The Wrong Side of Magic (27 page)

The night had dimmed the trees' colors into dark silhouettes, and the birds had quieted, replaced by a chorus of crickets. Hudson checked the compass. The face showed directions instead of warnings, which meant nothing dangerous was around. Good. He hoped the unicorns would show up, but he needed more than speed. He needed magical help—so much help that by the time he paid the fairies, he might not remember his name anymore. He pulled the silver bell from his bag and rang it. “I need a fairy!”

A few dragonflies darted by, chasing one another with plumes of fire, but no fairies.

Where was magic when you needed it?

Hudson held up the compass. “Which way to Grammaria?”

The needle pointed to the direction behind him, and he headed that way, still ringing the bell. He had no idea where in the Forest of Possibilities he was. He might be closer to Grammaria than he had been, or farther away. He held up his hope jar and made his way around trees and bushes the best he could.

No fairies zipped out of the foliage. Maybe they could tell he didn't have any muselings on him. Or maybe they didn't live in this part of the forest. He gave up ringing the bell and called for Nigel and Cecil instead. They could take him to Grammaria, and he could pay the river fairy to help him.

He walked for a long time, occasionally bumping into branches and frequently tripping over tree roots, before he gave up calling for the unicorns. They must be too far away to hear him. He wouldn't let himself think of the other possibility—that King Vaygran's soldiers had killed them.

For a few more hours, Hudson fought through the forest, wondering if there was any possible way he could make it to Grammaria tonight.

Finally, exhausted, he admitted that no, he probably couldn't. It would be better to sleep the rest of the night and start again at first light. In the morning, the unicorns might find him. Or at the very least, he would be able to see where he was going.

Nepharo had said King Vaygran would bring Charlotte in front of the people tomorrow, Hudson had until then to reach Grammaria and find a way rescue her.

*   *   *

Hudson woke when the birds began to sing. The gray light of dawn was returning the color to the trees and warming the cold ground. He packed his things quickly, calling for Nigel and Cecil every few minutes.

No response.

What time did King Vaygran address his people? Hudson hoped it wasn't until late in the day.

He headed off in the direction of Grammaria, still calling Nigel's and Cecil's names.

Before long, a glistening white unicorn trotted out of the trees and onto the path. He could tell right away that this was a lady unicorn. She was smaller and sleeker than Nigel and Cecil. Her dark eyes had thick lashes, and she tossed her mane in a feminine way.

“You have come here on a quest, jes?” She spoke with an exotic-sounding accent.

“Yes,” Hudson said. “I need to get to Grammaria to save my friend.”

“Ah,” she said, taking a step closer. “An act of zee pure in heart.”

“Is it far from here?”

She bent on one knee to let him mount. “Only a couple of hours if I hurry.”

Relieved, he climbed onto her back. Even though he hadn't found Mr. Fantasmo, his trip to Charlotte's house had been a good thing. The compass had put him back in Logos closer to the capital than he'd originally been. The unicorn set off at a gallop. “My name is Genevieve,” she said with a flourish, as though her name were an expensive dessert. “And jou are?”

“Hudson.” Not wanting to be called Son of Hud, he added, “Although my father's name is actually Jermaine. My mother just liked the name Hudson.”

Genevieve made tsking noises. “That was not nice of jour mother—telling everyone jou were another man's son.” Then the unicorn said something in a different language that sounded disapproving.

Hudson didn't ask for a translation. “In my land, names don't mean anything. They're just names.”

She gave a toss of her head so her mane swished around her neck. “Names have power. Jour people are foolish not to realize that.”

Genevieve ran as fast and as seamlessly as the other unicorns had. The trees rushed by in a jumble of rainbow colors. Black-and-white birds darted overhead, chiming their melodies.

“Jou asked for Nigel and Cecil,” Genevieve called back. “Jou know them?”

“Yes,” Hudson said, and wondered if he should explain the whole long saga.

“They're not in this part of the forest right now. They took a girl and her companion to the Land of Desolation. Poor children. From what I understand, it was a hopeless quest. But Nigel and Cecil, they cannot say no to children with brave hearts. There are so few of those around today, jes?”

