Hapenny Magick (10 page)

Aletta kissed the tip of his nose and ruffled his hair on her way to the hearth. “I wouldn't give up yet, my pet.” The sopping hem of her dress left a wet trail behind her, like one a snail leaves on a rock.

“We were getting worried about you,” Callum grumbled. “Did you run into trouble?”

“Well, Gelbane managed to corral the pigs back up in the barn, poor things. The chickens, however, are loose and roosting in the trees at the edge of the forest.” Aletta turned and frowned. The dark smudges under her sunken eyes told Mae she had not rested well during her foray into the Wedge.

“Did you happen to hear if Mother Underknoll has been found yet?” Mae asked hopefully.

The wizard held her hands out to the fire and shook her head. “I'm sorry, Mae. There's been no news of her.”

Aletta took a deep breath. “I did hear Ms. Gnarlroot is taking care of the newlyborn for Mr. Underknoll until Mother Underknoll can be found. Many in the Wedge are worried…”

“And?” Mae asked.

“And…” Aletta hesitated. “The Burrbridge brothers were sent to the market a few days ago, the day we first met you, I believe, and they never returned.”

Mae bolted to her feet and stomped to the window. “Now Leif is missing? I have to find him!” She stared out the window, nose pressing against the cold glass pane. The petals of the night-blooming flowers were pulled closed against the wind and blowing rain. Farther off, the creek, now full to bursting over its bed, rushed by. Sorrow and worry found a place to settle in her chest, like a bird roosting in a bush. She turned to face the wizards. “Something isn't right. That's three hapennies missing: first Mother Underknoll and now Leif and Reed.”

“I'm sure it is just coincidence,” Callum said.

A shadow passed through Aletta's eyes. Mae was sure Aletta wasn't convinced that the disappearances were coincidence. And neither was she.

Mae let out a keening wail. The weasel jumped from the bookshelf to the floor and slunk under Callum's chair. Aletta rushed to her side. “Not many creatures will be wandering around in a storm like this,” Aletta said, trying to console her. “Hopefully that will mean no more disappearances. We know you are anxious to help your friend, his brother, and Mother Underknoll. But more than likely, we are dealing with some very dark magick, and we want you to be safe.” The wizard smoothed Mae's hair from her face. “We should eat and form a plan of action. That will make you feel better, won't it? I'm starving. You must be hungry, too.”

Mae took a calming breath. “Leif always says it is better to form a plan on a full stomach.”

“That's my girl.” Callum grabbed the end of his beard and gave his wand a twirl. On the small table next to his chair a plate appeared piled high with cheese, round slices of sausage, and some chunks of warm bread. Garnishing the plate was a clump of plum-colored grapes. Three cups of tea appeared on shiny copper saucers.

Mae eyed the tea suspiciously.

“It's not sleeping tea, Maewyn,” Aletta said. “Dig in.”

Callum sighed. “The Wedge is right to be worried. There haven't been any disappearances since the Great Invasion.”

The flute trembled in Mae's pocket. “The Great Invasion?”

“Remember I told you that knowing about the past helps us avoid mistakes in the future? The Great Invasion was a time of great concern in the Wedge. Hapennies were disappearing,” Callum said.

“Just like now,” Aletta added. “The hapennies banded together and caught the troll responsible. Unfortunately, many were lost.”

“The Great Protector, Remington Gythal, helped guard the people of the Wedge from another troll attack by putting a spell on the bridge,” Mae said. “I read about him. No trolls can cross the bridge or they will change into stone.”

“That's right.” Callum reached up to stroke the raven. “I was his apprentice when I was young. It seems many trolls have attempted to cross the bridge, from the stones I've had to clear away when I patrol the borders.” Callum pointed to his head. “Some of them are lacking in wit.”

“Perhaps.” Aletta sat on the hearth. “But when you are a pig, you've got a lot of time to think. What if the trolls aren't as dim-witted as we presume? What if they have found a way around the spell?”

