Chapter 38
Unexpected Guest
Eloise
My transition from my battle form to my corps or human-like form is quick but effortless.
I don’t even notice I’m changing at first, not until the crown on my head suddenly feels heavy and cumbersome.
I make my way through the halls of Blackspire with my daggers in my hands, ready to kill.
Only, I never have to use them. Anyone who sees me, runs.
Good. I will need all my energy to pull Phantom’s bones together and return my ancestors to the dragon’s flesh. The faster my anchor is in place again, the faster I can rejoin the battle. I turn the corner into the grand foyer.
Rays of purple light rise up in front of me, blocking my path. Instinctively, I lift an arm to shield my eyes. What is this magic? An elf trap?
“Eloise?”
I blink rapidly, allowing my vision to adjust. My best friend stands in the center of the key symbol, looking wildly determined as she takes in the details of the room.
Dressed in black pants and a long-sleeved black shirt, she could easily fit in with the rebels.
“Maeve!” I sheathe my daggers and rush into her arms.
“I came to help. I told you I would. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Been busy,” I say, gesturing at the blood on my clothes and the crown on my head. “How did you know to come?”
“The clock in the parlor started ticking again. When you didn’t show up in the attic, I suspected it was time. The vial of blood you left me worked like a charm, by the way. Brought me straight to you.”
“Thanks for using it.” I try to hand her one of my daggers, but she doesn’t take it. “Beyond that door is a war zone. It’s a mess out there. Goddess, I need to find Damien.” A pang of worry zings through me, and I pray he’s okay.
“Dead bodies?” Maeve wrinkles her nose.
I nod solemnly. “Fields soaked with blood. And I have no magic. I’m going to have to pull my dragon back together before I can anchor.” I hold out the dagger again. “Take this. For protection.”
She sniffs. “I don’t need that, Eloise. You keep it. I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand. It’s not safe.” I can hear the battle raging beyond the entrance to the castle. “At least stay behind me.”
She pushes her thick, dark glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I love you, Eloise, but sometimes you’re a real ditz.”
“Huh?”
“I was a witch before you even knew magic existed.” Her bright-red lips spread wide. “There are limits to what I can do on my own, but I’m certainly not helpless.”
I raise my eyebrows, letting that sink in for a moment. Maeve is a Gowdie witch. I’m not sure if she knows what she’s getting herself into, but I’ll take any help she can give me. “Okay. In that case, let’s fight our way out of this kingdom and go find Damien.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Working together, we shove through the doors and my stomach pitches at what is on the other side.
We vastly underestimated the size of the elf army.
Rows and rows of them, as far as I can see, are showering golden arrows toward the rebel troops.
Only, those arrows are useless, because a dome of red magic shields our forces from impact.
“They came!” I pump my fist toward the sky.
Maeve is squinting. “What do you see? I see a bunch of archers with arrows. Are those the good guys?”
“Oh. Sorry. I forgot you have human vision. No, all these dudes in silver are the enemy. Up there, the witches of Dimhollow are protecting our forces from their arrows. I didn’t think they’d help us, but they did.
I just hope I can reanimate Phantom and destroy this army before the witches’ shield gives way. ”
“Can you get me near the bones?” she asks. “You’re going to have to lead me. I can’t see in this dark.”
“Good idea.” If Maeve pulls Phantom together, I’ll have my dragon back in no time.
I sweep her into my arms and run toward the battle, stopping about a hundred yards behind the elven forces.
This is as close as we can safely get to where Phantom and I were knocked out of the sky.
Thank the goddess, the soldiers are all too busy trying to take down the shield to notice us.
Maeve turns to me, her eyes vacant as if she can’t actually see me in the dark, and brings her finger to her lips. Then she raises her hand to the sky, forms a fist, and punches the battlefield.
I hear her magic ripple through the ground like an earthquake opening a fault line. It’s as loud as a crack of thunder. Loud enough that the elves stop and look down at their feet.
The entire battlefield seems to draw a collective breath.
A scream rings out and an elf’s arms flail as he is pulled straight down, into the earth.
