Heart of the Moors

Chapter 28

No torch burned in the prison. No oil lamp flickered. No window showed the stars. Phillip wasn’t even sure it was night anymore. It was hard to calculate anything in complete darkness. Instead, he sat against the cold metal wall and tried to think.

His side still pained him, but it was a dull pain now, not like the burn of the wound during the ride, when his head had been covered and his hands bound. Then he’d known he was still bleeding and hadn’t been sure how much, only that he could feel the wetness in the way his shirt stuck to him. He’d been passing into and out of consciousness, mostly from shock. And then there had been the brief moment when the bag was pulled off his head in the prison and he’d seen the horror of Maleficent sprawled on the iron floor, her skin burning like she was a piece of meat thrown onto a hot pan.

A moment later, the torches were doused and he was plunged into endless night. He’d bitten at the ropes around his hands until he was free, and then crawled across the floor to Maleficent. He’d shucked off his doublet and pillowed her head on it, using a strip of the lining to bind his own wound. He’d counted to ten and twenty and one hundred, to try to calm his racing heart and focus.

Now that Maleficent was awake, he felt a little calmer. Still, they were in fresh trouble. Phillip had feared they would be killed as soon as they were taken, but something had stayed the hands of their captors. Now he suspected it was only that Lord Ortolan was waiting for Count Alain. Perhaps Lord Ortolan didn’t want to be the one to deliver the order. That way, Count Alain had no opportunity to frame him along with Phillip.

Neither he nor Maleficent had much time. Alain might be arriving any minute.

Lord Ortolan’s plan was remarkably good for being so simple. Even if Aurora suspected the story wasn’t true, there would be no way to prove it once he and Maleficent were dead.

And every moment in the iron prison weakened her further, he was sure. He’d noticed that the instant after Lord Ortolan left, as the last soldier marched out with him, she sagged forward. It must have cost her a lot to hold herself together the way she had, to behave as though nothing touched her.

“How bad is it?” he asked softly.

“I’m well enough, Prince.” Her voice sounded strained, as though she was speaking through gritted teeth. “Or I will be, just as soon as we are free.”

“You’re a bit terrifying,” he said.

“Just a bit?” There was a smile in her voice.

“When I was a child, I saw a faerie—or at least I thought I did. It was a little thing, small enough to ride on the back of a bird. And I believed that if I caught it, it would give me a wish.”

“Why should it do that?” Maleficent said irritably.

“My nurse told me stories about faeries that granted wishes,” he returned. “And I didn’t catch the faerie, of course. But no one even believed that I’d seen it. My mother told me to stop telling lies.”

Maleficent was silent.

“My nurse said that if it had really been a faerie, it would have bit me or put a spell on me.” He gave a long, heavy sigh. “And that if I ever truly saw one, I ought to kill it. So I decided I’d dreamed it.”

“If you are imagining I can wish us out of this, king’s son, you are much mistaken,” said Maleficent.

“When I saw Aurora for the first time, I thought perhaps she was one of you—one of the faeries of legend. She seemed like the answer to a wish. Like a dream. I believed I loved her instantly.”

Maleficent snorted.

“You’re right. I was infatuated. And that callow, lovelorn youth is who you see when you look at me, but I have lived at the palace for months. I have been by Aurora’s side all that while. I have seen her goodness. I have sat with her in the garden when she cannot sleep at night for fear she won’t wake.”

Maleficent made a soft sound at that.

“I do love her. And you need not believe me, but I am going to prove it to you, when I get both of us out of here and save her.”

“You are perhaps not as repulsive a suitor for Aurora as I thought you were,” Maleficent said faintly. “But I will like you better still if you can keep that vow.”

Phillip had made it impulsively and meant it absolutely, but that wasn’t the same as having a plan. And it seemed all he could think of were the things Maleficent would be able to do if only she weren’t surrounded by iron, like bending the bars or perhaps turning him into an ant the way she had turned Diaval into a dragon. Then he could walk out of the prison, get the keys, and free her.

The more he thought and thought without having a single useful idea, the more he felt like the callow youth he had denied being.

But then, after all, he did have an idea.

He would wager that just as Maleficent had entertained an idea of who he was, the guards did, too. They had heard Lord Ortolan call him a prince. So he would behave like one.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Guards! Hullo!”

“What are you doing?” Maleficent hissed.

“I’m cold and hungry,” he informed her, pitching his voice loudly enough to be heard outside the room, “and unused to hardship.”

After a few minutes of Phillip’s shouting as loudly as he could, a guard entered, bearing a torch.

For a moment, the light was so bright that it was painful to Prince Phillip’s eyes. He blinked against it, scowling. But now he could see the room. And he could see that another guard had come in after the first, this one with a set of iron keys dangling from his belt—the same iron keys he’d noticed when Lord Ortolan was giving his speech.

“What’s all this howling for?” asked the guard with the torch.

