“Use your heart, Mae. The magick has to come from you.” Aletta raised her wand again and yelled across the path. “I won’t miss next time!”
Mae crouched, leaning her forehead against the pillar. The thunder grew closer. How did Callum and Aletta ever think a lone hapenny would be strong enough to be the Protector of the Wedge? She might have a bit of magick, but it wasn’t strong enough. She sniffed back tears. Crying wouldn’t help anything, either, but she couldn’t do this on her own.
“Don’t give up now, Maewyn!” Aletta hissed as she let another spell fly. This one landed on its mark, and a stone troll grew up in the middle of the path. Rain began to fall, stinging against Mae’s cheeks. Another troll stepped bravely onto the path.
Behind her, Mae heard footfalls. She glanced over her shoulder.
Leif and Callum rushed around the bend, leading a band of hapennies.
Chapter Seventeen
Mr. Whiteknoll was at the front of the line, his lavender cape swirling about his ankles, small bells sewn to the hem. He gripped an upholstery needle in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. Ms. Gnarlroot carried a shovel, while Farmer Burrbridge carried a pitchfork. Even old Widow Bridgepath had shown up, her knuckles white from the grip of her wrinkled hands around the handle of a cast-iron pan. Many others were there, too, with whatever they could grab that might keep a troll at bay. More hapennies trickled in behind them. Some wore pots on their heads like helmets. Others had real armor, remnants of a time when the Wedge didn’t have a wizard to help safeguard their village. The villagers had come to protect the Wedge. They had come to protect her.
Mae took a deep breath. “I’m the smallest hapenny in the village. I don’t know if I can do this.”
“It isn’t the size of your body that matters,” Callum said, “but the size of your heart.”
Leif walked to her and folded her hand in his. “I’ll stand right beside you, no matter what.”
A large raven settled at the top of a bridge pillar. “Come, Maewyn!” he called.
Today, Remy’s calling of her name felt like a battle cry. Maybe it didn’t matter what size you were, as long as you were in it with friends, with family. She pictured the villagers’ homes nestled in the tree roots and dug into the hillsides, their loved ones counting on them for protection. Her heart swelled at the sight of the wrinkled face of Widow Bridgepath and of Leif’s dad, Mr. Burrbridge, weapons quaking with anticipation.
“It’s high time a hapenny was born a Protector!” Mr. Whiteknoll yelled.
“Hear, hear!” Mr. Burrbridge cheered.
With renewed determination, Mae stowed the wand in her pocket and fished out the raven carving Leif had made for her. She tightened her grasp on Leif’s hand and closed her other fist around the wooden carving. She pictured a great raven in her mind. His color was as deep as a moonless night, his talons as sharp as knives. The raven’s eyes were keen, able to see for miles. She felt a great wind stir as the bird beat its wings. Intense magick stirred within her, power coming from deep within.
Mae filled the bird in her mind with the memories of her mother and father and the songs and stories of the hapenny people. She filled the raven with hope and love until pinpricks of light shone through his feathers like stars in the sky. Mae let the magick flow through her and into the carving gripped in her hand. Her legs shook uncontrollably; her arms felt like heavy bags of flour, and still she poured her memories into the raven, until her legs buckled underneath her. The crowd of hapennies gasped as she collapsed against the rough surface of the pillar.
Chapter Eighteen
Someone was shaking her and calling her name. Mae blinked and looked into Leif’s face.
“Are you all right?” Aletta was close, too.
She turned to see lines of worry etched across the wizard’s forehead.
The hapenny villagers had drawn close, stomping their feet in rhythm and chanting, all ears perked forward and alert, noses twitching, weapons poised for action. Mae uncurled her fingers. Sawdust blew from her palm. The carving Leif had given her was destroyed.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Leif. Your beautiful carving.”
“Forget about it; it isn’t important,” Leif said. “It can be replaced.”
“What’s happening?” Mae asked.
Aletta pulled Mae to her feet. “Leif, take her to Callum, she needs to rest. You’ve done what you could, Mae. Now it’s up to the rest of us.”
