The Wrong Side of Magic

  The needle swung to point at the pathway in front of them.

  Hudson felt a flush of heat creep into his cheeks. “Well, how am I supposed to know how the compass works? Everything is so weird here.”

  This made Charlotte snort again. “It’s your world that’s a weird shadow of mine.”

  “A shadow?” Hudson repeated, vaguely affronted.

  Charlotte set off down the pathway toward Grammaria, and Hudson kept pace beside her.

  “Our worlds have lots of similarities,” she said. “But my world came first, so yours must be the copy—the nonmagical version.”

  “How do you know your world came first?” He kept his gaze on the trees, watching for anything out of the ordinary—which was hard to do in a world where everything seemed out of the ordinary.

  “You need words to create things, and that’s what Logos is based on. Words.”

  Hudson wasn’t sure he could follow her logic, let alone refute it. How could anything be based on words?

  “My dad thinks that your world was populated by people who were banished from mine. Sort of like the prison colony in Australia. It’s natural for you people to want to copy Logos.”

  “We don’t want to copy your world,” Hudson said. “We don’t even know about it.”

  “Most of you don’t,” she agreed. “Can you imagine the people who would pour into Logos if they knew?”

  Knew about what? Hudson wondered. The trolls? The giants? The tyrant king and his evil wizards? Yeah, there’d be a real rush. “So how are we going to find the princess?”

  “We’ll need to ask one of the magical folk to help us, someone who can see through wizard spells.”

  “Okay.” Hudson shifted his backpack to make it more comfortable. “Who would know where she is?”

  Bluebirds flew across their path and disappeared into a nearby blue tree, blending in with the leaves. “The Dust Might is an expert on hidden things. He probably knows where she is.”

  “The dust mite?” Hudson repeated. “Aren’t those tiny bugs that get into your mattress and eat dead skin?”

  “In your world they’re tiny,” she said. “In Gigantica they’re really big.”

  Great. The last thing he wanted was to go talk with a huge creepy bug that lived on dead skin.

  “The problem with the Dust Might,” Charlotte went on, “is you never know whether he’ll help you. He might or he might not. He might also decide your skin is dead enough for his tastes and you look really appetizing.”

  “I don’t think we should go to Gigantica,” Hudson said. “Isn’t there someone smaller and less violent who could help us? How about the mermaids?”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Guys always want to talk to the mermaids.”

  Hudson shrugged. “It’s just a suggestion.”

  Another eye roll. “Mermaids don’t know anything except how to apply lip gloss. They’re incurable flirts.”

  Incurably flirting mermaids didn’t sound like such a bad thing, but Hudson didn’t say this. Charlotte obviously didn’t like mermaids, and besides, he was here to find the princess and get rid of the mirror, not to socialize with new species.

  Charlotte looked off into the distance, thinking. “The castle courtyard in Grammaria has magical statues that can answer questions, but King Vaygran and his wizards live in Grammaria. What if someone recognizes me?”

  Hudson gestured to her brown curls. “You’re disguised.”

  “My voice is still the same. And besides, wizards have revealing powder. It counteracts disguise paste.”

  Hudson looped his finger through his silver four-leaf-clover necklace. “I thought these protected us from wizard spells.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “Revealing powder isn’t a spell. It’s a magical substance. Our necklaces prevent wizards from turning us to stone, or into beetles, or levitating us so we can’t escape. Things like that.”

  “Wizards sound like fun guys.”

  A wind blew through the trees, and their leaves shimmered in a rainbow of colors. Pinwheel flowers along the path whirred and spun in the breeze.

  Charlotte paid no attention to them. “Sometimes the king’s wizards sprinkle revealing powder on people who come into the castle courtyard, checking for enemies or criminals.” Her gaze shot to his. “Hudson, you haven’t committed any crimes, have you?”

  He tilted his head in disbelief. “Yeah, Charlotte. Every once in a while, when the mood strikes me, I hot-wire a car and hold up a few convenience stores.”

  “I asked,” she said pointedly, “because revealing powder not only strips away any disguises you have, it also lists any crimes you’ve committed on your forehead.”

  “How does it know what crimes you’ve committed?”

