Marabel leaped up and howled, “Noooooo!”
Veneficus looked startled, but Mab’s eyes narrowed in anger. She nearly dropped Marco as she freed one hand and grabbed something from the bag slung over her shoulder. Marabel barely managed to dodge the bright emerald-colored blast that flew from her aunt’s hand. She scrambled to her feet, but before she could take even one more step, Veneficus and Mab had hurried out of the palace and disappeared into the darkness. The door slammed shut behind them.
“Marco!” Marabel flew down the rest of the stairs. She dodged around people who were starting to move again, barely noticing that the candle flames were shimmering once more. She flung open the outer door, only to leap backward with a gasp.
A huge, scaly face, mottled brown and gray, blocked her path and glared at her with red eyes, smoke curling lazily from its nostrils. The hideous creature grinned, showing ridiculously long teeth, and then opened its mouth wide. It was a dragon—an obviously wild dragon, not one of the tame ones from the preserve—stretched out on the drawbridge, preventing anyone from giving chase.
Marabel slammed the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. A distant cry came from outside, and she recognized her twin’s voice.
“Marco!” she screamed again, and pounded her fists on the door in frustration. “Marco!”
But there was no answer.
sudden clanging made everyone jump, but it was only the countdown clock, which had stirred to life and reached 13:13. Confetti popped out of holders in the walls and multicolored balloons dropped from the ceiling.
Marabel took off running, dodging guests and servants who blinked as though waking from a long sleep. She knocked a pile of plates off a table and hardly noticed the crash when they hit the stone floor. All she could think of was getting to Marco.
She tore up the staircase and flew down the corridor. It seemed agonizingly long until she reached a door that led outside. She yanked it open.
This time, it was not a dragon, but a giant, that faced her. Its knees were at her eye level, but she didn’t look up to see the rest of it. She stumbled back inside and frantically pushed the door shut. She ran toward another door, her breath coming in gasps.
Just before she reached it, a guard stepped in front of her. “Stop!” he commanded, hastily adding, “Your Highness.”
“Let me pass!” Marabel cried.
“It’s no use, miss,” he said. “There’s an ogre out there. There’s an Evil at every exit from the palace. I can’t let you through.”
“But you have to!” she cried, and tried to push past him. He held her firmly at arm’s length.
“Marabel!” It was Ellie. Marabel turned her head, and the guard released her. Ellie ran up and grabbed her in a tight hug. After a moment, Ellie whispered, “Be brave, Princess. Let’s go back to the banquet hall and see what we can do to help.”
Marabel perched on the edge of her chair and tried to appear calm, but she burned with worry and impatience. Why wasn’t anybody doing anything? They only had a thrennight—thirteen short days—to get her brother back. Surely her father would announce that his soldiers would fight off the Evils blocking the doors, and depart on a rescue quest.
The room buzzed with confusion as everyone tried to understand what had happened. King Matthew called out, “Please stay calm! The palace guards have the situation under control!” Marabel doubted this, but it seemed to reassure the guests, who settled back into their chairs. The king stood at his throne on the high dais. The queen was still seated. The throne in the middle, where Marco had sat, was empty and forlorn. Marabel couldn’t bear to look at it.
“Honored guests—my apologies for this disgraceful intrusion,” the king continued, his voice a tad unsteady. “Tradition dictates that we use a Ritual of Consultation to find a solution to our problem. The Book of Fate will surely tell us what must happen in this time of trouble. Magikos will not rest until we know the fate of the Chosen One.” The king clapped his hands twice and sat down on his throne.
Marabel tried to console herself with the thought that, of course, the Book would tell them what was fated to happen. It listed all important events, and what could be more important than the disappearance of the Chosen One just as he was about to come of age? Surely the priests and priestesses would find out what they were supposed to do. From the dais, her stepmother gave her a reassuring smile. Marabel returned it as well as she could, but inside, she ached to leap on a horse and take off into the night.
