The few remaining trolls bolted for the forest, the dragon shrieking after them.
“Traitors!” Geindride yelled after them in a weak voice. He shook a feeble fist at them. “After all I’ve done for you!”
The soldiers’ horses pranced under their riders.
“Let them go,” Brynjar said to his men. “Our complaint is with the wizard.”
“To me.” Mae pointed at Geindride’s fallen wand, her voice shaky. She hadn’t used that much magick since she’d placed the magickal protections on the bridge leading to the Wedge. Geindride’s wand, brittle and covered in frost, flew across the lawn. Mae managed to catch it. She gripped it hard and glared at Geindride as she snapped it in two. A puff of black steam rose from the broken wood, sparkled, and then disappeared.
“What should we do with him now?” Mae asked as she tossed the pieces into the grass.
Brynjar put his fingers to his lips and whistled.
The dragon circled and swooped over them, seizing Geindride in his talons. The wizard shrieked as he was carried off. The gryphon soared after the dragon.
The dragon disposed of Geindride on what was left of the tower floor as the gryphon gently curled his talons around Callum’s body and picked up his stiff form. The dragon left Geindride with a blast of fire, then glided down to the castle lawn as the wizard frantically patted the flames licking at his robe. The gryphon laid Callum gently in the wagon and then padded toward Brynjar.
The soldier patted his neck as he would a horse. “Well done, my friend.”
The dragon skidded to a halt beside Brynjar and shook his head, like a wet dog flapping the water from his ears, his mouth half-open and his forked tongue panting back and forth. It looked as though he was smiling at Mae, so she patted his snout as he lowered his head to her. “You did a good job too.”
He made a deep rumbling sound in his throat.
“Thank you both,” she said and bowed her head to the two large creatures standing before her.
“Ehrmaln owed you one for releasing him,” Brynjar said.
“Is that what he said?”
Brynjar smiled. “Not in so many words.”
The dragon flapped his wings and took off into the sky, circling the castle ruins. The gryphon paced around Mae and finally sat on his haunches by her side. He towered over her head.
“What will happen to Geindride?” Mae asked Brynjar.
“The dragon will keep him in line until we can get a message to ALMEs—the Alliance of Magickal Elders,” Brynjar answered. “They will transport him to a secure cell.”
Mae shook her head, confused. “Callum never told me about the ALMEs.”
Hilda stepped forward, her hands clenched together nervously. “Excuse me for interrupting,” she whispered.
It was then that Brynjar looked past Mae. His face softened. “Hilda?”
The princess smiled.
“Hilda!” Brynjar choked back a sob as he gathered Hilda in his arms. He held on to her fiercely and then pulled away to look her over, running his thumb over her cheekbone. “After all these years of roaming, I’ve finally found you.”
“Geindride and the trolls took her from her father’s castle and trapped her here during the Trillium War. She was under a spell,” Mae said.
Leif rejoined Mae and put his arm around her shoulder. She let her head fall against his chest.
Hilda’s face glistened with tears. Her cheeks were rosier than Mae would have believed possible. “I’ve done some really awful things, Brynjar. And I owe Mae my life. If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t be here now. I wouldn’t be here. I was ugly, inside and out. But Mae broke the enchantment.”
Brynjar turned and dropped to his knee. He placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head. “You have my thanks and my loyalty forever, Mae. And you too, Leif. You and your owl led me to this place.”
“And we should thank River Weed Starr as well,” Leif said. He turned to call out to the giant. “Where did he go?”
Mae shrugged. “Perhaps he returned to the forest.” Although she couldn’t believe he’d do so without saying goodbye. “There is no need to pledge your loyalty to me, Brynjar. I am not a princess. But I will accept your help in escorting us back to the Wedge safely. I’d like to go home. And I need to get Callum—”
Brynjar’s head jerked up. “Where is Callum?”
Mae pointed to the wagon. “He’s there, in the wagon. I haven’t been able to break the enchantment on him.”
Brynjar rose and took Hilda’s hand, pulling her along as he approached the wagon where Callum lay.
