Cogling

by Jordan Elizabeth

  “Don’t!” There had to be a way to convince them to go on without her. “This will protect me. Ike needs you.”

  “He needs you too,” Harrison wailed.

  “If only I could fly up to you.” Edna closed her eyes and rubbed the cameo harder. If it had worked before, maybe she could get it to lend her its magic again. “Please, take me up there.” She pictured Ike and Rachel, the dazed nobles locked in the cages. Harrison.

  She held her breath as her skin tingled and the floor vanished from beneath her feet. She wanted to kick to find purchase, but forced herself to hold still.

  Harrison gasped. “You’re flying!”

  “Impossible,” Rachel whispered.

  Edna kept her eyes closed. Her skin crawled as though fingernails dragged over her. The magic transformed into a burn, but she forced herself not to panic. She had to be at the top by now. The magic in her heart repeated: Fly, fly, fly.

  Rachel grabbed her waist to yank her over. Edna’s knees bumped the wall, and Harrison pulled her onto the floor where she rolled to her back and released the cameo, panting.

  “We’ve got you.” Harrison rubbed her hand.

  “You’re safe,” Rachel added.

  Edna pulled Harrison closer and squeezed Rachel’s arm before she stood. Her legs trembled, so she clutched Harrison to steady herself. She’d really done it. Magic had helped again.

  “Do we really have hag blood?” Harrison whispered.

  Edna kissed the top of his head. “We’ll have to figure that out later. Now we go get Ike.” She staggered toward the door.

  “Together.” Harrison clutched her hand.

  Edna reached the door first and pushed on it, then pulled. “Odds bobs. It won’t budge.” Rachel slammed her fist against it. “Must be locked.”

  Edna grinned. “No issue.” She rubbed the pad of her thumb over the cameo. “Unlock. Open.”

  Something within the door clicked, and the door swung open.

  Rachel lifted her eyebrows, eyes wide. Edna winked and sashayed into the hallway. To think she’d possessed such magic in the cameo all along. She’d rescued her brother from the hags and she possessed a cameo. If it could make light, suspend her weight, scare away snakes, and open locked doors; perhaps its powers were limitless.

  If the magic had dwelt within her all along, she shouldn’t be scared of exploring its limits.

  Do you see my courage?

  ke punched the ogre’s ribs as the mutant tried to shove him into a cage. The ogre’s massive hands swallowed Ike’s shoulders, but he braced himself against the metal. The unused cogling slipped out of his pocket and hit the floor. The ogre kicked it aside.

  “It seems that’s useless now.” Mother Sambucus laughed from the doorway to the little room, the sound like waves crashing against a cliff. The space had been used for Ike’s father’s private meetings. The desk, chairs, and bookshelves had been replaced with four metal cages, but the landscape paintings remained on the walls. The homey atmosphere clashed with the iron bars as thick as Ike’s wrist. Black velvet hung over the three windows, so the only light came from gas lamps on the walls.

  Two cages: one contained the King, the other empty for Ike. Anger surged through his veins, powering the strength behind his fists.

  Once, when Ike had visited his father in this room, King Elias had sat at the desk writing on papers, his green-tinted glasses resting low on his long nose. Ike had knocked on the door, afraid his father would be angry. Instead the king had smiled and held out his hand. “Come here, son. My meeting ended and I want to check these papers before I take them to my study.”

  He’d sat on his father’s lap and watched a glass stylus dance over papers covered in figures that meant nothing to his five-year-old mind.

  Ike glanced at his father now, but the hunched man in the cage stared forward with glassy gray eyes. New lines had formed in his skin and a thick, graying beard sprouted from his face. How dare the hag hurt him when he’d only tried to do the best for his people? Ike racked his brain for a way to save his father, but his thoughts clouded—he had to save himself first.

  “In with you,” Mother Sambucus said. “The guards won’t come after you. Most of them are my coglings.” She closed the door behind her and the click echoed through his ears.

  “In ya go.” The other ogre pushed Hilda into a free cage. She hit the back bars with a grunt as the guard locked the door. Ike’s heart sank as Hilda sat, her chignon mussed and clothes askew. His cousin never looked so disheveled.