The thirteen priests and priestesses of Magikos, led by High Priestess Symposia, marched down the staircase. Everyone fell silent and waited.
The priests and priestesses chanted. Marabel tried not to scream with impatience. She had heard of the Ritual of Consultation, but she’d never seen one performed before. There hadn’t been a problem big enough for a Ritual since before she was born. The Book had told about other important things that happened—it had said that a great calamity would befall the royal family, for example, and Marabel and Marco’s mother had died. But since no one knew what the calamity was going to be, they hadn’t known how to try to prevent it.
Whenever calamities were prevented, the Book didn’t mention them. When Marabel was little, there had been a drought that caused the farmers’ crops to fail. Before anyone could panic, King Matthew had thrown open the doors to the royal granary and allowed everyone to take what they needed. Afterward, Marabel had overheard her father asking why the Book hadn’t mentioned the drought. High Priestess Symposia had said that His Majesty, in his wisdom, had solved the problem before it had reached the necessary severity for inclusion in the Book (she always talked like that).
Another time, a troupe of half-human, half-horse creatures who called themselves “centaurs” had gone rampaging through the countryside. The guards caught their leader and told him that he and his friends didn’t belong in Magikos. The centaurs were very apologetic, and the royal navy sailed them to their home, a distant and beautiful land called Mythikos. After their return, the sailors said they had seen more centaurs there, and some creatures that were even stranger, like mischievous half-goat people. Once the centaurs were gone, things in Magikos went back to normal. Still, Marabel and Marco often wished that the exciting strangers would return.
At the time, there had been some discontented murmurs asking why the priests hadn’t warned them about the centaurs. Symposia reminded the people that the Book couldn’t account for every thunderstorm or flood! It would be volumes and volumes long if it did. The drought was just another weather occurrence, and the centaur “invasion” was no real invasion, just a case of some travelers getting lost. The king had solved both problems before disaster struck.
Finally, a bell rang solemnly to indicate that the Ritual was beginning. At last, they would get started.
One of the priests burned a dried plant, and soon, thick, stinking smoke filled the banquet hall. The rest of the priests chanted in the Book’s ancient language. Marabel had studied Old Magikian, but she understood only some simple words, like “help” and “please.”
One priest covered Symposia’s eyes with a blindfold while another flipped the Book’s pages back and forth. The paper made a dry rustling sound, and Marabel caught the sweet vanilla scent of old books. One of the priestesses sneezed at the cloud of dust that flew out of the faded paper. The people in the banquet hall murmured and shifted their weight in anticipation. Maria, the youngest Magikian princess, whimpered sleepily as Poppy carried her out. Ellie led a drowsy Malcolm and Maisie up the stairs. As Ellie went by, she cast an encouraging smile at Marabel, who tried but failed to return it.
Marabel closed her eyes. I wish, she thought, deliberately using the forbidden term in case someone had given her a wish without telling her, I wish that we find out how to get Marco home.
Symposia tapped a page with a golden pointer, and one of the priests read the indicated passage aloud. The priests put their heads together and muttered to one another. It didn’t take them long to set
tle on an interpretation. Marabel waited impatiently for the high priestess’s translation. Symposia finally said in a low, lilting voice:
“When the Chosen One recognizes himself, he shall prevail.” She continued in her normal tone, “We have agreed that the Book declares that when Prince Marco regains his senses, he will be filled with power and knowledge. At that time, he will free himself from his captivity and vanquish Queen Mab—”
“She is not a queen!” King Matthew interrupted.
“—and then he will flee from her land and pass through the Impassable Forest and return home to Magikos, and Mab will lose her country.”
“And what are we supposed to do until that happens?” King Matthew asked.
“We will wait,” Symposia said.
“How long?”
“The Book doesn’t specify a date,” one of the priests said. “It doesn’t have schedules. It just tells you what will happen. It assures us that Prince Marco will prevail, but it won’t say when that will be.”
