“Now that you’ve eaten,” Cornelius’s mother said, “why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here?”
Marabel was about to tell her everything when Ellie gave a warning cough. Marabel hesitated, suddenly unsure she could trust this woman. She seemed nice enough, but what if she was in league with Mab? Even if she wasn’t, she might betray them in hopes of a reward. So all she said was, “We’ve come on an adventure. We found a door in the woods, and Floriano opened it. We wanted to see what was on the other side.” Not the whole truth, certainly, but none of it was a lie.
“You’re Floriano?” the ogre’s mother asked the unicorn. He nodded proudly, his mouth full of another oat cake, crumbs on his whiskers. “Ah, the horn of the unicorn is powerful,” the woman said. “If only it were so easy to open the door from this side!”
“I would fain see the land of Magikos,” Cornelius said wistfully. “It sounds like a wondrous place.”
“A unicorn’s horn isn’t powerful enough to get you through to the Magikos side of the Wall?” Floriano asked. He looked insulted at this slur on the power of his horn.
“Not to go west to Magikos,” the woman said. “The wicked Callum, who built the Wall, cast spells on it so that travelers coming east could pass through with little trouble, as long as they had one of your kind”—she nodded at Floriano—“or some undoing spell to unlock it. Magikians occasionally take advantage of that ease to come here to our side and kidnap our folk to gawk at them in cages.” Marabel dropped her eyes, thinking of the delight that she and Marco had taken in their trips to the Wildlife Park. Had they been staring at caged creatures who should have been running free?
It was also strange to hear the great wizard Callum being called “wicked,” especially right after Cornelius’s mother had said her father was evil. Maybe from their point of view, Callum was wicked, and King Matthew was evil. It had never before occurred to Marabel that there might be another way to look at these things.
The woman concluded, “But for one of us to go to your side would take some very strong magic.”
“Veneficus!” Marabel said.
The woman looked at her sharply. “Why do you mention the queen’s wizard?” Oops—how could Marabel explain without giving away who she was?
Ellie rescued her. “If anyone could come up with strong magic, it would have to be a wizard like Veneficus, wouldn’t it? That’s all she meant.”
Marabel put down her spoon, feeling wretched. If a unicorn’s horn wasn’t enough to open the door on the way back, how could they get home after they rescued Marco? Would they be forced to stay here forever? Maybe she should have done what her father had said and stayed home while he and his army took care of the problem. Was her quest hopeless?
Cornelius broke in, “Enough of this, fair companions! Let us join the merry throng of revelers.” He stood and beckoned them to follow him to the circle of dancers.
Floriano said in Marabel’s ear, “He talks like that all. The. Time. Thought I’d go crazy while we were fetching Ellie.”
Marabel didn’t feel like dancing, but she went to where a new circle was forming. A friendly dwarf took her right hand and tall Cornelius held her left. She soon caught on to the steps and twirled and stamped with the rest of them. Across the circle, Ellie hopped and pranced, her long golden braids bouncing, her face gleaming with sweat that reflected the firelight.
They danced for what felt like hours. Nobody told Marabel that what she was doing was undignified for a member of the royal family, no one told her to set a good example for the younger prince and princesses, and no one quoted the Book of Fate at her to make her stop doing something fun.
The music and the dancing and the friendliness of all the creatures made her spirits rise. If it weren’t for Marco being gone, she thought as she collapsed, panting, onto the cool grass, this would be the best night of my life.
In a few minutes, Cornelius sat down next to her, his arms around his bony knees. “Verily, I am weary of the dance,” he said, “and would beg to speak to you of your land. So few of our folk have ventured there that I am eager to know if the tales they tell are true.”
“What have you heard?” Marabel asked, hoping he wouldn’t want to know too much about Magikian geography or any of the other subjects that she hadn’t paid much attention to.
“Do you really have a book whose commands you follow?” he asked. “Wonder of wonders! I long to see such a book.”
“It doesn’t really command us,” Marabel said. “It just tells us what’s going to happen.”
