by K. M. Shea
Angelique shrugged it off, then copied the soothing gestures Elle, Quinn, and Gabrielle had used on her and laid a hand on Snow White’s shoulder. “We’ll figure out something, Your Highness.”
Snow White again miserably nodded her head. When she finally lifted her eyes, it was only to look at the fire.
Angelique pressed her lips together and forced herself to keep her mouth shut, even though she wanted to reassure the princess further.
I’ll contact Severin. He’ll know what to do.
Angelique intended to slip out of the cottage that night to speak to Severin. Unfortunately, Fritz the Forester had the senses of a wolf, and if she shifted a foot, he woke up.
She was trying to decide what to do about it when, surprisingly, Fritz came downstairs and engaged Snow White in a cozy heart-to-heart by the fireplace late in the night.
He’s Snow White’s best chance at changing the minds of the Seven Warriors. But if I move an eyeball, he’s going to clam up. I guess that means I’m stuck here? Ahhh, well. I’ll just get up early and go outside to talk to Severin then. I’ll tell everyone I need to…commune with herb plants or something.
Her mind made up, Angelique let herself relax into the warm embrace of her bedroll. She fell in and out of sleep as the pair talked, her hands occasionally tightening on the dagger she’d started sleeping with whenever she was apart from Pegasus.
Sleeping with the constellation was the only time Angelique ever really felt safe, and the knife was a poor substitute for his warmth and the way the heavenly equine curled around her like a large dog.
Shattering glass broke Angelique from her pleasant recollection.
“A breach!” Fritz shouted.
Chapter 20
More glass shattered as Angelique’s eyes shot open.
“Magic breach!” Fritz boomed.
That got Angelique up. “What now?” She owlishly peered into the dark, stiffening when she saw the shadowy hands pushing through the broken windows and clawing at the plaster on the walls.
Ah. Yes. That’s certainly magic.
Angelique ripped her satchel open and started digging through it as Gregori—the warrior built like an ox—seamlessly switched from sleeping to alert as he slid off his uncomfortable bed of the table bench and made it to the weapons rack in one smooth movement.
Angelique almost grabbed one of the swords she had stashed in her satchel before she remembered herself with her hand half shoved in her bag.
No, I’m not revealing my magic to this lot. They think I’m the apprentice to an herb wizard. Herb wizards aren’t known for carrying around swords!
Angelique flicked the satchel shut again and glanced at her nighttime comfort dagger. This will have to do for now—until I figure out just how bad the situation is.
Snow White yelped and—showing she had more spine than it might appear—snatched up a fire poker. “One got in!”
Angelique followed her gaze and swung around just in time to see one of the attacking creatures drag itself through a shattered window and into the cottage.
It was sort of humanoid in the way that Rothbart’s wyverns were sort of like dragons.
With a sickly skinny torso and long, rigid limbs that looked like they’d been made with jagged bones, the creatures were almost a mockery of humankind. The creature’s egg-shaped head—hairless at the top with a smile made of serrated teeth and eyes that were perfect circles of white light—made Angelique shiver with disgust and a shade of fear.
The white light in its eyeballs wasn’t nice or warm—but the sterile white of a fire that would never stop hungering for more.
What is this thing? I’ve never seen anything like it!
Before she could react, Fritz threw his sword, stabbing through the creature’s chest. Its body changed from solid to smoke before it faded away—its eyes disappearing last.
Angelique narrowed her eyes as she felt the faintest trace of magic. What are these things?
Fritz grabbed a sword off one of the many weapon racks and thrust his sword through a shattered window—presumedly running another creature through if the hissing and sputtering gurgles were anything to go by.
The ox warrior, Gregori, yanked a crossbow off the wall and loaded it with a bolt. He casually shot at one of the magic monsters that was half through the window, turning it into smoke. “I’ve never seen anything like these…creatures before.”
As the warriors cut more of the monsters down, Angelique felt the continued trickle of magic.