King Matthew twirled his scepter, his brow furrowed in thought. Marabel anxiously bit her lip. Surely he’d order the guards out, perhaps even put on his royal armor and lead his troops on a rescue mission.
But the king didn’t do either of those things. Instead, he said, “I’ll send a messenger. I’ll tell Mab, in no uncertain terms, that she is to release Marco and cease her demands. If she doesn’t, we’ll accept her declaration of war. There’s nothing in the Book that would prevent me from sending such a message, is there?”
Marabel couldn’t believe her ears. He was only going to send one lowly messenger when her brother’s life was at stake? She whirled on her father. “What? We’re not going to go after them and get him back? What if she tells that wizard to turn him into a snake before the messenger can get there? Or if Mab agrees to the war instead of letting him go? We have to get Marco now!”
“This is not for you to decide!” King Matthew barked, half rising from his throne and fixing Marabel with a furious glare. “We will do as Symposia advises!”
“But that’s just wrong.” Marabel fought to sound calm and failed. “The Book didn’t say we couldn’t help him.”
Symposia interrupted the argument. “Your Majesty, this is a complicated question. It will take some time to find out if sending a messenger is in accordance with the dictates of the Book. We will start preparations for another Ritual of Consultation right away.”
“What do you mean by ‘some time’?” Queen Maggie asked. “I do hate the thought of our dear boy being held by that awful woman.”
“We shall need only one day,” the priestess answered.
“A whole day?” Marabel cried. “We only have a thrennight until she does something awful to him! And that’s if she’s telling the truth—her wizard might be turning Marco into something right now! Why can’t we—”
Her father rose to his feet and pounded his scepter on the arm of his throne.
“Silence!” he said, and then he called, “Guard!” Lucius appeared at his side. “Take the princess to her chamber. Lock her in and bring me the key.”
Marabel felt herself flush, embarrassed that the courtiers and guests had witnessed her being punished like a little girl. But she stood her ground and defiantly returned her father’s glare.
“Dear, is this really necessary?” Queen Maggie asked. “Surely she doesn’t need to be confined.”
“She’s so foolish she’s liable to run out the front door and right into the dragon’s mouth. No, she has to be locked in.”
Marabel knew from experience that arguing would only make it worse. “It’s all right,” she told her stepmother. “I’ll go.” She’d let him think she was obeying, but she wouldn’t give up. She’d find some way to rescue her brother.
But how?
Lucius led Marabel out of the banquet hall. She felt every eye on her. I don’t care, she told herself, but Princess Ginevra’s smirk made her cringe.
They passed the playroom where Marabel and Marco had spent most of their days before they’d had to “get serious,” as their father said, and attend long, boring prince and princess lessons. The playroom door was open and Marabel caught a glimpse of their old favorite toys. Everything reminded her of Marco—the play castle that they had pretended to defend against toy dragons and ogres, the books about King Malcolm, an ancient set of wooden blocks that were chipped on their edges, the empty bowl that had once housed a talking goldfish that said nothing but “Food—food—food” until they liberated it into the moat.
Marabel’s eyes smarted with tears. The fish was buried in the stable yard, the toy castle had fallen into disrepair, and now Marco was gone, too.
Lucius handed Marabel his handkerchief as he led her past the classroom. As she wiped away her tears, Marabel glimpsed the large map of the Desolate Barrens, the land governed by Mab. The map was illustrated with drawings of Evils: huge dragons, trolls with spiky clubs resting on their shoulders, hideous witches, animals dressed as people, and both kinds of faeries—the modern type, more properly called “fairies,” who looked like human butterflies, and the sneaky faeries who looked like beautiful and friendly humans, but who beckoned travelers off the path and into their own shadowy realm. Was Marco already in that awful place?
Without warning, Lucius halted.
“What is it?” Marabel asked, frightened. “What’s the matter, Lucius?”
He looked around. “We don’t have much time,” he whispered. “Someone might come by at any moment.”
“Time for what?” Marabel tried to stay calm so she could grasp what Lucius was saying.
