by Kaylee Rymer
Weegel stuffed it inside his pocket and scowled down at the faery. It tapped its foot against the table.
“Well, get,” he said, waving it away.
“Weegel!” Ivora scolded. “Don’t speak to her like that.”
The faery flew up off the table and hovered before his nose. Tiny, indistinguishable words poured from its mouth while it shone bright red.
Weegel threw his hands up in the air. “Fine!” He groped inside his pocket and passed the faery a gemstone.
The faery tucked the gemstone into her pouch, stuck out a long tongue, then fluttered out the cave.
Ivora blinked, and the tiny silhouette of a faery flashed behind her lids. “You understood what she said?”
Weegel shrugged. “Something about the unjust treatment of faeries, and how they don’t get paid enough for their services.” He drummed his fingers along the table, staring nervously after the faery.
Ivora stepped closer. “Is there something wrong?”
Weegel looked her way, and once again an unnatural smile formed across his face. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Yet he kept giving nervous glances out the cave.
“It doesn’t look like nothing. Weegel, are you keeping something from me?”
He laughed, one long, ringing sound. “No. Of course not.”
Ivora weren’t so convinced. She moved closer until she stood right in front of him. “I thought we told each other everything now. No more secrets.”
Shame flickered across his golden eyes, and he looked the other way. “It’s... nothing. Just... some old acquaintance.”
Ivora folded her arms, waiting for a better explanation. None came.
Weegel inched towards the exit. “I’m going out for a while.”
“When will you be back?” she asked, watching him leave.
“A couple hours maybe. Expect me back around nightfall.”
And with that, he left.
Ivora couldn’t help but feel curious. How the tables had turned. Now she was the one suspicious of him, and once again a letter was involved.
She yanked a fur cloak off a chair and followed him out the chamber.
SHE FOLLOWED WEEGEL’S fresh tracks through the snow, treading carefully so as not to make a sound.
Eventually, she came upon a clearing and hid behind a bushy spruce.
Weegel stood before a pair of trees at the edge of the clearing. They were nothing like the other trees. They were old and twisted with coiled branches that stretched like arms. One even looked as if it had a face, and Ivora shivered.
“Fairfrith,” Weegel muttered. “One worcog.”
One tree opened its eye and stared him up and down. Ivora gaped in awe. Fascinating.
Its branches creaked forth, and it formed an arch with the tree beside it. Ivora’s heart hammered when a doorway into another world appeared.
Weegel stepped under the arch, and he vanished with a ripple. The trees broke apart again, and Ivora sprinted forward.
She landed with a thud on the other side, wincing in pain as she gazed down at the ground. It was made of cobblestone like the streets of Chars-town, but these were much brighter and shone like marble.
Ivora peered around. She’d landed in what had to be the cleanest alleyway she had ever seen. Not a speck of dirt to be found.
Voices emerged from one end of the alleyway, and Ivora turned. A troll stomped outside, making the ground quake, and her stomach churned. Hopefully, he wasn’t as hostile as the trolls at the tavern.
She rose to her feet and headed for the busy high street. It wasn’t just trolls who walked the street. Elves did too, tall and graceful, and centaurs, goblins and sprites. Faeries floated through the air, and Ivora beamed. She’d never seen a more beautiful village. Garlands adorned the buildings, and in the centre sat a large table ready for a feast.
Ivora spotted a stage where a band set up their instruments. It seemed a party was about to begin.
A few creatures watched her strangely, and she lowered her hood.
Ivora glanced up the street, and there was Weegel disappearing amongst the crowd. She hurried after him, taking note of the buildings on either side of the road. There were bakeries, which smelled heavenly, a jeweller, and a store titled “Human Artefacts”. Inside were telescopes and maps.
Weegel stopped outside a colourful shop front. He peered around the street and disappeared inside.
Ivora jogged up to the shop and read the name. ‘Bannog’s Whimsical Wig and Dress store for Magical Creatures’. Mannequins stood inside the window, one dressed as a farmer, and another a blacksmith.
