The Wrong Side of Magic (18 page)

Hours passed. Nigel and Cecil didn't lessen their speed until darkening shadows replaced the sunlight. Then they slowed to a walk. By that time, Hudson's legs ached from all the jostling. Charlotte must have noticed him wincing, because she pulled the candy-heart painkillers from her bag and tossed him a yellow one. “Yellow is a father's love,” she said. “It works really well.”

It did. It was as smooth and rich as chocolate. It not only took the pain away, but it made him feel like he could accomplish anything.

At last, the unicorns reached the end of the forest. Hudson recognized the place this time. They were by the farmlands and cottages that lay outside Grammaria.

“The soldiers won't pursue you at night,” Nigel told Hudson as he dismounted. “Their steeds can't see in the dark. But they'll start their search again in the morning. Be wary and quick in everything you do.”

“We will,” Hudson said. “Thanks again for saving us.”

Nigel let out an approving whinny. “Sacrificing yourself for Charlotte was an act of one who is pure in heart. Perhaps there is hope for you yet.”

*   *   *

Charlotte and Hudson had eaten the last of the granola bars while they rode the unicorns. It was the only food that their dunk into the Sea of Life hadn't ruined. The few packages hadn't been enough to fill them, so the eagle and falcon flew to the city to get more food. While they were gone, Hudson and Charlotte built a fire to dry out their things. Instead of using matches, she found some romantic-love candy hearts. Those made sparks and surprisingly hot flames.

Pokey and Charlotte's squirrel, Meko, helped spread things out around the fire. It seemed odd not to have the tiger, wolf, and polar bear helping, too. Charlotte kept sniffling back tears. She missed them.

“If your animals escaped from the bloodhounds,” Hudson said, holding his pillow as close to the flames as he dared, “your wolf will able to find us. Wolves are good at that.”

She shook her head sadly. “They wouldn't have tried to escape. They stayed and fought.”

“I bet the bloodhounds didn't hurt them,” he said. “Those dogs pop pretty easily, and your animals all had fangs.”

Charlotte laid her extra clothes around the fire, barely looking at them. “The unicorns pierced the dog's skin so easily because their horns are made of strong magic. Shabtis only have weak magic. And the soldiers had swords.…” Her voice broke, and she bit her lip.

“If you want, I'll give you Pokey.”

More sad headshaking. “He's your only shabti. I couldn't take him from you.”

Hudson didn't press the point. Pokey wouldn't be much help to Charlotte, anyway.

The eagle returned with a cluster of plums grasped in his talons, and a few minutes later, the falcon brought a small loaf of bread. Charlotte shared them with Hudson.

When it was late enough that King Vaygran had most likely gone to bed, Charlotte and Hudson put out the fire and set off for Grammaria. She left Meko and her birds to guard their things. Hudson left Pokey to help guard, too, mostly so he didn't have to lug the penguin around in his bag.

He and Charlotte didn't speak much as they walked to the city. They were both tired. Hudson's confidence seemed to fade with every step they took. When they had nearly arrived at the river, he asked, “Are you sure there isn't a better way to get King Vaygran's sword? Isn't there some way the shabtis could do it? Squirrels are good at finding things, aren't they?”

“Stop worrying,” Charlotte said. “The castle is the last place King Vaygran will expect us to be.”

“Yeah, because only crazy people would break into a castle.”

“Crazy people and people with magic,” she clarified. “I used to live at the castle. I know every room, floor, and secret passageway. The king's bedroom is in the highest tower. The armory is on the first floor. His sword has to be in one of those two places.”

“Where was your bedroom?” Hudson asked.

“It was…” Her brows drew together, perplexed. “That's funny, I don't remember.”

This did not inspire confidence in her ability to navigate their way through the castle. “What do you mean, you don't remember? Didn't you sleep there every night?”

“I remember I had to climb up stairs to get there—the stairs in the highest tower. And it had a fireplace.… Why can't I remember more about my bedroom?”

“Did you give away those memories?” Hudson asked.

“I would have written them down, if I had.”