Another scream, this time across the battlefield. All I see is a spray of red and then a cascade of wet bones arcing over an archer’s head.
One by one, the elves start to fall.
A shriek to my left. A howl to my right.
The snap of bones breaking. Arrows fly, not at the rebels but into the crowd of archers, at the ground, toward each other.
My mouth drops open when I see why. Warriors rise from the dirt at their feet.
Dead warriors. Some with half-missing skulls and bloodstained uniforms. Others, nothing more than animated skeletons.
One of the zombies takes a sunlight arrow to the abdomen without reaction, then grabs the archer’s throat and tears it out with blunt, bony fingers.
None of this should be a surprise to me.
I knew that Maeve was an animator and that her sigil, a skull and crossbones, meant that her Gowdie family strength was animating the dead.
I knew that vampires feared her family because they were powerful enough to take control of certain vampires, who, after all, are dead.
But it’s easy to forget that your best friend is capable of raising zombies when you don’t see her do it on the regular.
She giggles beside me. “I’ve always wanted to do this, but it’s not as if there’s much reason to pull out the big guns at home,” she says breathlessly. “How are they doing? I can’t see them well enough to give specific direction. I’m sending a general order to kill anyone between us and the dome.”
“It’s working!” I say. “Keep going.”
In fact, her spell is even more effective than what the resurrected army can accomplish on its own. The elves are panicking, shooting each other in their quest to stop the advancing dead. I am mesmerized. Maeve has…saved us. She’s single-handedly changed the course of this war.
The screams grow louder at first, but soon, they die out altogether.
Maeve wipes blood from her nose.
“Stop,” I say, my hand on her back. “The dead have reached the dome. You’ve done it! All the archers are dead.”
She yanks her fist from the dirt and shakes her fingers like her hand is cramped. The clattering of bones marks the end of the zombie army.
She lists on her feet, and I draw her into my side. “I’ve got you.”
We start walking toward the dome, but it is soon evident that her human strength is drained. I fling her easily into my arms and carry her the rest of the way.
“Goddess, you’re strong now, El,” she says.
“I guess I am,” I say. “Not stronger than most here, but surviving has given me a hard outer shell.”
“You’re a walnut, now?” she says with a laugh.
“Or maybe tuberculosis bacterium. I’m guessing Brahm and Nevina think of me like a disease.”
“If you’re a disease, any population would be lucky to catch you,” she mumbles.
“You know just what to say.”
We reach the dome, and I stare through the spell at the rebels lined up inside.
Flabbergasted doesn’t begin to describe the expression on their faces.
Damien forces his way toward me, his relief shining through the fatigue, blood, and sweat that cover him.
He holds up a hand to me and then speaks quickly to Catarina.
I can’t hear what they’re saying to each other, but one side of the dome lifts, and I’m able to carry Maeve inside.
I set her on her feet and face Damien, his eyes drifting over me.
“We worried you were dead.”
“Not quite. Phantom is a pile of bones, though.”
His gaze focuses on my head. “You’ve been busy.”
I remember what he’s looking at and pull Entrydal’s crown off my head and hand it to him. “We’ve taken Blackspire. The dark elf king is dead.”
We’re surrounded now by black uniforms, vampires, Rivertoads, and shades from every territory in Tenebris. Damien rotates the crown between his fingers, and the way he looks at me is nothing short of reverent. His mouth spreads into a smile, and he thrusts the crown into the air.
“The elf king has fallen! Willowgulch is ours!” he howls.
The cheers that echo his words are deafening.
Our friends and allies rush in, patting my back and shoulders and taking turns embracing us and each other.
Cassius kisses the side of my head, Tempest hugs me as if she’s my own proud mother, Thane, Undaku, and Prandle bow with hands over their hearts.
Jaqual meets my eyes, kisses his fingertips, and blows the kiss toward me.
Catarina gives me a proud nod, then goes straight to Maeve, who has found a boulder to sit on, and offers her canteen.
Everyone is still celebrating when Percy shoves his way through the crowd to reach Damien. Damien raises a hand to silence the crowd.
“We’ve isolated New Stygarde,” Percy says. “What are your orders?”