Tangled Magick (3 page)

Mae studied the woman. She was tall and thin, and her hair was a mess of tangles. The bodice of her dress was stained. One sleeve was torn from its seam, and the skirt was tattered and worn around the hem.

The woman's bottom lip trembled as the trees behind her shook. “I lost my way in the forest trying to escape from the trolls who held me captive.”

The hapennies exchanged glances. Trolls?

Cook Barley beat his rolling pin in his hand. “Trolls keeping humans captive now, eh? Your name, mistress?”

“Huldfrejya,” the woman answered and curtsied on shaking legs.

Callum's brows knit together. His wand wobbled in his hand.

Mae put her hand on Callum's arm. “Please, Callum, she needs our help. We know what it's like to be hounded by trolls.”

The lady held up her hands, fingers spread, palms out. “No tricks. I promise. I'm just a poor soul who's had a run of bad luck.” Her eyes were dull in the firelight.

The hapennies' weapons wavered and then fell to their sides.

The lady gathered her skirts, clearly taking the lowering of weapons as assent to join the group, and quickly shuffled toward the safety of the fire. Poppy wrapped a blanket around Huldfrejya's shoulders as the woman took a seat on a log. Cook Barley handed her a steaming mug of tea.

“What do we do now, Callum?” Mae asked. The traders had gathered around, awaiting orders.

“We must keep a guard on duty, just in case the trolls still follow her. Two hapennies in each direction and a wizard to the north.” Callum's brows knit together as the hapennies spread out.

“I will take the first shift since I napped this afternoon,” Mae said.

Callum nodded, the frown lines increasing on his forehead.

“What's the matter, Callum? Are you worried because the trolls should be settled for winter by now?” The ponies were still all bothered too, eyes rolling and teeth chomping.

“I feel as if there is something I need to tell you. I can't quite put my wand on it.” Callum swept his hat off and scratched his head. “Have you read
A Tapestry of Trolls
yet?”

Mae shook her head. “It is still on my bookshelf. There are just so many books about magick that I hardly know where to begin!” Mae paused as Callum's eyes glazed over.

He was no longer paying attention to her. He pushed past Mae toward Huldfrejya, who was singing with the most beautiful voice Mae had ever heard. Mae's thoughts became blurry and she felt an overwhelming urge to follow Callum. She shook her head, but then she felt the pull become even stronger. Trina's nails dug into her coat as she popped out of Mae's jacket pocket and stuck her furry paws in Mae's ears. The
fuzziness faded. What was happening? She scuttled behind the wagon as Callum joined the gathering of travelers already surrounding Huldfrejya.

Mae's mind spun. Callum had suspected something, and she had second-guessed him. She groaned inwardly. Was she ever going to learn? Mae peered under the wagon bed. Thank goodness for Trina, the little stowaway!

Huldfrejya stood and turned, still singing. Mae watched as she pulled a small glass vial from her pocket and uncorked it. A thick blue liquid bubbled out and into the mug she was holding. She put the vial back in her pocket and stroked Callum's cheek. He opened his mouth, gulping down the steaming liquid from the mug she held.

“No!” Mae said, knowing her whispered plea wouldn't be heard. “Don't drink it!”

Her hand slipped over her mouth, almost of its own accord. Mae drew deeper into the shadows as Callum smiled gently into Huldfrejya's eyes and then slumped to the ground.

Trina pulled her paws away from Mae's ears, made a clicking sound, and shook her head, warning Mae to stay quiet.

Huldfrejya was giving a sip of the mug's contents to everyone, and they were gladly taking it. Soon all the hapenny traders lay in sleepy piles around the fire. What was Mae going to do? The fire crackled and the wind bustled through the treetops, but thankfully, Huldfrejya no longer sang. Mae shoved her hand into her pocket. She felt the carving of the owl and thought of Leif, safe in the Wedge.

“I told you to stay in the Wedge!” she whispered fiercely to the little squirrel.