“We require water and food and blankets,” Phillip said in his best approximation of what people thought a petulant prince ought to sound like.

The guards laughed. “Oh, do you now, Your Highness? I suppose you think we’re servants at your beck and call?”

“I imagine that your master would like the full ransom from Ulstead rather than the war he will get if I go missing in the kingdom of the Moors.” The guards shared a glance. No, Phillip thought. Between that look and Lord Ortolan’s words, he could tell they knew he was never intended to go home. “You can’t expect me to believe that ridiculous story we were told about murder. No one would wish to begin their reign by inviting their neighbor to make war on them.”

“You’re probably right,” agreed one of the guards.

“And,” continued Phillip, “even a doomed man is given a last meal. Should your master really mean to put a period to my life, I can’t believe he would do so without feeding me decently.”

One of the guards shoved his torch into a holder with a sigh, relenting. “I’ll see what I can find you, Prince.”

He went out, which left only one guard—the one with the keys.

Perfect.

“What of her?” Prince Phillip said, gesturing toward Maleficent.

“The faerie?” asked the guard, peering at her through the bars as though looking at a dangerous beast.

“You can’t possibly mean to leave me in here with her.”

“Scared?” the guard asked.

“Look here,” Phillip said, beckoning him over. “She’s very ill and she’s constantly moaning with pain. It’s distressing.”

“I will suck the marrow from your bones,” Maleficent shouted, looking up at him with raw anger and showing her teeth. “Then you would know distress.”

Phillip felt a rush of pure primal fear. The guard startled, too. In that moment, Phillip shoved his hand through the gap between bars and grabbed hold of the key ring. He pulled it as hard as he could. It came away in his hand, ripping loose from the leather of the guard’s belt.

“Now see here,” the guard said. “I was trying to help!”

“I am rebuked,” Phillip admitted, putting a key into the latch and turning. Nothing happened. He tried a second key and the iron door swung open with a groan.

The guard had his sword drawn, but he seemed to barely notice Phillip racing past him to grab for a torch. The guard was too focused on Maleficent, who was rising from the ground and moving toward him, her full lips drawn into a wide and terrible smile, her inhuman eyes shining with monstrous glee.

He was still busy staring at her when Phillip clobbered him in the back of the head with the torch. The guard dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The other guard raced into the room. With a single wave of Maleficent’s hand, he went flying against the back wall of the prison. She waved again, sending the unconscious guard across the floor and through the open door to the cell.

The door shut with a ringing clang.

“Wait,” cried the guard Phillip had not knocked on the head. “You can’t just leave us here.”

“No?” Maleficent asked, her hand going to the stone wall as she swayed slightly. She was obviously not at her full strength, although she spoke with the confidence of someone who was. “I think you’ll find that we’re delighted by the prospect. A shame you didn’t better provision us. Had you brought us a single luxury, it would now be yours.”

And with that, she swept out of the room, leaving Phillip to follow her.

“That was well done,” she told him in the hall.

“I am not sure it counts as a plan if my only thought was to keep talking until they made a mistake,” he said, surprised by the praise.

“We’re free,” she said, “so it must.”

Unfortunately, other than the set of keys and the torch, they had gotten hold of nothing that might be considered a weapon. Nor did Phillip have any idea where they were. Somewhere on Count Alain’s lands, he guessed. That would account for a quantity of iron so great that a prison could be made of it.

He didn’t like to think of how long the prison had been there or who had been kept in it before they had.

The hall had several doors identical to the one they’d come from and a central area where a few chairs surrounded a table with dice scattered across it. Phillip used the set of keys to unlock two more doors, finding the cells empty. But opening a third revealed a boy, who leaped to his feet as they entered.

“P-Prince Phillip?” the boy asked.

He sounded frightened. Phillip supposed he might well be afraid. What reason did he have to think that Prince Phillip wasn’t in league with Count Alain? “Yes, and I mean you no harm. I’m going to let you out.”

“Oh, thank you, my lord,” the boy said gratefully. Then he noticed Maleficent. She had remained in the hall, probably wanting to stay as far from the iron as possible, but her horned shadow loomed large in the room. He blanched.

Phillip opened the door to the cell. “Who are you and how did you come to be here?”

“My name is Simon, my lord,” the boy said, emerging into the room. “I was a groom in the palace. I looked after your horse before, and I must say she’s quite a goer.”

Phillip smiled, a little amused. But he recognized the boy’s name, and he could see that Maleficent did, too. He was the one whose family thought that he’d been taken by the faeries.

Simon went on, following Phillip into the hall. “I was in the stables and I overheard a conversation between Lord Ortolan and Count Alain. It was about the queen and it wasn’t very nice. I thought I’d kept mum and they hadn’t noticed me there, but a day later, when I was headed for home, soldiers surrounded me, and the next thing I knew, I was here.”

