Heart of the Moors

by Holly Black

  “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 loya
l 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.

  Aurora woke to Diaval pecking at her fingers.

  “Ow!” she cried, sitting upright and putting her hurt finger in her mouth. “Oh, you’re back. Where were you?”

  She turned toward where Count Alain had been sleeping, but he was no longer there. Only a tangle of blankets remained. Her dream was still thrumming through her mind, confusing her thoughts. She still saw the pallor of Prince Phillip’s half-buried face, still heard his final shout echoing in her ears.

  Run!

  At the memory, she scrambled up out of her blankets. Diaval took off into the air.

  Her dream confirmed for her that in her heart she didn’t believe Phillip was to blame for Maleficent’s disappearance. Aurora knew him. She believed that he was still the person she’d fallen in love with despite herself, someone kind and decent and good. She could believe he’d gone back to Ulstead, but she could never believe he would hurt anyone just for power or revenge.

  Count Alain’s words had played into her fears, but that didn’t make them true.

  And if I’m wrong, then nothing is fair, she told herself, because we didn’t even get a love story. He didn’t kiss me one time when I was awake. If he was going to betray me, he should have at least kissed me first.

  With those thoughts in her head, Aurora followed the raven. As she walked, she noticed the imprints of boots on the ground. Count Alain must have gone the same way.

  Her heart beat harder, the dream and her reality blending.

  Through the woods she walked. Diaval moved silently above her, winging from tree to tree. They went past the spot where Diaval had stopped before. Along the way, she lost Alain’s footprints, and the moonlight wasn’t bright enough for her to find them again. She hoped that she wasn’t lost.

  “You know where we’re going, right, Diaval?” she whispered.

  But all he could do was caw in return.

  As she walked on, she came to a place with steam rising from the ground. Frowning, she knelt, expecting to find a passage to hot springs beneath the earth, but there seemed to be a chimney there, venting up from the ground.

  What was below them? Could her godmother be held there?

  She nearly shouted for her, when her sense got the better of her fear. She was going to have to find a different way.

  On she went until she found the path again. It forked, one part winding on through the woods and another cutting down into a quarry.

  She recalled Count Alain’s words: We are not so far from my estate. Let’s make for it in the morning. I will put my soldiers at your disposal.

  If they were close to his estate, then they were also close to his iron mines.

  She found her way down the path in the moonlight, wishing with each step that she had an easy means of sending information to Smiling John. Wishing she’d come up with a different plan. Wishing she hadn’t tried to be quite so clever.

  Because there, gaping in front of her, was the entrance to the mine. She crept toward it. The closer she got, the more she was sure she heard voices. She peered into the smoky torchlit darkness, blinking and trying to make out shapes.

  Several guards were lying on the ground some distance from Maleficent, who had her hand around the neck of a flailing Lord Ortolan.

  “Godmother!” Aurora said, relief flooding her. She was so happy to see that her godmother was safe, alive, and unharmed that she failed to notice the warning in Maleficent’s expression until it was too late.

  “Run!” Maleficent said in a terrible echo of her dream.

  Run. He’s right behind you. Run!

  She spun around only to crash into Count Alain. He grabbed hold of her. She kicked as he hauled her up into the air, and she struck him with her fists until he caught them, twisting her arms behind her back.

  “I am very sorry to do this, Your Majesty,” he said. “Very sorry indeed. I had hoped to bring you to my home. I hoped we would grow close. I hoped you would never need to know about any of this. Even when you rode out, I hoped I would be able to steal away and arrange everything before you awakened.”

  “Count Alain, what have you done?” Aurora asked.

  “If only you’d listened to me. If only you had let me share my wisdom and experience, I wouldn’t have had to resort to such drastic measures.”

  She looked at Maleficent and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Phillip was never a part of this, was he?”

  “The prince was captured with me,” Maleficent said. “But fear not, he’s far from here. And he knows the truth of what you’ve done, Alain.”

