by M. A. Larson
The first of the witches had arrived, slinking around the back of the coach. Her eyes were wide, locked directly on Evie. The loose, gray flesh of her face stretched into a broad grin. Evie pulled harder than she ever thought possible. The coachman screamed as finally his leg slid free.
Two more witches had joined the other, slim and frail figures covered in tattered cloaks. Their dim yellow eyes scared Evie to the bone.
She hooked her arms around the coachman’s chest and dragged him to the road’s edge. The witches lurched toward them, grinning. One reached out with long, skeletal fingers. Evie threw herself backward over the small lip of grass, dragging the coachman with her. They careened down the side. She lost her grip on him almost instantly as she tumbled through the ferns and saplings and vines that clung to the steep stone walls of the valley. Finally, she bounced to a stop at the bottom of the hill.
She was sprawled out on her back. Her eyes fluttered open. There, at the road’s edge, several dark figures peered down into the valley, looking for her. She scrambled farther into the basin, running for the dense fog that rested there like smoke in a cauldron. She scanned the darkened valley for somewhere to go, some sign of one of her traveling companions, but all she found were more shadows, more trees, and more fog.
The coachman. When she turned back for him, she realized she had already become hopelessly lost. The forest looked virtually identical in every direction. Except for one.
She bounded across a patch of moss-covered fieldstones and ended up at the base of an imposing bluff. Vines and roots protruded from the black wall of soil beneath a stony outcropping forty feet above. A gust of wind sent a spray of leaves fluttering down. There were shouts in the distance. She had no idea from which direction they might be coming. She wheeled, searching the fog and shadows for her coachmates. And for witches.
Up ahead, an ancient oak tree sprawled into the late-evening sky like a giant’s rib cage. Evie’s breathing was as quick and shallow as a fox in a hunt, but she couldn’t do anything to slow it. Fear had taken hold.
Occasional flashes of white flared in the darkness. Somewhere out there, the princesses were fighting back. But for every flash of white, she also heard the telltale crackle of a witch’s spell.
All right, Evie, think. Which way is the Academy? She scanned the trees, but twilight had arrived. Her eyes fixed on a patch of sky visible through the canopy. It was still more blue than black. So I’m facing west. That meant she’d have to go over the bluff to get back to the Academy.
“Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh . . .”
The laughter was chillingly close. Evie’s breath caught, her heart thundering in her chest. Her eyes dissected the forest, looking for the witch. There, in the trees on the hill from which she’d just come, two dim golden eyes stared back at her.
“Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh . . .”
More flashes of magic lit up the fog-draped forest. “Go!” came a distant shout. “Hurry, Carmelita, run!” A moment later, the earsplitting sound of a witch’s spell rippled across the valley.
In the shadows, those malevolent yellow eyes never left Evie.
Just as she made up her mind to flee, something caught her attention. There, on the ground, only a few feet in front of the witch, sat a glinting piece of jewelry. Evie’s hands shot to her throat and found it bare. She had lost her enchanted neckband. And that meant she had lost her voice.
The witch stepped forward from the shadows. She was hunched and formless, with two thick, hairy arms clutching the neck of her cloak. Her voice slithered out from a sharp grin of cracked teeth. “Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh . . .”
Evie cast about in her mind for an idea. The one that came to her was a bit mad, but she didn’t have time to think of another. If this doesn’t work, I’m blaming Demetra.
“Hey! Witch!” she screamed as loudly as she could. Her own voice echoed back to her from the neckband. The witch reeled in surprise. She tumbled over, falling heavily on one of the fieldstones with a shout. Evie sprinted toward her.
“You’ll pay for that, you wretch!” screeched the witch, who was struggling to right herself.
Evie grabbed the neckband on the run and bounded into the trees. Up she ran, her feet plowing through the soft, damp earth as she struggled to circle back to the top of the bluff. Behind her, the witch was growling with rage as she floundered on the jagged stones.
Finally, Evie reached the top. She peered over the stony outcropping and saw the black form of the witch down below. With an immense feeling of relief, she stepped to the ledge that faced south. She found herself above the canopy, the valley dropping away in front of her. Even more enchanted forest stretched into the distance beyond that. Above the fog, the sky was awash with silver stars.
“Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh . . .”
Evie wheeled so quickly that she nearly fell over the edge. Another witch stood behind her, not fifteen feet away. Her eyes emanated a dark yellow glow from the hollows of her skull. Pale, mottled skin hung from her cheekbones like seaweed on a mooring. A gurgling sound came from her chest with each breath she took.
A wisp of black smoke appeared in front of her. More tendrils came, like snakes emerging from their eggs. Evie was paralyzed with fear, even though she knew what she needed to do. She’d been training for this. But without a moment to catch her breath, to organize her thoughts and gather her courage, she was just stumbling from one horror to the next. The witch must have sensed it, because her grin stretched even wider, revealing small points of teeth and black gums.
The neckband fell from Evie’s hand.
The witch’s grin disappeared behind a plume of black smoke. Run! Evie screamed at herself. But before she had a chance, there was a primal shriek as loud as clashing steel. A large bird soared down from the sky and slammed into the witch’s head with both talons opened wide.
Evie couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
The witch collapsed as the bird—some sort of hawk, with piercing yellow eyes and a razor beak—beat its wings about her head.
“Have you considered running?” shouted someone in the forest to Evie’s right. There was a girl standing there. She was dressed in the silver uniform of Crown Company. It was a new graduate, one Evie hadn’t seen before. She was beautiful, with soft brown curls flowing down her back beneath a jewel-encrusted tiara. In this moment of terror, Evie couldn’t imagine any sight would ever be so welcome. But despite the joy in the princess’s smile and the twinkle in her eyes, something about her struck Evie as somewhat deranged. “Seriously,” she said. “You need to run.”
Evie grabbed her neckband and glanced at the witch, who swatted desperately at the hawk. “Get away, you fiend! I’ll bite your head off!” Then Evie bounded toward the forest to join the princess.
“The name’s Marline. Princess Marline. Of the Shield, of course.” She gave a proud nod. “Let’s be off, shall we?”
The hawk’s wings fluttered as it abandoned the witch and lifted into the air. Marline turned and dashed into the fog. Without a glance at the witch, Evie sprinted after. As they tore through the trees, the hawk swooped down from above and landed on Marline’s shoulder in stride, as gently as a feather on a stream.
“Wait!” came a panicked voice from the darkness. “Wait! Take me with you!” Another cadet came barreling out of the fog. She was wearing a Leatherwolf uniform.
“Sage?”
Sage raced toward them, her eyes wide with fear. “Evie! Evie, it’s—”
Suddenly, there was a horrific rending of the air. A stream of black magic rippled through the forest and struck Sage.
“No!” screamed Evie, but it was too late. She could already hear Sage’s horrified cries fading to echoes as her skin became cold gray stone.
Marline clicked her tongue, and the hawk lifted away into the night. Moments later, it dove with a screech and began clawing the witch’s eyes with its talo
ns.
“Hurry,” said Marline, who seemed to be enjoying the thrill of it all. “Before she really does get a bite of my bird.”
“But . . .” Evie stared at the statue sitting only ten feet away. “My friend . . .”
“That’s not your friend. That is a four-hundred-pound hunk of stone.” She pointed at the scrum happening next to Sage’s statue. “And that is a witch who’d like to make the same of us.” She grabbed Evie’s arm so hard, it caused a jolt of pain. “Now let’s go.”
Evie took one last look at Sage, her company-mate, the fear of her last moments rendered forever in stone. Then she turned and followed.
• • •
The journey back to campus was a blur. Evie’s mind was a jumbled mess. Everything had been so joyful, and then . . .
Thank the Fates for Marline, she thought, following tightly behind the Princess of the Shield. Marline was as decisive as she was fearless. There were several times when a battle broke out nearby and she instantly ran off toward the flashes to help her fellow princesses, leaving Evie to wait and hope she would return. Each time, she did.
Finally, the Queen’s Tower appeared in the distance. It was aglow with a strange blue shimmer that reminded Evie of the ghostly lights she often saw dancing across the winter sky in the Dragonlands. She had never seen it lit up that way before. It’s a beacon, she thought. They know what’s happened out here, and they’re trying to call us back.
By the time they reached the wall, Evie’s entire body felt as numb as if it had been frozen in ice. A small contingent of Pennyroyal staff waited there. Princess Rampion, Princess Copperpot, and several shield-bearing knight instructors called them to hurry, scanning the trees for any witch attackers. Evie nearly fell when the hawk came screaming out of the sky. It landed on Marline’s shoulder just as she ducked beneath the magical barrier a fairy was lifting with her wand.
“Come on, lass!” shouted Princess Copperpot. Evie sprinted the rest of the way, then collapsed to the dewy grass, her muscles spent.
“Hoo!” called Marline, doubled over to catch her breath. “Now, that was fun!”
Evie glanced over at her. She looked down with a wild smile, her hawk staring with yellow eyes.
“She’s here!” barked Copperpot. “We’ve got her!”
“Thank the Fates,” said Princess Rampion, kneeling next to Evie to inspect her for damage. “So they’ve failed at their mission.”
“Get out of here, girls. Keep this hillside clear!” shouted Copperpot. Lance strutted toward where Evie lay, clucking softly. With Rampion’s help, she scrambled to her feet.
“Buhgawk!”
“Come on, then,” said Marline. She twisted her hips, sending a crackle down her spine, then started up the road to campus.
Evie staggered after, though she kept her eyes on the wall. Three of the younger princess instructors, not far removed from receiving their own commissions, raced down the hill and blew past her, each outfitted for battle in dresses and tiaras.
“All right, ladies?” shouted Copperpot. “Most have been coming in from the northwest, so that’s where our teams have gone. Warrior Princess is back, so now it’s strictly rescue and recovery, yes? Headmistress says three coaches, with up to twenty unaccounted for.”
“Yes, Princess,” they replied in unison. Copperpot gave them a nod, and they raced through the gap in the wall, then disappeared into the forest.
“Move, Cadet!” barked Copperpot when she caught Evie staring.
Evie turned and hurried up the road toward campus. She joined Marline at the top of the hill, just as they split from the main road and veered to the right. The Dining Hall’s arched roof was fringed in silver moonlight, with two bursts of flame flanking the doors.
“Thank you,” said Evie. Her voice was thin and wobbly. “I’d still be out there if not for you.”
“Rescue the Warrior Princess not a half day after I’m commissioned,” said Marline, her own voice as carefree as a sailor arriving at port. “Proper good start to my career.”
As they neared the Dining Hall, Evie heard something that seemed totally out of place amidst the harrowing night.
“Is that . . . music?”
“Oh good, you hear it, too,” said Marline. “I thought I was losing my mind.”
They reached the door. Marline pulled it open, and the music poured out. So, too, did the warmth of the roaring fires and the aromas of a hot supper. They gave each other a puzzled look, then stepped inside. Evie was completely unprepared for what she found.
The hearths and braziers were aglow with fire. Candles covered every table. Two young knight instructors played a stringed instrument and a pipe of some kind. Though very few of the benches were occupied, those who were there were enjoying a cozy, festive Pennyroyal Academy meal service.
“Well, it appears the whole world’s lost its mind!” said Marline with a hearty laugh. Her hawk flew off and landed at an empty table, where it began picking apart a steaming golden turkey. “If it means supper, I say we join the madness. Come on.”
She nodded hello to some of the people at a nearby table. They were as filthy and battered as Evie and Marline were, though they all had smiles on their faces. Evie recognized many of them: princess and knight cadets, mothers and fathers who had come for the ceremony earlier that day, Pennyroyal staff.
“Evie!” came a scream from the center of the hall. She looked up to find Maggie bounding toward her. She was smiling ear to ear, a dark bruise coloring the left side of her face. There was a significant scratch through the middle of it.
“Maggie!” She ran between the tables and hugged her friend as tightly as she’d ever hugged anyone. “I thought I’d lost you! What’s happened to your face?”
Maggie gently touched her bruise. “It’s a miracle this is all I’ve got. What about you? How did you make it out?”
Marline strode up, gnawing on a massive turkey leg. “Hiya.”
“She’s how I made it out,” said Evie. “Maggie, this is Marline. Princess Marline.”
“Been a Princess of the Shield for nearly twelve hours,” said Marline. “Already saved the ol’ W.P.”
Maggie looked confused. “Warrior Princess,” said Evie self-consciously.
“Ah,” said Maggie. “Well, I’m very pleased to meet you. Thank you for looking after my friend. Come, they’ve just brought fresh stew.” She led Evie and Marline to one of the tables. Though Maggie was the only one there, it had been set for a feast. Marline sat backward, leaning against the table and chewing on her turkey leg.
“What’s going on here?” said Evie. She took a place across from Maggie and began dishing food onto her plate. “It’s like some sort of celebration.”
“I dunno. I’ve only just got back myself.”
“Ah, there you are!” said Princess Moonshadow, skittering over to their table. She was a second-class instructor with dark features and a slightly spooky air. She always smelled of rain. “Cadets Magdalena and Eleven, if I’m not mistaken?”
“That’s right,” said Maggie. “And Princess Marline.”
“Looking well, Moonshadow,” said Marline with a casual salute.
“Thank you.” The princess began scrawling their names on a parchment. When she finished, she looked over her list. “Excellent! Nearly everyone’s made it back.”
“Not everyone,” said Evie. “Cadet Sage of Leatherwolf Company was turned to stone.”
“What?” said Maggie, her hands shooting to her mouth.
“Oh,” said Moonshadow. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that.” She shook her head sadly as she noted it on her chart. “We’ll find her just the same and get her into the Infirmary. Still, with you three back, that’s only”—she looked over her list, then flipped to the next parchment—“nine left unaccounted for.” Her face fell. “Eight, with Cadet Sage.”
“H
ow do you know how many are missing?” said Maggie.
“We’ve confirmed that only the last three coaches to depart were attacked. And nearly everyone on board those three has made it back. But don’t worry, girls. We’ve got teams out there now finding the rest.” She tried to give them a reassuring smile, but it came across as creepy. Then she wandered away.
“Only three coaches,” said Evie. “That’s not so bad. It felt like the whole forest was filled with witches.”
“Demetra and Basil will have made it through. They probably don’t even know what happened.”
Near the Dining Hall doors, there was a flurry of activity. Five new survivors entered and were greeted with hugs and smiles.
“Now it’s only three,” said Maggie.
Evie turned to scan the faces but didn’t recognize them. They were family members who had come to cheer on their cadets at the ceremony. One of the princess instructors ushered them to a table. The musicians began a new song. Evie smiled ruefully when she recognized it as “Josephina with the Dark Blue Eyes.”
Marline gave a sharp whistle, and her hawk flew over, landing heavily next to a bowl of potatoes. “Leave some for the others, you old buzzard,” she said. The hawk turned its back to the food and sat at the edge of the table. Maggie’s eyes shifted to Evie in amazement.
Just then, Princess Beatrice burst out from the kitchens pushing a cart with a steaming roast on top of it. Her assistant, the lumpy, snarling Corporal Liverwort, followed with another cart. Watching Beatrice smile as she surveyed the Dining Hall only added to the surreal atmosphere. “Take over for me, will you, Princess Moonshadow?”
Leaving her cart to Moonshadow, the Headmistress swept toward the front of the hall, arms held wide. “I’m told we have new arrivals! Welcome, everyone! Fill your plates and cups. There’s plenty for all!”
A group of parents that had been huddled near one of the fires closed in on her, all speaking at once.
