Tangled Magick (2 page)

“Dale Fullmeadow?” Mr. Whiteknoll said again, his voice carrying a note of exasperation.

Someone pushed through the crowd. “I'm here! I'm here!”

A hapenny with a very round face and a large knapsack strapped to his back emerged. He smiled a crooked smile. “Just a bit late, that's all.”

“I hope you won't be making a habit of it,” Callum said sternly.

Dale shook his head and made his way to a pony with no rider as Mr. Whiteknoll called out the names of Arwen Creekbed and Gilby Rosethorn.

Two hapennies with long white beards nodded as their gazes met Mr. Whiteknoll's glance into the crowd.

“Poppy Vale is here, I see,” Mr. Whiteknoll said with a twinkle in his eye. “Welcome, Poppy.”

Poppy waved and snuck a peek at the young man next to her.

“Tory Longbridge?” Mr. Whiteknoll asked.

The young man next to Leif's cousin smiled. “Aren't you going to welcome me to the group too, you old flirt?”

The crowd laughed and tittered.

“Yes, yes, welcome, all of you,” Mr. Whiteknoll said. “And last but not least, Cook Barley and our beast master, Thorain Grumblebrook.”

Cook Barley tipped his hat.

“Mount up!” Thorain ordered.

The hapennies all settled themselves on their mounts, and the
crack
of the wagon whip drove the harnessed ponies forward. The wagon jerked into motion, the wheels leaving twin tracks in the dirt.

And still no sign of Leif.

Mae waved to the crowd as the wagon pulled away and headed for the bridge that would take them over the river and to the lands beyond the Wedge. She pulled her wand from her pocket and gave it a flick. “
Straumer
!”

Streams of colorful ribbons, like dragons zigzagging through the clouds, shot into the sky to the delight of the crowd. The children squealed and held up their hands to catch the falling ribbons.

“Wait!” a voice cried.

Mae's ears perked up. They swiveled to and fro, locating the voice in the crowd.

“Wait!” Leif cried as he broke through the gathered villagers. “Mae!”

“Leif!” Mae's relief was so great that her legs felt like warm jelly. Leif ran to catch up with the travelers. The wagon tilted back as Mr. Whiteknoll drove it onto the bridge that crossed the river bordering the Wedge. Leif scrambled up the sidewalls and leapt into the bed of the wagon.

“Mae.” He gasped for breath.

“I thought you were going to let me leave without saying goodbye,” Mae said.

Leif grabbed her hands. “Never. I'm sorry I was late. My neighbor Mr. Undertoll has come down with the Bricklebear Fever. His face just broke out into hairy little spots all of a sudden. I've never seen anything like it!” He let go of her hands and dug into his pocket. When he opened his fist, a pocket-sized owl stared at her from his palm. “This is for you.”

Mae scooped the owl up and studied the details. “Oh, she's beautiful. Look at her tiny beak and her big eyes. And you can even see her little ear tufts!” Mae put her forehead against Leif's and nuzzled his nose with hers. “Thank you from the bottom of my teacup.”

“I'll miss you every day,” Leif whispered.

“I'll miss you every minute,” Mae whispered back.

“Well, I'll miss you every second.” Leif smiled.

“But I'll miss you every moment.” Mae giggled. Then she bit her quivering lip as tears sprang into her eyes. “I
will
miss you every moment, you know.” She threw her arms around him and squeezed. “Goodbye.”

“I'm so sorry my parents forbade me to come with you. I argued until the pigs came home, but no luck. I want to go with all my heart,” Leif whispered in her ear as he squeezed her back.

“At least I'll know you are safe,” Mae said.

Leif scoffed. “If only I was a couple of months older, I wouldn't have to obey. I could come with you and they couldn't stop me.”

“I'll be home soon. Goodbye, Leif.” Mae sniffled.

“My father said it's not goodbye. He said the old traders used to say, ‘until the stack of pancakes grows short.'”

Mae pulled back so she could look at his face. “Yes, well, that doesn't take too long, does it?”

“You'll be back before Winter's Gluttony.” Leif cleared the huskiness from his throat. “At least, that's what Mr. Whiteknoll said.”