  “It’s magic,” she said in a tone that indicated that the answer was obvious.

  He wanted to say, That wasn’t a stupid question where I come from. Instead he said, “I haven’t committed any crimes, so I can go to the castle courtyard alone. No one will recognize me.”

  “True,” she said, still hesitant, “but you might mess things up.” She held up a hand to ward off his protest. “Nothing personal. You’re from the Land of Banishment, which means you don’t think clearly.”

  This from Charlotte, the girl who thought you could buy happiness in a soda pop bottle. “I think clearly,” he said.

  “How many times did the compass tell you to beware of trolls?”

  Fortunately, she didn’t actually expect an answer to that question, because he didn’t want to give it.

  A rumble of footsteps sounded in the forest behind them, and Charlotte turned toward the noise. “Oh, good. Unicorns have come.”

  Hudson didn’t turn to them right away. He was afraid they would be the same unicorns he’d seen before. He didn’t want to face those ones, or find out if they remembered him.

  Charlotte waved her hand happily. “Huzzah, noble unicorns!”

  Hudson slowly turned. Two unicorns trotted toward them, manes flowing, horns glinting like crystal in the sunlight. A gray one and a tawny one, like before. Hudson shifted so he stood behind Charlotte.

  The gray unicorn gave his mane a particularly dramatic swish. “Welcome to the Forest of Possibilities, fair purple-lipped maiden. What is your quest?” Both unicorns came to a halt in front of Charlotte. Up close, the unicorns’ coats shone, glimmering silver on the gray unicorn and gold on the tawny one.

  Charlotte curtsied. “We wish to find Princess Nomira and free her.”

  The gray unicorn gave a whinny that almost sounded like laughter. “A valiant, if not foolishly hazardous quest. I can tell you’re pure in heart. We shall gladly carry you through the forest.”

  Charlotte curtsied again, making her brown curls bob up and down. “We would be so grateful for a ride to Grammaria. May I have the honor of your names?”

  “I am Cecil the Silver,” the gray unicorn said, and motioned his horn toward the tawny unicorn. “This is my brother, Nigel the Gold.”

  Definitely the same unicorns. Maybe if Hudson didn’t say anything, they wouldn’t remember him.

  The tawny unicorn addressed him. “And what is your name and quest?”

  Hudson bowed so low he nearly tipped his backpack over his shoulders. “I’m Hudson,” he mumbled. “I’m helping Charlotte.”

  Both unicorns lowered their heads, examining him. Cecil sniffed near his shirt. “Say, aren’t you that bloke we saw earlier—the one who took a swing at me?”

  “Um, sorry about that.” Hudson hurriedly added, “I’m a lot purer now.”

  The unicorns tilted their heads toward each other, conferring in quiet voices. “A person doesn’t change from impure to pure so rapidly,” Cecil said.

  “It’s possible, but not probable,” Nigel agreed.

  Hudson tried to catch their eye. “I’ve reformed. Really.”

  “Mark my word,” Cecil said, ignoring him. “If we take the boy, he’ll be nothing but trouble. Human boys are always throwin
g rocks and setting things on fire.”

  “Rude behavior will get you nowhere in life,” Nigel added. “And it especially won’t get you anywhere on a unicorn’s back.”

  Cecil glanced at Hudson out of the corner of his eye. “He’s with the girl, though. She must need him for something, or she wouldn’t have brought him.”

  Hudson cleared his throat. “I won’t throw anything. And we didn’t even bring matches.” Which, come to think of it, was probably an oversight on their part. Wouldn’t they need to make a campfire at some point?

  Nigel made one of the snorting noises horses make. “He probably came because he’s hoping for a reward from the princess. The impure only go on quests if they’ve something to gain.”

  Hudson opened his mouth to protest, to say he’d never even thought about a reward, but it wasn’t quite true. Getting rid of the troll mirror was his reward.

  “Charlotte needs my help,” he emphasized, and looked to her for support.

  “It’s true,” Charlotte put in. “He’s, um … carrying some of my things.”

