Must Be Magic

by Lani Aames

  “Nay, Lady. Your humble servant isn’t one of your statues come to life. My home is far away from here.”

  “Right. Okay. Let’s get back to Myghal. You say he’s been kidnapped. By a Troll.” Kerry couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth.

  “Aye. The Faerie King sent word that Prince Myghal was to be stopped from bringing you to the Faerie Realm before the Equinox at all cost. Tredje tried once to kidnap you, but—”

  “Tredje?”

  “Aye. Tredje the Troll.”

  “Of course. And the Equinox is…” Kerry pulled her desk calendar closer. “Tomorrow. Why would Myghal need to take me to the Faerie Realm before the Equinox?”

  Gomit squirmed in his seat and ducked his head. “I couldn’t say, Lady. But the Gnomes and Trolls and some other Faerie Realm folk who live in your world are expected to do King Norfe’s bidding even though we consider ourselves independent from the Faerie Realm.”

  The little Gnome’s tale was getting more and more complicated, and Kerry’s suspension of disbelief was wearing thin. This had to be some trick? But who would be playing it on her? And why? April Fool’s was another two weeks away.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but could you please not get into Mother Goose’s political agendas.” She said it with a smile, but she felt as if she was being had. Possibly by Myghal himself. He’d been dressed like a Leprechaun, after all. Strike that. In light of what Myghal had told her and Gomit had just confirmed, Myghal had been dressed like a Pixie. No wonder he’d had no interest in the contest across the street.

  “Aye, Lady Kerry. As I said, instructions came from King Norfe to stop Prince Myghal from taking you into the Faerie Realm at all cost. The Trolls sent Tredje, and our leader, General Gorgicz, sent me. What the Trolls don’t know is that we Gnomes have been in service to the Pixies since longer than any of us can remember. We are bound by honor to serve the Pixies before the Faeries. The allegiance goes back so far that even our Elders don’t remember why, but we believe the Pixie Prince at that time did a great deed for the Gnomes, and we are obligated to repay the kindness until the end of time.”

  “I understand,” Kerry said. The quiet dignity of the homely little Gnome touched her deeply.

  “Then you understand why I joined with Tredje, just to upset his plans and help in my small way. I’ve managed to convince Tredje that I’m dim-witted and clumsy so he hasn’t relied on me too much.” Gomit sighed heavily. “I daresay a Pixie Prince has helped them out a time or two, but Trolls have no honor.”

  While part of her found his tale ludicrous, another part of her was beginning to believe. The little man sitting in a chair in front of her was not merely a midget in a Gnome costume. His features were unlike anything she’d ever seen on a human being. Yellow eyes, nose, mouth, and jaw were smashed or out of alignment. And everything he said meshed with what she knew about Myghal—little as it was.

  Now, she started to worry about Myghal. If the Faerie King commanded they stop Myghal at all cost, and if the Troll had no honor, this Tredje might kill Myghal.

  He must have read the concern on her face because he smiled a little. “Tredje is too lazy to expend the energy to hurt the Prince and too vain to think his plan of holding him captive will fail. I can distract Tredje, but you’ll have to free the Prince. The Troll mustn’t know I’ve helped the Prince or I would do it myself. The Gnomes’ honor-bound liege to the Pixies has to remain a secret in case another occasion should arise when our help is needed.”

  Kerry ran a hand through her hair. The surreal quality of the past few days since meeting Myghal had increased tenfold. “I thought all you fairy-tale type people had powers. Why couldn’t Myghal just zap the Troll or something?”

  Gomit shook his head. “It’s not that easy in this realm. We Gnomes have never had any special powers. And here, the Pixies have almost no magic. The Prince is as vulnerable as any human. The Troll has a bit of limited magic. When he uses it, he has to take the time to recover his energy before he can use it again.”

  “All right.” Obviously, there were rules that had never made it into any book of fairy-tales Kerry had ever read. “Where is the Troll holding him?”

