‘It isn’t true,’ I said.
‘Zaria?’ Meteor murmured. ‘What isn’t true?’
‘It says I’ve spent another half-million radia. But all I did was throw some greedy gremlins off me!’ I held up my watch so he could see.
Meteor’s arms tightened around me. ‘I’m sorry.’
It was true then. I was half a million radia poorer, with nothing to show for it, not even a biscuit from a gremlin. I hadn’t needed my Feynere powers to save my life: if I’d waited one moment longer, Meteor would have made the mob let go of me.
What good was it to be a Feynere if my special magic could be so easily lost? At this rate, just as Lily had predicted, all my radia would soon be gone. Looking for comfort, I hid my face against Meteor’s chest and focused on listening to him breathe.
I had to be more careful. More thoughtful. More like Meteor.
We were touching down, landing in a squishy field. Meteor set me on my feet gently. Plants grew thickly all around us. They resembled grass, but their stalks were puffy. And slimy.
‘Laz!’ Meteor said. ‘Why did you lead us into a swamp?’
‘A little putch won’t hurt you.’ Laz adjusted his cap.
‘This is putch? Trolls eat this?’
‘Putch is their sonnia, you fool.’
Oh, how tired I was. Exhaustion beyond exhaustion.
And a fog was rising.
Chapter Thirty-one
TROLLS ARE SAID TO HAVE A REMARKABLE SENSE OF SMELL, BUT THIS HAS NEVER BEEN VERIFIED BY A REPUTABLE SOURCE – PERHAPS BECAUSE REPUTABLE FEY FOLK AVOID TRAVELLING THROUGH TROLL COUNTRY.
TROLL FEMALES ARE ADEPT AT KEEPING THEMSELVES HIDDEN IF THEY WISH TO REMAIN UNSEEN. THEY CAN BLEND INTO THE LANDSCAPE ON TIRFEYNE AS IF THEY WERE MADE OF ROCKS AND SHRUBS. ON EARTH, THEY CAN APPEAR TO BE TREES. THEIR MAGIC IS QUITE AS POWERFUL AS THAT OF MALE TROLLS, BUT THEY ARE MORE LIKELY TO MAKE USE OF IT IN SECRET.
Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland
I WAS AWAKE and yet asleep. Or was I asleep and yet awake? I couldn’t seem to move, but I heard rumbling voices.
‘It’s her, I tell you.’
‘Can’t be. Fairies never come here.’
‘She matches the description. And you can smell the difference.’
Why couldn’t I move?
‘You may be right. The young genie smells like a normal Blue. And there is a Yellow nearby who has an odour of trouble. But the fairy’s scent …’
‘It can be no one else. We must take her to King Ozriel.’
‘What about her companions?’
‘We’ll bring the Blue.’
‘And the other?’
‘Leave him.’
My cheek rested on someone’s shoulder, a shoulder that rolled and dipped with each step. I could hear the quiet of the night, broken by footfalls; I could feel the arms that held me. Yes, I was awake, but my eyes stayed closed, however much I willed them to open.
I tried to remember where I’d been before this long walk. There had been something I had meant to do, something that would help me and many others, something of great importance. But my mind felt slippery. I couldn’t hold onto my own thoughts. Enchanted. I’m enchanted.
If I could just touch my wand! Was it still in the pocket of my gown? And wasn’t there something else I carried – something just as important? I must be mistaken. If I had carried something as important as my wand, I would remember.
Where are we going?
I woke – if it can be called waking – when the one carrying me set me on my feet. Steadying hands kept me upright as I found my balance. My eyes could finally open. At first, I saw only a haze. I kept blinking, and finally the haze cleared. What I saw jolted me. I was in a massive room. Gigantic blocks of stone, each bigger than any home in Galena, were stacked together to form walls fifty wingspans high. The stones had been fitted together so precisely no mortar was needed. The floor on which I stood shone as if polished, and soft light flooded the hall, though I couldn’t tell where it came from.
And I was by no means alone.
The walls held rows and rows of balconies, filled with creatures looking quietly down on me, creatures unlike any I’d seen before.
Beside me, someone spoke. ‘Trolls.’
