Marabel and the Book of Fate

by Tracy Barrett

  “You?” Her aunt sounded surprised, but not mocking, and Marabel was emboldened to go on.

  “Nobody else was coming to save Marco. My father thinks he’s going to free himself. Symposia, the head priestess—”

  “I know who Symposia is,” Mab said drily. “Let me guess—she said to consult the Book, and the Book said exactly what your father wanted it to say.”

  What was her aunt implying? It sounded like something Cornelius had said: “Perhaps the priests read only what they wish to see in it.”

  She didn’t have time to wonder about that now. “I don’t know, Aunt Mab, and I don’t care! All I know is that nobody was going to try to help Marco, so I had to do it. And Ellie and Floriano came, too.”

  Mab’s eyes softened. “Well, I must say I’m surprised,” she said. “Who would have thought that Matthew’s child would have the… But of course, you’re Marianna’s daughter as well.” For a moment she smiled and looked lost in thought. Then her face hardened again. “Now my brother will have no choice but to do what’s right! The thrennight is almost up. There’s still time for me to punish you for trespassing and for attempted freeing of a prisoner, though. You are all confined to the dungeon, and while there you must…” Mab paused, as though trying to think of a punishment severe enough for them. Marabel trembled at the thought of what that might be.

  Finally, Mab said in obvious exasperation, “Oh, I don’t know! You must each write one thousand times: ‘I will not storm the castle.’ There! That ought to keep you out of trouble until I think of something that will really teach you a lesson.”

  Marabel couldn’t help wondering why her aunt was letting them off so easily. Mab was probably trying to get Marabel to drop her guard so that she’d be unprepared for a more awful punishment later on. She made up her mind to be vigilant.

  Mab turned to the soldiers. “Guards! Throw them in the dungeon. Don’t let them out until I give the order.”

  “No!” Ellie wailed. “Please, please don’t lock us up! I can’t stand it!”

  Marabel grabbed Ellie’s hand, wishing she could comfort her, and desperately asked her aunt, “Why won’t you let Marco go? What did he ever do to you?”

  “Nothing,” Mab said. “Neither have you. You have the bad luck to be mere pawns in the game that your father and I are playing—the game we’ve played since we were children. Guards! Do as I say! In the dungeon with them!”

  Marabel cried out as goblin soldiers seized her and Ellie by the arms, and Floriano by the horn. The unicorn whinnied and reared, but the soldiers expertly dodged his hooves.

  The last thing Marabel heard before the dungeon door slammed shut was her aunt’s mocking laughter.

  Ellie began to sob, “Let me out! Open the door! Please, please let me out!” Ellie pounded and pounded on the door. No answer.

  Marabel looked for a window, another door, anything that would help Ellie calm down, but all she could see was Marco.

  Marco!

  arco stared at them in shock. He slowly rose to his feet. Her twin, her best friend, her ally. Despite her worst fears, he wasn’t shackled to a wall or confined in a tiny cage. Instead, he was sitting on a long, low sofa. On a table in front of him was what looked like a bowl of cereal and a tall glass of bluefruit juice.

  Marabel took a step toward him.

  “Mara?” he said in a dazed voice.

  She ran across the room and flung herself at her brother. They hugged each other until they could hardly breathe, laughing and crying at the same time. They both babbled, asking questions, not pausing long enough to answer. Marco kept saying, “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe you’re here!”

  When they finally calmed down, Marabel said, “I can’t believe it, either—we made it! And you’re fine! I’ve been so worried.”

  Marco sat back down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to him. Marabel sat, staring at his face as though afraid that if she took her eyes off him, he would disappear. “I’m sorry you were worried,” Marco said. “I’ve been worried about you, too. Nobody would tell me what was going on in Magikos.”

  “What you’d expect, I suppose. They had a Ritual, and Symposia said you didn’t need any help.”

  Marco asked, “What are you doing here, then? Did Aunt Mab kidnap you, too?”

  “Um,” Marabel answered, “I’m rescuing you.”

  He looked pointedly at the locked door, and they both burst out laughing. Marabel couldn’t help it; the situation was so absurd and so hopeless, nothing was left to do but laugh.

