Maleficent

Chapter Eight

THE MOORS HAD NEVER SEEMED SO FAR AWAY.

AS THE WHITE HORSE BENEATH HER FINALLY PLUNGED THROUGH THE DARK AND QUIET MOORS, AURORA DESPERATELY CALLED OUT TO MALEFICENT. But she was met with no response. By the time she reached her castle and galloped over the bridge made of trees and leaves, tears were streaming down her cheeks. A full moon bathed the green castle in bright white light. At any other time, she would have marveled at the beauty, but now all she could see was the emptiness.

How could it all have gone so terribly wrong? She had not expected the dinner to be perfect. That would have been lunacy on her part. But she could never have predicted the debacle that had unfolded. Or its outcome.

“Maleficent!” Aurora screamed, jumping from her horse and racing inside. “Maleficent!” The only answer was her echo. No one was there.

A wave of panic overtook her as she walked back out onto the bridge. Her eyes scanned the surrounding moors before turning to the high crag that dominated the far border. It was Maleficent’s favorite spot. Perhaps she had gone there. “Godmother! Please,” Aurora cried; the pain was so deep. “Just come back.”

No matter how many times she called, Maleficent did not appear. Finally, exhausted — both mentally and physically — Aurora sat on the steps to the castle. She let the tears fall as Pinto appeared and curled up beside her. Taking some small comfort from the little hedgehog faerie, Aurora absently ran her fingers along the creature’s back. Hearing footsteps, she turned hopefully. But it was only Diaval.

“She’s not in the Moors,” he said as he approached. “No one has seen her.” He looked as miserable as Aurora felt.

She stood, ran to him, and threw her arms around him. In the midst of the terrible dinner, she hadn’t noticed him disappear. Now she was glad he had. She needed a friend. “Diaval,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Diaval returned the hug, his thin arms trembling. Maleficent was as important to him as she was to Aurora. “She’s nowhere to be found,” he said, pulling away after a moment. “What if she never comes back?”

“I have to find her,” Aurora said. I have to because this is all my fault, she added silently.

“You?” Diaval said. “What about me? I could be stuck as a human forever! Look at me — I’m hideous!”

His attempt at lightening the mood worked for a moment. Aurora smiled briefly. But then she shook her head. “She needs to break the curse! It’s the only way.”

Diaval frowned. “Have you considered the possibility—”

“What?” Aurora interrupted, confused.

“That it wasn’t her curse,” Diaval said softly.

Aurora shook her head. She had been there. She had seen her godmother’s green magic and watched the fury in her eyes. She knew how much Maleficent hated humans and how angry she had been. “Who else could do such a thing?” she finally asked. No, she thought when Diaval didn’t reply. He was wrong. Maleficent had cursed the king.

But that meant she could fix it. She could fix it all, if only Aurora knew where she had gone.

Maleficent was lying on something soft. She could feel it pressing against her skin, keeping her warm and comfortable. She dared not open her eyes. Not yet. She feared that if she did, she might discover the warmth was a dream.

She had only vague memories of the moments after she had been shot. She remembered falling for what felt like forever and the sensation of the water as she crashed into it. She remembered seeing the engineer on the tower and then her eyes closing as the weight of the water and her wound became too much and she was pulled along with the current until she went over a massive waterfall. Once again she had fallen, only to land in the colder water of the ocean beyond Ulstead. Caught in the current, she had begun to drift.

And then someone, or something, had pulled her from the water. She remembered being lifted into the sky and the sound of wings beating close to her ears. She could have sworn there was a shimmering blue light and then wind on her cheeks. Her eyes had flickered open a while later, and she had only the briefest glimmers of huge towering rocks and crashing waves before whoever was carrying her headed down and into what looked like a cave. Then her eyes had closed again as she gave in to the overwhelming pain.

Now she lay still, trying to make sense of what had happened. Finally, she opened her eyes. The comfortable bed she was lying on was made of moss. A high curved ceiling, made of tightly woven grasses, rose above her, giving the room a natural warmth. Hearing a whoosh behind her, Maleficent tried to sit up.

But when she did, pain shot through her. Lying back down, she gingerly placed a hand on her wound. The site was cleaned and dressed, covered in a bandage made of bark. Someone had clearly taken care of her.

But who?

Hearing voices outside the room, Maleficent shifted nervously. Wrapping her wings tightly around her, she forced herself to a sitting position. The voices were growing louder, more heated. For the first time in a long while, Maleficent was frightened.

She cautiously lowered her feet to the floor. The pain was terrible, but she wanted to be standing when the owners of the voices revealed themselves. Walking slowly across the floor, she made her way toward a circular opening in the wall. Peering through, she found herself looking into a dark, empty tunnel.

