The Wrong Side of Magic (17 page)

Again the rock faces offered a volley of answers. Most sounded like nonsense, but he recognized the right answer. It pierced through the other noise: “It told you to stick up for someone, but you didn't.”

He did have an inner compass, he realized, and he had ignored it that day when Andy and Caidan had made fun of Charlotte. Now she'd come to Logos to help him and was even willing to give up a year of her life.

He hadn't spoken. Charlotte took it for reluctance. “We can ask about the princess without paying. I doubt we'll be able to pick out the right answer, though.” She turned to the cliff. “Where is Princess Nomira?”

The rock wall seemed to shift outward, swelling. Faces grew faster on the wall than Hudson could keep track of. Instead of a dozen faces, over a thousand appeared.

“She is here.”

“Under the sea.”

“On a grassy knoll.”

“She ran from the ball on the stroke of midnight.”

He couldn't even hear them all; their answers bled into a rumble of words, echoing around them. Finally, the cliff fell silent.

“See?” Charlotte said.

“Okay,” Hudson said, resigned. “I'll give up a year of my life for the right answer.” He wasn't just doing it to get rid of the curse. He was doing it for Charlotte, so she could have the home she wanted. He was also doing it to help Princess Nomira, the girl with the sad brown eyes, whose tree had finally bloomed again.

Phrasing the question carefully, he asked, “Where did King Vaygran imprison Princess Nomira?”

Only one voice spoke this time, a face high above Hudson. “He put her in the gray tower, beyond the Land of Desolation in the Land of Backwords.”

Charlotte took a step toward the cliff. “I give a year of my life for your answer. How do we get Princess Nomira out of the tower?”

A voice far off to the side answered, “The key is the right sword—the most powerful defender, enforcer, convincer, and educator. Depending on how it's wielded, it will right wrongs or inflict them. Put the beginning at the end and you will wield it well. Once the key gets you into the tower, the princess can simply walk out.”

Charlotte repeated the instruction to herself, smiling. Excited. “That's not nearly as difficult as I thought it would be.”

It wasn't a question, so the faces didn't reply.

Hudson turned toward his pile of coins. He wasn't about to leave them here where anyone could pick up the years of his life and walk off with them. But the piles had vanished; the space where they'd sat was empty.

One of the craggy faces saw him staring and said, “We'll keep your coins safe until you return to pay your debt.” The face gave him a stern look, its mossy eyebrows dipping together. “And don't try to get out of payment by getting yourself killed beforehand.”

“We won't,” Charlotte replied happily, and set off down the path that led to the boat. She seemed to think all of this was good news. Hudson hadn't even understood most of it. The key was a sword? Put the end at the beginning? What did that even mean?

On the trip back across the Sea of Life, Charlotte spouted off things she was grateful for. She was thankful the princess wasn't being held in the land of the giants, or under the sea, or being guarded by trolls.

“We don't know she isn't guarded by trolls,” Hudson pointed out. “The face never said she wasn't guarded.”

“He didn't say we had to defeat anything to rescue the princess.” Charlotte pulled on the work oar. “He just said we needed the right key to get in.”

“He said we need the right
sword
to get in, and we should wield it well. That sounds like we've got to fight something.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, “but if we have the right sword, we'll be successful.”

The boat slowed, and Charlotte quickly said, “I'm grateful the soldiers haven't made it to the beach yet.”

“I'm glad about that, too.” Hudson glanced at the beach nervously. “So what is the most powerful sword in the land? What did the rock face mean about it being an educator? How can a sword do that?”

Charlotte rowed silently for a minute, thinking. Hudson listed foods he was thankful for to keep the boat speeding along. Cheeseburgers were high on the list.

“It's got to be King Vaygran's sword,” she finally said. “He not only leads the country; he can dub men knights. I suppose his sword could be called an educator, because King Vaygran keeps the peace, and peace makes it possible for children to be educated.”

“Are you sure?” Hudson asked. “We chose the wrong boats and had to swim to shore. What will happen if we choose the wrong sword?”

“It's the only sword that fits the description,” Charlotte said, but she didn't sound positive. “We'll have to head back to Grammaria.”