“We’ll get you out of this,” Phillip promised.

Maleficent knelt down in front of the boy. He looked panicky, and his fear only increased when she brought a fingernail beneath his chin. “Yes, child, we will help you, but not as you are. It’s too dangerous.”

“What do you—” the boy began.

“You can’t—” Phillip started, realizing the only meaning her words could have.

“Into a rodent.” Another wave of her hand and before them was a little mouse. He squeaked and made to run, but she lifted him by his tail.

“Here,” she said to Phillip. “Put him in your pocket. He probably likes you better anyway.”

Phillip stared at her in horror, but he took the mouse and cupped his hands around him. He could feel the trembling of the little body and the racing of the tiny heart. “Why did you do that?”

“I’m helping,” she said with a pout. “He’s in less danger as a mouse. And we’re in less danger without having to worry he will do something foolish.”

With a sigh, Phillip lifted his cupped hands to eye level. “Don’t worry, Simon. She’ll change you back as soon as we’re out of the prison. I promise. And until then, you can sit on my shoulder.”

Maleficent was already walking up a rough-cut stone staircase, taking a torch from the wall to light her way. Phillip followed, trying to ignore the feeling of tiny claws digging into his skin, even through the fabric of his shirt. “That’s right,” he murmured. “Hold on tight.”

They stepped onto a landing of hewed stone, and Phillip realized where they must be. They were not just on Count Alain’s land. This was one of his iron mines. No wonder Maleficent had been suffering.

There were carts piled with ore, waiting to be unloaded. And there was the wide opening of a man-made cave, leading out to a forest at night. Stars dotted the sky, and the scent of fresh air filled Phillip’s lungs.

There was a guardhouse near that opening. From it, three soldiers emerged, along with Lord Ortolan.

Phillip cursed softly. Maleficent threw down her torch, obscuring them from view.

“Who’s there?” the advisor called in a voice wavering with alarm.

The guards advanced toward the fallen light. They were armored, whereas the jailers below had not been. Phillip thought he recognized one of them as the soldier who’d stabbed him in the side. As they got closer, all drew iron blades.

“Stay hidden,” Maleficent whispered to him. “Get out once the fighting begins. Steal a horse and find Aurora.”

“What about you?”

“With any luck I will best them and beat you there,” she whispered, her eyes lit with wild torchlight. “I travel faster than you ever shall.”

Phillip wasn’t bad with a blade, but he did the sort of fencing that distinguished a nobleman. He was used to a saber, not a heavy broadsword like the ones the guards were carrying.

And he had neither weapon.

Maleficent’s mouth turned up into a smile and she walked forward, leaving Phillip hesitating. Should he follow her instructions? He slid toward the far wall of the mine and the shadows there.

No one was looking at him. They were staring at Maleficent as she walked into the torchlight and lifted her hands. A great wind whooshed from her fingertips, knocking the guards over and sending even Lord Ortolan to his knees. Even with all the iron around her, her magic was still something to behold.

With two powerful beats of her wings, Maleficent landed in front of Lord Ortolan, catching him by the throat.

She lifted her other hand, glowing with sparking green magic.

The other guards were getting slowly to their feet again, but they didn’t dare approach—not when she had Lord Ortolan in such a vulnerable position. If they went for her, she could snap his neck.

And with another blast of her magic, it was settled. Their helmets clanked together, and this time when they went sprawling on the floor, they stayed there.

“Where is Prince Phillip?” Lord Ortolan demanded. “Phillip! If you can hear me, I know it wasn’t sporting to lock you up, but that’s all I ever intended. I said the rest to frighten you.”

“A rather unlikely tale,” Maleficent said. “But it hardly matters. As you can see, Phillip isn’t here.”

“I am an old man—a loyal advisor to Aurora’s father and her grandfather before him. Aurora wouldn’t like to see me harmed.”

“Aurora isn’t here, either,” said Maleficent. “It’s only you and I and your lackeys. But I don’t think they will save you.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Lord Ortolan sputtered, but the panic in his face was telling. And Phillip wasn’t sure what to think. He wasn’t certain what Maleficent might do right then.

She gave an extravagant shrug. “No point in debating when the answer is so close to hand. Let’s find out.”

“She means to murder me!” Lord Ortolan shouted. “Phillip, please. I am human, like you! Save me from this monster!”

“Prince Phillip is gone, dear Lord Ortolan,” Maleficent said, fixing the advisor with her startling emerald eyes. “I sent him away for just this reason.”

Phillip realized that though they had been on the same side back in the prison, he wasn’t sure they still were. He couldn’t stand there and allow her to kill a person—or several persons—when it was within her power to take them prisoner.

But he wasn’t at all sure he could stop her, either.

“Maleficent.” A voice rang out near the entrance. There was a man with a skunk stripe of white in his hair and a blade on his hip. It seemed that Count Alain had finally returned.