Tangled Magick (11 page)

Mae stared at Callum. His lips were blue with cold, as was the tip of his nose. His skin was not golden-brown, but chalky. “How could I not lose hope after seeing him like this?” Warm tears coursed down her cheeks and dripped onto the wizard's hand. Mae sniffled and ran her sleeve under her nose. Trina snuggled into her shoulder.

“I know that you can break this spell,” Folkvarus whispered.

Mae's heart picked up its pace. Her mind whirled with possibilities. She stared at Folkvarus. He seemed shorter than she remembered him being when they'd first met, and his dark eyes carried a bluish tone. “You aren't a troll, are you? Folkvarus isn't even your proper name, is it?”

Folkvarus's serious face cracked a small smile. “My real name is Glenn. Glenn Bridgepost.”

If a heart could stop in its chest and leave a hapenny still alive, that's exactly what Mae's would've done. She swallowed hard and tried to listen to Folkvarus over the rushing of blood in her ears.

“When my party was captured so many years ago, I didn't want the queen to have too much power over me, so I gave myself a new name. Gilda did the same. The others didn't follow suit—they were too proud to take any names besides their own. I now believe it was the only thing that saved us from the enchantment.”

“B-but you both look like trolls—so how were you saved?” Her palms were thick with sweat. She'd found her father—
alive
—after all these years. But now she had to tell him that her mother wasn't.

“Because we remembered that we weren't trolls every time we were called by a name other than our own.”

“What happened to the others?” Mae asked quietly. “Did—did they die?”

“Worse.” Folkvarus shook his head. “They didn't just look like trolls; they really
became
trolls.”

Mae clasped Callum's hand and laid her head against him. So many emotions had gathered in her chest that she wasn't sure what she was feeling. She was relieved and scared and angry all at once. It was brewing in her like a thunderstorm, and she didn't know when the lightning struck what shape it was going to take. Trina scrambled up to sit on her shoulder. “And you are a hapenny, only you don't look like a hapenny because of the enchantments on the castle. The party you speak of was the Great Expedition that left the Wedge when I was only two years old.”

“I'm afraid you've found me out.” Folkvarus smiled, but it was a sad smile, one that wavered at the corners and quickly disappeared. “You are the same age my daughter would be. I bet you even know her.”

Mae took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and faced Folkvarus. Her heart was cracking in two. She felt for the blue orb pendant under her blouse for courage, but her voice was calm as she asked the question that had been burning in her chest for so long.

“Because of you, I was raised by a troll pretending to be a hapenny. She was mean and dirty. She wasn't enchanted to look and act like a troll. She was a
real
troll. How could you leave us like that?”

Folkvarus pushed his palms out in a “stop” gesture. “Wait a minute. I had no idea the village would be attacked. Do you think any of us would've left if we could've foreseen the future?”

“She ate my mother,
Serena Bridgepost
.” Mae saw his face fall. She instantly felt sorry for her bluntness, and she didn't want to hurt him, but sometimes truth is painful. It was what he would do with that truth that Mae wanted to see. Would he toss her to the trolls again, or pick up the pieces and help her get back to the Wedge?

“Serena
Bridgepost
? My Serena, eaten by a troll?” Folkvarus sunk to the floor, his hands shaking like leaves in a storm. Bright tears sparkled in his eyes.

“My mother,” Mae repeated, and she pulled out the pendant and opened it so he could see the dark lock inside.

Folkvarus's watery eyes lifted to take in Mae's features. She knelt so she could be face to face with him. He cupped her cheek. “Maewyn?”

Mae nodded, and after a brief hesitation she threw herself into her dad's arms and bawled.

W
hen Mae could breathe again, she told her dad everything she could remember about the years before her mother died. “Mother left a candle in the window for you every night, to guide you back home. But you never came.”

“I'm so sorry, Maewyn. If I had known I'd be gone so long, I never would've left.” He stepped back, though still holding her hands, so he could get a better look at her. “I should've known the first time I laid eyes on you. You have your mother's eyes and her twitchy nose, and my curly hair.”

Mae snorted and patted the very short, but still unruly, locks. “Well, before the queen cut it all off.”

“I overheard Cook Barley and Mr. Whiteknoll talking about one of your party having magick.” He sniffled and wiped his teary eyes as he stood. “I knew it was one of you girls when I saw how clean the queen's chamber was. I didn't narrow it down to you, though, until Poppy made that remark about the Wedge. A long time ago, one of the gargoyles told us about a comb hidden somewhere in the castle that would be revealed by the full moon's path. It's the only thing that can break the spell, but we haven't been able to find it. I thought maybe your magick could find it.”

“A comb to break the spell?” Mae asked. She'd heard of true love's kiss breaking a spell, and counter-spells, but a comb?
A sudden thought hit Mae between the eyes. “The leyna charm on the gargoyle!”

“The what?” her dad asked.

“It's a magic spell that disguises something to look like something else. The gargoyle above the hearth in the queen's chamber—he has pointed teeth. None of the other gargoyles have teeth like him.”

“Teeth…as in comb teeth,” Mr. Bridgpost said.

“That's what I'm thinking.” Mae nodded.

“You might be on to something. The queen's chamber is the only place I haven't been able to search,” her dad said. “I was never more happy, or more sad, than when the queen captured you and your red-haired friend.”

“Poppy,” Maewyn said. “She is Leif's cousin.”

“Burrbridge?” her dad asked.

Mae nodded.

Her dad ran his hands through his hair. “Poppy's father was my best friend. He told me I shouldn't leave my family—not with you so young. I should have listened to him. How can I help you break the spell?”

