Tangled Magick (6 page)

“You two are being too noisy.” Huldfrejya sighed and rolled over in the chaise. “Keep it down. I've had a long night and need some sleep.”

Mae and Poppy exchanged glances. How were they supposed to clean this mess up without making any noise?

They picked through the piles with caution, making other, smaller piles—one for garbage, one for things that could be cleaned and used again, and one for laundry. Soon, deep snores filled the chamber.

Mae took out her wand.

Poppy shook her head frantically, her eyes growing wide.

Mae took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her palms were a bit sweaty. She was nervous, because Poppy doubted her, but Mae had to try. She raised her wand and whispered, “Clean this room with mop and broom!”

A blue shimmer filled the chamber. One of the debris piles shook and shimmied. A feather duster shot out and began to swat at the cobwebs. A broom darted out from underneath the bed and began to sweep the floor.

“Ha!” Mae laughed and then quickly covered her mouth. Poppy grabbed her in a huge bear hug and jumped up and down.

“It worked! It worked!” they whispered.

A sudden knocking on the wall made them freeze in their places. Mae's stomach dropped. She pointed to the wall on the right of the hearth. A crack was appearing, following a jagged line around the stones. Another knock made the crack grow bigger. Poppy clung to Mae. She shook with fright.

Another loud knock, and a door opened in the wall. A brown stick poked out and seemed to peer around the edge of it.

Mae let out a big sigh, relieved, as a mop danced into the room.

Poppy let go of Mae. “It's only a mop,” she whispered, relieved.

Mae pulled the hidden doorway open. It was dark, but there was a faint light far below. “I wonder where it goes?”

Clank, clank, clank
. The mop bucket jumped up the stairs.

Mae put her fingers to her lips. “Shhhh!”

The mop bucket slowed and quietly ascended the remaining stairs of the dark passage. Water sloshed onto the floor as it settled in the chamber. The mop dipped itself in, wrung itself out, and waltzed across the stones.

Satisfied, Mae closed the passageway door. Poppy was sorting the laundry into a basket she'd found. Trina had emerged from under the bed and was now perched on the laundry basket, supervising. Poppy held up the yellowed dress Maewyn had tossed from the pile earlier. “It looks like a wedding gown,” she whispered.

Mae pulled out the long train of the dress. “Perhaps it was.”

“Who would want to marry her?” Poppy screwed up her face in distaste. Then her eyes grew wide as her gaze settled over Mae's shoulder.

An outraged shriek filled the chamber.

Mae twirled around and snapped her fingers. Trina scampered for cover.

The feather duster fell to the windowsill.

The broom dropped with a
clang
.

The mop slid to the floor.

Huldfrejya stood red-faced, with the hem of her dress pulled up off the floor. Water dripped from her sodden garment and pooled around her feet. Gone was the cracked, green skin from her toes, and in its place was soft, pink flesh. The troll queen dropped her skirts and stalked toward the girls. “What…are you doing?”

Mae stepped close to Poppy. Poppy pulled the dress close to her chest as if it were a shield.

Huldfrejya yanked the dress from Poppy's grasp and threw it to the floor. Her fangs gleamed. Her eyes narrowed, first at Poppy and then Mae. “Never mop in my chamber again when
I am present.” She turned and fled the room, the great door banging closed behind her.

“Did you see that?” Mae asked.

“Wh-which part?” stuttered Poppy. “The fangs or the steely gaze?”

“Her feet.”

Poppy turned toward Mae. “That's what you noticed? Her feet? Are you insane?” She stormed toward the broken window and peered outside. “We have to get out of here. If we break the window a little more, I think we can climb down the ivy. Maybe we can send Trina for help.”

“No.” Mae shook her head.

“What do you mean,
no
?” Poppy yelled. Her eyes darted around the room. The gargoyle followed her movements as she approached Mae.

“There is something not right about this.”

“Of course there is something not right. We are slaves to a lunatic troll, and you don't want to escape at the first chance!”

“What about the others?”

Poppy stared at her. “We'll come back. We'll get Aletta and we'll come back.”