  When the ogre pushed Ike again, Ike head-butted him. The other ogres roared.

  “Get the whelp,” one grunted to his felled friend.

  The ogre staggered back as his teeth closed over his thick tongue, allowing Ike enough time to twist backwards. He kicked the ogre in the groin. While he recoiled, roaring, Ike jumped onto the top of the cage. He grabbed the nearest painting off the wall, snapping the string on the nail, and slammed it down over the ogre’s head. Glass shattered, canvas tore, and the frame cracked. The creature’s face reddened, his eyes bugging. A siren buzzed, indicating a royal painting had been tampered with; the squeal became a taunt to Ike’s ears: if you retaliate, the ogre might die.

  Ike ducked beneath the ogre’s swinging arms and pulled the club from his wide belt before he could recover, then struck the ogre in the side of the head. The heavy club strained his muscles, but Ike swung again. The club connected with the ogre’s head with a splitting crack. Blood sprayed out, splashing the floor along with hunks of skin and brain. The ogre crumpled.

  Ike lowered the tip of the bloodied club, chest heaving. Death stained his hands like a visible cloud, thick as ink. His mother’s voice whispered through his mind. Never kill another living being.

  The other ogre drew his club from his belt. Ike lifted his eyes to the villain who plotted against humans and had helped Mother Sambucus lock up his father. Perhaps this ogre had also aided in his mother’s death. Ike’s nostrils flared. His kind mother manhandled by these brutes. He gathered courage to face another. He survived or they lived; he voted for himself.

  With a roar, Ike charged the ogre. The beast swung his club over Ike’s head—too high. Ike leapt and crashed the club into the ogre’s head. Fueled by his jump, the club shattered through the ogre’s skull.

  Ike staggered and crouched, panting. He’d just killed two ogres. Bile rose from his belly to burn his throat. He vomited, dropping the club.

  Even when the hags had come after his mother, she’d never cringed. Her eyes had adopted a cold blankness. He could be strong like her, even if his legs trembled.

  “Let me out,” Hilda called.

  He stumbled over the gore and bodies to reach her cage. As he pulled his lock-picking kit from his jacket pocket, he studied her face, but found no revulsion there.

  “You’ve killed before?” He worked on her lock. The pick slid in the sweat of his palm.

  “I have.” Hilda blinked. “Are you surprised?”

  He swung her cage door open. Hilda was the cousin his mother wrote to occasionally, the cousin he’d met a few times because she attended a boarding school near Langston Palace. He might not know her well, but he’d always compared her with his mother, yet even his soft-spoken mother who loved everything had eventually rebelled.

  “No.” His heart thudded in his chest.

  “Good. Now free the king. I’ll work on his advisor.”

  “Grand Vizier,” Ike corrected on impulse. He started picking his father’s lock. The man didn’t budge. Ice stabbed through Ike’s heart. What if the spell Mother Sambucus had cast caused his father to forget him forever? His last living parent—a stranger.

  “They have been enchanted, so they may not move,” Hilda warned from the other cage.

  Ike swung the cage door open.

  Ike grabbed his father. The King didn’t resist his pull. His elaborate clothes hung off his frail body. Long before, his father had been thick with muscle thanks to his daily workouts. Now he felt
like a street urchin.

  Ike hugged him anyway. “Father, it’s me. Ike. I’m back.” Worry gnawed his mind—his father needed his help to regain health. When he did, what would King Elias say about the life Ike had chosen to live?

  “He can’t react.” Hilda heaved the Grand Vizier from the cage. “He can hear you, though, if that makes you feel better.”

  Ike hugged his father harder. “I’ve missed you.”

  “We must go.” Hilda pulled the freed Grand Vizier toward the door. “We’ll show them to the public. As long as we guide them, they should be able to walk on their own. If not, we drag them.”

  “And we find Edna.” Ike clasped his father’s hand, following them. The men walked, although they swayed on their feet.

  Hilda smiled at Ike. “And the others, right? Rachel and Harrison.”

  He coughed. “Of course.” He couldn’t allow his emotions to become too obvious; Mother Sambucus might use Edna against him.