Trina stuck her nose in the air and crossed her forelegs.

Footsteps crashing through the underbrush interrupted Mae's rant. Illuminated by the firelight, seven fanged faces appeared.
Trolls!
Mae made herself as small as possible against the wagon wheel, peering through the spokes.

“There you are, my purties.” Huldfrejya pouted prettily. “I've been waiting for you.”

The largest troll stepped forward, wiping drool from his fangs. “Can we eats one?”

“What?” Huldfrejya screeched.

“Can we eats one…my Queen?” The troll jumped up and down and clapped his hands in anticipation.

Huldfrejya's fists clenched and she hunched over. Her dress split to accommodate the bony spine that stuck out of her too-thin back. Fangs protruded from her upper jaw, and her nose, which was once pert and pretty, grew large. Her skin changed to a grotesque green color. “You want to eat me new servants?”

“Just one, me Queen. Hapennies are a deliciousy.”

The troll queen twitched. “Hapennies?” She pointed a bony finger at the slumbering traders. “You mean…they ain't dwarves?”

The trolls shook their heads and licked their lips excitedly.

“Argh!” Huldfrejya screamed. “What am I gonna to do with a bunch of hapennies?”

Mae's eyes darted through the darkness. Her nose twitched with indecision. Her palms were sweaty and her heart raced. If she ran, she was in danger of being caught. She could stay and fight, but eight trolls against one small hapenny? She'd done it before, but she'd had backup. The odds were against her.

“Well, they're awfully good at cookin',” the largest troll said.

“And being cooked,” muttered another under his breath.

“But are they any good at slavin'?” Huldfrejya asked.

The gang of trolls shrugged, eyes shifting back and forth until one of them spoke up. “I heard they're good at cleanin'.”

“I've got brownies for that.” Huldfrejya sighed. “All this trouble and no dwarves. Leave some of those goods in the wagon and toss the hapennies in. We'll find something useful for them to do. And round those ponies up too.”

The chickens squawked and the piglets squealed as their cages were shuffled around. Other trolls scattered to gather both hapennies and ponies. Huldfrejya was going to enslave them…if the trolls didn't eat them first. One was coming around the corner of the wagon. Mae pulled her wand out, but quickly slipped it back in her pocket. Perhaps the best thing to do was to pretend to be under the troll queen's spell. She slumped against the wagon wheel and closed her eyes. Trina scooted under her hat and curled into her hair.

“Hey!” A troll's gruff whisper reached her ears as he towered over her. “Looks like this ‘un tried to runs away. Should we eats it?”

The hair on Mae's ears stood on end. So much for pretending.

“She'd be tasty,” another answered.

“We could hides it in the trees and come backs for it,” squeaked a third.

Yes
, thought Mae.
Hide me in the trees!

“What are you doing?” Huldfrejya screeched. “How long can it take to throw a few of those little ones in the wagon?”

“Ah, lily-colored gizzards,” one of the trolls grumbled. “Ye waited too long.”

Rough hands gathered Mae and tossed her in the bed of the wagon. She landed on something soft. It was dark, but the light from the half-moon let her see who she was lying on top of. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she recognized Tory Longbridge. She wiggled off him, and he let out a soft
whuff
when her elbow dug into his ribs.

“What we gonna do with the wizard?” Mae overheard a troll ask.

“Put him across a pony,” Huldfrejya said. “He could prove useful, if he ever wakes.” The queen cackled into the night air.

Mae had been in trouble before, but this was the grandest mess she'd ever been in.

L
eif put the final etching into the wing of the raven he was carving. It would be his Winter's Gluttony present to Mae. She would love it. After all, she did have a special spot in her heart for ravens. He wondered where the trading party was on their journey and if Mae was enjoying all the new places she was visiting.

After brushing the wood dust from his overalls, Leif set the raven on the table and listened. His ears swiveled toward the kitchen and caught the sound of his momma's voice singing the pie song. His belly leaped for joy. She must be using the last of the blackberries he'd picked in the summer. Knowing that she was busy cooking, Leif snapped his fingers. “
Sveipa
!”