Mae swallowed. “Then no one will be there to protect the Wedge or care for the sick. Callum wouldn't want us to do that.”

“Callum isn't here!” Poppy shrieked.

“No, he isn't,” Mae said. “And that's my fault. I should have listened to him.”

Mae stared out the broken window. A meadow stretched out around the castle, and the path wound over the hills and into the forest. The meadow was ablaze with purple flowers.
Corley thistles. The cure for the Bricklebear Fever.
A tingling sensation ran up her spine. She had to find a way out of here, and soon. But when she left, she wasn't leaving anyone behind.

Maewyn pulled the owl carving from her pocket and looked at the broken pane again. “I think I have an idea.”

A
bout midmorning on the day after the villagers left, a knock sounded on the door. Leif set his carving on the table and brushed the wood dust from his pants. His mother bustled in from the kitchen. “Well, aren't you going to answer the door?” she said as she wiped her wet hands on her apron. “It's only polite.”

Leif rolled his eyes and sighed as Faria opened the door. “Oh, good morning, Aletta.”

Jogging to the front entrance, Leif pulled the door open wider and grinned at the wizard. Her cheeks were pink from the brisk morning air. A basket hung from her arm. Steam curled through the cloth covering what smelled like a batch of lavender honey muffins. “Thanks for coming over, Aletta.”

Faria's hand fluttered to her breast. “Coming? For what, son?”

“We have been invaded by piskies, Mother. I told you last night,” said Leif. He had a hard time keeping the irritation out of his voice.

“Oh, such a silly notion!” Faria laughed. She pushed Leif out of the way and began closing the door. “Pay no attention to him. He doesn't know what he's talking about. Sixteen-year-olds, what can you do with them, really? Have a good day.”

Leif stuck his foot in the closing door. “We…have… piskies. A whole nest of the blighters in the wall of the dining
room. Get over it.” He pulled the door back open and gestured with his hand. “Please, come in, Aletta.”

Aletta looked from one Burrbridge to another. One eyebrow quirked into a near-perfect I'd-better-handle-this arch. She coughed to hide a chuckle and held her wrist to her lips before clearing her throat. “Yes, teenagers, such imaginations! What are we to do with them? Perhaps I will come back a different day.”

Faria busied her hands fixing the wisps of hair that had broken free from her sloppy bun. “Yes, come back for tea, on Thursday, perhaps. Will that work for you?”

The wizard smiled. “Thursday will work just fine. Thank you, Mrs. Burrbridge.”

“Oh please, call me Faria,” Mrs. Burrbridge said.

Aletta winked at Leif. “You
do
know, Faria, that a nest of piskies in the house can cause a lot of trouble?”

“We don't have any piskies in the house. Good day.” Faria shut the door in Aletta's face and bustled off to the kitchen, mumbling something about people who thought they knew everything.

Leif shook his head. What was wrong with his mother? He bolted out the front door but turned when he heard his mother yelling from the kitchen window.

“Pick a pie pumpkin for dinner!”

“Okay, Ma!” Leif ran to catch up to the wizard. “I'm so sorry, Aletta. I have no idea why my mom is acting so rude.”

Aletta laughed and waved a dismissive hand. “Don't worry about it. Your mom doesn't want to believe she has a nest of piskies in the house because she's afraid the village will think she isn't a good housekeeper.”

“That's crazy. Everyone knows my mother's house is spotless.” Leif stuffed his hands in his pockets and fell into step with the wizard. The morning sun shone off the colorful autumn canopy of the trees at the edge of their pumpkin field.
A dozen or so ravens were perched on the fence row. “Where do you think Callum and Mae are on their journey?”

“Oh, I don't know. It's only been a couple of days. I assume they are drawing close to the town of Larissa sometime today if everything is on schedule.”

“Have you been there? To Larissa?”

“A long time ago.” Aletta's boot heels clicked on the cobblestone path. She pulled a corner of the cloth back and pulled out a muffin, handing it to Leif. She took one for herself as well. “That's where I met Callum.”

“And you haven't been back?” Leif licked his fingers. He'd already devoured the muffin. The wizard was still on her first bite. She held the basket out to him, encouraging Leif to take another.