The boat had slowed again, so she added, “I'm grateful Hudson is helping me rescue the princess.”

Hudson smiled. “I'm grateful you're helping me get rid of the troll mirror.” His oar felt lighter, stronger. “How are we going to get the sword from King Vaygran?”

“I'm grateful my father taught me about magic,” Charlotte said, “because that's the only way we'll be able to break into the castle and steal the sword. We'll need fairy help, too. I'm grateful I have a way to contact and pay them.”

Hudson thought about the green striped museling, the good memory she had of him, and wasn't grateful she wanted to sell it. He didn't say it, though. It might stop the boat dead in the water.

When Hudson and Charlotte reached the beach, their things were packed up. Still wet, but packed up. Charlotte shrank their animals so they would fit in their packs—Pokey complained about this quite a bit—then she and Hudson got back into the
gratitude
boat. They rowed it down the shore. Dogs couldn't track people over water, so they would row a long way down the beach, then jump out of the boat, wade to shore, and make their way back through the forest to Grammaria.

It was a good plan. Unfortunately, they weren't quite out of sight when the soldiers reached the beach.

 

10

A PACK OF
bright red dogs loped off the trail from Scriptoria—big dogs with wolfish faces and hard black eyes. They bounded down the beach and sniffed around the sand, circling the spot where Hudson and Charlotte had laid out their things to dry.

Charlotte saw them and gasped. “Bloodhounds.”

She and Hudson both rowed faster, plunging their oars into the water. “I'm grateful we left already,” she said.

“I'm grateful for, um, telephones,” he said. “And microwaves and french fries.”

A man on a black horse was the next to arrive on the beach. It was hard to tell where the horse ended and the man began, because he wore a long black cloak that draped over the animal. His stringy black beard twisted off the end of his chin like a trailing shadow.

“It's Nepharo,” Charlotte whispered, and her voice caught with fear. “He became King Vaygran's top wizard after…” her words broke off. “King Vaygran used to have another top wizard. I can't remember what happened to him.”

Hudson didn't care. Two dozen men on horses joined the wizard. They wore red uniforms and hats with horns growing out of them. The sunlight glinted off the hilts of the swords hanging at their sides. The men hadn't seen the boat yet, but it wouldn't take long for them to look down the shore. Even going at a fast pace, the boat couldn't outrace horses.

Hudson pulled on his oar extra hard to turn the boat to the beach. “We've got to reach land and get out of sight before they spot us.”

Charlotte turned her oar in the same direction. She was still spouting off bits of gratitude, panic creeping into her voice.

The dogs sniffed along the sand, making their way to the first dock. That's when the wizard saw them. The man lifted his wand and shouted something. The soldiers all turned to look in Hudson and Charlotte's direction.

Almost immediately, Hudson felt the boat lifting. The oars dangled uselessly at the side, no longer touching the water. He grabbed the edge of the boat in disbelief. A huge wave had formed underneath them and was lifting them upward. “I thought the clovers protected us from wizards' spells!”

“They do.” Charlotte grabbed her bag and scrambled to the front of the boat. “But the water underneath us isn't protected.”

Hudson took hold of his bag and joined Charlotte at the front of the boat. With their weight there, the boat slid off the wave, riding it like a sled down a snowy hill. Water sprayed everywhere, shooting white streams away from them. In seconds, the boat skidded onto the shore, nearly capsizing. Hudson and Charlotte jumped out and tore up the beach. Sand spit from beneath their shoes as they ran.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

“Keep running,” she yelled. She was behind him, struggling to keep up with his pace.

“Yeah, I figured out that part. We can't outrun dogs, though.” He glanced down the beach at the bounding bloodhounds and charging soldiers. They would catch up to them in a minute, maybe two. “Get the iron bar! We need extra strength!”

Charlotte reached into her bag, took out the iron rod, and grasped it tightly. As it shrank in her grip, her speed picked up. She overtook Hudson and, like a relay racer passing the baton, handed him what was left of the iron.

He took hold of the iron and squeezed it hard. New energy infused his muscles. He was already a fast runner. Years of running laps in baseball practice had seen to that. Now he sprinted at an Olympic speed, but it still wouldn't be enough to lose their pursuers.