“Until I can see if the gargoyle really is holding a comb in his mouth, there's nothing we can do, except…”

“Except?”

“Can you leave the castle?” Mae asked.

“I can go onto the grounds without causing suspicion, if that's what you mean. But what for?”

“There's been an outbreak of Bricklebear Fever in the Wedge, and we need to gather the corley thistles in the field before the snow kills them. It's the main ingredient in the cure, and we've run out in the Wedge.”

“Burnt biscuits.” Her dad clicked his tongue. “I'll have to come up with some kind of excuse to be picking flowers, but yes, I'll find a way.”

“Thank you, Folk—er…Dad.” Mae smiled shyly up at him. The hair on his ears had thickened since he'd led her and
Poppy into the castle almost a week ago. It almost seemed as if his green-tinged skin had pinked up too.

Her dad put his hand on her shoulder. “You should probably call me Folkvarus until we get out of here.”

“That's probably a good idea.”

“C'mon. I was supposed to take you to the dungeon to help with the animals until the queen had need of you. I'm afraid it must be near midafternoon, but let's get you something to eat first.”

Mae perked up at the thought of food. She patted Callum's hand. “Don't worry, Callum. I'm going to find that comb and get us home.”

The wizard didn't stir.

Trina crawled up her arm and settled on her shoulder.

Mae's dad gestured for her to lead the way back down the stairwell. He closed the door behind them. As they stepped out of the stairwell and entered the Great Room, Mae saw a bunch of tiny creatures busily sweeping the bones and broken dishes from last night's dinner into piles. They had big heads with small, pointed ears and long noses, and wore clothing that was patched together from discards. Lopsided hats bobbed on their heads, the brims held together with patches and pins. Her dad pointed to them and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Those are brownies. Don't let them catch you looking at them or they will scuttle out of the room. Can you imagine what this place would look like if they weren't here to sweep the bones and debris away?”

Mae crinkled her nose. She could only imagine what the Great Room would look like without them. She quickly looked away so that the brownies wouldn't think she'd seen them.

It was steamy in the kitchen when they walked through the swinging door. Cook Barley was humming as he stirred a bubbling sauce. Gilda was busy cutting biscuits.

“Is there any oatmeal left, Gilda?”

“Folkvarus,” Gilda said in a warning tone, clicking her tongue. “Don't let the queen see that you've taken a special interest in this girl. You know what will happen.”

“Just get her some food and then I'll take her into the dungeon.”

“Dungeon?” Gilda gasped. “That's no place for a young girl.”

“Don't worry, I'm good with animals,” Mae said.

Cook Barley dropped a bowl in front of her. Maewyn poked at the sticky oatmeal, suddenly feeling guilty for eating.

“Don't feel bad, dear. Poppy ate this morning when she brought the queen's breakfast dishes back. Huldfrejya has had her hopping all morning. You'd think that girl was a brownie, the way she's been working around here.”

Mae shoveled in the oatmeal. It was cold, and there was only one slice of apple in there, which she gave to Trina. The mush reminded her of home and the apple orchard and Leif's pumpkin patch. Her ears drooped as she thought of Leif. She hoped the owl had found him.

S
omething woke Leif. He lay still in his bed as the rosy sunrise filtered through his windows. The window muntins cast crisscrossed shadows on the wall. He blinked and strained his ears. Reed was softly snoring in the bed across the room.

Tap, tap, tap
.

Leif turned his head. A huge owl was tapping its beak on the window above his bed.

Tap, tap, tap
.

The tapping was more insistent this time. The owl reached up one claw and scratched at the glass pane, her talons leaving marks in the frost.

Leif scrambled up on his knees and unlatched the window. He didn't really know why he was opening it for an owl, but his gut told him it was the right thing to do. He backed away as the bird hopped over the sill and soared into the room, landing on the top of his dresser. A small portrait of Mae leaned against his toolbox. The owl scooted the portrait with her beak, pinching it in her mouth. She screeched.

Slowly approaching, Leif's mind spun. The carving he'd given Mae before she left. The owl before him had the same curve to her beak. She was bigger, of course, but this was
his
owl. Except there was something around her neck. He reached out, touching the braided strands of red hair. Gently he pulled it off the owl and turned it in his hand.

“This is from Mae, isn't it?” he asked the owl. He held up the braided loop of hair. “And this is Poppy's hair.” His stomach fell as the owl's gaze deepened. Deep in his heart, he knew the girls were in trouble. Tossing open his dresser drawers, Leif drew on a pair of trousers, thick wool socks, and a cabled sweater. He threw the door of his room open, startling Reed awake as the doorknob banged against the wall.

“Wh—what's happening?” Reed said sleepily.

The owl glided into the hallway and toward the front door.

Leif yelled over his shoulder as he ran after her. “Mae's in trouble. Have to go see Aletta.”

He shoved his boots on, crammed his hat on his head, grabbed his jacket, and was out the door before Reed could shuffle out of bed and ask any more questions. Leif shoved his arms into his jacket and buttoned it up as he hurried down the road. He could just make out the shadow of the owl as she soared over the pumpkin field.

The trees had shed with the previous night's wind. Bright red and yellow leaves littered the roads and huddled against the fence posts. Leif was out of breath when he arrived at the Bridgepost farm. The owl was already pecking at the kitchen window of Maewyn's house. He saw Aletta look up, and watched as surprise crossed her face, and then alarm as she saw him approaching.

The door was yanked open as Leif arrived.

“Something's wrong!” they both said at the same time.

“You've got the Bricklebear Fever!” Leif said. Aletta's cheeks flamed with fever, and hairy little spots had sprouted on her chin.

“Are Mae and Callum in trouble?”