  “We came so close,” Marabel said, suddenly serious. “We made it all the way here. And, Marco, I’ve been so worried that she was hurting you.”

  “Hurting me? No, not at all. It’s actually pretty nice in here, except for a fire-breathing dragon outside the door. There’s lots of food and there’s even WizFi, plus books and music and things.”

  Marabel told Marco everything that had happened, starting with the hidden tunnel. As she relayed the story to her brother, she suddenly realized how much she had learned in a thrennight.

  “What made you come up with the idea of hitting the man-wolf with that old practice sword?” Marco asked. “I’m surprised it didn’t break!”

  “I had to do something, and the sword was right there,” Marabel confessed.

  “I wouldn’t have been brave enough to do that.” Marco sounded impressed. “I’d be afraid that hitting him would make him mad. I’d have tried to convince him to leave us alone.”

  That was so Marco! He always did his best to be reasonable, while Marabel tended to go the direct route. But then Marabel remembered the man-wolf’s long teeth and the cold glint in his eye, and she didn’t think even Marco would have been able to do much convincing.

  “How did you figure out how to answer the riddle?” Marco asked when Marabel told him about the bridge troll.

  “I was pretty desperate, I guess, and after Ellie and Floriano gave him answers he wasn’t expecting, it just came to me. Oh, and wait until you hear about the faery!”

  She ended her tale by telling him about their encounter with Hotshot. Marco rolled his eyes at the mention of the dragon.

  “He’s such a jerk,” Marco said. “He’s cranky from being all cramped in there, but that’s no reason for him to act the way he does. He says when he first moved here, he was much smaller and his lair was more comfortable. I bet that’s only an excuse, though. I bet he was just as much of a jerk then.”

  Marabel had bigger questions. “Is Mab still threatening to have her wizard turn you into a frog?” The idea was so appalling!

  “That’s what she says. Or a snake, if Veneficus can figure out how to do it. You, too, now, I guess.”

  “We have to get out of here,” Marabel said. “We can’t let that happen.”

  “Do you think I haven’t tried? The door is locked, there’s a huge dragon on the other side of it—”

  Ellie said, “And there’s a witch, too, and there’s that Veneficus guy and who knows who else.”

  “—and goblin soldiers all over. It’s no use, Marabel. Either Father does what Mab wants, or we’re going to wind up as two frogs in a terrarium. Or the moat, if we’re lucky. At least we’d have a little more room there.”

  “A dragon and a witch might not be as hard to get past as you think. We’ve made it past trolls, giants, and an ogre—well, the ogre turned out not to be a problem, actually.”

  “But the others were!” Marco said. “And you got past all of them.”

  Marabel wanted to be humble, but she couldn’t help swelling with pride at his words.

  “We all worked together,” she said. “And maybe we could fight a dragon.”

  “Fight a dragon?” asked Marco, disbelieving. “No way. Besides, we don’t have any weapons. Unless you count that.” He nodded at the wooden practice sword still hanging from Marabel’s belt.

  Marabel rested her hand on the sword’s hilt. “Hmm,” she said. “How about if we try to trick Hotshot? Tel
l him we have some magic charms or potions or something.”

  Marco shook his head. “He wouldn’t fall for that. If you had a charm, you’d have used it on Aunt Mab or the goblins.”

  “Let’s try talking to him,” Ellie suggested.

  “You’re right,” Marabel said. “Wait till you see this, Marco!” She turned to the unicorn and said, “Go ahead.”

  Floriano reared up. Marco gasped as Floriano’s horn glowed and touched the latch. But to Marabel’s dismay, the door stayed shut.

  “What was that?” Marco asked. “I don’t get it.”

  “Usually Floriano can unlock doors with his horn. But maybe it’s stuck,” Ellie said. “You saw how hard the soldier had to kick it to get it open.”

  Marabel tried the handle, but the door didn’t budge.

  “Huh,” she said, puzzled. “It’s still locked. Try again, Floriano.”

  But before the unicorn could comply, his horn beeped, and bright letters appeared on his forehead. “Wait a second,” Marabel said. “Lower your head.” She read the words that circled the base of Floriano’s horn: “‘Attempt failed. Requires update to UniHorn version 13.0.1.’”