They’re not living creatures under a black mage’s control—they wouldn’t fade in this way. That means they’re a construct or created by spells—though I’ve never seen a spell that could make something like this.
Angelique tried to track the magic, but it was too fast and foreign for her to make any sense of it. “They’re not creatures. They’re magic constructs. That’s why they fade when the magic is interrupted.”
Oswald skipped the stairs and leapt over the loft railing, landing in a crouch. Rupert also made the jump, though he rolled when he landed, bringing him closer to Angelique and Snow White.
“Gregori,” Oswald hollered. “Saber!”
Gregori ripped a saber from the wall and flung it at Oswald.
Oswald snatched it from the air and lunged at the closest window, making quick work of the construct climbing through.
Marzell didn’t copy his brash companions’ actions—he rushed down the staircase, his hair and clothes sloppy. “What’s going on?”
“Unknown number of these constructs,” Fritz started, using the least amount of words possible. He pointed to a construct that pushed its head through a window before Gregori shot it, turning it into smoke that dissolved in the shadow of night. “Attacking the cottage,” Fritz finished.
Marzell grabbed his weapon of choice—a long, tasseled whip. “Plug up some of the windows.”
“Oh, sure. We’ll get right on that!” Oswald glared at his friend as he ran for a different window, pouncing on a construct that had half-dragged itself into the cottage.
Aldelbert marched down the stairs, his clothes as fresh as the brilliant smile settled on his lips. “These monsters are that excited to see my handsome face, are they?”
A construct tried to grab him, but he dodged it with a hearty laugh and picked up a rough, wooden shield. He placed it over one of the broken window panes—casually smashing and destroying a construct that had started to poke its head through—and peered back over his shoulder. “Might anyone fetch me some nails? Oh—and a hammer!”
Angelique only half listened—she was trying to weigh out just how dire the situation was.
I’m not quite sure how we can get these constructs to retreat. The easiest way to defeat constructs is to knock their creator out, but I’m not feeling any magical force outside the cottage, and powering constructs would be impossible to miss. That means our only option is to end them all.
She stabbed a construct that made it through the window, the blade of her dagger digging deep into the creature’s flesh. She shivered when the construct dissolved into smoke and evaporated.
Whatever this is…it must be among the darkest of black magic. Carabosso and the other black mages I’ve met have dark magic that feels wrong, but this…this is a totally different level.
Sequestered in the rafters where he had an excellent vantage point, Wendal threw a handful of daggers at a construct that was chasing Snow White, hitting it with deadly accuracy so it turned into a curl of smoke before it could harm the princess.
“I’m still waiting for that hammer and nails,” Aldelbert said, sounding slightly put-out.
Oswald snarled as he stabbed another construct trying to get through the window. “Wait until you die of old age. They aren’t coming!”
“Fine.” Aldelbert sighed in great disappointment. Impressively, he held the shield pressed against the wall with a foot, balanced on one leg, and swiped four hand axes from a nearby weapons rack.
Still balancing on one leg
, Aldelbert threw the axes with enough force that they bit through the wooden shield and dug into the plaster walls of the cottage, “nailing” the shield to the wall.
Marzell cracked his whip, tearing it through a construct. “That is remarkably effective.”
“It won’t matter if these monsters’ numbers don’t start thinning.” Gregori stepped back to avoid the grasping arm of a construct, then shot the magic-made creature in the chest. He casually grabbed the crossbow bolt before it could fall after the construct faded into smoke, then reloaded it and shot at one of the constructs crowding the windows.
It seems the warriors work together remarkably well, Angelique noted as Fritz and Rupert exchanged places so Fritz stood with Snow White and Rupert advanced on the windows.
Which is good, given that these constructs continue to attack without us seemingly making a dent in their numbers. I don’t want to use my core magic, but will I need to? Unless, should I call for Pegasus instead? He must have returned to the sky, or he would have been here by now.