Mae shoved her hand into the gryphon’s thick mane and gave him a scratch. He chirruped as she scanned the group of hapennies. Mr. Whiteknoll sat in the driver’s seat, his hands clenching the reins. Poppy and Tory were sitting in the wagon bed next to Callum. She had her head on Tory’s shoulder and Tory’s arms were around her. Dark circles painted everyone’s eyes, and their cheeks were hollow, but still they shared what little warmth they had with Callum by spreading blankets over him and taking turns rubbing his cold hand between theirs. They were a ragged-looking bunch of travelers. It was such a different picture than the one they’d started with.
Thorain and Horace were attempting to soothe the ponies hitched to the wagon, but they were still frightened and rolling their eyes. The other Wedge ponies were mulling around at the edge of the forest. Brynjar lifted Hilda onto the wagon bed and then hoisted himself up. He covered Callum’s hand with a fold of the wizard’s robe and ran his fingers down his cheek.
Mae and Leif made their way to the wagon, the gryphon following them.
“His lips are blue. We need to get him as warm as possible,” Brynjar said. He pointed to the hapennies. “With all of you in the wagon, you will help block the wind and provide body heat. My men will round up your mounts. Let’s go…”
“What about Arwen and Gilbey?” Mr. Whiteknoll asked. “We aren’t going to leave them behind, are we?”
“We aren’t going to leave anyone behind, Mr. Whiteknoll,” Mae said. “Since you know where they are, why don’t you take the wagon and pick them up? I’ll meet you at the trail. There is something I need to do before I leave.”
“Where are you going?” Leif asked.
“I promised the nymph I would release her!” Mae ran through the snow and scrambled over the castle ruins. She tried to picture where the princess’ chamber had been. She rolled some rocks away and picked through the debris.
Leif, Brynjar, and his soldiers joined her.
“Can we help you find what are you looking for?” Brynjar asked.
“We need to find a door,” Mae said.
Brynjar quirked an eyebrow. “You need a souvenir?”
Mae shook her head and smiled. “No. The nymph was trapped inside Hilda’s chamber door.”
“Spread out,” Brynjar said. “Let’s find this door quickly and get moving. I want to be deep in the forest and away from this place before we have to make camp for the night.”
“You’ll know the door because it has a rose carved into it,” Mae called out.
The soldiers rolled over rocks and moved large timbers. Mae joined them, scouring through the debris, Leif working right next to her. The snow was covering everything with pristine whiteness. Mae’s nose twitched with cold, but she found herself sneaking peeks at Leif. It was as if she were seeing him for the first time. His sky-blue eyes were bright against the snow-covered landscape. Puffs of white steam created a halo around him. He glanced up at her and smiled. Mae smiled back and ducked her head, her heart fluttering. Even Tory couldn’t make her heart flutter the way Leif could.
She found the edge of a sheet under a timber and pulled, revealing a stone gargoyle face. It was the gargoyle from the princess’ chamber. He was smiling a toothless smile, eyes crinkled and half-closed as if he was laughing. He must have returned to stone when the spell was broken. Mae ran her finger over his wide nose and then wrapped him back in the sheet.
“What is that?” Leif asked her.
“It’s the gargoyle who helped me break the spell,” Mae answered. “I’m taking him with me.”
“Over here!” Leif called to the others. “The door will be over here somewhere.”
The soldiers started digging near Mae and Leif, pulling the door out in a few minutes. They wiped dust and sweat from their brows as they hauled it away from the ruins. Mae followed, holding the gargoyle tight to her chest and stumbling under its weight.
“I thought you didn’t need any souvenirs,” Brynjar teased her as he walked by her side.
“He was a friend,” Mae said.
Brynjar’s eyebrows shifted. “A stone beast?”
“Knowing my Maewyn, I’m sure he wasn’t always stone,” Leif said.
“Your Maewyn?” Brynjar’s eyebrows arched over his brown eyes.
Mae felt her cheeks grow hot, but she smiled to herself.
“Here, let me take that to the wagon for you.” Brynjar reached for the gargoyle. “You go release the nymph.”
“I’m going with you,” Leif said.