  Neither unicorn paid attention to them. “We might as well carry him,” Nigel said. “Otherwise, she’ll have to wait at the edge of the forest for him. And besides, if we’re attacked by a dragon, I’ll buck him off. That way the dragon will be too busy devouring him to come after us.”

  “Hey,” Hudson said, then stopped himself from protesting more. He didn’t want to walk all the way to the edge of the forest.

  The unicorns turned back to them. Nigel swished his tawny tail. “We agree to carry the boy, as well.”

  “Thanks,” Hudson said stiffly.

  Cecil bent down on one knee so Charlotte could take hold of his silvery mane and pull herself onto his back.

  Hudson waited for Nigel to do the same. The unicorn only huffed out a breath. “I don’t kneel before the impure. You’ll have to take hold of my horn.” Nigel lowered his head so the long horn pointed at Hudson’s waist.

  “Okay.” Hudson took hold of the horn. It was as smooth as a polished stone and felt as solid. “How is this going to—” He didn’t finish. Nigel tossed his head back, flinging Hudson upward through the air. Startled, Hudson let go of the horn. He flipped over the unicorn’s neck and landed on his back, stomach down and facing the wrong way.

  The breath was knocked from Hudson’s lungs. For a moment he couldn’t do anything except groan and lie there.

  “Hmph,” Nigel said. “And to think you took a swing at me. I daresay we know who would have won that fight.”

  Hudson didn’t reply. Slowly, he pulled himself upright. Nigel didn’t wait for Hudson to get situated before he started down the path, and Hudson slid one way and then the other as he turned around.

  “Hold on tightly,” Nigel told him.

  Hudson nearly fell and grabbed onto Nigel’s mane. “I’m trying.”

  “Trying and bothersome, but I suppose I have to put up with you.”

  When Hudson was finally able to get his balance, he didn’t let go of Nigel’s mane. He wouldn’t put it past the unicorn to buck him off, even if a dragon wasn’t around.

  Charlotte and Cecil were trotting in front of them at a fast pace. Charlotte began singing, and the melody drifted back to Hudson, clear and strong. He didn’t know the tune, but it was nice. Happy. He’d never realized she had such a pretty voice.

  “Well,” Nigel said. “Aren’t you going to sing for me?”

  “I thought unicorns only liked to hear girls sing.” In fairy tales, a maiden’s song could tame a unicorn.

  “Girls usually have more pleasing voices,” Nigel said. “However, I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. Do you know any ballads?”

  Hudson didn’t usually sing in front of other people, but if it would put Nigel in a better mood, he’d give it a try. “I only know rock songs and Christmas carols.”

  Nigel neighed disapprovingly. “Rock is so uncivilized. Carols, on the other hand, have a festive ambience to them. Let’s have one of those.”

  Whatever it took to make the horse happy. Hudson took a deep breath and sang out, “You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen—”

  “We’ve met,” Nigel said.

  “Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen—”

  “They cheat at cards, you know.”

  “But do you recall the most famous reindeer of all?”

  “According to Donner, he is. And he’ll tell you so, too.”

  This was not going how Hudson had expected. Nigel’s commentary kept making him falter. Louder, Hudson sang, “Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer had a very shiny nose, and if you ever saw it, you would even say it glowed.”

  “How unfortunate. Did he see a vet? Sounds like a glowworm infection.”

  “All of the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names.”

  “Pity. Some reindeer have atrocious manners.”

  “They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games.”

  Nigel let out a bray. “Who would want to? I just told you those blokes are terrible cheaters. Knaves, every single one of them.”

  Hudson couldn’t remember the next line. The image of a bunch of reindeer sitting around a table cheating at poker was stuck in his mind. “Um…” he said.

  “Listen,” Nigel broke in. “You’ve given singing a go. Unfortunately, it’s not where your talents lie. And aren’t carols supposed to be about beautiful things? Who wants to hear about mean-spirited reindeer? If you don’t mind, I’ll listen to Charlotte for a bit.”

  Nigel galloped to catch up with his brother, then trotted beside him quietly. Hudson was only a little offended. He liked hearing Charlotte sing better, too. She matched her tune to the clomping of the unicorns’ hooves so they sounded like drumbeats. Several black-and-white-striped birds fluttered over, blending their pianolike chirps with the melody.