I turned to my left and saw Meteor. He too was on his feet, propped by a large set of hands.
Trolls! We had studied them in school. But the descriptions we’d heard had been just as wrong as that of gremlins. First, we’d been told that trolls were bumbling and graceless. False. I knew that much already. The creatures who had carried Meteor and me had moved with an agile rhythm, never stumbling. Second, trolls were supposed to be twice the size of the tallest genie and immensely strong – able to crush rocks easily. But the trolls beside us were maybe a head taller than Meteor. Whether they could crush rocks, I didn’t know. Third, trolls were said to be covered with thick pelts and have hideous faces. But this gathering of trolls had smooth skin in tones of orange, yellow and brown. Every one of them was dressed the same – in a simple brown tunic. Their wide-set eyes were big, black, and rather beautiful. They had broad mouths, thin lips and huge noses.
Not horrible. Just terrifying.
I tried to move my wings, but they hung like useless rags. And when I tried again to remember what I’d been doing right before the trolls found me, it was as if those memories had been drowned in dark water.
Surprisingly, I was able to slide my hand into my pocket to grip my wand. Why hadn’t they taken it? They must not fear my magic in the least.
But I feared theirs.
The trolls in front of us were moving aside, clearing the area around a granite chair that was cut so smoothly it seemed to grow out of the floor. On it sat a troll whose skin had a golden gloss. His tunic was red rather than brown, with a border of bright yellow. He must be the king, for he wore a gleaming crown of carved wood.
So, trolls must also visit Earth, for on the world of Tirfeyne there was nothing from which to make a wooden crown. How frightening, to be a human unlucky enough to meet a troll.
I reached for Meteor’s hand at the same moment he reached for mine. The scent of sonnia flowers suddenly filled the air, and I realized I was famished. A troll held a stone bowl next to my nose, a bowl filled with dried sonnia.
‘Eat,’ the king invited us. ‘Refresh yourselves.’ His rich voice filled the hall.
I took a handful of petals and stuffed them in my mouth. Meteor did the same. And though I hated being watched by thousands of trolls while we ate, the sonnia was excellent.
The troll king spoke. ‘Sonnia from the times of yore.’
Puzzled, I glanced at Meteor, who bowed. I followed his lead, murmuring my thanks.
When I looked at the king, his eyes drew me in, and when I tried to look away, I could not.
His gaze was bringing back my memories! First, I recalled flying away from the gremlins. Then the trip to Earth with Laz. Laz. Where was he now? I remembered my own journey to Earth, remembered my theft of the comet dust – and why I had done it.
Aevia ray.
I let go of Meteor and thrust my hand in my pocket. The precious vial of dust was still there, along with the small bottle of aevum derk.
‘Zaria Tourmaline.’ It was the king speaking.
How did he know my name? Those who had carried me here had never spoken to me. They had talked only to each other. It’s her. She matches the description. What description? And who had given it?
‘You carry something of grave importance with you,’ the king went on.
He knew about the comet dust? I didn’t recall any search.
Were trolls able to walk through the minds of the fey? Did they know everything we knew and felt and dreamed? Maybe our minds were like scrolls to them, easy to read and easy to write on.
They had taken over my memories, taken away my ability to fly. At this moment, I could remember what I meant to do only because the king of the trolls had allowed it. Without so much as a wan
d, without a spoken spell, he could take that knowledge back again. He could make me forget everything, including my quest for aevia ray, my family, my dear friends.
No! I had to fight him.
The deep Feynere magic rose inside me, and I didn’t try to stop it. But this time, something went wrong with my powers.
Chapter Thirty-two
TROLLS ARE EXTRAVAGANTLY RICH IN MAGIC, AND VERY SECRETIVE ABOUT THEIR METHODS. NO MEMBER OF THE FEY HAS SUCCEEDED IN DISCERNING HOW TROLL MAGIC IS DONE, BUT EVIDENTLY, TROLLS CAN EASILY ADAPT THEIR SPELLS TO CLING TO OBJECTS. THEIR MAGIC ALSO HAS AN AFFINITY FOR LIQUID, MAKING IT WELL-SUITED TO ENCHANTMENTS THAT ARE DISSOLVED INTO BEVERAGES.
