s way. I’ll come back and get you when we’re rid of them.”
“But—” Leif began, but Brynjar had already disappeared.
Leif pulled himself into the hollow, listening to the battle. Men yelled, trolls grunted, swords clanged. He couldn’t stand not knowing what was happening. Uncurling from his hiding spot, Leif peered around the tree trunk. He could only make out shadows, but it looked as if the trolls had the upper hand. What was he doing hiding? He’d fought trolls before! Licking his lips, Leif clenched his wand. He’d heard Mae’s spell for turning trolls into stone. Would it work for him?
A roar from behind made Leif turn. Flashing fangs and claws were coming at him. He had no time to wonder if the spell would work. No time for a plan if it didn’t. He flicked his wand at the troll. “Troll to coal!”
A zap of yellow magick flew from his wand with the speed of a shooting star. The troll instantly transformed into rock, so quickly he didn’t look like a lumpy stone, but a statue.
Cold sweat washed over Leif as he bent to catch his breath. Then he began to laugh as relief replaced the sweats. He ran back to the battle, wand outstretched. The trolls were fighting hard. Brynjar was struggling with a large brute who was swinging an ax. The troll wore a necklace that rattled with the bones of his other kills. Leif aimed for him. “Troll to coal!”
Brynjar fell back with shock as the troll froze in midswing and instantly turned into stone. The ax plopped to the ground. Brynjar bent to retrieve it. “I thought I told you to stay out of harm’s way!”
“I thought you could use some help.” Leif grinned at him.
Brynjar nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Leif aimed and fired at another troll looming toward Brynjar. “Troll to coal!”
The troll was immobilized, as the other trolls were beginning to notice that the raid was not going as they had planned. The word “wizard” was spreading through the crowd like wildfire. Wild-eyed trolls glanced around camp as they tried to defend themselves against the soldiers. Leif imagined they were trying to pick out the one who was turning them into statues.
A sudden high-pitched scream rent the air. A fierce wind blew around the camp. Three blares of a horn followed, and then a blast of fire so hot it would melt any teapot in the Wedge.
“Ehrmaln!” Brynjar shouted. “Where have you been for the last year? Nothing like showing up at the last second!”
A massive blur of hazy dark green circled above them.
“What is it?” Leif asked.
“He is my dragon, Ehrmaln,” Brynjar said. “I raised him from an egg.” The soldier slid his sword into its scabbard. “To the horses!”
As the trolls retreated, the soldiers untethered their horses from the line set up for them under the shelter of the trees. It took a few minutes for them to calm the horses enough to mount.
Leif ran as fast as he could behind the men and horses but was quickly outpaced. He glanced over his shoulder as he heard hoofbeats bearing down on him. Colm grabbed his arm and swung Leif up behind him.
“That was some impressive magick, little hapenny,” Colm said.
“Maewyn is going to be shocked when I tell her!” Leif yelled against the wind. A sudden thought made his stomach rise in his throat. He reached around Colm and hung on. “I just hope we reach her in time.”
Chapter 21
Geindride and his army of trolls were flying toward Mae, rushing down the forest path. Smoke rose behind them and the trees shook and wavered. The wizard’s horse was steaming and foaming at the mouth. He’d been running hard. Another army was close on their tail. Its armor flashed between the trees, lit by the approaching dawn. The sound of hooves bearing down on Geindride was astounding. So was the wind left by the dragon who swooped over the trolls’ heads and reeled back up into the sky. A dragon! No, the dragon. The one she’d released from the castle. He was helping her!
As the wizard and his company passed from the forest and onto the castle lawn, they stumbled and slowed. What should have been a magickal barrier protecting them from their pursuers was nothing but air. There was nothing to hide Geindride and his trolls from the army that was on their heels. Panic spread through the band like a rumor through the Wedge. Trolls made a break for the surrounding forest—no longer all for one, but all for themselves. The gryphon bolted from the edge of the forest and circled around Geindride.
Mae pulled out her wand and ran heedlessly toward the fleeing trolls. She skidded to a stop and flung her wand at the closest one. “Troll to coal!”
Her spell caught the troll in the arm, and the weight of his arm turning to stone made him fall as he transformed. He broke into several large pieces and rolled to a stop. The trolls around him staggered in disbelief. Geindride’s horse spooked and reared, knocking the wizard from his seat and taking off into the forest. Mae’s spell had caused more mass confusion. She picked another troll and pointed to him, repeating the stone spell. His body creaked to a halt and crumbled like the castle walls as the gryphon snapped on to another troll and tossed him into the air. A huge hand swiped down, catching the troll and sending him cartwheeling into the forest canopy.
“River Weed Starr!” Mae yelled. He was really here!
“Maewyn…I’ve come to help, aid, assist you,” the giant said, grinning.
A burst of yellow magick, another troll freezing into stone, and the echo of a voice yelling Mae’s troll spell drew her attention as the human riders circled, herding Geindride and his band like sheep into a cowering circle. The humans’ horses were three times as big as the ponies the hapennies rode, and they were clothed. Faded red-and-yellow coats covered their backs. Tattered flags whipped from the reins. One of the riders carried a threadbare banner that snapped in the wind. Mae panted as she chose another troll to release her anger on.
