by Alane Adams
He took a trembling step backward and nearly lost his balance. His left foot sank up to his knee before he fell forward onto his hands. He turned his head, looking closely at the ground. Jasper had warned him about quicksand bogs. This one looked about four feet wide. The mud was yellowish and smooth on top.
Hugo took a healthy step to the side, moving slowly around the bog until it was between him and the hairy beast. Reaching out, he grabbed a big stick.
The viken prowled closer, eyes locked on Hugo.
“Please don’t eat me,” Hugo begged, not having to feign his terror. “I’m just a helpless boy.”
Knees shaking, he lowered himself to kneel at the edge of the quicksand, making himself an easy target. The viken fairly grinned as its jaws widened in anticipation. Hugo closed his eyes as the beast leaped, landing dead center in the bog, spraying him with yellow mud.
When he opened his eyes, the viken had sunk up to its shoulders. It pawed furiously at the surface, clawing its way to the side, howling in shock. Hugo scrambled up, using the stick to shove on its chest, pushing it back in.
The beast snarled, clamping its powerful jaws down on the flimsy limb, snapping it in half, but the weight of the quicksand held it, and the viken began to sink. First its shoulders disappeared, then its head, and last, the tip of its snout. With a loud belch of air, the bog swallowed it whole.
Hugo sank down in relief as Jasper burst out of the trees.
“I heard the howling. What is it, lad?”
“The viken—it came after me. But I tricked it into jumping into the bog,” he said, his teeth chattering with fear.
Jasper put his hand out, hauling Hugo to his feet.
“Good work, lad. But there’s no time to waste. We found the blue witch.”
Chapter 21
After a night shivering in one corner of the nest, Abigail woke up tired and hungry. She had hurled magic at the obstinate egg over and over, but no matter how hard she’d tried, her magic hadn’t made the tiniest crack in the speckled shell.
She wished Hugo was here. He would pull out his trusty journal and come up with a solution for cracking this egg open, because she certainly didn’t have one.
Feeling thirsty, Abigail climbed out of the nest and wandered over to the stream that trickled down the back wall of the aerie. She cupped her hand and drank deeply, then splashed her face, washing the grime away. Her braids had come undone and she had lost one of the ties, so she settled for tying her hair back in a ponytail.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Big Mama, the mother Omera, studying her. The two hatchlings were napping. Abigail had named the nasty one that kept nipping at her ankles Vexer, after her headmistress, and the nice one she dubbed Waxer.
She turned her face to the sun, letting the rays bathe her. She needed something to make her magic stronger. Something to amplify it. But what?
If only she had Jasper’s sea emerald, it might help.
Waxer waddled over on gangly legs and butted its head up next to her. She scratched its scaly black nose.
“Any ideas?” she asked. It looked up at her with ebony eyes and chuffed softly. She sighed. “Yeah, me neither.”
She folded her arms and leaned against the stone. She started daydreaming, imagining she was sitting under the jookberry tree, laughing with Hugo.
“Abigail.”
She smiled, keeping her eyes closed. Now she really was imagining things. It had sounded as if Hugo were calling her name. Maybe hunger was making her hallucinate.
“Abigail!”
Her eyes flew open. She hadn’t imagined that. It was Hugo’s voice—faint but definitely close by.
She ran to the ledge and looked over. She almost fainted. Climbing the cliff face was an unlikely trio led by Jasper, who was pulling himself up with wiry arms. Behind him, the little scamp Fetch hopped rock to rock. Then came Hugo.
He waved at her.
She wanted to wave back, but instead she shouted, cupping her hands so her voice would carry. “Are you crazy? What if you fall?”
But she grinned so wide her face hurt.
He had come for her. For some reason, that made her want to sing.
Big Mama wasn’t so happy to have visitors. She launched herself off the ledge and soared in a circle, then folded her wings and dive-bombed the intruders.
Abigail screamed a warning, but Hugo held up something shiny in his hand.