  “Anyone can see you’re smitten with her.” Hilda pushed the door open a crack. “Don’t lose your heart over her. She won’t survive this.”

  Ike wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Don’t say that.”

  “Hate me all you want,” she whispered, “but we can’t all make it through this. Come on anyway, the hallway’s clear. You lead. You know the way better than I do.”

  Ike pulled his father through the doorway. The man followed like a child, his steps unsteady. The hallway’s wooden floor was as polished as he remembered, the walls just as white, and the gilding around the doors shone, yet the air felt too cold. Goose bumps rose on his skin.

  He led them around the corner, expecting to see a hag or ogre, but the hallway was clear. The villains were probably deeper in the castle where few guests traveled. If he followed this hallway, it would take him to the library. That room stretched upwards for three stories, covered in bookshelves and windows. He’d spent hours in there with his parents every night. Remembering how they’d taken turns reading to him brought stinging tears to his eyes.

  He turned the next corner. The new hallway would take them to the main foyer, and they could leave the castle, then return later for—

  “Edna,” Ike exclaimed. She, Rachel, and Harrison stepped through a doorway, blinking at the hallway. They turned at his call and smiles spread across their faces. At the sight of Edna, he couldn’t stop the grin that stretched his lips.

  Ike released his father to run the three steps it took him to seize Edna around the waist and yank her against him until she squeaked. Her arms looped around his neck and his breath hitched.

  “We must keep moving.” Hilda’s voice tore him away from Edna. He stepped back, cheeks flushed. Edna’s eyes glowed with a brilliance he could’ve sworn was magical. “We’re taking the King and his advisor outside where they’ll be safe,” Hilda told the others.

  “That’s the King?” Rachel stiffened, coughed, and bowed. “Your Majesty, it’s an honor—”

  “He can’t respond,” Hilda snapped. “We’re wasting time. Formalities don’t stand here.”

  “After we know they won’t be harmed,” Ike said, “we’ll come back to deal with the hags and ogres. We’ll plan something then.”

  “I know how to do that.” Edna smiled as she rubbed her cameo.

  “Now is not the time to play the hero,” Hilda growled.

  “I’m not.” Edna met the hag’s gaze without flinching.

  Ike’s heart swelled. The lost girl who relied on him to save her brother had vanished beneath the armor of this brave young woman.

  “What do we do?” Ike fiddled with his collar.

  “This is ridiculous.” Hilda snorted. “Ike and I will decide what to do, and we’ll go for help, and—”

  “Are you willing to risk your life for this cause?” Edna interrupted.

  Hilda’s eyes bugged. “Of course I am. What a horrible question to ask.”

  “Then Rachel will take the King and Harrison will take his Vizier.”

  “Soldiers will see two unknown children abducting them,” Hilda countered.

  “Not when they realize the King and Vizier have been drugged with magic.” Edna nibbled her lower lip before she lifted her chin. “I know what to do.”

  Do you see my hopes and dreams?

  dna and Hilda followed Ike up the steps to his bedroom. Edna’s boot slipped on the polished marble and she bit her tongue to keep from crying out when her shin struck the next stair.

  “We’d better not run into anyone.” Hilda lifted her skirt as she ascended.

  “I have a feeling the hags will avoid the front lest anyone sees them from outside. They don’t want to be viewed. Not all of them are as prestigious as Mother Sambucus, and they won’t want to be connected with drugging the King or his Vizier.” Ike’s voice wavered. “The hags will stick to the back of Langston.”

  “You better be right,” Edna said. So far they hadn’t passed anyone. She shoved her doubts aside. For now she had to trust him.

  They reached the top of the stairs and walked down the hallway. It resembled the others, with gilded molding on the white walls and hanging portraits. Ike paused at the fifth door on the right.

  “This should be it.” He crouch to pick the lock and stood to hold the brass doorknob. “Unless someone made it into something else. I’m sure they got rid of my mother’s chamber by now.”

  Edna rubbed his arm.

  “We haven’t got time for this,” Hilda hissed.