“Halt, young hapenny.” One of the men held up his hand as he dismounted. Another unsheathed a sword and pointed it at Geindride’s chest.
The dismounted soldier stepped forward, his sword point wavering near Geindride’s throat. “At last, your spell has broken and your cunning is revealed. How long have I scoured these woods looking for a castle that I could not find and a princess that I longed for?”
“You forget that I have magick on my side,” Geindride said. His eyes flashed to the men surrounding him.
“So do I,” Brynjar said. He pulled his helmet off, revealing dark skin, a wide nose, and long plaited hair. The wind lifted the ends around his head and made him appear even more frightening. Bright white flakes of snow floated around him.
“Brynjar,” the princess whispered.
From behind one of the soldiers, another face popped out. Ginger curls framed copper skin. An owl perched on his arm.
“Leif!” Mae gasped.
Leif grinned as he was helped off the horse, the owl taking flight as he dismounted. Leif ran to Mae and threw his arms around her. “I’m so glad we found you!”
Trina uncurled from Mae’s jacket pocket as Beau scrambled out of Leif’s hat. They tumbled to the ground in excitement, rolling in the frosty grass together like long-lost friends.
The owl hooted as she alighted onto the seat of the wagon.
Mae squeezed Leif back and breathed in his cinnamon smell. “You got my message?”
Leif pulled away and showed her the loop of hair he’d pulled from his pocket. “Loud and clear.”
Mae peered around Leif. “Where is Aletta?”
Leif’s face fell as he shook his head. “Aletta gave me a head start. She helped me sneak out of the Wedge, and I called to River Weed Starr. But then I found Brynjar and then I discovered that I have magick, Maewyn, just like Callum said, and then the trolls attacked!”
“Wait! You’re talking too fast—did you say you have… magick?”
Leif grinned and pulled out his wand. “Peck—that’s what I named the owl you sent me—she brought me a stick and I carved it. I didn’t mean for it to be a wand—but it was.”
“So the yellow magick came from you,” Mae said. She was breathless with excitement, but her attention was drawn away from Leif as the dragon circled overhead. She grabbed Leif’s hand, twining her fingers around his. The remaining trolls began to stir nervously around Geindride.
“What are you going to do?” Geindride sneered at Brynjar. “You are just as unremarkable as your father.”
“My father is a good man,” Brynjar said through clenched teeth.
“A good man.” Geindride chuckled. His mirth spread over the lawn and sent chills up Mae’s spine. “A good man, but not a good wizard. Just like you.”
Brynjar nodded to his men, who backed away, opening the circle around the trolls and Geindride.
“No!” Mae shouted and untangled herself from Leif’s grasp. She ran toward the soldiers and whipped her wand out. “You can’t just let them go! Troll to coal!”
Chapter 22
A humungous wave of blue magick spouted from the tip of Mae’s wand. Geindride counter-spelled. The wizard’s spell deflected Mae’s, but it didn’t destroy it. A few of the trolls on the edges of the crowd groaned as they turned into stone.
Mae glared at Geindride. He was selfish—the worst thing a wizard could be. Obviously he had no qualms about losing a few trolls, or sucking the life from a princess, or enslaving happenies. She took a deep breath and swept her wand to the right. “Brotswerd!”
Geindride’s wand flew from his grasp and tumbled into the lawn. The wizard’s eyes grew wide as she stalked toward him. “You underestimated me because of my size. I know, because it’s happened before. You have gotten greedy in your old age, Geindride. Using magick entirely for your own benefit is against the laws of wizardry. Your magick has been diminishing for it, and you know it. That’s why you’
ve been keeping the magickal beasts in the dungeon. To drain off their power like a leech sucking blood.”
“I’m as magickally fit as I ever was,” Geindride sneered. “What kind of magick could a hapenny have, anyway? Spells to start their cozy fires and mix their blueberry muffins? What are you going to do to me with a little kitchen-witchery half-magick?”
The gryphon roared from the edge of the forest. Mae pointed her wand at Geindride’s heart. “I warned you not to underestimate me. Callum was a great teacher.”
In her mind, Maewyn pictured what Geindride should look like. There wasn’t the bright spark of laughter in his eyes like Callum’s, or the crinkles around his eyes that softened his face like Aletta’s, or even the bright white hair of Mr. Whiteknoll. No, Geindride was an old man—with droopy earlobes, a nose that had lengthened so much it looked like a bird’s beak, and rough, weathered skin. She felt the power of youth drain out of the wizard, and she became full of it.
“No!” Geindride clutched his chest. His hands shook as they withered. His skin lengthened and folded as brown age spots appeared. His back curled and twisted, thrusting his head into an unnatural position. Geindride’s black hair faded to gray. He was no longer the dashing young wizard, but his old, ripe self.
As Mae reveled in the power she held, she understood how someone like Geindride could be tainted by it. She gathered the magick that coursed through her body and focused it in her clenched fist. When it grew white-hot, she opened her hand. Thousands of soft, pink-winged moths fluttered into the air, swirling with the snow that drifted around troll, human, and hapenny alike.
“Curse you, Maewyn of the Wedge,” Gendride spat through clenched teeth.
Tangled Magick Page 14