Taking a deep breath, Maleficent entered the tunnel. She could see a small shaft of light at the other end and limped toward it. As the light grew brighter, the tunnel widened, finally opening into a huge cavernous circle. Maleficent’s eyes widened as she took in the room that went up, up, up, its sides covered with branches. It was as if she were inside a giant bird’s nest.

Her eyes became wider still when she saw, standing in the middle of the nest, ten towering figures. Each figure had a large set of horns on its head and dark heavy wings hanging from its back.

Dark Fey.

Maleficent gasped. They looked just like her. But how could that be? She’d thought she was the only one of her kind. As she got closer, she saw that one of the Dark Fey was holding up the iron bullet that had pierced her stomach. His skin was dry and cracked, like a desert riverbed, and his eyes were angry as the bullet sizzled between his fingers.

“Do you hear it?” the Dark Fey, named Borra, said as the bullet continued to sizzle. He lifted it to his ear. “It’s a message from the humans. I hear it loud and clear. Time for us to die.”

Another one of the Dark Fey stepped forward. Maleficent watched as he shook his head. His skin was darker and smoother than Borra’s. He was more muscular, and his stance was that of a warrior. Where Borra’s eyes were full of anger, this fey’s eyes held sadness and an ageless wisdom. He studied the bullet closely. “Humans have been using iron against us for centuries,” he pointed out.

There were murmurs of agreement from a few of the other fey. “And we are almost extinct because of it, Conall!” Borra shouted angrily at the warrior. “They pulled iron from the earth. Made their shields and swords and drove us underground!” He once again lifted the bullet for all to see. “But this will finish us. I call for war right now!”

Maleficent stepped back into the shadows. She had clearly stumbled upon a war council of some kind. Borra’s words echoed in her mind. Almost extinct, he had said. That was why she had spent her life believing she was alone. But she wasn’t. And these fey, at least some of them, were as distrusting of humans as she was. As the room filled with voices echoing Borra’s call to war, she noticed that Conall was quiet. He waited for everyone to settle before he spoke again.

“There are too many humans,” he finally said when he had the group’s attention. “Too many kingdoms.”

“So you would wait for them to find us?” Borra retorted. “To kill us all!”

“We can’t win,” Conall said. “Not this way.”

Borra shook his head. “You’re wrong, Conall,” he said. “We have something they didn’t plan on.” Then, to Maleficent’s surprise, Borra lifted into the air and flew — straight at her. As he hovered in front of her, his eyes locked on hers. She took another step back. How long had he known she was standing there? “We have…her,” Borra went on. “She has powers none of us possess.”

“She is wounded, Borra,” Conall pointed out.

That was it. Maleficent stepped into the light. She did not need these strangers talking about her as though she were a pawn in some game she didn’t even know about. “Who are you?” she yelled, making her voice as loud as possible despite the pain it caused her.

In a flash, Borra flew closer to her, putting his face mere inches from her own. He breathed in deeply, his eyes glowing. “You reek of human,” he said with a sneer. “Maybe I’m wrong about you. Maybe Conall should have left you for dead at the bottom of the sea.”

Maleficent’s eyes shifted to the handsome warrior fey. So it had been Conall who had carried her across the sea and to this place. She couldn’t help wondering…why?

Shaking his head, Borra pulled back. “No,” he went on, his tone threatening. “It’s in there, isn’t it? It’s inside you.” Once again, he moved closer, his eyes dark and menacing.

Reflexively, Maleficent raised her hand. A thin stream of green magic pooled at her fingertips, and then, with a flick of her hand, she sent it right at Borra. It hit him square in the chest, slamming him into the far wall. Maleficent, drained from the small use of her magic, dropped to the ground, panting.

Borra smiled wickedly where he lay. Maleficent had done just what he had hoped: given a demonstration. She had shown everyone there how powerful she was, even in her current state. “You see?” he said proudly. “There is evil in her heart. And that is what will save us all.”

“She needs to heal,” Conall said, his calm voice oddly comforting to Maleficent.

Borra nodded. “You will help her, Conall,” he said. “And when she is ready, we go to war.”

His message delivered, Borra flew off. The others waited a moment before they, too, disappeared into the depths of the Nest.

Only Conall remained. He made his way to Maleficent, then stopped in front of her. He reached out a hand to help her up, but she pushed him away. His eyes lingered on her wound, which, due to her exertion, had reopened and was oozing thick black blood.

Self-conscious, Maleficent touched her bandaged wound. Perhaps she had been quick — and wrong — to push him away so forcefully. “It was you who saved me?” she asked.

Conall nodded. He turned to go and then looked back at her. “Come,” he said. “I’ll show you who we are.” He moved toward a large hole in the floor, which Maleficent hadn’t noticed during Borra’s blustering. Stepping to the edge, Conall turned his back to the hole. He looked at Maleficent, his kind eyes brightening, and then he fell back and disappeared.

