Maleficent

Chapter Seventeen

DIAVAL STRUGGLED AGAINST THE ROPES THAT BOUND HIS HANDS. THE THICK TWINE DUG INTO HIS FLESH, CAUSING IT TO STING AND BURN. BUT HE BARELY REGISTERED THE PAIN. He was too focused on the soldiers standing guard over him, their fingers resting on their weapons. They stared back at him, taking pleasure in what they thought was his pain.

After slipping out of the human line, Diaval had managed to evade the guards and soldiers long enough to make it to the chapel. His eyes widened in terror as he watched red dust, created from the Tomb Blooms that had once marked the faeries’ graves in the Moors, drift down over the trapped faerie folk. Every faerie it touched was instantly transformed into their “natural” form. Mushroom faeries became simple fungus. Dandelion faeries turned to flowers, while tree faeries grew stiff, their legs becoming roots that dug into the chapel floor. In horror, Diaval had even watched Flittle, the sweet and huge-hearted pixie, transformed into a flower bush as she tried to save the others. It had been traumatizing.

And then Aurora had arrived, and hope had flared.

“Aurora…” Diaval said, grabbing the girl and pulling her into a tight hug. He felt her thin arms wrap tightly around him and for a moment, they just clung to each other, as on the other side of the door, the faeries screamed out for help.

“We need to get them out,” she cried, pulling free. Frantically, she began to tug at the door.

Distracted, Diaval didn’t hear the soldiers until it was too late. Rough hands grabbed at him, pulling him back and away from Aurora.

“Unhand him!” Aurora cried.

In response, another pair of soldiers grabbed her.

Diaval thrashed and struggled. But it was no use. In a flash, the soldiers threw themselves on him. Their heavy, smelly bodies covered him as he flailed about, trying to find freedom and fresh air. The soldiers’ uniforms and the flash of metal from their weapons surrounded him.

Suddenly, a loud bellow broke through the din of the soldiers’ attack. To Diaval’s surprise, the noise was coming from him. Looking down, he saw that he no longer had the weak, long-fingered hands of a human but the massive pads of a black bear. Letting out another roar, he rose on all fours. The soldiers went flying as Diaval began to bat them away like they were nothing more than bugs.

Diaval heard more screaming behind him. And he knew why. His transformation had made it clear enough, but Aurora’s words confirmed it.

As Aurora looked up at the sky, a smile broke over her frightened face. “Maleficent,” she said.

Diaval reared back and let out another roar. Everyone was going to pay.

Turning, he shook off the last of the soldiers and then slammed into the chapel doors. The wood splintered as easily as a toothpick. The faerie folk who had escaped the transformation began to stream out of the chapel and race to safety. Diaval would make sure they were safe. She was sure of that. But it was up to Maleficent to take care of the rest.

Maleficent’s giant wings flapped powerfully as she flew closer to Ulstead. The rage that had begun as she watched Conall’s life fade had strengthened during her journey over the water. Now, as she arrived at the border to the kingdom, she was seething. Green magic burst from her in powerful shock waves, knocking down anything and anyone that fell in its path.

Getting closer, she waved her hands, opening a huge hole in the earth in front of the castle. Soldiers standing guard fell into the abyss with screams. Another wave of her fingers and a tornado dropped from the sky, sucking up still more soldiers. In vain, the men fired at her, trying to take her down. But Maleficent was too high and too fast. She easily evaded them.

As the parapets came into view, gleaming white, she laughed at the irony. The queen who called the palace her home had a heart that was dark and smoldering — the furthest thing from pure white. Her castle should be dark and smoldering as well, Maleficent thought. She allowed herself a smile. She would see to that — soon.

But first she had other work to do. Spotting Udo trapped in a kite line, she swooped over to him. The sharp talons on her wings flashed as she sliced through the line, freeing him. Then she scanned the castle for any sign of Queen Ingrith. Her eyes were wild, blazing with fury and determination. Not spotting her prey, Maleficent flew lower. She picked up and flung aside soldiers who got in her way.

All she wanted was Ingrith.

To destroy her.

But where was she?

Arriving directly above the castle, Maleficent saw plumes of red dust emanating from the chapel. The smoke lifted into the sky, where it mingled with the clouds before fading from view. Maleficent also spotted dozens of faerie folk fleeing for their lives out the doors of the chapel. She saw Knotgrass attacking Gerda, Ingrith’s head engineer. Knotgrass was pushing her away from an organ, from which the red dust blew. But Maleficent didn’t see Thistlewit or Flittle. Her eyes narrowed as she flew down for a closer look and spotted what she knew immediately were the remains of faerie folk. Were the pixies part of the remains? How many faerie lives had been lost because of Ingrith? Her rage grew.

Maleficent turned from the chapel. In the sky behind her she saw the warrior fey — what was left of them — coming toward her. She nodded. She would need their help if she was going to defeat Ingrith. She saw that now. The red dust was too powerful a weapon — even for her.

Phillip couldn’t believe it had come to this. His wedding was a massacre. His mother was waging war on all the faeries. She had cursed his father. And now he was plummeting to the ground, clinging helplessly to a kite while one of his oldest and dearest friends clung to his feet.