It was the sea emerald. The sunlight caught it just right and it sent out a blaze of green light that blinded Big Mama. The Omera reared back, flapping her wings, and spun away to make another circle.
“Hurry!” Abigail called. “Before she comes back.”
Vexer took advantage of Abigail’s distraction and nipped her on the calf. She whirled, sending out a blast of witchfire strong enough to make the hatchling yelp.
“Do that again and I’ll sizzle your tail off!”
Wisely, it went running behind the nest.
Waxer waddled up beside her, bleating encouragement. The trio of rescuers were close. Jasper’s elbow landed on the ledge. Abigail grasped his shoulders and helped him over.
Then came Fetch. The creature nimbly flipped himself up, landing on two feet.
Abigail went back for Hugo, but the boy had frozen in place, out of reach. She lifted her head and saw the reason.
Another Omera was coming straight for him. It was a different one, even larger, with brawny shoulders. Jagged teeth glinted in the sunlight. Abigail couldn’t be sure, but she had a feeling this was Big Daddy.
Its wings pounded, and it roared as it stretched its head out, jaws open, ready to devour Hugo in one snap.
“Noooo!”
Abigail planted her feet and thrust her palms forward, determined to save her friend. A steady stream of blue fire shot out. Though her magic was growing stronger, the sizzle didn’t even dent the Omera’s thick hide. The flying beast kept coming.
Jasper leaned out over the ledge. “Quick, boy, give me your hand!”
Hugo snapped out of it, scrambling higher to reach Jasper’s outstretched hand. The sailor pulled him up with one mighty heave.
They huddled on the ledge as the monstrous Omera bore down on them. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.
They were as good as dead.
And then Waxer waddled in front of them and flared its frail wings, opening its mouth to squawk at its daddy.
The big Omera’s eyes widened in shock. It tried to pull up, but it was coming too fast. It veered over their heads and crashed into the back wall, slumping to the ground with a loud oomph.
“You saved us, Waxer!” Abigail gave the baby Omera a hug.
“Don’t I get a hug?”
Hugo’s face was red and sweaty. His school uniform was in shreds. He had mud everywhere. A scratch marred his cheek, and his glasses were on crooked. He was a sorry mess, but Abigail had never been so happy to see another person in her whole life.
She flung her arms around him and squeezed him tight. “I can’t believe you came to rescue me.”
“Of course, I came. You’re my best friend.” His eyes slid away from hers. “Er, I heard what you said. To the other girls.”
“You heard that?” She groaned. “I’m sorry I was such a jerk.”
“That’s all right, as long as . . . that is . . . You didn’t mean it, did you?” He gave her a hopeful look.
She punched his arm. “Don’t be a dope, silly.”
Jasper put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re all right, lass? They haven’t harmed you?”
She shook her head. “Big Mama wants me to help hatch one of her eggs, but so far my magic hasn’t been able to even scratch it.”
“Well, we’d better think of something quick before that giant Omera wakes up,” Hugo said. “I don’t think he’ll be very forgiving.”
Big Mama thudded down on the ledge, eyeing the strangers warily as she called to her babies. Waxer left Abigail, looking sadly over its shoulder, and waddled over. The
protective Omera shooed her babies behind her.
But where was Fetch?
The unhatched Omera egg, speckled blue and the size of a small boulder, appeared at the top of the nest. Behind it, Abigail could see Fetch pushing with his scrawny arms. The egg teetered, then dropped, hitting the stone ledge. It bounced twice, rolling dangerously close to the edge.
Big Mama panicked, rushing forward, but Hugo dove and grabbed it with both hands, stopping the precious egg before it fell.
There were several sighs of relief.
The Omera nudged her egg to the center of the ledge and then settled down beside it. Her eyes were more worried than ever.
Abigail put her hands on the shell. It was still warm but . . . She placed her ear to the shell, listening.
Whompa . . .
Whompa . . .
The heartbeat was slowing down.