  Relief washed over Aurora. Not only was Phillip not responsible for what had happened to Maleficent, but he was safe. He was free.

  “I will be sure to send my men to track him,” sneered Alain. “They always enjoy a hunt.”

  Aurora tried to pull away from Alain again. He held her fast, his gaze going to Maleficent. “As you can see, I have the queen in my power. If you don’t want her harmed, release Lord Ortolan.”

  Maleficent let the old man fall. “You dare much, threatening your queen.” He scuttled back from her, making a wheezing sound.

  “The man who dares little achieves little,” said Count Alain. “Now, Lord Ortolan, I believe you will find iron chains in the guardhouse. Lock the faerie in them.”

  Maleficent raised hands sparking with magic as green as her eyes. She looked at Alain with a wild fury in her face. Then her gaze went to Aurora. Their eyes met and the light of her magic extinguished. She bent her horned head and smiled ruefully.

  “You have found my weakness. Anything else and I would have brought down this cave on us both before I submitted.”

  Maleficent stood stoically as the guards approached.

  “Don’t do this for me, Godmother,” Aurora pleaded, but Maleficent turned her gaze away. It was too easy for her to believe that Count Alain might alter his plans to include Aurora’s death in them. She cursed herself for worrying more about Aurora’s heart than about her head.

  She looked out into the darkness and wished she hadn’t sent Phillip away. She’d thought it was safer for him to go—and it had been. She just hadn’t been concerned about the danger to her. She’d thought that she could terrify Lord Ortolan into confessing to Aurora back at the palace.

  And yes, she’d supposed that it was possible for Alain to show up while she was doing it. In fact, she’d rather hoped he would. She would have liked to present them both to Aurora, begging to tell her their evil schemes, all tied up in a bow.

  She’d never expected Aurora to come herself.

  Willful. Hadn’t she said that was the girl’s trouble? As for Diaval, when she found him, she was going to pluck every feather from his body. How co
uld he be so foolish as to lead Aurora here, straight into danger?

  Maleficent hissed as the iron touched her. Lord Ortolan only grinned at her like a beast baring his teeth as he clasped the iron manacles on her wrists. His pleasure as he turned the heavy key was evident.

  She hoped that there would be bruises on his throat from her hands. But even that was small comfort.

  Count Alain said, “Here’s what we will do, dear Aurora. You will become my bride—”

  “I will not!” Aurora spat. “You can’t possibly believe I would ever consent.”

  The count smiled mirthlessly. “Oh, I rather think you will. You see, I am going to keep your godmother here to guarantee your good behavior. You will marry me and you will be my loyal queen—or this wicked faerie you love so much will pay for your every rebellion, no matter how small. This is not what I would have chosen, Aurora, but as I think of it, perhaps this is better. You might never love me, but you will never betray me, either.”

  Aurora struggled in Count Alain’s arms. Maleficent had seldom felt so helpless—and, with her wings returned to her, had thought she’d never feel so helpless again.

  She wanted to tell Aurora to refuse him, but then what? He had them both in his power. Better for Aurora to tell him what he wanted to hear and survive. Back at the palace, she could order that his head be chopped off.

  “I will marry you,” Aurora said finally, “but only if you let Maleficent go. My godmother will promise to stay in the Moors and not interfere with us, and I will promise to be docile and good.”

  “Impossible,” Maleficent snapped reflexively.

  Aurora frowned at her.

  “Ah, Aurora, unfortunately, you believe me to be far kinder than I am. If it’s any comfort, I fear your godmother is quite right. I doubt it would be possible for her to keep her promise not to interfere, and I don’t mean to ask her to try.”

  Maleficent smiled at his assumption that that was the only bit she thought unlikely. But he went on, oblivious.

  “I think you will be a most obliging queen with your godmother’s life always in the balance,” Count Alain said. “Almost as obliging as she was, letting herself be chained up for your sake.”