She pressed her nose to the window, and her breath fogged the glass. She gave it a wipe and looked inside. More mannequins crowded around the shop. Several were dressed as children, and others soldiers.
Weegel was nowhere in sight.
A small alleyway ran along the side of the shop, and Ivora made her way down. A window opened ahead, and she tiptoed over.
It was the back room of the shop. Boxes towered towards the ceiling in one corner, and a bunch of naked mannequins piled in another. Ivora spied various sewing utensils and a wide mirror.
Weegel sat at a table in the middle of the room, a steaming cup beside him. He hadn’t bothered to take his hood down, most likely too embarrassed by his broken horn. Ivora really wished he would; he had nothing to be ashamed about.
A smartly dressed ogre moved across the room next and sat down across from him.
He passed Weegel a plate of biscuits. Weegel declined. “No. I’m not hungry.”
“But you must. They’re mother’s old recipe.” The ogre pushed the plate closer.
Weegel rolled his eyes. “If you insist.”
He grabbed a biscuit and chomped. His eyes widened with delight, and Ivora laughed. She would never have guessed Weegel had a sweet tooth.
The ogre turned next, and Ivora ducked out the way. It was the ogre from the tavern, Stannog, or whatever his name was, but he had long brown hair now and spoke in a refined accent. Odd.
She risked another peek. The ogre swirled his tea and leaned back in his chair. It creaked beneath his weight.
“So, my delightful cousin tells me you’re after a human disguise,” the ogre said. “Finally, was wondering when you’d show up at my door.”
Ivora perked up at his words. Human disguise? Weegel?
Weegel rubbed his forehead. “Yes, but that’s not the only reason I’m here. You mentioned in the letter about... you know...”
“Ah, yes.” The ogre sighed, shaking his great big head. “I’m afraid it’s not good news...”
Weegel stiffened, and his eyes shone under the lanterns. Ivora’s heart twisted at the broken look on his face. What had gotten him in such a state?
“What... what happened?” he whispered.
The ogre’s words were drowned out by loud music next.
The band had started playing.
Ivora turned towards the street, and her curiosity got the better of her. Suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have a look. Weegel wasn’t going anywhere.
She walked towards the street, jumping back in fright as a group of children almost knocked her over. One was a young elf, and the other a centaur.
They held black flags in their hands, which had a bird stitched to the fabric. It had a silver eye, and Ivora recognised it immediately. It was the same bird on the breastplate of the guard.
Magical creatures celebrated all around her, drinking from shimmering goblets. There were piles of cakes, fruit, and various meats stacked on the table.
The band played on the stage. One member had a flute. He had horns like Weegel, but the feet of a goat. Another had a harp, a willowy girl with beautiful hair, and a pint-sized man with a red top hat played the violin.
The beautiful barmaids from the tavern danced before them, twirling and swaying in perfect rhythm to the music. A statue sat on the stage behind the band.
Ivora wandered over, forgetting about the party goers. The barma
ids looked her up and down as she crossed the dance floor, and the band fumbled with their instruments.
The statue was of a cloaked man with a beak-like nose. He had thin, hollow cheeks, and long greasy hair.
Astor.
The king’s eyes shone silver, and she was reminded of the black hawk, and of the wolf that killed Belle.
Her whole world crashed around her. Her heart pumped through her ears, drowning out the sounds of the party.
The king... he was the hawk all along. And the wolf...
Whispers echoed around her, and Ivora wrapped her cloak around her body.
A large hand clamped around her mouth, and someone dragged her away from the stage.
They’d found her.
21. Weegel
“I’m sorry.”
Weegel moved his eyes across the table.
Bannog, so like his surly cousin in appearance, couldn’t be any more his opposite. Good culinary skills, smart-dresser, and eloquent manner. It was almost as if the ogre wanted to show the world he was more than a monster. Something Weegel could strongly relate to.
Weegel released a breath, and his whole body seemed to deflate. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding in so much air.