  “Oh no,” Marco groaned.

  “It’s all right,” Floriano assured him. “I have a UniHorn account, so I can update as soon as we’re logged on to the WizFi.”

  They all attempted to figure out Mab’s WizFi password, punching letters and numbers on the keypad on Floriano’s forehead. Nothing worked, and they grew more and more frustrated. The clock was ticking—Marabel just had to do something, and fast!

  It wasn’t going to work. They had to come up with something else. A rescue was unlikely and a war was coming. How had everything gone wrong so quickly? And what would happen if her father’s army attacked? They couldn’t just sit there until Veneficus came and turned them into frogs! She shuddered.

  “Cheer up,” Marco said. “It’s almost lunchtime. We can think more clearly after we’ve eaten.” A blinding bright green light flashed as three plates of sandwiches appeared on the table. On the floor sat a bucket of oats.

  Floriano trotted over and buried his nose in the bucket. “Mmm,” he said. “Warm.”

  Marabel picked up a sandwich—her favorite, grilled cheese—and was about to bite into it when Ellie stopped her. “Bewitched food?” she asked. “Are you seriously going to eat that?”

  “I’ve been eating it for twelve days,” Marco said. “Hasn’t hurt me yet.”

  “If we don’t eat, we’ll starve.” Marabel took a bite. “Doesn’t taste magical.”

  Ellie gave in and they ate until the plates were empty.

  As she wiped her mouth with a linen napkin, Marabel was struck by an uneasy thought. Was the witch fattening Marco up with all this food? Was she planning to eat him? She’d heard of witches eating people, especially children. Her brother did look a little pudgy, now that she examined him.

  Ellie sighed. “If we can’t unlock the door or log on to the WizFi, what are we going to do?”

  “Whatever we do, it has to wait until after the guard comes by,” Marco said. “He checks on me every day.”

  “A guard! Why didn’t you say so?” Marabel exclaimed. “Maybe we can outsmart him!”

  “Possibly,” Marco said. “He’s a pretty nice guy, actually, but I don’t know how easy he’d be to fool. He should be here in about an hour. In the meantime, there’s a bathroom in there.” He pointed at a door in the far wall. “Excuse me for saying so, but the two of you could use a bath.”

  The bathroom held two enormous tubs, and the girls scrubbed themselves, rinsed, and then scrubbed again. The hot water eased Marabel’s worries a little. She helped Ellie squeeze water out of her thick hair, and smiled to herself. Only a thrennight before, it had been Ellie helping her to wash her hair. Now it seemed perfectly natural to be the one helping. It felt nice.

  They discarded their filthy garbs. Marabel chose a fawn-colored tunic, fringed on the bottom, and matching trousers. Ellie chose a blue outfit. The cloth was warm and very soft, but it was odd to put on something different than a garb, and the lack of a hooded tunic made them feel almost naked.

  They combed each other’s damp hair and rejoined Marco in the outer room, where he was still sitting on the sofa.

  “No guard?” Marabel asked.

  “Not yet,” Marco said.

  Marabel groaned.

  “Here.” Marco handed Marabel a small box. “This will help pass the time.”

  The box was made of shiny metal. Two handles stuck out on either side, and jeweled buttons were arranged in rows on the front. They were marked with symbols—a ruby triangle pointing left, a diamond triangle pointing right, an outline of a square in what looked like sapphires, and other simple shapes. “What is it?”

  “I’ll show you.” He pointed the box at a shiny black rectangle hanging on the opposite wall and pressed one of the buttons.

  “Whoa!” Marabel recoiled. The rectangle had lit up, showing a flat stage, with tiny creatures of all sorts—humans, dragons, trolls, ogres, manticores, dwarves, giants, and more—running around aimlessly.

  “It’s a game,” Marco explained. “Those are the imps who live in that place. They like to play—that’s all they ever want to do. Here, let me show you.”