Mae handed over the bundled-up gargoyle, and they shuffled through the snow. It was really beginning to pile up, and the temperature was dropping quickly. The soldiers had propped the door against a large oak tree. Mae took off her mittens and rapped thrice on the door. Slowly the wood grain swirled and the nymph’s sleepy face poked out. “What do you want? I’m sleeping. Nymphs sleep during the winter.”
“I know, but you have to wake up if you want to be free,” Mae said.
The nymph blinked and looked around. “I’m no longer in the castle.”
“No. And you can slumber in peace for the winter in that nice oak if you want.” Mae pointed to the tree behind the door.
Slow as half-frozen sap, a twiggy foot stretched out of the door and flinched at the cold snow on the ground. “I can’t do it,” the nymph said and pulled back into the door.
“You can do it,” Mae said, “I’ll be right here to help. Give me your hand.”
A long brown hand slowly reached toward Mae. She grabbed it and pulled gently until the nymph’s shoulder followed, and then her head and foot. The faerie shivered and shriveled to half her size. It was as if she’d frozen in place. Mae gathered the nymph in her arms, protecting her from the cold wind, and cradled her between the layers of her coat and the oak tree’s bark. Mae laid her cheek against the oak tree. “Please, great oak. I know it is cold and past the time of welcoming a nymph into your heart. But this one needs your help.”
For a while nothing happened, and Mae wondered if it was too late. She felt Leif wrap his arms around her and the tree. His chest was warm against her back. His cheek pressed against her head.
“What happens to a nymph if it can’t hibernate in a tree for the winter?”
Mae shivered. She didn’t want to know. The limbs above clacked together as they swayed in the snow-laden wind. Mae felt the tree trunk give a little, like the dip in the center of a cherry pie. A sharp prickle grew in her belly. She pushed the thought of food from her mind and concentrated on sending warmth to the nymph. She felt a faint stir against her belly. The nymph was thawing out! The faerie stirred again. Then pointy feet pushed into her chest as the faerie shoved against Mae and into the tree. Mae hugged the tree trunk. “Thank you.”
Leif pulled away and Mae released the tree. Pulling her mittens back on, she turned toward Leif. His hand went to her head as he pulled her close and kissed her forehead.
“You really are amazing, aren’t you, Maewyn Bridgepost?”
Mae blushed and grabbed his hand, walking close to him as they made a path through the snow and to the wagon. A sheet was draped over the sides and secured, making a little roof. At least Callum would be protected from the snow.
“Look!” Poppy pointed toward the river. River Weed Starr was headed their way with Arwen and Gilbey in his hand. Looks of bewilderment clouded their haggard faces. Lengths of knotted rope dangled in their hands.
“I found two wee ones, little peoples, hapennies, roaming by the river,” River Weed Starr said.
Mae waved at the giant. “Thank you, River Weed Starr. We all wouldn’t be returning to the Wedge without your help.”
The giant set the old men gently into the wagon.
“I don’t understand,” Gilbey said.
“We were supposed to finish untangling the rope,” Arwen muttered.
“Will they be acceptable, all right, okay?” River Weed Starr asked, his brows furrowing with concern.
“Once we get them back to the Wedge, fed, and warmed up, they will be fine,” Mae said.
Leif held out his hand to the giant. “Thank you, River Weed Starr. I owe you one.”
The giant pinched Leif’s hand between his fingers and gave it a bone-rattling shake. “You never know when we might need help, aid, assistance, from each other. You know how to call, yell, uh, find me, Leif Yellowmagick.”
The giant rose and returned to the forest.
“Leif Yellowmagick?” Mae raised her eyebrows as she teased him.
“Well, it sounds more wizard-like than Burrbridge.” He snorted and gave Mae a boost into the wagon. She scooted under the makeshift roof as he scrambled up after her.
Mae took in the wagonload of weary travelers. Callum lay in the middle, blue and still. Bailey sat with his knees pulled up, fidgeting with a thread on his cuff. The soldiers must have loaded the old tortoise while Mae was freeing the nymph. She had pulled her legs close to her shell, and Thorain’s arm was resting over her.