  “In Tredje’s dwelling beneath the bridge across the street.”

  “At Sir Plantsalot? You mean, Trolls really do live under bridges?”

  Gomit’s eyes widened, showing how startlingly yellow the irises were. Not golden-yellow or amber-yellow, but bright buttercup-yellow. And now, Kerry realized, it was more than the unusual color. The pupils were vertically slitted, like the eyes of a reptile.

  “Of course. Where else would Trolls live? Most are too lazy to do more than sleep in the rushes underneath. But Tredje has been uncommonly industrious in this case. He has excavated an extensive series of tunnels and chambers in the embankment between the two bridges. He says you must always go into his dwelling beneath the bridge marked ‘enter’ and leave beneath the bridge marked ‘exit’. He’s quite proud to have two bridges to himself, especially near a castle, even if it isn’t real. Castles are quite a rarity in this country.”

  “Quite,” Kerry said absently. Myghal held in an underground dwelling. The Troll was probably no bigger than Gomit, so the tunnels and chambers would be small and dark and suffocating. She broke into a sweat just thinking about it.

  She couldn’t… Could she? She had to be the one to save Myghal because no one else would believe the story, and Gomit had to preserve the secrecy of his allegiance to the Pixies. But how was she supposed to force herself into the cramped quarters of the Troll?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kerry slipped on dark coveralls and strapped on a tool belt with an array of tools that could be used as weapons in case Tredje the Troll saw through Gomit’s distraction and discovered what she was doing. She also carried a box cutter to release Myghal’s bonds. Gomit had assured her that Myghal was bound with rope, not chains.

  She checked the bright beam of the heavy-duty flashlight several times as they crossed the five lanes to Sir Plantsalot. By that time of night all businesses along the thoroughfare were closed and very little traffic moved along the street.

  Gomit lead her to the exit bridge. Kerry watched as he quickly scrambled down the side of the drainage ditch. She glanced around to make sure no cars were coming and no one was lurking about then went after him.

  The ditch was deeper than she was tall, so no one would be able to see what they were doing unless they were right on the side of the street or on the bridge above. Kerry switched on a small penlight as they moved into the shadows beneath the bridge.

  “Tredje’s sitting chamber is near the entrance,” Gomit explained, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t carry on the night air. “He stays there all evening until he goes to bed. His bed chamber is about halfway between the entrance and the exit.”

  Kerry could already feel the sweat collecting on her upper lip and trickling down the small of her back even though she should have been comfortable or even a little chilled in the crisp night air. It was too dark beneath the bridge, among the scrubby weeds, and she was only able to tolerate it because Gomit was with her. What was she going to do when he left her alone? How was she supposed to crawl into that small opening and travel along the cramped tunnels without screaming?

  “Wha—” Her mouth was dry, her tongue like a wad of cotton. She swallowed. “What if he decides to check on Myghal?”

  Gomit thought a moment. “He might before he goes to bed, but you should have the Prince freed and both of you away from here by then. You’ll need to move quickly.”

  Quickly. Kerry didn’t think she could move at all. Already, she felt the pressure of the darkness. She could imagine the tunnel walls bearing down on her from all sides. Suddenly, her chest felt heavy and she gasped for air.

  “Are you all right, Lady Kerry?” Gomit asked, his voice thick with concern.

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. No, she was not all right. She was scared. More tha
n scared, she was petrified.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  She shook her head again. She had to save Myghal, but she didn’t know how she was going to force herself to enter that tunnel where it was dark and small and closed in. Before she realized what she was doing, she had crawled out from beneath the bridge into the open. She rose to her knees and turned her face to the sky, breathing in deep gulps of air.

  “I’m sorry, Lady Kerry,” Gomit said close to her ear. “We don’t have much time. If I don’t return soon, Tredje will become suspicious. He might decide to look in on the Prince and make sure he hasn’t escaped. Trolls are naturally distrustful and Tredje keeps a close watch on me. This is the first chance I’ve had to tell you about the Prince. Will you be able to free him?”