Cornelius looked thoughtful. “In truth,” he said, “I don’t see much difference.”
Come to think of it, Marabel didn’t see much difference, either. She’d have to ask Symposia about it once they got home.
“Some have whispered that magic is forbidden in Magikos,” Cornelius went on, “and that folk such as I would be imprisoned if we were found there. Do these people speak the truth?”
Marabel squirmed. She decided to be honest. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve never seen… er, folk such as you in Magikos, so I don’t know what would happen to you there. And magic isn’t forbidden, exactly. It’s only that there are rules about how much you can use, and who can use it, and where.”
“Indeed, there are such rules here, as well. Perhaps they are not as strict as yours, as the rules do get changed sometimes, if perchance a new method of spell casting is invented or some ancient art is revived and none are sure how it works.”
Marabel was confused. “How do you change rules? Aren’t rules always the same?”
It was Cornelius’s turn to look baffled. “Nay, my lady, the people have the power and the will to modify them when necessary. Is it not so among the Magikians?”
Marabel didn’t know how to explain. The Book and its teachings were so much a part of her life that she’d never had to think about them. “The Book of Fate—it’s a book, well, obviously it’s a book—and it tells us everything important that’s going to happen,” she stumbled. “It knows everything.”
“A mere book knows everything?” Cornelius said. “It must be a magical book!”
“Oh no,” Marabel said. “It’s not magic, but it’s very wise. It’s written in an ancient language that’s hard to understand, and I think that sometimes it’s possible the priests get things wrong.” She hoped so anyway. If the priests were right about Marco rescuing himself, then Marabel’s quest was a dangerous waste of time.
“I intend no disrespect to this ancient and learnèd tome,” Cornelius said, “but perhaps the priests read only what they wish to see in it?”
It had never occurred to Marabel that the priests might twist the Book’s words to suit their own ends. The thought was so new and strange that she didn’t know how to answer.
When the music and the dancing died down, Cornelius showed Marabel to a hut that held several small beds and was well stocked with food and water. It was the custom in this area, he said, to welcome visitors, and to give them a comfortable place to stay. She spotted Ellie, curled up on one of the beds.
“The maiden who accompanied you is already deep in slumber, as you can see. Your unicorn friend is in yon field with some of his brethren.” Cornelius pointed to where Marabel could just make out large one-horned shapes scattered across the dark meadow. “If you require naught else, I will bid you good night.”
Marabel tucked her wooden sword under her pillow for safekeeping and lay down on the bed next to Ellie’s. It was so warm and soft that she didn’t even have time to worry about the king’s messenger before she, too, fell into a deep sleep.
he next morning, Cornelius’s mother tried to get them to stay and rest a few days, but Marabel politely refused. The thought of that messenger, already a day ahead of them, made her anxious, and she didn’t even wait for full light before they thanked their hosts and headed back into the woods.
Four long, weary days of trudging through the forest passed, and once again they were hungry.
Cornelius’s mother had made sure that they were well laden with food when they left the village, but walking all day made them ravenous and they had gone through almost all of it in three days.
At first, this didn’t worry them. They cut way back on what they ate at every meal, and were sure they’d happen on more food soon. But it seemed that this part of the Barrens lived up to its name; the fields were almost bare, and they saw no magical creatures and very few people. All they had left to eat were a few small apples they had happened upon in an abandoned orchard. Floriano, of course, had plenty to graze on, and the many streams and ponds of the Barrens kept them from being thirsty, but Marabel was getting anxious. And hungry.
“Isn’t there any more?” Marabel asked after they had eaten an apple each, and a few bites of bread and cheese, on the eighth morning after leaving the palace.
“Half an apple left. Enough for one mouthful each for lunch.” Ellie carefully wrapped a clean leaf around the small piece of fruit and tucked it into her hood, which hung down her back. She stood and gently nudged Marabel with her toe. “Come on.”
“One more minute,” Marabel said. Her legs and back ached.