SOMETIMES THE EFFECTS OF TROLL MAGIC ARE FLEETING, SOMETIMES THE EFFECTS ARE LASTING, BUT ALWAYS THE EFFECTS ARE POWERFUL.
Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland
TERRIFYING SILENCE, ABSENCE of all sound. Nothing in my vision; it was as if my eyes were gone. I couldn’t sense my wings, couldn’t even tell if my heart was still beating. I stood in the midst of nothingness that went on and on.
The only thing I knew was that my power was draining away.
Stop!
But I didn’t know how.
I heard my name. It landed inside the void like a butterfly fluttering in a storm: weak and faint, stunned by forces much bigger and stronger than it could ever be.
‘Zaria.’ A little louder.
Who was calling? I knew that voice, knew it was dear to me.
Pressure on my hand, squeezing hard, hard enough to push against the nothingness. I wanted to squeeze back, but my fingers wouldn’t move.
‘Zaria!’
The pressure moved to my shoulder, then to both shoulders, fastening like clamps. Shaking me. Shaking away the void.
Life rushed back.
I could see again – see Meteor’s face, his emerald eyes. No sight had ever been more welcome.
Quivering with weakness, I heard the voice of the troll king.
‘Your powers mean nothing in the palace of the trolls,’ he said.
Why? Hadn’t I taken on troll magic before when I turned their cloak to aevum derk? But that had not been in the palace of the trolls or in the presence of this king.
At least he had released his hold on my vision.
He spoke again. ‘We will not take your comet dust from you, Zaria Tourmaline.’
Astounding.
‘You won’t?’ I blurted out.
‘We trolls do not interfere with trivial squabbles among the fey,’ he answered.
The comet dust was just a trivial squabble to him?
‘And besides,’ he continued, ‘this is no trivial battle you fight.’
I was having great trouble keeping upright, and feeling wretchedly confused.
The King of the Trolls rumbled on. ‘The outcome will determine whether fey magic will endure or sink into nothingness. As your neighbours, we take an interest in a matter so central to the world of Tirfeyne.’
As our neighbours? I wondered if the trolls had any idea of their reputation among the fey. We thought of them as dangerous monsters to be avoided – and for good reason.
‘We will give you the Nectara elixir you seek,’ the king rumbled. ‘But you must promise that if you succeed in making aevia ray, you will give it all to your king and queen.’
I gulped. He knew about aevia ray. ‘Y-you’ll give us Nectara elixir?’
‘I will give it to you, Zaria Tourmaline. Only because you are one of the Feynere.’
He knew that too.
‘Give us your promise,’ he said.
I held onto Meteor and stared at the shining floor. How could I make such a promise? A young fairy like me would never be allowed entrance to the sapphire stronghold. Did the troll king expect me to break down the gates? For I would not trust a councillor to deliver aevia ray.
If you succeed, he had said.
Aevia ray could not be made without Nectara elixir. And stealing Nectara would be impossible, I knew that now. We could never slip past the troll guards, and overpowering them was out of the question.
Without Nectara elixir, no aevia ray. Without aevia ray, Lily Morganite would keep taking over Feyland. There would be no one to stop her unless King Oberon and Queen Velleron had enough radia to fight her. They would need aevia ray to help them, not only to win such a battle but also to repair the durable spells.
‘Your promise,’ the king said again, his voice colder now.
If I wanted the Nectara, I would have to agree.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘If we succeed in making aevia ray, I will give it to the king and queen of the fey.’ Somehow, I would find a way into the sapphire stronghold.
‘YOUR PROMISE,’ the crowd shouted, and the stones beneath me shook with the vibration of their voices. The hall seemed smaller suddenly, and the trolls larger.
Fear spread across my wings. ‘I promise.’
The king raised a solemn hand. ‘We will hold you to it.’
‘WE WILL HOLD YOU TO YOUR WORD.’ From the balconies, thousands of black eyes looked down on me.
Then silence began building, and I felt an overwhelming sense of menace. Had I done something wrong?
Meteor whispered out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Offer him something.’
Of course. Meteor, the councillor’s son, knew protocol. I must offer the king a gift to show my gratitude for the Nectara elixir. Something of value.