He buried his face in his hands, feeling his mind spinning. How does he tell Ivy about her parents?
“Were they dear to you?”
He looked back up. The ogre leaned forward in his seat, his large sausage-like finger barely fitting through the handle of his teacup.
“No, but they were to someone close to me.”
The ogre nodded in understanding. “The human girl you brought to the tavern. Stannog mentioned her.”
Weegel’s innards writhed like snakes, and he hissed, slamming his hands on the table. The china rattled. “How much did he tell you?”
“Only enough. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us.”
Weegel breathed heavily, trying to see through Bannog’s calm facade. The ogre merely sipped tea as if they were discussing nothing but the weather.
He sat back and gazed into his own teacup. The murky liquid reflected back his amber eyes. “What... what more do you know?”
The ogre drummed his giant fingers. “Well, according to Stannog’s descriptions, she’s the exact image of the missing princess.”
Weegel’s chest tightened. “And you swear you’ve told no one else?”
“Look, Weegel... can I call you Weegel?” the ogre asked, cocking his brow.
Weegel scoffed. “Well, it’s better than goat.”
Bannog continued. “I know we’re strangers, and even though you have a complicated relationship with my charming cousin, he does look out for you. I believe you’ve been going to his pub since you were twelve. Just a kid.”
Weegel smiled, lost in memory. “Yeah, and I never could stand the place. He didn’t let me drink till I came of age.”
“See, he does look out for your interests. I know he’s my cousin, but we’re more like brothers, see, and, well, any friend of Stannog’s is a friend of mine. It’s clear you care for this girl, and you have our word.”
Weegel studied the ogre before him and found nothing but sincerity in his eyes. A weight lifted from his shoulders, and he finally picked up his tea.
“So, what did you have in mind for a disguise?” Bannog asked, his eyes twinkling.
Weegel stared at him a moment. “Oh... disguise, right. The real reason I’m here.”
“Well?”
He had to think a moment. “What have you got in stock?”
Bannog’s words were drowned out by shouts from the open window. Weegel stopped to listen.
“The festival to celebrate the downfall of the Godwyn dynasty,” Bannog said. “Sixteen years to this date.” The ogre fixed him with a grave stare. “They’re celebrating extra loudly today because they believe your friend has perished.”
Weegel ground his teeth and slammed yet another fist onto the table. Bannog was better prepared this time as he held onto the teapot.
“Ivy’s a good person. She’s nothing like her grandfather!”
The ogre held up a hand. “But there are those among us who haven’t forgotten that she’s also part Westwind. Lord Westwind was good to the magical community, but he disappeared after Godwyn’s massacre. Many people, both human and fae, believe she has gone to find him.”
Weegel furrowed his brows. “Are you insinuating something?”
Bannog took a biscuit off the plate. “Find lord Westwind. He’s her grandfather, after all. He’ll welcome her with open arms. She’s not safe in the kingdom anymore. Everyone wants her dead. Human, elf, goblin... the list is endless.”
Weegel fell silent. It all made sense, but Westwind Isle had disappeared entirely off the map. Where would they even start?
Perhaps west? It was in the name, but really the island could be anywhere. Legend told that it travels the seas at a hundred miles per hour.
Wherever they went, north, west, east, he didn’t care, as long as he was with Ivy.
“You keep that girl safe now.”
He looked up at Bannog.
The ogre smiled. “It’s awfully sweet how you’ve taken her under your wing. The last thing I expected from your posters if I dare say so. The humans make out that you’re a heartless fiend of some kind.”
Weegel sighed. “Well, I have done things I’m not proud of. Last spring, I stole an expensive-looking china doll off a little girl. In the end, I only got five gold pieces.”
Bannog widened his eyes. “My, that is rather wicked, but you’re making up for all that now. Prove to all those naysayers that we ‘monsters’ are more than meets the eye.” He gave a wink and took another sip of tea.
Weegel considered what he said. Suppose he was right, but Weegel still had a lot to prove.
“Now, back onto the subject of your disguise. Have you thought of demographics? Age, gender, occupation—?”