“Until the stack of pancakes grows short, then,” Mae agreed. “Take care of Reed and Aletta and the Wedge.”

Leif rose from the wagon and perched on the edge, one hand on the side, one foot dangling off. “I will.”

He jumped from the wagon and ran down the path toward the bridge. When he was safe on its planks, he turned and waved. Mae waved back until the forest swallowed the wagon into its colorful autumn canopy. The dusty road twined through the trees. Mae peered into the shadows but saw no sign of trolls. A chipmunk, his cheeks stuffed full, scrambled across the road and disappeared into his underground nest. A ring of toadstools reminded Mae of the hobgoblins she'd created the day Luisliu, a rowan tree, had gifted her with a twig, which was now her wand. The hobgoblins lived at the edge of the Wedge; they helped Farmer Burrbridge herd the sheep up to the high grazing hills in the summer and helped Mrs. Lowknoll make cheese in the winter.

All afternoon, the forest grew darker as clouds piled up in the gray sky. As the sun crept lower in the sky, raindrops
splashed on Mae's nose whenever the canopy thinned enough to let them through. She curled up under the tarp covering the cargo. At least the road would lose its dustiness if it got a good soaking. She studied the other hapenny traders plodding along on their ponies. Most of them had donned long oilskin jackets, which separated at the waist in order to protect their legs from the rain. Callum had a jacket like that stowed away in his bag too.

The men in the caravan had started out a boisterous group. As they began the journey, they had cracked jokes and sung the old traveling songs. Now their faces were long, eyebrows pinched together as the wind picked up and drove the rain past their hat brims and into their eyes. Mae pulled her flute from her pocket and played something that would cheer them up.

“
M
ae.”

Feeling a shake of her shoulder, Mae turned to her side. “Just a minute more, Callum.”

He shook her again. “We are stopping for the night. Would you like something to eat?”

Mae sat up, her flute rolling off her lap.

Catching her little wooden instrument, the wizard chuckled. “I knew you couldn't resist a meal.” He popped the flute into her palm and lifted her from the wagon.

Mae dropped her flute in her pocket, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and scanned the campsite. A simple cooking fire had been built up under the shelter of a large ring of trees. The ponies were corralled within a group of trees and were grazing at the brush. Cook Barley turned from the fire with a ladle in his hand. “There she is! Our own little wizard. Did you have a good rest?”

Mae nodded sheepishly. “Yes, sir.” The last thing she remembered was playing the flute to cheer the traders up. The rocking wagon must have lulled her to sleep. Her stomach rumbled and her nose twitched as the smell of roasting chicken wafted under it. “Whatever you're cooking sure smells good.”

Cook Barley laughed. “Probably not as good as what Callum could magick up, but I did my best!”

Mae slipped her flute in her pocket and shivered as Callum drew her closer to the fire. She perched on a fallen log that was covered with moss but relatively dry. Most of the traders were murmuring among themselves, but one smiled up at Mae.

“Thank you for the song, Maewyn.” Tory tipped his hat and winked. He was young, only a couple of years older than Mae's fourteen winters, and he had curly red hair and a cute dimple in his chin. Her cheeks grew hot. She nodded in his direction but was saved from talking to him by an offered bowl of yellow squash and a roasted chicken leg. She whispered her thanks to Callum as he sat next to her.

“How much further is it to the first village of men, Callum?” Maewyn asked. She shoveled a bite of squash in her mouth.

Callum swallowed his mouthful and knit his brows. “It's been a while since I've been north of the Wedge, but I'd say another day and a half. We should get to Larissa about noonish.” He elbowed her playfully. “Just in time for something to eat!”

Mae giggled. Big clouds of white breath-steam floated around her head. It was going to be a cold night. “What will we be trading at the village?”

“Mostly supplies. Mr. Whiteknoll is looking for a nice supple leather to make hats and mittens. Cook Barley wants new recipes. Poppy Vale is looking for some new breeding-stock ponies, and Tory Longbridge, the young man who thanked you for the song—which was lovely by the way—is gathering lore of a legendary animal that used to live in the Wedge…a phooka.”

“A phooka? What's that?”

Callum chuckled. “Only the best house cleaner a household could ever have.”

Mae's eyes grew wide. “Better than a hapenny?”