Mae peered around Aletta. Where the pillars of the bridge used to be, four great stone ravens stood sentinel. They looked identical: wings tucked tight to their bodies, feathers that stuck out haphazardly on their chests, long, curving beaks. Each bird was facing a different direction—north, south, east, and west. On each of their chests, a medallion nestled into their feathers bearing the runes of protection. The black stone they were made of shone like a new iron skillet through the rain. Mae was awed by the ravens’ size and gleaming black eyes. Would her magick be strong enough to protect the Wedge from the horde of trolls?
Mae picked Gelbane out of the crowd on the other side of the bridge. Gelbane pointed at her and licked her lips. Thunder clapped. The lightning that followed made the trolls’ faces look even more sunken and starved. The sound of the village bell tolled in the distance.
Aletta spun from Mae and a spout of magick erupted from her wand. Still the trolls kept coming. The army of hapennies pushed forward, swallowing Mae and Leif in their numbers. Callum tugged her from the crush. “Come, Maewyn. You need to rest.”
Mae yanked her arm from the wizard’s grasp. “No! I will not leave my friends. We have to help fight!”
Callum’s shoulders sank. “I’m a kitchen witch, Mae. I’m not a great warrior.”
“And I’m the smallest hapenny in the Wedge, but I’m not going to stand by as my friends become troll chow.” Mae pushed through the crowd, leaving Callum and Leif behind. The wind drove the rain into her already sodden clothes. Her body ached with weariness and cold, but she stood shoulder to hip with Aletta and raised her wand.
There were more stone trolls than Mae could count on her fingers and toes. She peered into the mass of green and aimed for the wide-hipped Gelbane. “Troll to coal!” A blue zap of magick erupted from the tip of her wand and struck its mark. Gelbane’s legs turned to stone, and she was stuck in the middle of the path. Another troll quickly took cover behind her. Gelbane pivoted and hit the troll with her meaty fists. “You’ll not cower behind me! I could’ve kept all the hapennies to myself and instead I decided to share the lot with you ungrateful, no-good nitwits!”
The troll darted away from Gelbane’s flashing fists and stinging words. It was Taureck! She quickly seized another to hide behind, but her cover was soon hit by a stone spell cast by Aletta. His arm crumbled from his body.
“I can’t hold them anymore, Mae,” Aletta said. “There are too many, and my magick is fading.” She pulled on Mae’s sleeve, dragging her off the bridge.
“What are we to do, then?” Mae asked.
“We fight! Like warriors! Grab whatever you can find!”
A mass of trolls gathered at the edge of the river. They moved warily closer. Taureck pushed a smaller troll onto the middle of the bridge. The troll stumbled and froze, a grimace on his face and his fists curled tight. When nothing happened, he relaxed and sneered at the villagers. His shoulders straightened with confidence. He bared his claws and hissed at the hapennies.
Lightening rippled across the surface of one stone raven, and then a second. “Get off the bridge!” Mae yelled to the villagers, waving frantically for them to retreat.
“Yes! You’d better run and hide, my little sweetmeats,” Taureck cackled. “Cos’ we’re coming over for dinner!”
The trolls rushed across the bridge. The hapennies fell back. The clang of metal against metal rang in the air. The earth shook beneath her as the trolls grappled with her friends and neighbors. Mae’s magick hadn’t been enough.
The storm picked up, the wind how
ling through the trees and throwing the rain like tiny darts. The forest canopy flashed its silver underside. Mae scanned the field for Leif. He was poking a troll with the tines of a pitchfork while his father beat the troll with a shovel. Mr. Whiteknoll snapped the scissors at another attacker’s grasping claws. Blood dotted the tailor’s sleeve.
A great flash of lightning turned the sky a brilliant, hot white. Black stone turned to ebony feathers and gripping claws as the ravens unfurled their wings and took to the air. A piercing cry echoed over the field. Mae winced and covered her ears. The trolls cowered at the deafening sound. Thunder rumbled, adding to the cacophony. Sharp beaks snatched and grabbed, throwing trolls into the rushing river. Others were deposited, screaming, into the treetops.
Everywhere, hapennies clashed with trolls, but slowly Mae saw the rush of battle turning to their advantage. Suddenly, from over the hill, a strange army approached, with Callum in the lead. The wizard pointed his wand at the melee, and every broom and mop in the village entered the battle, followed by the swarm of weasels from the farm and a gang of kitchen knives darting around like murderous dragonflies. The weasels chased the trolls and nipped at their heels, while the knives poked and prodded the trolls over the bridge. Callum smiled as the broom soldiers swept the field clean.