Inching forward, Maleficent peered over the rim of the hole. She couldn’t see anything. It was impossible to tell if there was a floor, or rocks, or something worse below. Still, she was curious. Getting to her feet, she moved so that her toes curled around the rim. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her foot…

And fell.

Maleficent tumbled through the air. Desperately attempting to gain control of the free fall, she tried to flap her wings. But she was too weak, and they wouldn’t move. She just kept falling. And she would have continued if Conall hadn’t caught her.

“Don’t—” Maleficent started.

“Easy,” Conall replied.

The protest faded on her lips as she looked around. They were in some sort of makeshift hideout. It was dark, and a fine layer of mist covered everything. But through it, Maleficent could see dozens of Dark Fey moving through the nest-like space. Some were alone. Others were in groups. Maleficent’s jaw dropped as she observed the different types of Dark Fey.

As they moved through the Nest, Conall explained. Tundra fey were pale, their wings and hair white. Smaller than the other fey, they were close to the ground, both physically and emotionally. Then there were the colorful jungle fey, with long limbs for jumping and swinging. Their wings were bright, each pair unique and compact. As Maleficent watched, one jungle fey spread her wings and then pulled them tight to her body so they virtually disappeared. That would have been helpful at dinner, Maleficent thought wryly.

And there were more. The desert fey — like Borra — had gold-flecked skin and substantial jointed wings. And the forest fey were Maleficent’s kind. It was obvious from their massive dark wings and proportions similar to hers.

But Conall revealed that no matter the kind, they were all Dark Fey. “Same as you,” he said.

Maleficent was quiet as she watched the dozens of fey flit into and out of the Nest, ignoring her presence, because to them she was not unique. “How many are there?” she finally asked. “Of…us?”

“We are all that remain,” Conall said, landing on another level of the Nest far below the one they had come from.

“My entire life—” Maleficent began, but her emotions overcame her. She had to turn away. Composing herself, she was silent for a long while, taking it all in. Conall had been somber when he said this was all that was left of the fey. But to her, the number seemed huge.

Conall motioned to a ledge farther below them. Five young fey were standing back, nervously eyeing the edge. Their wings were spread out behind them as Udo, an older Tundra fey, instructed them. Maleficent recognized him from earlier. She watched as Udo began to nudge the group forward until they were inches from the edge. Maleficent saw the fear in the young feys’ eyes, and then, with a mighty push, Udo sent them all off, into the air. Maleficent gasped as they began to fall.

“Those young ones should be connected to nature,” Conall said, his eyes glued to the fey. “Instead, they’re banished like the rest of us. Raised in exile.”

“They belong on the Moors,” Maleficent said, nodding in agreement. “In the snow, in the deserts…”

Conall sighed. “As more human kingdoms emerged, we kept moving,” he explained, “hiding in all the corners of the earth. But we knew they would find us eventually — even when we returned to our true home.”

Maleficent watched him as he spoke. His face was full of unspoken pain, and she wondered how much he had seen and sacrificed. Her eyes drifted from the warrior to the young fey, who were now swooping and laughing as they caught the wind and flew around the Nest. Their faces were full of joy and innocence. They should never have to see what Conall — or Maleficent — had seen.

“I can protect them,” she said.

“How?” Conall asked. His tone was kind, but there was defensiveness to it. “By waging war against the humans? Even the one you raised as your own?” He paused, gauging Maleficent’s reaction. When she didn’t speak, he went on. “We’ve been watching you for several years.”

At this, Maleficent startled. “And yet you stay hidden?” she asked, confused — and suddenly angry. If she had known there were others like her…what might her life have been like?

“Because you were doing something we never thought possible,” Conall explained. “You were showing us the way forward.”

Curious about what he meant, Maleficent narrowed her eyes and waited to hear more. She had simply been trying to survive and raise Aurora to love the Moors as she did.

Conall continued. “Maybe we don’t have to hide from humans,” he told her. “Maybe we can exist without fear and war. Maybe we can find a way…together.”

Maleficent’s response was swift. “That will never happen.” The pain in her stomach was a reminder of what happened when humans and faeries tried to coexist. The memory of Aurora looking at her with distrust was another.

Conall shook his head. “It already has,” he said. “With you and Aurora.” Turning, he lifted into the air. But before he left, he looked back at her. “Welcome home, Maleficent.”

Maleficent’s thoughts whirled around her head. Home. Was that where she was now? Could she learn to trust the Nest — and the other fey? She had spent so long feeling out of place, even among the Moors. Was this where she belonged?

Summoning all her strength, she slowly flew back toward the top of the Nest. If that was true, she wondered why she still felt unhappy.