Maleficent

Chapter Twelve

SITTING IN THE CENTRAL CHAMBER OF THE NEST, MALEFICENT, VERY MUCH ALIVE, LOOKED AROUND AT THE DARK FEY GATHERED TOGETHER. THE SIGHT, THOUGH NOW MORE FAMILIAR, STILL MADE HER HEART POUND ODDLY. Spending years alone with the thought that she would never meet another of her kind had made her harder, colder. But now, as she sat drinking and eating with dozens of other Dark Fey around a roaring fire, she felt some of that hardness softening.

Conall sat beside her. He, too, was silent as he listened to the voices ebb and flow around them. Maleficent couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking about as he looked around the room. What was he thinking now, as he turned and looked at her? Was he thinking that she seemed lost? Or was he thinking that perhaps here, with them, she was found? His eyes locked on hers, and then slowly he passed her a flagon. She almost laughed at the simple nature of the gesture, which was nothing like the complexity of her thoughts.

She took a sip and then moved to hand it back to him. As she did so, the tips of their wings touched. Instantly, Maleficent pulled her wings back and adjusted on her seat. The sensation of touching someone else was foreign to her. But to her surprise, Conall did not back away.

And then searing pain tore through her. She doubled over as vision after vision bombarded her mind. She could see blades flashing in the air, men slicing through dozens of Tomb Blooms in one fell swoop. She could hear the angry, hurt screams of her kind. Instantly, the softness was gone. Her eyes flashed with fury.

“I have to go,” she said.

“What is it?” Conall asked, his voice tinged with worry.

“Humans are in the Moors,” she answered. “I feel it.” She stood, ready to fly. But Conall blocked her way.

He shook his head, then nodded toward her wound. “You’re not ready,” he said.

Maleficent was not in the mood. “Move,” she snarled.

By this time, the other fey had noticed the anger that flowed from Maleficent’s skin. Without her realizing it, green magic was pooling around her feet. Conall ignored them all as he tried in vain to calm her.

“If you go now, you will die,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Let her go, Conall.” At Borra’s voice, Maleficent turned. “Nobody can control her,” he said.

Maleficent knew what Borra was doing. It was what he had done since the moment they met: he was goading her, pushing her to release the darkness. She might have fought it before, but not now. More green magic pulsed through her and into the air. “I will not ask again,” she said, turning back to Conall.

Tension hung in the air. Then, finally, he moved aside.

Maleficent didn’t hesitate. Brushing past him, she spread her wings and lifted from the ground. In moments, she was out of the Nest and flying through the night sky. Her wound ached, but it was no match for the rage that boiled within her. She had left the Moors for only a few days and already they were in danger. Humans. Conall could say all he wanted about the power of love and the ability to change. But those were only words. Actions spoke louder. And right now, the actions of the humans were making her head scream with the voices of her ancestors’ anguish.

Hearing wings behind her, she turned, half expecting to see Conall. To her surprise, it was Borra. He didn’t say anything as he flew up next to her. But she knew by the look in his eyes why he was there. He was going to help her take down the humans.

In silence, they flew the rest of the distance to the Moors. Swooping down, Maleficent and Borra landed on a large tree branch that looked over the Tomb Bloom clearing — or rather, what had been the Tomb Bloom clearing. It was now a scorched tract, stripped bare. Not a single flower remained. All that was left were boot marks in the deep mud.

Maleficent bit back a cry, her heart breaking once again. “This is where we bury our dead,” she whispered, explaining the significance to Borra. “They’ve destroyed it.”

Borra looked out at the devastation with a flash in his eyes, then turned to her. His voice was not full of the usual anger Maleficent heard when he spoke. This time, there was another emotion, something that sounded almost like pain. “This is what humans do,” he said. “They are nothing but locusts, swarming the earth. We have to stop them.” He paused and gestured to the field of nothing. “You spent years caring for a human. Now care for your own.”

Maleficent met his gaze. A part of her knew he was right. But another part of her heard Conall, speaking of hope, saying that she and Aurora had shown him another way was possible. Why did it have to be one way or the other? Why couldn’t she just find Aurora and leave the other humans alone?

Suddenly, a flock of birds burst into the air.

Maleficent sensed danger and knew the humans were still nearby. Pushing Borra into the air, she made for the open sky.

“Fire!” someone shouted.

Behind the fey, dozens of soldiers, unseen until now, lifted their crossbows. Then they fired. Iron bullets pierced the air. THWIP-THWIP-THWIP! The bullets came from above, below, and all around her. She and Borra ducked and weaved, but there were too many soldiers and there was no place to hide.