  Ike nodded to Edna and turned the knob. The door opened to a foyer with a table and mirror. Ike hurried inside, with Hilda close behind; Edna followed and shut the door. The foyer led into a sitting area with windows opening to a balcony, and three doors in the walls. Ike had grown up here, while Edna shared a bedroom with Harrison, listening to soot demons scamper through the walls.

  He could have returned after his mother’s death, but he’d chosen to brave life alone, an outcast of humans and hags. Yet he wanted to help the humans when the hags threatened. Edna slipped her arms around his waist and leaned her forehead against his back.

  “After so many years, my father never changed it,” Ike breathed.

  “Hilda, first you need to ensure that all of the humans leave the palace so they don’t get hurt.” Edna tugged on her curl.

  Hilda met her gaze without flinching. “You give me an impossible task.”

  “You can do it.”

  Hilda straightened her hat as her lips curled into a smile.

  “You’ll need this.” Ike jogged to his desk and pulled out drawers, searching through the cluttered contents.

  Edna studied the room. Model blimps hung from the ceiling to match the mural on the wall depicting an airship race. Ike’s domain. He’d probably chosen the indigo curtains and brocade loveseats. A delicious thrill coursed through her body. It was so naughty to be in a male’s room before marriage, yet here she stood, and she ached to push him onto the plush carpet in the center of the room. They could kiss for hours—if they had time.

  “Here it is.” Ike lifted a black cord with a knot on the end. “I just need….” He opened one of the doors to reveal a closet and pulled out a black hat, complete with goggles and chin strap. He attached the cord to the side. “Take off yours and put this one on.” Ike held it out to Hilda.

  “Why?”

  “I have two.” He helped her fasten the hat beneath her chin. “Sometimes my mother and I would play with them. If you talk into the cord, the person wearing the other hat can hear you. Let us know when everyone is out. In the meantime, no one should look here. Sambucus won’t know where my room is, so Edna and I will be safe.” He ran back to his desk.

  Hilda adjusted the hat’s strap. “How do I get everyone out?”

  “Tell them a poison got loose in the air,” Edna said. “Even hags have to fear that. They might be able to conjure potions from nature and dreams, but that doesn’t make them immortal. Everyone has to evacuate.”

  “Not everyone will
believe me.”

  “But they’ll evacuate to make sure no one is hurt.” Edna shut her eyes. “Sometimes in Moser City entire blocks turned into infernos from lack of water. Many people died, since there were so many crowded into the tenements. Say Mother Sambucus told you to tell them about the fire. Then the hags will stay. They’ll think it’s one of her plans. How many hags know you’re a rebel?”

  Hilda frowned. “Only the ogres who took us, and they’re dead.”

  “After you get the humans out, do you think you can enchant the meeting room?” Edna wrung her hands. “If not, maybe Ike can.”

  “I can, but what kind of enchantment?” Hilda leaned against the wall with her arms folded. The stance reminded Edna of Ike, and her heart fluttered.

  “An enchantment against fire. Even if the rest of the palace burned, that room wouldn’t.”

  Hilda narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I can do that enchantment.”

  “I read it in your diary on the train.”

  “I figured as much.” Hilda pushed off from the wall. “Glad I gave it to you and your brother to read. Didn’t realize you’d find it so helpful.”

  Edna stepped back. “Are you mad?”

  “Yes! How are we supposed to know your plan will work? I have no idea where Charles is. Many of us could die—”

  “Charles knew the risks.” Ike wore a hat identical to his cousin’s. “Hilda, after you enchant the room, get out of the palace and stay out. Keep everyone away.”

  “And keep the exits locked,” Edna added. “We can’t allow anyone to leave.”

  “Push this button,” Ike indictated a hole on the left side of the helmet, “when you want to speak. It will make a beep and then I push my button to hear you.”

  Hilda clasped Ike’s hand. “Be safe.” She nodded to Edna before she departed. Ike shut the door.

  “We’ll be fine.” Edna stroked the warm cameo, hating how numb the words felt on her tongue, yet she couldn’t believe otherwise, lest she crumble.

  He crossed the floor to cup her face in his palms. “Some hags will escape, even if your plan works.”