The men thudded on the hard ground as they landed and rolled free of the kite. Phillip was on his feet in an instant. He could see the chapel on the other side of the lawn. He had to get there — to Aurora and to the faerie folk. He ran.

But a moment later, Percival slammed into his back, knocking him to the ground once more. They rolled over the grass, pushing and shoving. Percival’s arm pulled back and he moved to hit Phillip, but the prince slipped out of the way just in time. Jumping to his feet, he put his fists out in front of him. The two men shuffled back and forth, facing each other. If Phillip hadn’t been so angry, he might have laughed. It reminded him so much of when they were boys, learning to wrestle while his father cheered them on. Then it had been for fun. Now it was for life.

“Yield!” Percival shouted, jumping forward and causing Phillip to take a quick step back.

Phillip kept moving as he shook his head. “My mother put the curse on the king so she could destroy the creatures of the Moors,” Phillip said, trying to get through to his old friend. “Your men are paying heavily for it.” As he spoke, another soldier shrieked as he fell from a Dark Fey’s grasp. Percival’s steps slowed and doubt crept into his eyes. Phillip opened his mouth to say more when suddenly there was a loud roar. Percival was knocked off his feet by a blur of wings and weathered tan skin.

All of a sudden, Phillip was staring at a Dark Fey. The first thing that flashed through his mind was Maleficent. The creature looked a lot like Aurora’s godmother. He had the same wide wings and horns, but while Maleficent’s were dark and her skin was pale and smooth, this fey had wings the color of sand and skin that was rough and worn.

It was Borra. The fey had fury in his eyes and rage in his heart. And his target was Phillip.

As Phillip watched, the fey’s eyes narrowed. With a mighty flap of his wings, he swooped toward Phillip.

But just as the Dark Fey’s hands were about to close around Phillip’s throat, there was a shot and Borra fell to the ground. He lay there for a moment, a wound in his shoulder sizzling.

Looking over, Phillip saw Percival sitting up, a crossbow in his shaking hands. Thank you, Phillip mouthed, relief flooding over him.

But the feeling was short-lived. As Phillip watched in horror, Borra pushed himself to his feet. Stalking toward Percival, who scrambled backward in an attempt to get away, the Dark Fey leaned down and grabbed the crossbow from the human. He lifted it, then threw it to the ground, smashing it to pieces. Turning his attention once more to the human, Borra snarled and reached out a hand, ready to do the same thing to Percival that he had done to the crossbow.

Phillip’s breathing was tense as he stood there, frozen. He couldn’t wrap his head around any of it. His mother’s betrayal. Her utter indifference to all the lives — human and faerie — that were ending.

His mother’s insane desire was to destroy the Moors and every creature in them. No, he thought once more. His mother no longer made sense to him. Nor was she his family any longer, he realized. Family didn’t hurt and destroy one another. Family didn’t lie and betray. Ingrith had stopped being his mother the moment she chose her vendetta over him and his father. His family was Aurora. Her happiness was his happiness. Her future was his future. And he would fight to his last breath to save both.

Percival’s screams snapped Phillip back to the moment. Slowly, Phillip lifted his sword high above his head and stepped forward. He knew what he had to do. It was what he should have done long before. Distracted, Borra didn’t notice Phillip as he walked over. He didn’t notice him until Phillip pressed the tip of his sword to the Dark Fey’s neck. Instantly, his flesh began to burn.

“Step away,” Phillip ordered.

“Do it,” Borra said, pressing his neck into the blade, impervious to the pain.

Percival looked up, surprise written all over his face. “Phillip,” he started, “we’re under attack!”

But Phillip shook his head. “This is not my fight,” he said. “The queen wanted this war and you are giving it to her.”

On the ground, Percival looked up at him, as if seeing Phillip for the first time. Phillip nodded at his friend. For too long he had been a silent witness to his mother’s cruelty. He was done letting her ruin all that he found good. Once more, he turned and addressed Borra. “I will not allow her hate to ruin my kingdom or yours. I will have no fey blood on my hands.” His words spoken, Phillip dropped the sword. It landed on the ground, bounced once, and then was still. In the fading light, the blade sparkled.

For a long, tense moment, the two men and one Dark Fey were still. Phillip kept his gaze locked on Borra as behind them a blast of magic shook the air. Finally, the fey gave the slightest of nods. He had come to kill Phillip, but now, begrudgingly, he found he could not. But that didn’t mean others couldn’t. With a flap of his mighty wings, he lifted into the air and flew toward the other Dark Fey.

Phillip sank to his knees. The breath he had been holding rushed out of him. He knelt there, his head down as he tried to regain his composure. Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. Looking up, he saw Percival standing, his hand outstretched.

“My prince,” Percival said.

Taking his hand, Phillip got to his feet. Percival didn’t need to say more. His eyes said enough. The doubt he had had was gone. In its place were faith and trust. Percival, like Phillip, now knew the truth about Ingrith. And together, they were going to stop her. Once and for all.