Mae’s dad pulled her close and held her in his arms. “I’ve got a trunk full of corley thistle. Enough for a whole village.” He kissed the top of her head as he released her.
Leif pulled a thread from Callum’s robe. “Hand me one of those corley thistles, Mr. Bridgepost, if you don’t mind.”
Mae’s dad opened the trunk and pulled out a stem with a small thistle. “What are you doing with it?”
Leif wrapped the string around the stem of the thistle and gave it to Peck. “To Aletta, as fast as you can.”
The owl blinked and stretched her wings, taking off into the swirling snow.
Leif took Mae’s hand, and with a sharp snap, the wagon rumbled away from the castle. The gryphon flew above them, and the unicorn trotted among the ponies. It seemed the Wedge was receiving a few new inhabitants.
Chapter 23
The travelers trudged until night settled and through the next day. As they neared the bridge leading into the Wedge, Brynjar called the party to a halt. Wheeling his horse around, he approached the wagon and spoke to Mae. “We have to leave you here. I must return Hilda to her father.”
Mae stood in the wagon to be face to face with Brynjar. “We owe you the lives of our party. Please come back and visit; you will be welcomed anytime. And you too, Princess Hilda.”
“I will return, Maewyn,” Brynjar said, “as I have unfinished business with your wizard.”
“With Callum?” Mae asked.
“Yes.” The soldier’s eyes drifted over the still form of the wizard in the wagon bed.
“And I will visit also,” Hilda said. “My eternal thanks and gratitude again, Mae, for releasing me from that awful enchantment.”
Mae nodded. Leif clasped Brynjar’s arm. “Thank you for your help, soldier. It was a pleasure making your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” Brynjar said, glancing at Hilda.
The princess blushed.
Mr. Whiteknoll cracked the whip, and the wagon jerked into motion, rounding the bend and trundling over the snow-covered bridge. Beau and Trina were perched on the back of the driver’s seat, their whiskers shivering with the excitement of being home. Mae and Leif waved at the soldiers as they rode off, the only color in a landscape of white.
The Wedge was quiet. Smoke drifted from chimneys, and snow piled upon window ledges. As they drew close to Maewyn’s farm, her father stood and peered over the snowy landscape. Mae could feel
him trembling next to her as they pulled up to the farm. A candle burned low on the ledge of the kitchen window.
As the wagon pulled up into the yard, the front door burst open. Aletta ran from the house. Mae jumped from the wagon and hugged her tight.
“I’m so glad you’re home! And safe!” the wizard cried into her hair. She twirled Mae around and set her on her feet. “Let me look at you.” She knelt and held Mae at arm’s length.
Mae bit her lip. “Aletta, something has happened.”
“Yes, I can see that. You’ve grown so much I almost didn’t recognize you. Was it you who found the corley thistle?”
“Yes, but—”
“Well, no matter what else happened, then.” Aletta winked and straightened up, taking in the haggard travelers exiting the wagon. Suddenly her face fell. “Where’s Callum?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you—”
Aletta shoved past her, trudging through the snow and around to the end of the wagon. “Callum!” she cried when she saw the wizard still as stone in the wagon bed. She scrambled up, crawling to Callum’s side.
“Tell me what happened,” she ordered Mae as she looked Callum over for injuries.
“We were ambushed by a human lady in the woods on the first night of our journey. She was enchanted, though it wasn’t of her own will that she tricked us, but the fault of a wizard named Geindride.”
“Geindride?” Aletta asked.
“Do you know him?”
“Aye, he’s a traitorous ogre,” Aletta spat. “He wasn’t fit for the title of wizard when the Alliance gave it to him. I doubt he is any different now. Is he the one who did this to Callum?”
“No, it was Huldfrejya, but—”
“The missing princess of Huldhill?” Aletta gasped.
“Yes, but if you’ll just let me finish!” Mae said with a sigh.
“I’m sorry, Mae. Let’s get Callum inside first and then you can tell me the whole story—without interruption.”
“Okay.” Mae nodded as Aletta climbed back out of the wagon.
“Can you all help me get Callum into the house?” Aletta asked.
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