  The group traveled through the forest for hours this way. While Charlotte sang, she braided Cecil’s mane. She knew songs about the beauty of the mountains in Gigantica, the perils of the waves in the Sea of Life, the mysteries of the Forest of Possibilities, and how happy the people were under King Arawn’s rule. Those songs made her sad. She sang a ballad about the goodness of unicorns, and Nigel and Cecil made her repeat it a half-dozen times, singing along as she did.

  Hudson learned many things about unicorn-back riding. Most of them had to do with how uncomfortable unicorn backs were. Hours of jostling up and down made his legs ache.

  The unicorns didn’t stop trotting. Not even when night blackened the forest into shifting shadows. Hudson was glad the unicorns could see in the dark, although he sure couldn’t. More than once, Nigel went under a low-hanging branch that whipped into Hudson’s face. Nigel always called out, “Sorry, young chap,” afterward, but somehow Hudson doubted he was.

  Really, with the way fairy tales went on and on about how awesome unicorns were, you wouldn’t expect them to hold grudges.

  Finally, the trees thinned, and Hudson saw a few lights glowing in the distance. Grammaria.

  Charlotte looked at the lights longingly. “I’m home.”

  “Home, sweet home,” Hudson said, to let her know he understood.

  “No,” she said. “Home, dangerous home.”

  6

  HUDSON AND CHARLOTTE dismounted at the edge of the forest. Cecil and Nigel wouldn’t go any farther toward the city than that. Unicorns had a policy of staying away from places where people congregate. This was why unicorns were never seen in cities, stadiums, or stores on Black Friday.

  Charlotte kissed both unicorns on their noses. “We appreciate your help.”

  Hudson added, “Thanks for bringing us here.”

  Nigel eyed Hudson warily. “Take care of Charlotte. It’s the least you can do.”

  “I will,” Hudson said. “Seriously, I’m a pure-in-heart sort of guy.”

  The unicorn let out a disbelieving whinny. “Conduct yourself that way, then. Remember what I said before: Rude behavior will get you nowhere
in life.” With that, the unicorns turned and disappeared back into the tree cover.

  Charlotte and Hudson left the forest and tromped in the direction of Grammaria. They still had to cross through farmland to reach the city walls; fields of crops patchworked the land in front of them. It would be at least an hour’s walk before they reached the city gates. They headed down a trail that snaked through the fields, and the night seemed oddly quiet now that Charlotte wasn’t singing.

  A multitude of stars shone above them, and a fat, round moon slept high in the sky, full and self-satisfied. Hudson couldn’t tell what sort of plants grew in the fields. They looked dark and stalky. When the wind blew through them, they made a soft hushing sound, like they didn’t want anyone to disturb their rest.

  Charlotte walked easily, without evident soreness, which told Hudson that she was used to riding horses, or unicorns, or whatever else people rode here. Hudson’s legs ached so badly it was hard for him to walk at all. His tailbone felt like someone had kicked it.

  Charlotte glanced over her shoulder and noticed he wasn’t keeping up. “Do you need some painkiller?”

  “Yeah, that would help.”

  She pulled the metal box of candy hearts from her backpack, shook one into her palm, and handed it to him. “Here you go.”

  He stared at the little heart in disbelief. “Valentine’s candy?”

  “It’s a piece of love. That’s the best kind of painkiller there is.”

  “Love,” he repeated. She had told him to leave his first-aid kit, and she’d taken candy hearts instead. He made himself walk forward again, even though his legs protested.

  “I gave you a pink one. That’s a mother’s love. It’s some of the best.”

  He put it in his mouth, even though he didn’t believe the candy would do anything. It was sweet with an edge of tanginess, like orange juice and 7-Up mixed together. Surprisingly, the pain in his legs faded.

  Hudson took the candy out of his mouth and examined it the best he could in the dark. “I thought this was something from my world, but it’s magic, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Charlotte picked up her pace again. “Love is always magic.”

  He put the candy back in his mouth. Part of him thought he should save the rest of it until later, just in case he needed more painkiller. The heart tasted so good, though. It made him think of the times his mom had tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead.