Copyright © 2014 Disney Enterprises, Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information, address Disney Press, 1101 Flower St., Glendale, CA 91201.
ISBN 978-1-4231-9780-5
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Part One
1
2
3
Part Two
4
5
6
7
8
Part Three
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
Part Four
17
18
Part Five
19
20
Epilogue
Special thanks to Brittany Candau.
For all the “good” and all the “bad” creatures in the world. For as the saying goes, the difference between a hero and a villain often depends on perspective.
put a small finger to his lips, looking back at his young partner in crime. The small, sprightly faerie grinned when he saw the determined expression on Maleficent’s face. Aye, he thought gleefully. She’s going to be possumly perfect at this.
They flew low through the beautiful, lush Moors, until they reached their target, the bog where Knotgrass, Flittle, and Thistlewit lived. These three silly pixies were always together. Vain, high-strung creatures that found anything to complain or bicker about, they were the perfect companions for one another. They didn’t know how to relax or how to have fun, things Robin did particularly well. Which meant they were the perfect candidates for a little practical joking.
Landing in the tall reeds, Robin and Maleficent crouched down. They watched Knotgrass and Flittle bicker crossly, while Thistlewit tried to rub the mud out of her dress.
“I spent all afternoon finding this perfect palm fan,” Knotgrass declared, waving a huge shiny leaf in front of her face. “You absolutely cannot and will not share it with me. Now, shoo. You’re giving me a headache.”
“Oh, come on,” Flittle whined. “That’s the last good one. Besides, it completely clashes with your outfit. Everyone knows that green goes best with blue!” She gestured at her blue smock.
“Ooh, that would make the perfect hat!” Thistlewit added, abandoning her pointless cleaning. “What if it rains and I don’t have any shelter to keep my hair dry?”
“Don’t even say such things,” Knotgrass chided. “A rainstorm! The horror!”
Robin and Maleficent shared a look, a plan forming between them. Robin nodded to Maleficent, who took to the air. Still a child, Maleficent had difficulty managing her large raven wings, the heavy horns on her head throwing off her balance. She climbed into the air a little haphazardly, then straightened out, soaring through the clouds.
Seeing the young faerie fly reminded Robin of Maleficent’s mother, Hermia. Hermia had been beautiful, with long, dark locks, a tall, human-sized frame, and magnificent black wings. Maleficent would no doubt be the striking image of her mother when she grew up. Except for her eyes, of course. Maleficent had inherited her eyes from her father, Lysander. They sparkled like glowing jade pools.
Robin’s normally cheerful face contorted itself into a rare frown. Hermia and Lysander. It made him sad to think about Maleficent’s parents. They had been such special faeries, and his friends for such a long time. It had been their life’s work to create peace between the human world and the Faerie Moors—even though humans had a long history of attacking the Moors, of trying to take over the land and steal its natural riches.
No, Maleficent’s parents had believed that peace was achievable, that there were some good humans out there who appreciated nature as much as they did. They even befriended some farmers and shepherds nearby in the effort to forge harmony between the two groups, something that was unheard of in the Moors. They were determined to change the course of history, to create a peaceful environment in which their daughter would grow.
But sadly, it was this optimism that led Hermia and Lysander to the front lines of the next human attack, thinking they could reason with the humans to end the battle before any blood was spilled on either side. Unfortunately, the humans did not share their views on the matter. It had been another violent war. And while the Fair Folk once again defended their home from the greedy humans, it had come at the price of Hermia’s and Lysander’s lives.
Ever since that sad night, Robin and the rest of the Fair Folk had banded together to raise Maleficent. She’d been such an easy baby, so happy and carefree. So content to play with the butterflies in the grove, to be bathed in a babbling brook, or to be resting in the cradle of the Rowan Tree, her home. She was also quite willful and lively. As soon as she could walk and talk, Maleficent asserted an independence beyond her years. It became apparent the daughter of Hermia and Lysander could look after herself, though she did enjoy spending time with the other faeries, making them her friends and companions instead of her caretakers.
“Rooooooooobiiiiin,” Maleficent called, suddenly hovering above the small faerie. “What’s taking you so long?”
Shaken out of his reverie, Robin looked up at the commanding young faerie above him, so full of life. And he thought how proud her parents would be of her. Then the sound of the three pixies arguing about who deserved to be dry during a storm interrupted the moment.
“Hold your horsefeathers, lass,” he loudly whispered back. He’d been so caught up in reflecting on the past that he’d nearly forgotten they were in the middle of a game. He jumped to, rubbing his hands together with excitement.
Maleficent took to the sky once more, faltering a bit in her effort to gain some height. Hidden behind the tall trees, she spread her wings wide, covering the late afternoon sunlight that had been peeking through the trees. She flapped her wings as hard as she could, the sound mimicking a rolling thunder.
The pixies hushed one another. They looked up at the darkened sky in a slow, dramatic fashion, their foreheads crinkling with worry.
Hearing his cue, Robin dipped his wooden flask into the pool and then covered himself with the fluffy gray marsh grasses that surrounded the pond next to him. He glanced at his reflection in the water, turning left and right. Well, well, he thought approvingly. I look pretty good as a cloud, if I do say so meself. Then Robin jumped into the air, making a beeline for the three pixies. As soon as he was directly above them, he started shaking his flask, water dripping down directly on their upturned heads.
“Ah!” Thistlewit yelled. “It’s happening! The rainstorm!”
“Give it to me, Knotgrass!” Flittle demanded, reaching for the palm.
The three pixies struggled, their scuffle moving them away from Robin’s rain cloud.
After a few seconds, they realized they were no longer getting hit with water. “Hey! It’s dry over here,” Thistlewit observed after a while.
Robin held in a laugh, maneuvering his cloud in the air until he was directly over them, spilling droplets onto them once more. They shrieked, abandoning the leaf and fleeing from the rain cloud that seemed to be following them.
“My dress!” Flittle yelled.
“My hair!” Thistlewit cried.
“My headache!” Knotgrass screamed.
When Robin ran out of water, he flew to Maleficent’s side.
“My, what temperamental weather we’re having,” Robin said. Maleficent snorted, and soon they were doubled over in the air with laughter. They started to fly away, finding it difficult to fly straight with the fits of giggles that overcame them.
Soon they arrived at Maleficent’s home in the Moors, the sprawling Rowan Tree. The sun sank low in the distance, marking the end of another wonderful day. Maleficent leaned against the sturdy trunk of her tree. Robin flew to his own home, a nearby birch tree overlooking the beautiful Faeire Mound.
“Hello, Sweetpea! Good evening, Finch! Beautiful flower work today, Adella.” Maleficent and Robin greeted their faerie neighbors, who smiled and waved from their own cozy abodes. Soon they all settled in, ready once more to be audience members in the recurring performance of day’s transformation into night. They oohed and aahed at the sky as it changed from vibrant reds, oranges, and pinks to cool, majestic purples and blues. They cheered as the frogs croaked and hundreds of glow faeries buzzed by, looking like earthbound stars.
Yawning widely, Maleficent bade good night to Robin and all of her neighboring faerie, animal, and plant friends.
“Good night, Sweetpea! Good night, Finch! Good night, Adella!”
Then, in a small voice that could barely be heard above the chorus of evening chirps and caws, she whispered to the glowing moon, “Good night, Mother. Good night, Father.”
lazy afternoon, a dragonfly hovered around the grand Rowan Tree, its wings shimmering in the sunlight. Maleficent lounged in the crook of the towering, elegantly twirling mass of sturdy roots, reaching branches, and vibrant leaves. It was her favorite place in the world, her home.
Robin was perched in front of her, ignoring the buzzing dragonfly, and animatedly regaling Maleficent with stories about her parents. She always asked him to share these tales, even though she’d heard them hundreds of times. And for Robin’s part, he was always happy to oblige. He was a storyteller and a showman at heart.
“And then I popped up from under the bog, scaring the living fireflies out of Lysander, I did.” Robin reenacted the scene with a dramatic flourish before bursting into peals of laughter.
Maleficent joined in. “Oh, Robin, you devil! When he was trying so hard to impress my mother,” she giggled.
“He still impressed her, even after jumping ten feet high like a scared ninny.”
After their laughter subsided, Maleficent carefully brought up the subject that Robin always avoided.
“Robin…have you ever seen a human close up?” she asked casually.
Robin’s normally cheerful features furrowed themselves into a frown. “No, lass, I have not. Nor would I want to. They’re nothing but trouble, humans.”
Maleficent sat up, talking more excitedly now. “But you said my parents believed there were good ones out there. That we could have a good relationship with them someday.”
“I did,” Robin said. “But you know what that belief cost them.” He spoke gently but firmly. It was sometimes hard to remember how young, how innocent Maleficent still was. She wasn’t old enough to remember the war-stricken years. “They try to steal our treasures, pillage our land. They even carry weapons made out of iron, they do, the stuff that burns our kind.”
“But, Robin, humans are a part of nature, too,” she continued. She’d clearly been thinking quite a bit about this. “I know there are horrendous ones. Monsters. But there are mean faeries and animals out there, too, just like there are plenty of nice ones. The humans cannot be all bad.”
Robin sat quietly. He could not give her the answer she wanted. In truth, he hated all humans for taking away his dear friends. He might have agreed with Lysander and Hermia’s push for harmony with humans at one time, but he did not now. After all he had been through, he just couldn’t.
“No, my love,” he said, patting her arm. “They are.” And with that, he flew away from the Rowan Tree, understanding Maleficent’s desire to honor her parents’ memory, but worried by the way she was choosing to do it. He hoped her curiosity would die down soon.
Unfortunately, her curiosity only grew, and Maleficent did not heed Robin’s warning about the humans. Two days later, word spread that a human boy had been caught stealing from the pool of jewels. Jumping at the opportunity to see a human up close, Maleficent headed straight for the majestic waterfall that flowed into the pool.
Robin knew that Maleficent could take care of herself. And that she did not need, nor did she want, him telling her what to do. But he couldn’t help feeling that he had to watch over her. Especially if humans were involved. So Robin followed her, trailing a safe distance behind so she would not see him.
He followed her past the water faeries skating on a stream, through the flower-filled meadows teeming with pollen faeries, and above the wallerbogs splashing around in the muddy marshes. Soon they were in front of the great waterfall, where two sentries, towering wooden creatures, stood in the marsh nearby. The sentries served as the Moors’ border guards, a job they took very seriously. The taller of the two (which was saying a lot), Balthazar, called out to Maleficent in his native woodish tongue.
“It’s hiding in the brush,” he told her. “Be careful.”
Maleficent held her head up proudly. “I’m not afraid. Besides, I’ve never seen a human up close.” Robin watched as she peered through the dense flora. Robin squinted his eyes, hovering as close to the scene as he dared. Maleficent might not have been afraid, but he certainly was.
“What did he take from the pool?” Maleficent asked.
“A stone,” Balthazar replied. It figured. Robin rolled his eyes. Humans were always after worthless objects like shiny stones, never realizing the true treasures were the plants and animals surrounding them.
“Come out,” Maleficent said to the brush.
“No!” a small yet defiant voice called back. “They mean to kill me. Besides, they’re hideous to look at.”
Robin was in the middle of another eye roll when Balthazar emitted an offended screech. He didn’t blame the sentry. Not only did this human think the creatures of the Moors resorted to the violent human way of resolving conflicts, he also insulted their kind in the process.
Echoing Robin’s thoughts, Maleficent chided the voice. “That’s extremely rude!” she yelled. Then, giving Balthazar a comforting look, she said, “Don’t listen to him. You’re classically handsome.”
Maleficent turned to the brush once more, speaking more emphatically this time. “It’s not right to steal, but we don’t kill people for it. Come out. Come out this instant!”
Robin was surprised to see a slight boy dressed in meager clothes emerge. He couldn’t have been much older than Maleficent. As soon as he saw her, he flinched, a flash of recognition darting across his face.
“You’re her,” he said.
Robin frowned suspiciously, wondering just how this human thought he knew Maleficent.
Maleficent looked the human up and down. “Are you fully grown?”
“No.”
Maleficent turned to Balthazar. “I believe he’s just a boy.”
“And you’re just a girl,” the boy said. “I think.”
Robin stifled a chuckle. That comment wasn’t going to go over well. He expected Maleficent to put the boy in his place, showing this human the gumption he so
admired in her. But she simply narrowed her eyes.
“Who are you?”
“I’m called Stefan. Who are you?”
“I’m Maleficent.” She paused, then said abruptly, “Do you intend us harm?”
Robin was proud of Maleficent. She was being cautious. It looked like she had learned something from the Fair Folk after all.
Stefan blinked at her, clearly surprised. “What? No.”
“Then I’ll guide you out of the Moors.”
“The stone, dear,” Balthazar prompted.
“Yes, right,” Maleficent answered. Then she looked at Stefan. “You have to give it back.”
“Give what back?” Stefan asked.
Maleficent shared a look with the sentries and sighed. Holding out her hand, she stared at Stefan. Finally, the human boy groaned, realizing he’d been caught. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the beautiful stone he’d stolen. It glistened in the bright sunlight. Then he grimaced as he threw it to Maleficent, as if it hurt him to return it.
Maleficent easily caught the sparkling stone. She tossed it into a nearby pool, which rippled happily. Gesturing Stefan to follow her, she started through the dense forest.
Robin noticed at once that she was walking instead of flying. Probably as a courtesy to the human. He sighed, hurrying behind them, not liking one bit that she had offered to be his guide. Well, at least he’s leaving, Robin thought.
“If I knew you would throw it away, I would have kept it,” Stefan whined. The ungrateful little toadstool.
“I didn’t throw it away,” Maleficent responded. “I delivered it home. As I’m going to do for you.”
They walked in silence for a while, Robin darting from tree to tree and plant to plant, blending in with his surroundings. Soon they found themselves in a beautiful clearing, with vast, rolling fields and the cold gray castle suddenly in view. Robin scrunched his nose. What a distasteful way to live, behind such high walls blocking out everything that mattered.
Stefan, too, was looking in that direction. But it appeared that his opinion of the stone fortress was much different. “Someday, I’ll live there. In the castle.” His jaw was set with determination, a determination that made Robin uneasy.
The Curse of Maleficent Page 1