Time seemed to slow down as Maleficent struggled to stay in the air and away from the iron that would destroy her. She heard Borra screaming and the humans shouting. But something was pulling her back, slowing her down. Weakened by her still healing wound, Maleficent was falling rapidly. She wasn’t going to survive this. She knew it. She looked down at the empty field as she stretched her wings and prepared for the inevitable….

Suddenly, powerful arms wrapped around her, and a moment later, wings covered her entire body. Startled, she looked up into the warm, kind eyes of Conall. Time stopped as they hovered in the sky, cocooned together.

And then Conall’s body began to convulse as bullet after bullet slammed into him. Maleficent screamed as they fell toward the ground. Maleficent and Conall landed hard and then rolled for a few feet before coming to a stop. Beneath Maleficent, Conall didn’t move.

But the soldiers kept coming, their crossbows rearmed, ready to finish them off.

Maleficent raised a hand, and the last of her green magic poured out. Pulling the roots and branches from the ground around them, she formed a protective barrier. The soldiers fired, but the bullets bounced off her shield. With one hand on Conall’s chest, Maleficent looked out and watched as Borra let loose the rage he had kept inside.

Soldiers dropped around him one by one as he rampaged. Borra blew some back with his wings while he beat others with tree branches ripped from trunks like they were kindling. Then, with a roar so loud it made a nearly unconscious Conall shiver, Borra went after the last of the men. The ground in front of him opened, swallowing up the soldiers. The air filled with their cries.

When Borra was done, there was only silence.

The soldiers were gone. Slowly letting the branches and roots pull apart, Maleficent allowed Borra to lift Conall in his arms. Then, together, they began to carry him back to the Nest. Maleficent could do nothing but fly, her eyes trained on the warrior whose face was now ashen, his eyes closed.

The fight, fall, and magic had drained any energy Maleficent had left. But as they flew, one thing kept her wings pumping. It was a vow — a simple one, but one she was going to see through to the end. She was going to make the humans pay. Every last one of them.

On one of the castle’s guard towers, Queen Ingrith stood waiting. She was making her own vows. Vows to destroy. Vows to take power. Vows she made nearly every evening. Only now, she could finally see them through.

Hearing a commotion, she looked down and saw a line of soldiers approaching the castle. She could see, even from a distance, that the large brown sacks they were carrying were full. She allowed herself a satisfied smile.

The sound of boots on stone alerted her to the presence of Gerda and Percival, who had come ahead of the others. Turning, she waited for them to make their report. Their faces were smeared with dirt, and their clothes were a mess, but they looked pleased. “We’ve got them,” Gerda said as she approached. “Over a thousand blooms!”

“Maleficent was there, Your Majesty,” Percival added, earning himself a stern glare from Gerda. “She was in the Moors with two others. One of them sacrificed himself for her.”

“One creature saved another?” Ingrith asked.

Percival nodded.

Interesting, she thought. She had not foreseen that. She had anticipated that the Dark Fey would look after only themselves, the way Maleficent had looked after only herself when she abandoned Aurora in Ulstead. Ingrith shrugged. No matter. It wouldn’t change anything.

“Iron or no iron,” Percival went on, “they will be coming for us.”

Leaving her perch, Ingrith joined Gerda and Percival in the castle’s main gate. Once there, she slowly picked up a Tomb Bloom with her gloved hand. She ran a finger gently along the petal. “One can only hope,” she said.

“Mother?”

Hearing Phillip’s voice, Ingrith startled. The Tomb Bloom dropped to the ground. He was standing with his arms crossed, looking back and forth between her and the soldiers.

“What is all this?” he asked.

Swallowing, Ingrith took off her glove and picked up the Tomb Bloom. The pain was instant as her flesh touched the flower, but she bit back a cry and held it out to her son. “It was going to be a surprise,” she said. “Real flowers for your wedding.”

“Flowers?” Phillip repeated. “Won’t they make you ill?”

Ingrith felt small beads of sweat pooling at her hairline as she continued to hold the offending flower. “A small sacrifice for Aurora. She deserves it,” Ingrith lied. She had to make her son believe all was well. Ingrith thrust the flower into his hand and quickly put her glove back on. Immediately, she felt her heart begin to slow and the sweat subside. “Get some rest now,” she said, ushering Phillip back inside the castle. “In a few hours, it will all be over.”

As he disappeared through the doors, Ingrith looked back at the Tomb Blooms and smiled to herself sinisterly. Indeed, in a few hours it would all be over — for the faeries.