In moments, he and Charlotte reached the edge of the forest. They rushed through the trees, trampling a patch of neon-pink ferns in the process. Charlotte yelled, “Nigel! Cecil! Help us!”

As they ran, Hudson searched the woods for a glimpse of the unicorns. They were nowhere around. It had always taken a few minutes of walking before they showed up to help.

The trees grew far apart from one another near the beach, but farther into the forest they became thicker. Hudson dodged around scrubby purple bushes that looked like the plant versions of porcupines. He raced through a patch of red tulips, and their petals drew together like pursed lips.

How long did he and Charlotte have until the dogs reached them? A minute? Seconds?

The barks of the bloodhounds cut through the woods. The dogs were closing in. Even with the extra strength the iron provided, Hudson was growing tired.

Charlotte took panting breaths, pushing low-hanging branches out of the way. “Cecil! Nigel!” she yelled. “We need you!”

No flash of gold or streak of silver passed through the trees around them. The unicorns still hadn't come, and the bloodhounds were nearly to them. Hudson heard the dogs thrashing through the underbrush, growling.

Charlotte slowed. She slid her bag off her shoulders, took out the compactulator, and dumped out the tiger, wolf, and polar bear. Moments later, the animals sprang from the ground full size. They bounded toward the bloodhounds, teeth bared and snarling.

Charlotte didn't stop to see how the fight turned out. She kept running. Hudson did, too. Behind them, a dog yelped. The tiger roared. A man yelled, “They went that way!”

Hudson's lungs burned. He didn't dare slow down. Charlotte stumbled over a tree root. He paused to help her up, and they ran on. She sang a few words of the unicorns' favorite song. The singing made her go slower, or perhaps she was just exhausted.

Hudson glanced over his shoulder. One of the dogs had gotten past Charlotte's animals. It streaked forward, barking. It was so vibrantly red it seemed like a flame racing toward them. In another moment, it would reach Charlotte. Hudson stopped, pulled his bag off his shoulder, and put himself between the dog and Charlotte.

“Go!” he told her. He was the only one who'd spoken to the stone bee. Maybe the soldiers would let her escape.

The bloodhound opened its mouth in a growl, showing rows of crimson teeth as it sprang at Hudson. He swung his bag into the hurtling dog, smacking it in the head.

The impact knocked the dog on its side, but seconds later it jumped back to its feet. With ears pressed back and fur bristling, it snarled and paced toward Hudson. He aimed, ready to swing again, and wished his bag held something more dangerous than a damp sleeping bag and a stuffed penguin.

The dog took slow steps, circling, growling, and waiting for the right moment to lunge.

“Hudson!” Charlotte called from a few yards behind him.

He didn't take his eyes off the dog. “Run!” he yelled. “They're only looking for me.”

“A noble sentiment,” Nigel said. And the next moment, the golden unicorn charged the bloodhound.

The dog leaped away from the unicorn's horn but wasn't fast enough. Nigel's horn pierced the dog's side, and the dog popped like a water balloon. Or, more accurately, a blood balloon. A large red spot oozed on the ground where the hound had stood.

More dogs were coming, though. Their barks echoed through the forest. The thundering sound of the soldiers' horses wasn't far behind.

Nigel bent down so Hudson could grab hold of his mane. “Hurry,” the unicorn said. “We've no time to spare.”

Hudson pulled himself onto Nigel's back, then held on, panting, while the unicorn raced through the forest. Trees flashed by in a jumble of colors. Every once in a while, Hudson caught sight of Cecil and Charlotte dashing through the forest ahead of them. The dogs' barks grew fainter and fainter until they disappeared altogether.

Hudson laid his head on Nigel's mane and wondered what had become of the tiger, wolf, and polar bear. Had the soldiers killed them? Was it possible to kill something that had started out as a stuffed animal? If they were alive, would they be able to find Charlotte again?

Charlotte must have told Cecil where they needed to go next. The unicorns kept galloping long after they left the soldiers behind. Hudson held on to Nigel's neck, breathing out deep sighs of relief. He and Charlotte were safe. At least for now.