She looked up at the sailor. “Please, we have to do something.”
Jasper rubbed his chin. “You say your magic won’t open it?”
She shook her head. “I’ve tried throwing witchfire at it over and over.”
Jasper scowled. “That’s not your only magic, child. You need to dig deeper. Find your true magic. The magic of your father.”
“What are you talking about?” Abigail asked.
Jasper took a deep breath. “Long ago, the mighty Thor was traveling in the icy north with a companion, a giant named Aurvandil the Brave. Thor carried him in a basket on his back. One of Aurvandil’s toes stuck out and froze. Thor broke off the toe and threw it into the sky, and it became the star we call Rigel.”
Abigail’s head swirled with confusion. “What does that have to do with my magic?”
“Rigel was the name of the sailor who washed up to shore. Abigail, I believe your father is the morning star. The proof is in your witchfire. It burns the same cerulean blue as the star.”
“But how is that possible?” Hugo asked.
“With the gods, all things are possible,” Fetch pronounced, one finger in the air, then he took Abigail’s hand in his soft paw, “if you but believe.”
“I used to see your mother walking the shoreline, her eyes on the stars,” Jasper added. “I don’t know if it was her magic that did it or his, but whatever it was, Rigel descended and left you with a powerful gift.”
Big Daddy moaned and began to stir.
“Abigail, it’s now or never,” Hugo said.
“Okay, don’t rush me.” She ran her hands over the egg one more time.
“Don’t think about it,” Jasper urged. “Your father’s magic is in there. Open the door that’s blocking it.”
Abigail cleared her throat, dug the toes of her boot into the stone, and tried to think of her magic, but her mind was blank. She couldn’t even draw up a trickle of witchfire, let alone find a cure for this stubborn hatchling.
Frustration rose in her. She was going to fail, and they were all going to die here on this ledge.
Chapter 22
And then Hugo was there at her side. “Close your eyes and imagine the door that’s blocking your magic.”
“What good will that do?” she answered crossly.
“My dad taught me to do this when I have a problem I can’t solve. If I can imagine it, I can see my way past it.”
She grumbled but closed her eyes tightly. It took a moment, and then . . . there it was. A door floated into view. It was red—tall and imposing with a brass knocker.
“Got it,” she said. She reached out her hand and tried the knob. “It’s locked.”
“Now imagine a key that can open it.”
Keeping her eyes screwed shut, she pictured a key, a large silver skeleton one like Madame Vex used to lock her in her room.
A key materialized in front of her. Hugo’s trick was working! She plucked it out of the air.
“Okay, I have it.”
“Put the key in the lock.”
Abigail stuck the key into the keyhole. She twisted it to the right, but nothing happened. She tried again, twisting to the left, and the lock clicked.
“Its opening,” she said with an excited gasp.
“Then go inside,” Hugo urged.
Abigail slowly pushed the door open and blinked.
Inside, the light was so blinding she couldn’t make anything out.
“It’s too bright. I can’t see anything,” she said, panicking. “I have to go back.”
“No,” Hugo said firmly. “Go forward. I’ll be right there with you. Just imagine me next to you.”
Abigail concentrated, closing her eyes tighter, and held out her hand. Hugo’s warm hand grasped hers. When she turned her head, he was standing next to her in the bright room.
“Do you see it?” she asked.
“Yes.” He sounded awestruck. “It’s like we’re really here. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”
“Where do we go?” She squinted to see in the blinding light.
“There,” he pointed. On the far wall was just the faintest outline of another door.
He began dragging her forward, but she hesitated.
“No.” She dug her heels in. “I can’t go in there.”
“We have to, Abigail.”
“No!” She yanked her arm free. “You don’t know anything, Hugo Suppermill. You’re just a Balfin boy with no magic.”
He sighed. “Which you keep reminding me of. But I’m also your friend. Why are you so afraid?”
It took Abigail a moment before she could speak. “He’s in there,” she whispered, lowering her eyes.