“‘The cat that sleeps all day catches no mice,’” Ellie quoted from the Book of Fate.
Marabel pushed herself up and rose to her feet. “What does the Book know about walking all day without eating more than a shriveled apple? And who wants to catch mice anyway?” she grumbled.
They trudged through the forest until the sun was high in the sky. Marabel couldn’t go on. “Enough,” she said. “Time to take a break.” All she could think about was that mouthful of apple.
Floriano immediately put down his head and cropped at the grass, and Marabel looked expectantly at Ellie. But when Ellie reached into her hood, she found nothing there. “What happened to it?” she asked frantically, digging her hand in deeper.
Marabel reached her own hand all the way into Ellie’s hood. “Ellie!” She thought she was going to cry with hunger and frustration. “What did you do? How could you lose our only…” She bit her lip. Harsh words wouldn’t bring the apple back.
“Let’s look on the trail,” Ellie said. “Maybe the apple fell out on that last scramble up the hill.”
They searched everywhere. They poked through piles of leaves and under shrubs. No apple. Finally, they had to give up.
“I’m sorry,” Ellie said, looking guilty. “I don’t know what happened. It must have fallen out of my hood when we were climbing over that big rock, or maybe when I slipped in the mud next to the stream.” Both of those places were too far to go back to, especially on an empty stomach.
“It doesn’t matter,” Marabel said wearily, but her words were interrupted by a long growl from her belly. She tried not to care—Marco, after all, was probably being fed moldy bread and dirty moat water in some dungeon—but the thought of walking for who knew how much farther without anything to eat was daunting.
Ellie looked even guiltier than before and said, “Let’s go on. Maybe we’ll find some nuts or something.”
They fought their way through the underbrush until, by sheer luck, they came upon another path. They were a little cheered by how much easier it was to walk there and especially by the thought that a path meant they might be approaching a town. They hurried on, only to come out of the woods… not in a town, but on the edge of a cliff. The path continued on to a thin, swaying rope bridge that hung over a wide chasm. This deep crack curved in a wide arc around a mountain, but the misty air made it hard to see the other side.
“What do we do now?” Floriano asked.
“I say we go back and see if we missed a fork in the path,” Ellie said. “That bridge doesn’t look strong enough to hold all of us. Surely this can’t be the only way.”
Marabel hesitated. She wasn’t particularly afraid of heights, but the chasm was so deep and the bridge looked so spindly. No trolls were in sight this time, though, which was something.
“We have to go on if we want to get to the castle ahead of the messenger,” she said.
Floriano grumbled, but he followed as Marabel and then Ellie stepped onto the bridge. After one sickening glance over the side, Marabel kept her eyes straight ahead. A few fat birds swooped close overhead. They hovered, making a strange buzzing sound like giant hummingbirds, and then flew on. Distant rumblings of thunder made them quicken their steps, but the sky remained a clear blue, and no lightning flashed.
As they got closer, they saw that the deep crack entirely circled the mountain. When they finally stepped off the bridge onto the ground, their legs were trembling.
But the path didn’t reappear on this side. The forest looked different here, somehow. The tree trunks were green and smooth, and other tall, thin plants towered over them.
Ellie was staring up one of the trees. “What on earth?” she muttered. Marabel craned her neck back and followed her gaze. An enormous flower was at the top of the tree. It looked like a daisy, only it was as big as a bed.
Floriano had raised his head, too, his flared nostrils sniffing the air. Marabel looked at him questioningly.
He sniffed again. “I smell food, I think.” One long ear twitched. “But I don’t hear anything. I don’t think anyone’s here.”
Food? Marabel forgot all about the strange flower tree. “I’m going to go look,” she said. “You two wait here.”
“Oh, no you don’t!” Ellie grabbed Marabel’s sleeve. “It’s not normal for there to be food in the middle of the forest, especially with nobody around. Have you forgotten where we are? The Desolate Barrens! It’s full of Evils. Why, they could have laid a trap! They might be waiting for somebody to come by and eat their porridge or—”
“Don’t be silly,” Marabel said. “All I’m going to do is look. You can stay here where it’s safe, if you don’t want to come with me.”