Angelique eyed the door and wondered how far she could let the fight go before needing to take drastic measures. “If these constructs really have that great of numbers, perhaps we ought to reinforce the door. It is broken, after all.”
“And whose fault is that?” Oswald snapped.
“She’s right,” Marzell said. “Fritz—reinforce the door.”
Fritz picked up a table bench—with one hand—but he was a moment too late.
The door frame shivered and buckled, then the door itself snapped off its hinges and fell inside with a teeth-jarring thump.
“Now that is going to be a pain to fix,” Angelique said.
Fritz flung the bench through the open door, cutting through the three constructs clawing their way inside.
Unfortunately, more constructs stepped in to take their place. They stormed the cottage, surging inside with chilling agility.
Together, Fritz and Rupert sliced through them. There was a clear difference between the warriors’ fighting styles: Rupert was methodical and used traditional stances while Fritz moved in a never-ceasing flow, lunging forward in an upper-cut, then dodging to the side and stabbing a construct from behind.
Marzell (striking a construct with every snap of his whip) and Gregori (shooting bolt after bolt) tried to stem the rush of constructs, but there were too many.
Oswald hurriedly shoved a giant copper pot into the broken window he’d been guarding before he ran to help Rupert and Fritz.
A construct got past the wall the warriors made and lunged at Snow White—its mouth growing freakishly large.
Snow White—armed with her fire poker—tried to stab it, but it avoided the fire poker and pounced.
“No!” Snow White jumped backwards, stepping to the side of the fireplace.
The construct recoiled, and Angelique stabbed it in the back before it could make another move. Angelique glanced from it to the other constructs, which were all fighting to get past the warriors. “They’re here for Snow White!”
Rupert scoffed. “We noticed.”
“But why?” Snow White asked—her voice barely shaking even though she’d nearly been cornered.
She is a tough little thing, even if she doesn’t think so.
“A question best pursued when we don’t fear you being kidnapped by magical constructs,” Rupert said.
Aldelbert picked up a spear. “They shouldn’t have come. But that’s all right. They will learn to fear the house of Chita!” He dashed at the incoming flow of constructs, ran past them, and disappeared through the broken door.
Marzell shouted. “Aldelbert!”
“There is quite an impressive number out here!” Aldelbert’s shout came back slightly muffled but still just as casual and upbeat as ever. “Back, you fiends!”
Marzell swiveled so he faced the warrior that was built like an ox. “Gregori.”
“Uh-huh.”
Without any additional instructions, Gregori grabbed the other table bench and jogged outside, holding the bench horizontally in front of him so he could ram through the constructs as he disappeared into the night. “Aldelbert,” he called. “Get back here.”
“The House of Chita never retreats!”
“I’ll burn your best cloak,” Gregori rumbled. Assumedly, he was keeping up with the constructs based on the casual tone of his voice.
“Vile!” Aldelbert said. “Unsportsmanlike!”
Fritz whirled his sword around in smooth arcs that Angelique was the tiniest bit jealous of. “Numbers,” he prompted.
“Ahh, yes. Gregori—how does it look out there?” Marzell called.
“Not good. I don’t see an end to them.”
Aldelbert heartily laughed. “We are, in fact, ‘pinned,’ as Fritz would say, to the side of our cottage!”
Oswald laughed like a madman as he jumped into a cluster of the constructs. “As if they’re anything to fear. They’re just constructs!”
What an idiot.
“Just because they’re made of magic doesn’t mean they can’t hurt you,” Angelique snarled.
“Huh?” In Oswald’s moment of inattention, a construct raked the claws of its long-fingered hand across his arm.
The construct’s claws ripped through his shirt and left gashes on his bicep, but Oswald only hissed.
Angelique stabbed a construct in the throat, turning it into smoke. “Like so.”
“We need to get Aldelbert and Gregori back inside,” Wendal jumped to a different rafter in the cottage roof and threw a dagger from his seemingly endless supply. “They’ll be squashed out there.