I tried to think of the words Meteor would use. ‘Uh,’ I began. ‘Your Highness, in gratitude, I wish to present you with a gift. The comet dust I carry is the most precious thing I have. Would you accept a portion of it for the trolls?’
‘An honourable offer, Zaria Tourmaline,’ the king answered. ‘But trolls have no use for comet dust.’
‘Then,’ I quavered, ‘what might I give that you would find worthy?’
The king touched his crown. ‘A portion of the aevum derk.’
He knew about the aevum derk.
Did that explain why the trolls had brought me to their king? My mind raced and stumbled. Why would the trolls want aevum derk?
I didn’t want to give up the little I had left. It was my fall-back, my last resort, my mighty weapon against Lily Morganite.
While I agonized, I felt the menace in the hall again, as if everyone there had drawn an iron club.
‘I carry a small amount of aevum derk,’ I said. ‘I will give it to you.’
The king inclined his head as if he were doing me a favour instead of the other way around. ‘We thank you, Zaria Tourmaline.’
Digging in the pocket of my gown, I brought out the small bottle I’d taken from Sam’s room. Sam! I wished I had something else belonging to him. Even a button from a shirt he had worn would be better than nothing.
Not knowing the protocol, I tottered forward. I would have flown, but my wings would not lift me. Bowing in front of the king, I offered him the bottle.
He took it from me. Seized it. And opened it.
He opened my Feynere seal! It took him no effort. None. Then he brought the bottle to his large nose and sniffed. Triumphant glee shone in his eyes while I stood with clasped hands.
‘Zaria Tourmaline,’ the king boomed. ‘We wish you well on your journey. May you achieve your quest.’
‘Thank you.’ I strove to conceal how wretched I felt. With the aevum derk gone, every hope for defeating Lily lay in creating aevia ray.
‘You will now be escorted to the borders.’ He rose abruptly, towering over me.
But where was the Nectara elixir? I had just given the troll king the last of the aevum derk. Had this whole ritual been nothing more than a ploy to get me to give it away? What if the trolls had need of aevum derk freely given from a fairy?
If so, I had fallen straight into their trap.
The king bowed ever so slightly. ‘One wish, Zaria Tourmaline.’
This time, there was no echo from the great gathering. Instead, a gasp swept the hall and gusted over me.
Without understanding what was happening, I found myself gazing at polished wooden beads strung on the necklace the king wore. Then he laid his hand on my head, and hot light seared through me in painful bursts. I would have jumped away if there had been any strength in my wings or legs.
He withdrew his hand. Spots stabbed my eyes. Tears ran down my face as I tried to expand my useless wings, tried to see around me.
Chapter Thirty-three
EVERY LAND HAS ITS CUSTOMS. THE WISE TRAVELLER WILL LEARN AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE ABOUT THEM BEFORE ARRIVING IN AN UNKNOWN PLACE.
Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland
WHEN MY EYESIGHT returned, the king was gone. So were all the other trolls except two – those who had brought us to this place.
The troll beside me had livid orange skin, and I wondered why I hadn’t noticed his colour earlier. The one next to Meteor was pale yellow.
‘The fey must be as inane as history proclaims,’ said the yellow one. ‘The king himself bestows the one wish upon a fairy, and she behaves as if she has been harmed. He agrees to give Nectara elixir to a fairy, and she does nothing but weep.’
The orange troll took a step forward and bent to peer in my face. ‘The one wish has never before been given to one of the fey,’ he said.
‘One wish?’ I asked faintly. I wanted so badly to leave here. To fly. What had they done to my wings? Would I ever take to the skies again?
‘His Majesty gave you a wish, Zaria Tourmaline. A true wish, at a time of your choosing, certainly granted,’ the troll answered, straightening up.
He can do that? I thought about using the wish immediately, wishing to fly. I’d soar away and take Meteor with me.
‘It is a great honour,’ the troll told me coldly.
‘This wish,’ Meteor said. ‘Please tell us how it can be used?’
The orange troll spoke. ‘It must be a wish of your heart, fairy – a wish spoken aloud. It cannot be ordered by another unless you agree.’ Bending close to me again, his face was sombre. ‘One wish, and one only.’