“Sounds good to me,” Floriano put in. “Go check it out and report back. If you meet someone friendly, ask them if they have any oats. A steady diet of grass is going to give me indigestion.”
“No,” Ellie said firmly. “Not going to happen. We’re not splitting up. Either we’re all going or none of us are going.”
“I vote none,” Floriano said.
“Fine,” Marabel said. “Do what you want. I’m going.”
She strode off without looking back. After a few minutes, she heard hurried footsteps behind her, and Ellie slipped her hand into Marabel’s.
“My mother told me—”
“Always to stay with me,” Marabel finished for her. “But if you’re really scared, Ellie, you don’t have to.”
“I’m no more scared than you are,” Ellie retorted.
Having Ellie by her side gave Marabel new confidence. Together, the two of them crept toward the source of the delicious smell. They entered a clearing and what they saw left them speechless: An enormous, red-and-white-checkered blanket was spread out on the ground, covered with plates and bowls heaped with steaming mounds of food. Slices of crusty bread towered in piles higher than their heads. There was a platter of what looked like roasted vegetables, frosty pitchers full of pink liquid, and other things that they couldn’t identify.
“Do you hear that?” Ellie hissed.
Marabel held still. Sure enough, she heard a low, rumbling sound. Suddenly, Marabel realized what she was looking at. Her heart began to pound. What she had thought was a hill was actually a huge bearded man, lying on his back. As she watched, wide-eyed, his chest rose and let out another rumble.
It was a giant, and he was snoring.
Ellie tugged at the sleeve of Marabel’s garb. “Let’s go!” she whispered. “What if he wakes up? The Book says, ‘Never wake a sleeping giant.’”
But Marabel couldn’t take her eyes off all that food. “You stay here,” she told Ellie. “I’m going to get us something to eat.” She moved Ellie’s clinging hand off her shoulder, patted it, and tiptoed into the clearing. At each step, she thought about tales of giants eating humans. Could
that be true? Could the plates be full of… roasted people? Just as Marabel was about to turn back, Ellie shrieked. It looked like she was caught in the branch of a tree… a tree wearing a pair of overalls. Marabel realized that the tree was a child—a huge child—clutching a squirming Ellie in one of her fists.
“Papa!” the young giant girl bellowed as she thudded past Marabel. “Papa! Look what I found!”
Her father sat up, his immense head blocking the sun. “Fee fi fo fum,” he said through a yawn, stretching his arms out so wide that Marabel winced at their size. “What have you found, darling?”
The giant girl held Ellie out. Her father cupped his hands and the girl dropped her.
This time, Marabel couldn’t hold back a scream as Ellie plummeted into the giant’s hand. Instantly, something seized her around the waist. She’d been grabbed by another giant girl. Marabel fought and wiggled, trying to pry open the fingers squeezing her so hard that she could barely breathe. Her captor laughed with delight and ran to the other giants, making Marabel’s head bounce.
“Papa! I have one, too!”
“Why, so you do,” he boomed. “One each! How lovely! Here, put them in this.” He opened the top of an enormous picnic basket and dropped Ellie and Marabel into it. He inspected them, wafting billows of horrible-smelling giant breath into the basket, before closing the top. Marabel and Ellie clung together in the sudden darkness.
“This is some kind of giant land,” Ellie said, her voice trembling. “Those big ‘trees’ we saw when we got off the bridge? They were giant flowers, not trees at all.”
“And the other plants must have been giant blades of grass,” Marabel said. “And those birds that buzzed over us on the bridge—giant bees.” She shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if one of them had been stung.
“My dear!” the giant called, and even though his voice was muffled by the basket, the girls winced at the sound. “Come see what the children have found, the little darlings!”
Marabel and the Book of Fate Page 8