“Maybe you misplaced the notebook where you wrote those memories.”

“Maybe,” she said, still not happy with that explanation. “I suppose I wouldn't realize I lost a notebook, if I don't remember the memories I wrote in it.”

Charlotte didn't ponder the mystery any longer. They'd reached the river's edge. The drawbridge was raised, the city gates shut, and only faint lights glowed over the city walls. She took the silver bell from her bag and rang it. “We need a fairy to cross the river.”

A speck of light flew out of the river and made lazy loops over to them. The river fairy wore a different dress this time. The gown was as dark as the river at night, with lace that glowed like moonlight on the waves. She hovered in the air in front of them, wand at the ready.

Charlotte dug her muselings out of her bag and counted out four. “We both need passage to the city. We also need some magical assistance.” A flicker of nervousness passed over her expression, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “We need a way to take King Vaygran's sword without getting caught. What do you have that can help us?”

The fairy tapped her wand against her hand, thinking. “Something like that will be expensive. Much more than muselings. It will cost you a powerful remembrance. What are you offering?”

Charlotte hesitated, then looked down. “I have the memory of three friends who probably gave their life for mine.”

“Perhaps,” the fairy said, gliding closer to Charlotte. “I want to see what else you've got.” With the flick of her hand, her wand became a flashlight that she shone into one of Charlotte's eyes.

Hudson had thought his internal compass had stopped working, but he heard it this time and spoke up. “Take one of mine instead,” he told the fairy. “I've got lots of good memories.” It was true. He hadn't realized how many good memories he had until he listed them in the
gratitude
boat. Family, friends, a country without kings who set wizards on innocent people.

The fairy glided over to Hudson, wings fluttering. “Let's hope your memories are in better shape than your friend's. Hers have already been cut to ribbons.” The fairy swung her wand at Hudson, and the beam of light went into his right eye. It didn't hurt like a normal light would have. It just felt uncomfortable, sort of like something warm pinging off the walls of his brain.

“Ahh,” the fairy chimed. “There's a delicious one.” She didn't have to tell him which one she meant. It unfolded in his mind in perfect detail.

Hudson was in his front yard, saying good-bye to his dad before he deployed. His mom stood a little ways away, telling Bonnie she didn't need to cry, but was crying herself. “Six months isn't so long,” she said, trying to sound brave. “It takes me longer than that to make it through my to-do list. How much do you want to bet that none of the clutter on our dressers is even cleared away by the time your dad steps back through the door?”

Hudson knew then that, while their dad was gone, their mother wouldn't bother telling him and Bonnie to straighten their dressers. It was her way of denying that he'd be gone for too long.

Hudson saw his father's face clearly, his broad smile and dark brown eyes, the same ones Hudson had. His dad wrapped him in a hug. “You take care of your mom and sister, you hear?”

“I will,” Hudson said.

His father didn't let him go. Hudson leaned against his dad's shirt, breathing in the smell of his aftershave.

“You take care of yourself, too,” his father said, “and remember I'm thinking of you every day.” He gave Hudson's shoulder a squeeze. “I love you, and I'm proud you're my son.”

That was the memory the fairy wanted.

Hudson shook his head. “I can't give you that one.”

The fairy lifted her chin, and her pale wings beat faster. “Then you'll have to get King Vaygran's sword by yourself.”

Charlotte's gaze bounced between Hudson and the fairy. “I must have a memory you'd like. Take one of mine.”

“No,” Hudson said. If Charlotte's memories really were cut into ribbons, he didn't want anything else taken from her mind. “Just let me write the memory down first so I know what I'm forgetting.”

Charlotte gave him a thankful look, one tinged with sadness, then she got out a pen and her notebook. She handed them to him.

He wrote down the memory as thoroughly as he could, trying to capture every second of the good-bye so he could preserve it. He wished he were better with words, that he could find a way to describe all the things that were in his father's smile. His confidence, his humor, his trust. When Hudson finished, he handed the pen and paper back to Charlotte. “I'm ready now.”