The hapennies cheered at the backs of the fleeing invaders. The ravens settled on the four corners of the bridge and smoothed their feathers. One by one, they lifted their heads, filling the sky with their piercing call. The lightning that rippled over them before they came to life flowed over their feathers again. The sound of retreating thunder echoed over the Wedge as the raven guardians returned to their stone state. The stinging rain slowed to a drizzle. Mae felt someone reach for her hand and knew it was Leif. She interlaced her fingers with his.
“You did it, Mae,” he whispered in her ear.
“We did it together,” Mae said. “If it wasn’t for your raven, I don’t know if I could have done it.”
Mr. Whiteknoll stumbled toward them, holding out his arm. His sleeve was torn and saturated with blood. He wobbled and fell to his knees. Mae scanned the crowd of warriors. Many hapennies were injured. Too many, but at least no more would become dinner. Widow Bridgepath was busy cleaning scrapes and binding bruises. Callum was tending to the more serious cases. Mae pointed to the line of trees where villagers were carrying those who had been injured. “Leif, can you take Mr. Whiteknoll to Callum? I need to find Aletta.”
Leif draped Mr. Whiteknoll’s uninjured arm around his shoulders and pulled him to his feet. “Be careful, Mae.”
Mae nodded. “I will.” She lifted her voice above the celebrations and the drizzling rain. “Do not celebrate yet!”
The hapennies quieted. Hundreds of faces streaked with mud and weariness turned to her. Mr. Gnarlroot stepped from the crowd. “But the trolls have fled. And your spell, it was brilliant. We’ve won the day, Maewyn.”
“I know it feels like that, but…” Mae shook her head. A funny feeling was stirring in her belly. “Did anyone see a skinny troll with stringy red hair? She was wearing a faded blue corset and a necklace made of bones.”
The crowd shook their heads and talked amongst themselves.
“Not since the trolls rushed over the bridge,” Mr. Burrbridge answered.
The last time Mae had seen Taureck, Aletta had just pulled Mae back and told her to fight like a warrior. That was the last time she’d seen Aletta as well. Sweat broke out on Mae’s forehead. She strode over the bridge, her footfalls tapping against the wooden slats. The villagers replaced their helmets and gathered their weapons.
Her heart raced as she approached Gelbane, feet still planted in the middle of the path. She raised her wand at her guardian, careful to stay out of her claws’ reach. “My mother always said folks should be given a second chance.”
Gelbane’s eyes brightened. “You’ll change me foot back to flesh?”
Mae raised her eyebrows. She should want to see Gelbane suffer, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, even if she had eaten her mother. “I’ll change you, if you tell me where Taureck snuck off to.”
The trees at the edge of the forest shook their leaves; cold droplets of water fell around Mae, bouncing into mud-filled puddles.
“You looking for me, sweetmeats?”
Mae jumped. Taureck slunk out of the forest, and Mae stepped away from both of the trolls.
“That doesn’t count!” Gelbane shouted. “She came out afore I could tell on her!”
“Shut yer gob, Gelbane. She ain’t gonna be fixin’ your foots noways. She ain’t got no magicks left. Just a little magicky for a little hapenny. That’s all she gots.” Taureck licked her scaly lips. “You shoulda let me eaty her this mornin’.”
The ground rumbled under them, making Taureck flail her arms out to keep her balance. Mae bent her knees and held her place. “You want to test me, Taureck? I may be small and battle weary, but I think I’ve got at least one good spell left in me.”
Mae shifted her glance over Taureck’s shoulder. The trees were bending unnaturally.
“Who ya lookin’ fer?” Taureck sneered. “Ain’t no help comin’. Your little piggy friend took off through the woods before the battle was even over.”
“If I were you, I would take off, too.” Mae pointed to the trees.
Gelbane’s eyes grew as wide as meatballs.
Taureck shuffled closer. “Oh, no, I ain’t fallin’ for your tricksies again.”
Mae shrugged her shoulders. “Suit yourself.”