“We need to stop these constructs,” Marzell said. “Or we’ll get overrun soon.”
Angelique glanced worriedly from Snow White to the hordes of constructs rushing into the cottage. The warriors were barely able to hold them back as the constructs mindlessly lunged in the princess’s direction, reaching for her with grasping hands.
Why would a black mage go after Snow White? I assumed her stepmother’s near violent attack was a fit of rage, but was the black mage trying to target Snow White all along? But if that was so, why not place the spell directly on her?
Deciding she’d ponder the matter at a more convenient time, Angelique stabbed a construct. “Any ideas?”
Oswald beheaded two constructs, wincing a little when the movement stretched the muscles of his arm. “Don’t fall down.”
“Perhaps Wendal should fix the windows, and we barricade ourselves inside?” Rupert stabbed a construct, but another grabbed his wrist and dug its claws into his skin.
He scuffled with it, but Marzell saved him with the snap of a whip.
Angelique swung around, stabbing another construct, cursing under her breath as a rush of the creatures got through the warriors’ barrier.
One construct almost made it to Snow White, but the princess dodged it, and it nearly flung itself into the fire with an angry hiss before Fritz stabbed it through, and Wendel—from his ceiling perch—cut down the others with a few daggers.
This is getting too close for comfort. I don’t want to reveal my identity, but I don’t want anyone to get seriously hurt.
She stretched her magic senses—trying to get a sense of the number they faced—and cringed when she felt the veritable sea of constructs that crowded around the exterior of the cottage.
Angelique winced when another construct squeezed between Fritz and Rupert. She sliced through it with her dagger. Yes, it seems that I don’t have a choice.
She glanced at the still-full weapon racks on the far side of the cottage. “If you stand back—” Angelique paused when she noticed Snow White was digging through the pile of wood stacked next to the fireplace. “What are you doing?”
“I want to test something.” Snow White ripped the seam of her linen underskirt and tore a long strip of it. She tied it around one end of the stick she’d chosen, then thrust it into the flames. As soon as the fabric caught on fire, she scrambled up to the defensiv
e line the warriors had formed.
“Snow White, get back!” Marzell shouted.
Snow White—once again showing her toughness—ignored him. “Fritz, I need an opening!”
The tall forester swung his sword in a smooth diagonal strike that killed two constructs at once. (If she could figure out how to discuss sword techniques without giving up her front, Angelique was going to question Fritz as soon as possible.) Fritz’s attack opened up a space in front of him.
Snow White poked her head into the hole between Fritz and Rupert, then shoved her burning stick out in front of her.
To Angelique’s surprise, the constructs stopped and actually took a few staggering steps backwards, clawing at their eyes and gnashing their serrated teeth.
“I’ve got it!” Snow White shouted. “They’re weak to fire—or light. I can’t tell which.”
Heavens bless Snow White! She may have just turned the tide enough in our favor that my magic will be unnecessary.
Angelique admired the proof as the constructs writhed in the light of Snow White’s makeshift torch. “And so the princess proves the ancient saying of brains over brawn. But I know one way we can find out if they’re weak to light and not just fire!”
Angelique flipped open her satchel again and dug around in its cavernous depths. As she pulled a few starfire crystals from the bag, Wendal hung upside down from the rafters. “If you don’t mind, Princess, I’ll take that.”
Snow White passed him the flaming stick, then ran back to the fireplace and flung firewood on the flames, making the room hotter and brighter.
Angelique unearthed an armload of starfire crystals—mentally thanking Stil and Gemma for insisting she take them all back when she visited Chanceux in the fall. “Snow White, take these!” She passed the princess a handful of crystals. “Follow my lead.” She spun around to face constructs still pouring into the cottage and struggled to hold her armload of magic crystals up. “Shine!”
The starfires glowed a bright, pure white light and cast mini rainbows from their prism facets.
The closest constructs clawed at their eyes and shrank backwards.