  Marabel learned a game called Queen’s Quest, and then Marco showed her how to play MagicCraft III and Angry Phoenixes. She got so caught up in aiming slingshots loaded with phoenixes at wild boars that were, for some reason, sitting in trees, that she almost forgot that the thrennight was almost up, that a dragon was keeping them confined, and even that she and Marco were likely going to be turned into cold-blooded animals.

  After a while, Marco looked at the door. “It’s strange he’s not here yet,” he said. “I hope he isn’t sick or anything. We’re kind of friends. He’s not much older than us, and he sometimes plays Impcraft with me. He talks to me about the castle and what’s going on, like Aunt Mab’s meeting tonight with the people trying to figure out how to solve that magical creature problem they’re having here.”

  “What kind of problem?” Marabel asked.

  “Does that matter?” Floriano broke in. “Shouldn’t we be trying to figure out how to get out of here?”

  “Wait,” Ellie said. “Aren’t you the Chosen One, Marco? Shouldn’t you be the one coming up with the answers?”

  Marco looked embarrassed. “I’ve tried and tried,” he said. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “The Book doesn’t say that he has to figure out what to do,” Marabel said. “Just that he has to do it, whatever it is. My father has advisers and all sorts of people to give him advice. Maybe we’re the advisers to the Chosen One.”

  “Can we convince Hotshot to let us go?” asked Ellie.

  Marco shook his head. “Why would he do that? What would we be able to offer him in exchange for our freedom? He doesn’t care about anything but himself.”

  “Let’s think,” Marabel said. “He has all the treasure that could possibly fit in that room, right? What else do dragons want, aside from gold and jewels?”

  “The only thing other than treasure that I’ve ever heard of dragons wanting,” Marco said slowly, “is… never mind.”

  “What?” Marabel asked.

  “The only thing they seem to want,” Marco said reluctantly, “you know, when they’re rampaging through the countryside and eating all the farmers’ sheep and burning things down and all—”

  “Right, behaving like dragons,” Marabel said.

  “Well, what do they always ask for in exchange for not doing those things anymore?”

  “Oh,” Ellie said after a moment.

  “Oh, right,” said Marabel.

  “What?” Floriano asked. “What is it they ask for?”

  “They always ask,” Marco said reluctantly, “for a maiden. To eat. Usually a princess.”

  “Does Mab actually give Hotshot people to eat?” Floriano was horrified.

  “I don’t think
so. If he’d eaten a maiden I think I would have heard something.”

  They all shuddered at the thought of what that would sound like.

  “So is this your plan?” Ellie asked him. “To offer your sister to a dragon?”

  “What? No!” Marco sounded shocked. “Never!”

  “So what does Hotshot eat?” Floriano asked.

  “I don’t think he eats anything,” Marco said. “He’s squeezed so tight that he might be afraid he’ll grow if he keeps eating, and then he’ll have to move to someplace bigger. Dragons are like hermit crabs—they need to find a new home every time they grow.”

  They were silent. Then Marabel stood up.

  “All right,” she said. “We’ll tell him he can…” She swallowed. “He can eat me if he’ll let the rest of you go.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Marco said firmly.

  “There’s nothing else to do. Just…” Marabel took a deep breath. “Just say good-bye to everyone for me, all right? Father and Maggie and the little ones—”

  She froze. Something had occurred to her, exactly when she wasn’t trying to come up with a solution. It was crazy, and it probably wouldn’t work—but it was something.

  “Wait a second,” she said slowly, trying not to extinguish the tiny spark of her idea. “I’ve thought of something. Listen.” The others gathered close while she laid out her plan. They conferred in whispers until they had agreed on all the steps.

  “I don’t know,” Marco said. “Hotshot’ll never admit that anything of his isn’t the best, even if it’s obviously true.”

  “We have to try,” Marabel said. Her plan didn’t stand much chance of working, but anything was better than sitting around doing nothing. She took a deep breath. “Ellie, you’re on!”

  llie swallowed and spoke into the crack at the edge of the door. “Oh, Mr. Hotshot!” she called in her sweetest voice.

  No answer.

  “Can we talk with you, Mr. Hotshot?”

  They heard clanking and banging as the dragon moved. “What do you want?” came a surly voice. “I was counting my silver shields, and you made me lose my place. Now I have to start all over again.”