“Who is?”
“My father.”
Hugo was silent a moment, then he said, “It will be okay, Abigail. I’ll be right here.”
“Promise you won’t leave my side?”
“Promise.”
He squeezed her hand, and they began walking across the floor. The light bounced off them, dancing on their skin. Abigail held her hand up, and the light shone around it.
They reached the door. There was no handle, no lock. The surface was warm to the touch. She pushed it open and stared in wonder.
“Where are we?” Hugo asked.
They were standing on the same bluff, but there was no nest, no Omeras, no Jasper or Fetch. It was the same place but a different time. Overhead, stars blazed in a spangled blanket of lights.
“I’m not sure.” Warm air trailed across her skin. She hesitated, and then she whispered, “Father . . . are you here?”
The breeze stirred, ruffling her hair.
A star in the sky burned brighter, so bright it was actually blue, pulsing with light.
Encouraged, she raised her voice. “Please, Father, I need to tap into my magic. The magic you gave me. Can you help me?”
A soft lilting melody began to play. A pang ran through her. Abigail had heard that song before, a long time ago. She hummed along. The music grew louder, as if pleased by her response.
The blue star glowed brighter and brighter until, suddenly, it shot through the night sky, heading straight for them.
They ducked as it hit the stone ledge in an explosion of light.
Abigail put a hand up to shield her eyes as Hugo squinted next to her. After a moment, the light dimmed enough for them to see the outline of a man.
He was slender and tall, with blond hair, fair skin, and broad shoulders. He wore a simple shirt, tucked into breeches, and black boots.
“Father?”
He walked toward her. His eyes were as blue as the star, shimmering with curiosity and power.
He stopped in front of her, kneeling so their faces were even.
“Hello, little one.”
“Is it . . . is it really you?”
He swept her into his arms, holding her tight. “I never thought I would hold you like this,” he said softly.
Abigail trembled as she was wrapped in his warmth. It was the strangest feeling in the world. Warm, crinkly, filling every pore with love. She had never been held like this in her life. Cuddling wa
sn’t done at the Creche.
Then a memory returned.
Her mother had held her like this once, wrapped in a warm blanket close to her chest. A tear slid down her cheek as her father filled her with a lifetime of love.
“Who are you? Where did you come from? How did you meet my mother?” She tripped over the words as the questions poured out.
“I have no memory of who I once was,” he said. “I shone down from the sky, seeing and watching but having no form. Until I saw her.”
“Who?” Hugo asked.
“Lissandra.” He said her name as if it were a caress. “She called to me every night, wishing, pleading for something of her own to love.”
“Witches don’t love anything,” Abigail said, feeling a tear in her heart as she did because it was a lie. Abigail loved a good many things. But for how long? How long before the witches stamped it out of her?
Rigel smiled at a memory. “This one did. Her wish must have been powerful because I found myself awake in a strange body, floating in the sea. I washed up on shore, and there she was. I was given one week with her before I had to return.”
He released Abigail, taking a step back, and she knew their time was at an end. He was already beginning to fade, his shape sparkling with a strange energy.
She flung her hands out, reaching for him. “Don’t go. Please, I need your help. I need you to guide me. I’m afraid.”
He took her hands in his, enveloping them in warmth as blue light swirled around him. She squinted as his eyes burned so bright they could have been a thousand suns. His skin lit up with a vibrant glow that ran from his hands to hers, up her arms, sending ripples throughout her body. Energy hummed through her, filling her veins with so much power she thought she might burst.
“Trust your heart, child. That is the only guide you need.”
Rigel released her hands, tilting his head back to look upward. Light shot out of every pore in his body, growing brighter until in a burst of radiant light, he vanished.
Abigail fainted.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying on her back on the stone ledge. Hugo and Jasper leaned over her, looking worried.
“Are you okay?” Hugo asked as Jasper helped her to her feet, steadying her as she swayed.