The broom in the corner swept into motion and pushed the curls of wood from the floor and into the hearth. Aletta had enchanted the broom and taught Leif the magick word to use to make it work, but Leif's mother, Faria Burrbridge, was quite displeased with magick. She was still of the old mindset—that only human wizards should work magick—and believed that magick was what had started all of the Wedge's trouble with trolls in the first place.

A squeal made Leif turn his attention from the broom. A carving of a rabbit he'd made to sell at the winter harvest market rattled against the stone floor.

“How did you get off the shelf?” Leif bent and scooped up the rabbit. Another squeal of protest reached his ears. It
was too small of a squeak to be his mother. His little brother, Reed, had left the house early to fish. A movement under the table caught his eye. He dropped to his hands and knees and peered under. A shock of red hair as bright as his cousin Poppy's surprised him. “Piskies!” He gasped and jerked back, knocking his head on the table.

His house was being invaded! The red-haired mischief-maker stumbled with the weight of a bear carving he was trying to carry away on his shoulder. Leif lay on his stomach and grabbed the bear, picking it up off the piskie's shoulder.

“Just what do you think you are doing, you little thief!” Leif's nostrils flared.

The piskie rubbed his shoulder and then pointed to a small hole in the baseboard across the room. “Ye mind placing it by that there wee hole?”

Leif raised his eyebrows. “You want me to help you steal it from me?”

“Ye carves a new wee beastie every day.” The little man straightened up and pulled at the lapels of his waistcoat, rocking back on his heels. “Ain't gonna hurt ye to share.”

A smirk formed on Leif's lips. The piskie's pants looked like they had been made from the scraps of fabric his mother discarded after sewing Reed's new overalls. The green waistcoat looked awfully familiar too—and that brass button! Leif was sure it was the one missing from his father's wool coat.

Fast as a snake's tongue, Leif grabbed the little pest, pinching the back of his coat between two fingers. The piskie struggled to escape, little feet pounding nothing but air. “I didn't know ye'd be so upset! I swear! I will na' take another!”

From the corner of his eye, Leif saw another red head poke from the hole in the baseboard. He felt a tug and the piskie dropped to the floor. He'd wiggled right out of his coat! Little puffs of dust rose from the floor as the piskie ran away.

Leif scrambled after him but wasn't fast enough. The pest grinned and waved before disappearing behind the wall. The other piskie waggled his tongue and wiggled his ears before he followed.

Pounding his fist on the floor, Leif cursed. “Goose pie!”

“Watch your mouth, dear! Geese have feelings too.” Leif's mother swept into the room, carrying a steaming plate of roasted pork and the first potatoes of the season. She gave Leif a quizzical look as she set the copper platter on the dining table. “What are you doing?”

Leif rose from the floor and brushed himself off. “We have piskies in the house!”

His mother propped a hand on her hip. “Nonsense. What would the neighbors think if we told them we had piskies?
They'd think no better of us than a family of ogres. No more nonsense. Set the table. Your father and Reed should be home any minute.”

“But—”

“No, no buts, Leif. Set the table.” She turned and disappeared back into the kitchen, the hem of her skirt shushing across the wooden floor.

Leif mumbled to himself. “Who cares what the neighbors think?” He had to get rid of the pests before they caused a bunch of trouble. He snapped his fingers at the dining hutch, and the glass doors blew open. Green glass plates sailed through the air and settled themselves gently on the dining table, followed by mugs and utensils.

“Hey there, my boy!” Farmer Burrbridge called as he opened the front door. “Blistering blueberries, you better not let
her
see you doing that!”

Reed laughed as he pushed past his dad and into the room, carrying a string laden with fish. “Leif is no
Hybilia Frodliker
,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth as he put his hand to his face. “But a little magick is better than no magick at all.”