  Would she? She had to. Somehow, she would have to make herself enter the Troll’s tunnel and find and free Myghal. Kerry swiped the back of her hand across her upper lip.

  “I’ll do it,” she said.

  Gomit sighed in relief. “I knew I could count on you, Lady. Give this to the Prince. He’ll know what to do with it.”

  Gomit pressed a small, ridged bottle into her hand.

  “Now, I must get back. Do you remember the way?”

  Kerry nodded, then watched as Gomit trundled down the ditch toward the entrance bridge. Gomit had gone over the directions with her as she readied for the strangest adventure she would certainly ever have in her life. She had repeated them over and over until she had them memorized. Now, she went over them again in her head, but she realized it was a delaying tactic.

  Myghal needed her. Why wasn’t that enough to overcome this stupid, irrational fear of dark, enclosed places? Myghal had helped her through being locked in the toolshed. He’d told her that she was strong enough to defeat the fear whenever she was ready to do it. She had to be ready now.

  Kerry got to her feet. She looked at the bottle that Gomit put in her hand. She stared at it in bewilderment. The bottle was the saltshaker from her desk in the greenhouse and had been missing a couple of days. Why would Gomit steal it? And how would it help Myghal?

  With no answers, she tucked the saltshaker into the zippered pocket that held the box cutters and turned around. She used the penlight to find the opening again. The small hole looked to be nothing more than perhaps where dirt had been washed away. It was barely big enough for her to wriggle through. What would be on the other side?

  “Take it one step at a time,” she muttered and bent to go under the bridge again. “A ladder. Gomit said there would be a rope ladder fastened to a large root that protruded just under the hole.”

  Kerry forced one foot in front of the other until she was at the hole. She switched on the large flashlight and put the penlight away. The beam revealed a space that was barely large enough for her to enter. Sweeping the light down, she saw thick ropes knotted around a root bigger than her leg.

  But the dark and enclosed space was too much and she had to close her eyes or run. She couldn’t run. She had to do this to save Myghal.

  Kerry took deep, even breaths, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. The tightness in her chest, that panicky, fluttery feeling, eased a little. She had to try again.

  Slowly, she opened her eyes, keeping her breath even. She focused on the bright beam of light following the rope ladder until it reached the bottom. It looked to be about a ten-foot drop. She could climb down that far. Sure, she could. She just wasn’t sure what would happen after that. Would she start shrieking until Tredje the Troll found her and did who-knew-what to her? Or would she just curl up into a little ball in the corner until Tredje and Gomit ran across her days later? Either could happen. She’d just been lucky that she’d screamed in the shed the day before. Otherwise, Myghal might never have found her and she’d still be there, huddled in the corner in the dark.

  The dark, her enemy. Enclosed spaces, the bane of her existence. She faced both right now, but she had to overcome them to save Myghal. She took another slow, deep breath.

  Holding on to the dirt above the hole, she put one leg, then the other through. Before she could think about it too much, she wiggled around until she was on her stomach, her legs dangling. She was barely holding on because one hand held the flashlight. There was no way in hell she was releasing the light, so she had to think of something and quick.

  She managed to hold the light under her chin and rummage in the pocket on the tool belt until she found the bungee strap. She looped it around her neck and fastened the ends through the handle on the flashlight. She immediately lowered herself until one foot reached the root. She tested her weight, then put both feet on it when it held.

  She gripped the dirt at the bottom of the hole and bent until she could feel the root with her other hand. She lowered one foot, taking a quick look with the flashlight to place the next step. In this way, she was able to move downward until she could hold the rope with both hands. She finished climbing down.

  Keeping busy had kept her mind off of where she was. But now she felt the walls of the tunnel pressing in on all sides. Faint light came through the hole at the top of the ladder. Up there was open space and air to breathe. Her throat threatened to close, and her chest tightened up again. All she had to do was scramble up the ladder and she would be able to breathe again.