The fairy flicked her wand, moving it in strokes like a maestro conducting an orchestra. Something sparkled in front of Hudson's eyes. At first, he thought the sparkles were coming out of the fairy's wand. Then he realized they were coming from his mind and traveling into the wand.

Hudson searched his memory for his father's good-bye. It was a blank spot in his mind now. He only remembered the words he'd just written down about it.

The fairy glowed as brightly as a miniature firework and smiled at him happily. “I'll treasure that one.”

“What about the magic you owe us?” he asked stiffly.

“Oh, right.” She pulled a small, dark object out of her bag. “I've programmed this magnet to guide you to wherever the king's sword is.” She tossed it to him, and the thing grew in midair to the size of a cell phone. Hudson caught it and turned it over in his hand. He held a horseshoe-shaped magnet that had a tiny map in the middle. It showed the streets of Grammaria with a star on the castle. Words on top of the map read
Fly straight for 6.5 miles.

The fairy zipped closer to Hudson, hovering near his hand. “Once the magnet touches the sword, the sword will shrink until it's travel size. You can just put it in your pocket after that. Then ring your bell, and you'll automatically be turned into birds again so you can escape out of one of the castle's windows.”

Charlotte glanced at the map on the magnet. “We'll need to be birds longer than five minutes each way. Otherwise, we'll end up trapped in Grammaria.”

The fairy considered this. “I'll make it ten minutes, and I'll turn you into falcons.” She waved her wand in a swooping motion at Charlotte and Hudson. “Peregrine falcons can fly up to sixty miles an hour horizontally and over two hundred miles an hour when they dive. That should be fast enough for you to span the distance.”

As the fairy spoke, Charlotte transformed, shrinking into a sleek brown falcon with a white throat and black eyes. The next moment, Hudson felt the familiar contracting sensation. His fingers flattened into feathers, his arms stretched into wings. He flapped his wings and flew upward, shooting out over the river in easy, swift strokes. He was light and swift, and flying made him feel like he had conquered gravity. He wanted to glide for a bit, but Charlotte was zooming ahead of him so quickly he had to push himself to keep up with her.

They sailed over the walls and sped across the city, past winding roads and boxy shops. He barely glanced down at them. He kept his eye on the castle, watching it grow closer with every stroke of his wings. He enjoyed the rush of air, the feeling of speed and freedom. Minutes later, they arrived.

Charlotte headed straight toward the highest tower. She circled the tower once, then twice, searching for an open window. The height worried Hudson. How long had they been falcons? Eight minutes? Closer to ten? If they switched back to their human form now, they'd fall to their deaths.

Charlotte found some shutters ajar and slipped through the opening. Hudson followed her. The room was dark, but with his falcon eyes, he could make out shapes. It was an empty bedroom. Maybe a guest room. He flew over to the headboard, perched there, and tried to catch his breath. A moment later, he nearly fell face-first onto the bed. He was human again.

Charlotte stood on the floor in front of him, still looking like Isabella—a slightly worried, jumpy Isabella. She took the jar of hope from her pocket and shook it softly, just enough to create a dull glow.

Hudson pulled the magnet from his pocket and looked at the map. It showed a diagram of the castle, indicating with a star that the sword was in the top of the highest tower.

Charlotte glanced over his shoulder, checked the map, and let out a small whimper. “The sword is in the king's room. I was hoping it would be in the armory.” She swallowed hard. “I really don't want to see King Vaygran again, even if he is sleeping.”

“We'll make sure we don't accidentally wake him up.”

Hudson expected Charlotte to go to the door and lead the way. She stayed where she was.

“We can do this,” she said. “Once we touch the sword to the magnet, it will shrink. Then all we have to do is find an open window and ring the fairy bell. We'll automatically be turned back into birds.” She still didn't move to the door.

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” he asked.

She glanced at the door nervously. “We've come this far—we have to do it.”

“We don't have to do it,” he said. “We could go back to our camp and send your birds to do it instead.”

She shook her head. “I already explained this. For magic to work, you have to do the important things yourself.”