Mae startled as her flute burst forth in urgent sound. She snatched it from her pocket. “I think my flute is trying to tell us something!”

The flute twittered happily.

Aletta's eyes widened. “I think you are right.”

Plopping next to the wizard, Mae propped her elbows on her knees and stuck her chin in one hand. She held the singing flute up to the firelight with the other. “I've been thinking about the song the flute played the other day.”

As if the instrument understood Mae's words, it switched tunes. Mae let the melody run through her mind, then started to sing the words that formed on her lips.

Two hapennies, their carts in tow,
Hi, hi, lo, lo
Crossed a bridge and met a foe,
Hi, hi, lo, lo
The troll arose from deep below,
Hi, hi, no, no
With black eyes and fangs aglow,
Hi, hi, no, no
Will the hapennies' heads a' roll?
Hi, hi, no, no
The spell will turn the troll to coal,
Hi, hi, yo, ho
!

Mae shrugged. “That's all I can remember.” She sighed as the music faded. Firelight winked on the flute's warm wooden surface. She dropped the flute back in her pocket. “Why were the hapennies crossing the bridge in the song? Hapennies don't leave the Wedge.”

“Hapennies don't leave the Wedge
anymore,”
Callum said. “But there were some who were great traders before all the troll business. You've heard of them, I'm sure. The Great Expeditions, the hapennies used to call them. Fond of the word great, they are. Of course, I guess everything seems great when you are only the height of a miniature pony.” Callum chuckled and then cleared his throat when Mae scowled.

“The travelers would journey great distances and return with wondrous goods. But the last trading expedition left before the troll invasion and never returned.” Callum rose and walked to the bookshelves. “Perhaps I can find the other verses. I seem to remember a certain book…”

“My father was one of those that never returned from the last expedition. My mother writes in her letters that she is searching for him and that's why she's been gone so long.”

Callum ran his finger over the leather spines. “Does she always write the same thing? That she is searching for your father?”

“Yes,” Mae said. “And to do Gelbane's bidding and not cause trouble. The same be-good-until-I-get-back message in every letter.”

“Don't you find that a bit odd?”

“Well, I do wish she'd tell me what she's seen and where she's been. What kind of adventures she's been having.” Mae lifted her hand to stroke the blue orb necklace, forgetting that it had been lost. Momma had always kept the hope alive that her father would return, lighting a candle every night in the window—a beacon of light for him to find his way.

Aletta interrupted her thoughts. “Well, I have been thinking about your flute, too,” she said. “About how it plays all by itself.”

“You think it is enchanted, then?” Mae wound her arm around Aletta's, leaning against the warmth of her solid friend. She held her other hand out and made kissy noises at the weasel. When he ignored her, she plucked a few grapes off the stems and popped them in her mouth.

The weasel slowly appeared from under the chair and crept closer. Standing on his back legs, he sniffed at the table of snacks. Mae tossed him a grape and watched as he chased the fruit across the wooden floor. Catching the grape between his paws, the weasel smacked his lips as he ate it.

“Well, in a way I think your flute is enchanted, yes.” Aletta lowered her voice. “It was something you said that night in the barn. You said playing your flute always soothed you when you were troubled with wishes.”

The weasel padded back across the room for another snack. Mae scratched his head. His whiskers tickled her wrist. “What do wishes have to do with anything?”

“Every time you play, you infuse the flute with your dreams, hopes, and wishes. I think you are the one who has enchanted the flute, without even knowing it.”

The weasel jumped into Mae's lap and curled up, shifting to show her his belly, like a cat. She petted his smooth fur. His ears were silky soft.

Callum turned from the shelves with a book in his hand. “I think you've surprised us both with how much magick you possess in that little body.”

A funny feeling grew in Mae's belly. Her lap was warm from her new friend, but it wasn't that. She wasn't hungry, or perhaps she was, but it felt different from hunger. Possibility fluttered like butterfly wings. But it wasn't taking flight just yet. Mae pointed to the book in the wizard's hand. “Did you find the other verses?”