“Yes,” Hudson said, hoping that number wouldn't grow any smaller. He had to find the river fairy and persuade her to help him rescue Charlotte.

*   *   *

After Genevieve dropped Hudson off at the edge of the forest, he used some of the iron bar for strength and ran all the way through the farmland that led to Grammaria. When he neared the river, he saw a bird flying toward him from the city wall. A few moments later, Charlotte's falcon swooped down and landed on his shoulder.

Hudson slowed to a walk. Panting, he asked, “Did you free Charlotte?” He hoped but didn't think it was possible.

The falcon shook its head. “The owl used his magic to reach Grammaria ahead of us.” He ruffled his wings in agitation. “A gallows is set up in the courtyard, and a crowd is assembling there, waiting for King Vaygran to address them. They talk of a captured assassin who broke into the king's chambers.”

Hudson's stomach twisted. Plans for Charlotte's execution were already under way. He ran down the path again, pushing himself to go faster. “Do you know where they're keeping her?”

“The dungeon, probably. Bolt and I can't get close to the castle. King Vaygran has set harpy eagles in the courtyard to chase off any birds that come near.”

At least the king hadn't put Charlotte to death yet. “Are there any bloodhounds around?”

“Not ones in the city that we could see. The king must have sent them all to track you and Charlotte.”

That, at least, was good news. It meant Hudson could sneak into Grammaria without worrying about the dogs picking up his scent.

The falcon fluttered from one of Hudson's shoulders to the other. “People from all over the kingdom have come to see Princess Nomira's tree. In the past few days it grew taller, blossomed yellow, and then last night it blossomed red—although no one knows if the color means love, determination, or anger. Now the red blossoms are falling, too.

That struck Hudson as odd. What was happening to the princess that her tree kept changing so quickly and dramatically? Could she know that he and Charlotte had tried to rescue her? Could she know that they'd failed and Charlotte was about to be executed?

The falcon bobbed his head. “Some say it means the princess is ready to come home and rule.”

Well, if she was, she couldn't pick a better time to do it. The people needed her. Charlotte needed her.

Hudson reached the riverbank. “Fly back to the city and stay as close to the castle as you can. Watch for any way you can help Charlotte.”

Without another word, the bird took to the air and shot off toward the city walls. Hudson pulled the tube of disguise paste out of his bag. He needed to look like a person who fit in here. Someone with the right clothes. This was a problem, because in order for the disguise paste to work, he had to have a clear image in his mind. He considered stealing the mustached soldier's appearance, then decided against it. A lone soldier would undoubtedly be questioned about why he had returned home without his horse or regiment.

It would be better to look like an average boy. Hudson hadn't seen many of those here. He could only remember one in enough detail to be sure he got the appearance right.

He put a dab of disguise cream on the back of his hand, and the next moment he wore the clothes he first saw Proval wearing. Hudson got out the mirror and checked his face. That looked like Proval, too.

While Hudson put the mirror back, he noticed the squirrel stuffed animal wedged inside his bag. He took it out and used the compactulator to turn it full size, which wasn't much bigger than its stuffed-animal size.

Meko blinked at him, ears alert. “Where's Charlotte?”

“I'm going into the city to rescue her. You can help me by…” Hudson looked at the animal, unsure what to tell it. Squirrels, when you came down to it, were just rodents with fancy tails. Still, the squirrel was waiting for instructions with such devout intensity, Hudson had to include him in the rescue plan. “I'm not sure yet. Ride quietly in my bag. I might need you to bite someone later on.”

“Yes, sir.” The squirrel scampered inside, then poked out his head, watching for danger.

Hudson set out toward the city drawbridge. He hoped no one inside the city knew Proval, or knew he was a troll.

 

16

HUDSON HAD ONLY
seen Grammaria during the night. The area outside the city was a much busier place by daylight. People were coming and going on the road that led to the city, most riding animals but some on foot. A large drawbridge stretched over the river, and a line of people stood on it, waiting to enter. Two armed soldiers stood guard at the city entrance, checking people's wares.