  “Myghal,” Kerry whispered and closed her eyes. She gripped a rung of the ladder and pressed her forehead against it. She had to focus on helping Myghal.

  Once more she took deep even breaths until her heart was no longer racing in her chest. She had to save Myghal. It was extremely important for him to return to his realm before the Equinox on Tuesday. Even though she didn’t have any idea why, if it was important to Myghal, then it was important to her. She couldn’t save him if she allowed herself to dissolve into a puddle of neuroses or, worse, run away. He might forgive her, but she’d never be able to forgive herself.

  All right, what was she supposed to do next? What had Gomit told her? She had to think a minute before she recalled his directions.

  Stand at the bottom with the ladder at her back, then turn left.

  Slowly and without opening her eyes, Kerry turned around until she could feel the knots of rope digging into her spine. She swung the flashlight up with her left hand and opened her eyes.

  Dizziness swept over her, as if the tunnel was tilting one way and then the other. She had to close her eyes again or she might topple over or puke. Or both. Tears of frustration scalded them, but she refused to cry. She didn’t have time. She had to free Myghal. She took a step, her hand pressed against the dirt to her left. She moved to the left a few more feet then tried to open her eyes again.

  This time the dizziness wasn’t enough to make her stomach churn. She angled the beam of the flashlight against the far wall to give the greatest area of light and tried not to think about the expanse of darkness surrounding her or how the ceiling lowered the farther she walked until she was nearly bent double. She finally had to drop to her hands and knees.

  Kerry had never been in a situation where everything seemed to literally close in on her.

  She focused her gaze on the circle of light cast by the flashlight, and concentrated on the directions Gomit had given her.

  Taking a deep breath, Kerry reminded herself once again that she had to save Myghal. That thought alone gave her the courage to crawl forward.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gomit called them doorways, but they were no more than arched openings cut in the dirt that led to either another tunnel or a chamber. When Kerry reached the doorway to the chamber where Myghal was being held—if she had followed the Gnome’s directions correctly—she barely stuck her head in with the flashlight.

  “Myghal?” Kerry whispered. According to Gomit, this part of the Troll’s lair was far enough away from his sitting room that she didn’t have to worry about making noise, but the tightness in her chest and throat didn’t allow her to speak above a whisper. “Myghal, are you here?”


  Kerry heard a grunt, then a scuffling sound. She flashed the beam of light all around the chamber. It was much larger than she’d expected, with almost as much floor space as her bedroom. The ceiling was, of course, no higher than the tunnel ceiling. She would still have to crawl to enter.

  A bright reflection made her stop moving the flashlight. Unruly ash blond hair glittered in the beam. Myghal! He lay on his side, a rag secured in his mouth with a piece of cloth tied tightly around his head. She scuttled through the archway toward him.

  His hands had been bound behind his back, and his feet tied together. Another rope, drawn through the rope between his hands, then through a metal loop fastened to a post buried solidly in the dirt, and the one between his feet ensured he couldn’t move from the spot.

  Kerry set the flashlight so that the beam illuminated them both, but didn’t shine directly into their eyes. She untied the cloth around his mouth first and withdrew the rag between his lips.

  He looked at her with such tender emotion while he worked his jaw that Kerry saw no need to ever tell him that she had doubted him and thought he’d gone off with the leggy brunette.

  He grinned. “You know, don’t you?”

  Being with Myghal eased her anxiety, and the tightness in her chest and throat had relaxed, so she could speak normally.

  “That Faeries and Gnomes and Trolls exist? Yes. That you’re a Prince instead of a slightly eccentric Brit who doesn’t know the difference between a Pixie and a Leprechaun? Yes.” Kerry took a deep breath and grinned back. “That I think I might be falling in love with you? Yes to that, too.”

  “The feeling’s mutual. Now, if you could get me loose, I’ll show you how much.”

  Kerry unzipped a pocket and reached in. She felt the box cutter and the saltshaker and brought out both. Gomit had said the shaker would be important to Myghal. She began cutting the rope behind Myghal.