“What? Oh, no.” Callum looked down at the opened book, scanning the page. “No, but I found something else that might help us…” The wizard lost himself in the words on the page.

Mae shrugged. The nursery song lingered in her thoughts. She hummed to herself.

Two Hapennies, their carts in tow

Hi, hi, lo, lo

They crossed a bridge and met a foe…

Bridge. She plucked another handful of grapes from the stem, popping one in her mouth.

Bridge…Gelbane…Mae crunched down on the firm fruit.

Gelbane hadn't followed Mae across the bridge when she fled the farm.

The remaining grapes in her hand fell to the floor.

“Gelbane is a troll,” Mae whispered.

Chapter Eleven

“What did you say?” Callum asked. His brows furrowed over his hazel eyes. The book dropped from his hands.

“Gelbane is a troll!” Mae shouted, jumping up from her seat on the hearth. Her elbow caught the edge of the platter, and the food went flying.

The raven squawked and flapped his wings. The weasel batted a piece of sausage across the floor.

“Let's not jump to conclusions, Maewyn.” Callum placed a settling hand on her shoulder, but Mae shook it off. Aletta's eyes were as big as mushrooms. Mae pointed at her. “You think so, too! It's the truth, Callum. Isn't it? That's what you were arguing about the other day.”

Pacing between the hearth and the worktable, Mae uncurled her hand and pointed one finger each time she listed a reason. “Gelbane didn't follow me across the bridge. The scratches from her fingernails infected my leg. She doesn't like magick! The missing hapennies…” Mae's chest constricted as she grasped Callum's suspenders. “Trolls eat hapennies!”

Aletta crossed her arms. She stared at Callum, eyebrow raised in a near-perfect I-told-you-so arc. Her lips pursed.

Callum shook his head and swept off his hat, twisting it in his hands. “I refuse to believe that Gythal would make a mistake like that. There has to be another explanation.” He shooed Mae away and paced in front of his worktable. “How would you explain the fact that Gelbane is in the Wedge in the first place?”

Mae shook her head. “I don't know, but I'm certain. When she is very angry with me…I see fangs. I always thought it was my imagination, but now I know it isn't.”

Aletta shifted and clasped her hands in her lap. “What if Gelbane knew our Maewyn possessed the potential for magick? What if she doesn't like magick because it is the only thing that can reveal her true form?”

“But trolls don't have magick!” Mae exclaimed.

“Hapennies don't have magick, either,” Aletta said.

Mae swallowed as a cold shiver ran through her. If hapennies could have magick, why couldn't trolls have magick, too?

“Gelbane could've conjured up a leyna charm to pass as a hapenny,” Aletta said.

“What's a leyna charm?” Mae asked.

“It's a spell that produces a magickal skin that makes you look like something, or someone, else,” Aletta answered.

“Trolls have been known to acquire a bit of magick.” Callum nodded. “A few trolls in the past have been quite powerful. I suppose it is possible, but it is rare, and it still doesn't explain how she came to be in the Wedge in the first place.”

How could a troll have gotten trapped in the Wedge? Maybe Gelbane was hiding and couldn't find a way out of the Wedge without being noticed. Maybe… “What if two trolls were responsible for the disappearances before?” Mae asked. “One was caught, and the other, Gelbane, hid. But then Gelbane was trapped in the Wedge by the spell on the bridge. Trolls couldn't get in, but they wouldn't be able to get out, either. She could have made the leyna to escape notice.”

“Keeping up a constant disguise would take a great toll,” Aletta said.

Mae snapped her fingers. “That's explains why she is always grouchy.”

“Grouchy just goes with the territory.” Callum turned to the bookshelf again. He ran his fingers over the ancient gold lettering on the spines until he reached the title he was looking for:
Trolls, Goblins, Hobgoblins, Brownies, Orcs, and other Nasty Faeries Who May or May Not Actually Exist—A Compendium
.