“No, not since the Trillium War.”

“The Trillium War?” Leif asked between bites of his second muffin. “I've never heard of that one.”

“No, I suppose you haven't.” Aletta leaned against the large stone that marked the edge of the Burrbridge farm. She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. “It was a war between the humans and the trolls.”

“How come we've never heard of it?”

Aletta polished off her muffin and brushed the crumbs from the bodice of her dress. “I suppose it's because the elders don't want you young hapennies to get any big ideas.”

“That's where the armor came from, isn't it? The copper armor some wore when we fought for the bridge.”

“Yes, I imagine.” Aletta smiled and patted Leif's leg. “Now, don't go getting me into trouble for telling you.”

“Did the humans win?” Leif asked.

Aletta's face fell. “In a manner of speaking, we won. But many were lost that day.”

A cool breeze raced over the pumpkin field and ruffled the hair on Leif's ears. “I'm sorry, Aletta.” He placed his hand on her shoulder.

Aletta sniffled. “I didn't think I would miss Callum and Mae so much. I'm used to being away and ‘pigging out'—I guess it's different when you are the one left behind.”

“I miss them too,” Leif said.

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the view of the farm and the play of the ravens. Finally, Leif slid off the rock. “I should probably get home. I left all my carving tools out and didn't sweep up the shavings.”

“And you have to pick your mother a pumpkin.” Aletta smiled. “I'll see you on Thursday, Leif. For tea. And I'll try to convince Faria to let me get rid of the piskies.”

Leif shook his head. “I hope they don't steal away with the household before then.”

The wizard waved as she made her way up the road. Her steps were slower than usual, as if she had no place to really be. Leif watched her walk away until the bend in the road hid her from view. He turned and jogged into the field.

He smiled as he remembered the time pumpkins in Mae's field grew with jack-o'-lantern faces. He twisted a nice round pumpkin from the stem and brushed the dirt from its smooth orange skin. They'd have to harvest all the pumpkins in the next couple of days—it was getting so cold at night, Leif knew snow would be falling soon. He hefted the pumpkin into the crook of his arm and made his way toward home.

His mother was waiting for him, wooden spoon in hand, as he came through the door. “Have you seen my jar of ginger?”

Leif placed the pumpkin on the kitchen work table. The piskies had probably taken the ginger, but his mother would never admit that.

Faria followed him into the kitchen and began rifling through the cupboard. “I've got my nutmeg, the cinnamon, brown sugar… Where the ogre dung is my jar of ginger?”

“Sorry, Ma. I haven't seen it.” He left her rummaging in the kitchen, returning to his carving spot by the fire. He tossed in
a couple of logs to keep the draft at bay, and then pointed to the broom. “
Sveipa
!”

It shook itself awake and then swept into motion, pushing the wood shavings and dust into the fireplace and then resuming its position in the corner. Leif rubbed his hands over the flames, warming them. He hoped Mae was staying warm on the journey. Running his hands through his hair, he sighed. His mother would say he needed to stop mooning, but the Wedge just wasn't the same without her.

He turned from the fire and collected his tools. Where was his gouge? Leif looked under the table and ran his hand under the chair. He pulled out a bit of dust and red hair from the floor under the chair, but no gouge. He slammed his hand on the floor, making the dust rise, which made him sneeze. “Goose pie!” he said through clenched teeth. What would those piskies need with his carving tool?

He stomped over to the hole in the baseboard and peered in. “Give it back!”

A tiny squealing laugh floated out of the hole. “Finders keepers, hapa-ninny!”

P
oppy flopped into the armchair. “You have an idea of how to get us out of here? Well, I'd love to hear it!”

“I can transform this carving Leif gave me into a real owl,” Mae said, turning toward her friend.

“And how is that going to help us?” Poppy frowned.

Mae paced the room. “We can get her out of the castle from the window and she can go back to the Wedge and get help.”

“How will she know how to get there or who to look for?”

“I'll make sure when I create her that I give her the right memories.”

“But we don't know how we got here, Mae! Who's to say she'll ever find her way to the Wedge? She could just fly around forever. What about the magick that cloaks the castle?”