Hudson didn't go directly to the drawbridge. He walked to the riverbank and sat down as though resting. He pulled the fairy bell from his pack and rang it, making sure to keep it hidden from anyone who might be watching. “I need a fairy,” he whispered.

Nothing happened. No fairy zipped out of the tall grass growing at the water's edge.

He rang the bell several more times, each time calling a little louder. Where was the fairy now, when he desperately needed her?

Hudson rang again and again, waving his hand so quickly he probably looked like he'd burned it on something. Finally, the river fairy emerged, yawning, from a clump of grass on the bank. Her hair was disheveled, and instead of a dress, she wore foamy pajamas and a pair of fluffy slippers. She slowly flitted over to Hudson, landing on a wildflower near his knee. Her wings had been as pale and shiny as moonlight before, but now they looked like yellow butterfly wings. To anyone who wasn't close by, that's all she would seem to be.

She pushed her tangled hair out of her face and glared at him. “Stop ringing that infernal bell while I'm sleeping. Hasn't anyone ever told you it isn't wise to tick off a fairy?”

“Sorry,” he said. “I really need your help.”

She fluttered her wings angrily at him. “Then it's especially unwise to tick me off, isn't it?” She motioned to the drawbridge. “You don't need help crossing the river. Just walk over the bridge.”

Hudson lowered his voice and bent down closer to her. “Charlotte was captured by King Vaygran's wizard. She's being held captive—probably in the castle somewhere.”

The fairy wiped her eyes tiredly. “That's lovely. I'm going back to bed. Don't ring that bell again unless you want it lodged someplace unpleasant.” She lifted off the flower.

“Don't you care?” he asked. “They're going to execute her.”

Hudson hadn't realized the squirrel had climbed out of his leather bag until it scampered onto his shoulder and perched there, baring its teeth. “Do you want me to bite her, sir?”

“No,” Hudson said, and shooed the squirrel off his shoulder. “We need her help.”

The fairy flew higher, unconcerned. “You know, mortals commit injustices every hour of every day. If fairies tried to right them all, our magic would be spent before breakfast.”

“You don't have to right them
all
, just this one.”

Meko climbed onto Hudson's other shoulder. “If I jumped really high, I could bite her.”

“No,” Hudson said, and shooed the squirrel again.

The fairy fluttered in front of Hudson in the scrambled pattern butterflies use. “Righting, like writing, is best done by people.” She let out a tinkling laugh. “That should be Grammaria's motto. The one about peace, prosperity, and unity never really worked.”

“I'll pay you a remembrance,” Hudson said before she flew away. “When King Vaygran brings Charlotte before the people, turn her into a bird. Then she'll be able to fly to freedom.”

The fairy paused, hovering at Hudson's eye level. “You say Nepharo captured her?”

Hudson nodded.

“Did he tie her arms with silver rope?”

Hudson nodded again, surprised that the fairy had guessed this detail.

She shook her head sadly. “He used enchanted ropes that will bind her no matter what species she changes into.”

“But…” Hudson stared at the fairy bleakly. He had depended on having magic to help him free Charlotte. Now he felt like someone had pushed him to the ground.

The fairy must have thought he didn't understand. “Even if I changed your friend into a bird, she would still be a bird with her wings bound. She wouldn't be able to fly.”

He held his hands out, pleading. “There must be something you can do.”

“Yes,” the fairy said, yawning. “I can put in earplugs. Executions are such noisy affairs.” And with that, she flew off and disappeared into the plants that grew along the riverbank.

The squirrel scampered back onto Hudson's shoulder. His nose twitched in dissatisfaction. “You should have let me bite her.”

Hudson let out a sigh and set off toward the bridge. “Stay hidden. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves.”

He was going to have to do this himself. He would carry out Charlotte's original plan, which he hadn't been thrilled about even before a rescue attempt was part of it. Now it would be even more dangerous.

He would join the crowd in the courtyard waiting for King Vaygran's speech. When the king came out on his balcony to address the people, Hudson would throw the bag of revealing powder on him. That part he felt confident about accomplishing. If he could get close enough to the balcony, his baseball training would do the rest.