An enormous hand swung through the air, scooping up Taureck by the seat of her knickers. She dangled high above Mae, pinched between two of River Weed Starr’s fingers.
“You having a problem, issue, concern with this one, Mae?” The giant’s voice carried over the Wedge.
Mae crossed her arms. “I was trying to convince Taureck that the Wedge is no place for the likes of her. But you know how stubborn trolls can be.”
A slow smile spread across River Weed Starr’s face.
Mae held up a finger. “Um, before you toss her, I’d really love to get my flute back. It belonged to my mother and Taureck stole it from me.”
River Weed Star shook Taureck and she squealed. Mae’s flute tumbled from her corset and fell into the grass. Mae scooped it up and held it close to her chest. The giant flicked his wrist, and the villagers hurrahed as Taureck went cartwheeling through the clouds.
Crouching, River Weed Starr knit his brows. He gestured to Gelbane. “You need help, aid, assistance with that one, too?”
“I have a plan for that one.” Mae kissed the tip of the giant’s nose. “Thank you, River Weed Starr.”
The giant blushed. “Aw, corn shucks, any time, minute, moment you need me, Maewyn Bridgepost.”
River Weed Starr bowed his head to the villagers who were gathered at the edge of the bridge, necks craned back, mouths hanging open like those of baby birds. Mae waved as the giant disappeared back into the forest. Rays of sunshine filtered through the thinning clouds. Steam rolled off the wet grass. She dropped her flute in her pocket and turned on Gelbane, wand raised.
“Please, please don’t turn me into stone,” Gelbane pleaded. “Think of all the years I took care of ye. Who would’ve taken you in if it wasn’t for me?”
The tip of Mae’s wand wavered. The crowd murmured and shuffled.
Mr. Whiteknoll stepped forward. “I would have taken her in.”
“I would have cared for her, as well,” Widow Bridgepath pushed forward.
A chorus of “me, too” resonated off the bridge.
Mae cleared the lump in her throat. “I wouldn’t have needed anyone to take care of me if you hadn’t have eaten my mother. Verdantre!”
Misty green leaves flowed from the tip of Mae’s wand. She circled the troll as Gelbane’s arms lengthened and her meaty fingers grew into spindly branches. Her skin darkened and split, thickening into bark. Gelbane howled as her toes spread root-like into the soil. “You said you
would change me back! You miserable little twit! Curse you and your hapenny magick!”
Mae smiled as Gelbane’s cries were swallowed by the growth of her new branches. “I said I would change you. I didn’t say what I would change you into. I hope you find more happiness as a tree than you did as a troll.”
Leaves unfurled and reached for the sky. Bright rays broke through the clouds and struck something caught in a lower limb of the Gelbane tree. It was her orb pendant! Mae slid her wand into her pocket and reached up to pluck the orb from the branch. She polished the surface on her apron, cracking it open at the hidden latch. A dark curl tied with a blue ribbon was nestled inside, the lock of her father’s hair. Maewyn stroked the soft curl. Her throat tightened. Now she had both of her most prized possessions back. She snapped the orb back together, dropping it into her pocket.
Cheers echoed over the field. From the corner of her eye, Mae saw movement at the edge of the forest. Hooves beat against the muddy path. Mae raised her wand and braced herself for another fight. Around the bend came Reed, trotting toward her on the back of a pig.
“Aletta!” Mae squealed and ran to her friends.
“Reed!” Leif and his father yelled as they ran across the bridge. Reed dropped from Aletta’s back and ran into their embrace.
“We thought we’d lost you,” Mr. Burrbridge cried.
Words rushed out of Reed. “I saw Gelbane snatch Leif, Papa. So I followed her. She went to the river and yelled across and two trolls came out of the woods. She bared her fangs at them and I knew she was a troll, papa. I just knew. So I ran into the forest to find the Protector of the Wedge, but I didn’t know where to look. And then the storm came and I was so cold, and I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up in the wizard’s cottage this morning.”
“It’s all right, son. You did well.” Mr. Burrbridge tousled Reed’s hair. Out popped a furry little face with bright eyes. Trina’s tail flipped as she jumped from Reed’s mass of curls to Mae’s shoulder. Trina rubbed her head on Mae’s cheek.
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