“Better than a hapenny.” Callum's eyes glittered. “Well, perhaps not better than a hapenny, but better than my spells!”

Mae shook her head. “I don't believe it.”

“That's why it is called a legendary creature. Few believe it is real.”

Mae chewed on her chicken leg, thinking about the Great Expedition. “Why do they call it a Great Expedition if we're just trading everyday things? Isn't there something bigger we should be searching for?”

Callum chewed his lip and then took a quick breath. “A long time ago, the Great Expedition was exactly what you think it should be—a grand adventure. It was a time when the younger hapennies would have a chance to explore the world outside of the Wedge, visit other hapenny villages, and meet the colonies of dwarves and elves and humans.”

“We used to visit humans on purpose?” Mae was shocked. Humans rarely visited the Wedge, and the ones who did were usually entertainers of some sort.

Callum chuckled. “Yes. Hapennies and humans were once closely aligned, before the Trillium War.”

Mae shook her head. “I haven't heard of that war before. Was it between the hapennies and the humans?”

“No. Hapennies and humans were on the same side. It was a war between the humans and the trolls.”

“And did the humans win?” She forked a few pieces of squash into her mouth.

“No one ever wins in a war,” Callum said in a low tone. “You know that. The trolls fled, if that's what you mean, but they stole away with the king's daughter.”

“Didn't the king's men go looking for her?”

Callum nodded slowly. His eyes glazed over for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Some still are.”

“That's so sad.” Mae set down her empty bowl. She decided to change the subject to something a little more cheery. “So, what are you looking for on this expedition, Callum? Um, besides corley thistle to make more Bricklebear Fever remedy.”

“That's a good question.” The wizard braced his arm against his knee and leaned forward, eyes shining in the firelight. There was a spark in them that Mae had never seen before. She waited patiently for Callum to answer and decided after a bit that he wasn't going to.

“I'm looking for a good story to tell.” Mae pulled her wand from her pocket and flicked it at the fire. Flames shot up into the sky and formed unicorns that sparred with their horns and pranced on their hind feet. “That's what I'll bring back to the Wedge—a good story and something for Aletta. What do you think she'd like?”

“A nice emerald from the Near Mountain Miners might be nice.” Callum took a big bite of his chicken leg.

Mae swallowed. “The Near Mountains? But those are so far away!”

Callum nodded and wiped the grease away from his mouth with his sleeve. “Yes, our last planned stop was in Crestfallen, the town at the bottom of the mountains. But we were so close that I thought I'd take you—”

Mae put her hand up, shushing Callum mid-sentence. Her ears pricked up and swiveled until she caught the sound again. The other hapennies perked their ears and turned their heads toward the forest. “I think we have visitors,” Mae said.

Noses twitched in anticipation. Something was indeed crashing through the woods, and coming fast. Mae gripped her wand tighter while Callum eased himself off the log, knees creaking. The crashing got louder, and then Mae heard a scream.

“Help!”

Mae started for a moment at the human voice and then moved toward the sound.

Callum caught her collar. “Oh no you don't. It could be a bockman trying to lure us into the woods. Or all manner of other creatures planning to do us harm.” He turned to the wide-eyed traders. “Gather a weapon, whatever you have at hand, and form a circle. Backs to the fire.” He pulled Mae next to him.

“Callum,” Mae's voice shook. “I don't know what to do with a bockman.”

“Don't follow him, no matter the tune he plays.”

Mae shook her head. Her heart raced. She saw the trees bending before a large shadow flew out. The ponies reared and whinnied. Mae raised her wand, a spell lingering at the tip of her tongue.

“Please,” the shadow cried out. “Please help me!”

“
Villielder
!” Callum whispered.

The fire roared, and a beautiful human face was lit up in the night.

M
ae dropped her wand in her pocket and stepped forward, but Callum held her fast by the shoulder. “No, Mae.”

“But Callum!” Mae pointed to the lady standing at the edge of their campsite. “It's a woman in trouble, not a bockman.” The others were looking to Callum for direction.

The wizard shifted next to her. His face was cloudy with indecision. “It could be a trick.”

“Please,” the woman pleaded and took a few steps forward, her hand outstretched. “I need your help!”