The shop door crashed open, and Weegel spilt his tea.
“Bannog! Where are ya?!” Stannog’s familiar voice roared through the shop.
Bannog rolled his eyes and heaved himself up from the table. “Well, if it isn’t my lovely cousin. I weren’t expecting him so soon.”
Weegel wiped his shirt. “Does he know how to knock?”
“Stannog? Knock?” Bannog chuckled and proceeded towards the door.
The barkeep continued, “I know the little git’s here. Who does he think he is, bringing the girl to the village on the night of the festival?!”
Weegel raised a brow. What was he talking about? Bannog had the same question in his eyes.
The door to the backroom flew open, and Stannog’s ugly face appeared. In his arms was a struggling girl. Familiar blonde locks fell from her forehead, and Weegel’s heart lurched.
“Ivy?”
The ogre threw her down next to him, and she staggered forward. Weegel caught her in his arms. “What are you doing here?”
She looked up, and fear and guilt swam across her eyes. “I’m... sorry...”
Weegel sighed and rubbed his forehead. What was he going to do? If anyone so much as spotted her in the village, she was dead.
He turned to Stannog. “What happened?”
The ogre growled. “I saved her life, that’s what happened. If I hadn’t stepped in, they would’ve seen her. Staring at the king’s statue like she’s seeing into her bloody future. Must have some kinda death wish.”
Weegel glanced at Ivy. She started trembling, shivering under her thick cloak. “Ivy? What’s wrong?”
She gazed back up with shimmering eyes. “King Astor... he... he knows... he knows I’m up north.”
An icy chill spread through Weegel’s spine, and he gulped. “How can you be so sure?”
“The hawk... I’ve seen it. And... the... the wolf...”
Weegel’s heart pricked. When Ivy had told him about the wolf, he seldom believed it. Her descriptions sounded nothing like the wolves he’d seen. He’d even killed a few ov
er the years and kept their coats.
Ivy continued to shiver, but the best he could do was hold her close. What he’d give to be able to protect her from the evils of the world.
Bannog shut the window and pulled out a spare chair. Weegel set her down as she stared ahead with vacant eyes. Next, the ogre poured her tea and handed her the plate of biscuits.
Ivy gulped the tea and munched on several biscuits. Bannog sat across from her, a sympathetic look on his face. “Feel better?”
She nodded, wiping crumbs from her lips. She’d nearly devoured the whole plate, and Weegel watched, impressed.
“Try to tell us again what you saw,” Bannog continued.
Ivy watched the ogre warily, then glanced up at Weegel.
“It’s all right,” Weegel said. “You’re safe here.”
Ivy drew a breath and met Bannog’s eyes. “I... I saw a hawk... back when I first fled the cottage. At the time I didn’t think much of it, but...” she shuddered, and chomped on another biscuit.
Bannog tilted his head. “And did this hawk have piercing silver eyes?”
“Yes,” she replied, staring at him in wonder. “They stared into my soul.”
Bannog met Weegel’s gaze then, and an anxious expression formed across his face.
“I’m afraid you most likely did see him, dear,” Bannog said. “Astor takes the shape of a hawk. Being part shapeshifter, he can change at will.”
Ivy’s face whitened. “And what of the wolf? Was... was that him too?”
Bannog tapped his chin. “You’ll have to enlighten me, dear. What wolf?”
“It chased me all the way to the north, the biggest wolf I’d ever seen. Black fur, silver eyes, long teeth. It... it killed Belle... my... my horse.”
She stopped a moment to close her eyes. Weegel placed a hand on her shoulder.
Bannog raised his brows. “A wolf? It’s a mystery to me.”
“Coulda been sent by the king to sniff her out?” Stannog chimed in.
Weegel glanced up at Stannog. The big brute had always been a supporter of Astor, claiming he was the rightful heir and would one day make life better for the fae. Yet he could see now the ogre was losing faith. A lot of enchanted folks were. After all, it had been sixteen years. Sixteen years of waiting.