“I need to tell you what it is your aunt wants—why she kidnapped Marco. Your father won’t speak of it—I think he’s ashamed of how he behaved—and very few people know.”
“What is it?” Marabel didn’t know that she wanted to hear the answer, if it was something that made her father so ashamed he couldn’t talk about it.
“Your aunt Mab was a remarkable girl. She was almost as good a fencer as you are. She’s intelligent and strong-willed. She would make a good ruler, in many ways. After your father became king, she tried to advise him on several occasions, and he finally lost his temper and told her to stop telling him what to do.”
“I don’t see why that would—” Marabel started, but Lucius interrupted her.
“Let me finish, Princess, please! She, too, lost her temper. She said that she should rule Magikos, instead of him. He accused her of treason. She said, ‘You think that’s treason? You haven’t seen anything yet, brother dear!’”
“What happened?” Marabel asked.
“She tried to take Matthew’s place on the throne. So your father banished her to the Barrens. He forbade anyone to talk about it.” Lucius sighed. “He probably knows that he should have tried harder to reason with her, but you know how he is. Once he makes a decision, he can’t bear to admit he was wrong.”
“But what does this have to do with Marco?”
“Mab is going to hold him hostage until your father gives in to her demands. She—”
At that moment, a group of soldiers came down the hall. Lucius laid his finger on his lips, and they walked down the corridor in silence, with the guards so close behind them they couldn’t talk again.
When Marabel and Lucius arrived at Marabel’s chamber, Ellie was waiting. “Are you all right?” she asked Marabel anxiously.
“I’m fine, but you shouldn’t be here,” Marabel said. “Don’t you know Lucius has to lock me in?” If a closed door upset Ellie, a locked one would throw her into a panic.
But Ellie seemed strangely calm about the prospect. “My mother told me always to stay by your side. Just like she was always by your mother’s side.”
Marabel squeezed Ellie’s hand, and Ellie smiled at her.
Lucius started to speak, but just then a trumpet blast ripped through the air. “I have to go, Princess,” he said. He laid a hand on Marabel’s shoulder and looked her in the eyes. A little bit of the sore
ness around her heart lifted. He closed the door, and Marabel winced at the harsh sound of the key turning in the lock, followed by his retreating footsteps.
They were alone.
Marabel’s chamber still smelled like hot water and soapweed, and her dirty red fencing garb still lay crumpled on the floor where she had left it—was it only a few hours ago? Hot tears rose to her eyes at the sight of the wooden practice sword, lying on her bed. Even in the excitement before the banquet, Marco had remembered to return it to her.
From outside came a deafening fluttering sound, and then shouts.
“What’s happening?” Ellie cried.
They ran to the window. It was almost pitch-dark outside, but against the stars Marabel could make out the outline of a huge shape, moving swiftly. Its gigantic wings flapped noisily. “It’s the dragon!” she said. “It’s flying away!”
Then a motion from below caught Marabel’s eye. It was a giant—probably the same one who had blocked her exit—and a group of other large beings. She couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but they must be ogres and trolls, and who knew what else. They were all moving away from the palace, heading east toward the Impassable Forest, and the Wall, and the Desolate Barrens.
Mab must have sent word to her Evils to go home. This could only mean one thing: She was confident that she had gotten away. Marco was firmly in her grasp.
Marabel took a deep, shuddering breath and sat down, exhausted, on the small sofa. Ellie unclasped Marabel’s bracelet and put it away, and then quietly set the room to order, picking up the dirty fencing garb, lining up the hairbrush and comb on the table, smoothing crumpled linens. These motions almost made it seem that today had been just an ordinary day.
Then Marabel realized that Ellie had stopped tidying and was standing at the door, her ear pressed to its crack.
“What are you listening to?” Marabel asked.
Ellie flapped a hand at her to shush. Slowly, silently, she reached into the pouch at her waist and pulled something out. She extended her open hand to Marabel, showing her what lay in her palm.
Marabel and the Book of Fate Page 3