Midnight Frost (18 page)

Redleaf scoffed. “They're not mine!” She raised her hands, flames appearing at her fingers. “They're those of my faithless husband.”

The Winter Queen reached for her sword.

“You think you could protect your child?” Redleaf swooped down, her face gleaming as she jeered at the Winter Queen. “Now you will watch her die!”

“No!” Shasta cried, but it was too late. Redleaf had sent a ball of flame directly towards Shasta, a ball that grew hotter and larger as it shot forth.

Time seemed to stand still. The Winter Queen, her magic flashing in a blue halo about her face, rushed forth, pushing Shasta out of the way, placing herself directly in the path of the flame.

“Mother!” Shasta screamed, stumbling backwards.

But the flames had already taken hold of the Winter Queen, lapping at the folds of her dress, her skin, enveloping her completely. This was no ordinary fire, I knew – this was a fire from the land of the Dead, its magic strong enough to combat even the Queen's royal immortality.

Yet beneath the flames, the Queen began to glow. Her pale skin grew translucent; her silver-blue eyes began to sparkle brighter than ever. She was no longer a body, but a spirit, glimmering beneath the flames.

“Shasta,” it was the Queen's voice, but not the Queen's voice. It echoed faintly, as if coming from millions of miles beyond the mountain. “I love you – I have always loved you. If I had told you sooner, perhaps you would not have felt the need to do what you did.”

Shasta began sobbing louder.

“Kian – to you I leave the scepter. To you I leave the voices of the ancients. You will be king, now. Do what you can do for Feyland.”

Another figure appeared alongside the Winter Queen. It was a man with bright blue eyes and a white bushy beard. He shimmered like Redleaf, but he was not a phantom like her. In his face I could see happiness, peace. Wherever he rested, it was not a place of suffering.

“Come with me,” he whispered.

“Father!” Kian exclaimed.

But the flames consumed them both, and when the fires had died down, there was nothing left of the Winter Queen but her crown.

Redleaf snarled with rage. “Very well! So your mother went first!” She turned to Shasta. “But now it's your turn.”

“It is
not
her turn!” My mother stepped firmly in front of Shasta. “She is a child, your Highness. Would you really kill a child?”

“I nearly killed yours when she was an infant in her bed,” said Redleaf. “Why would I spare one who did me wrong?”

“If you want to kill anyone,” Raine said. “Kill me. I'm the one you hate. If killing me will set you free, if it will stop this desire for revenge, this anger, then do it! I'm the one who stole your husband, who lived in your house, who bore his children. I was young and a fool and I did not think of your pain, only of my happiness. I made you what you are, never guessing that you were hurting too. I am the one who must pay the price.”

Redleaf looked surprised. “You would sacrifice yourself?”

Raine knelt at Redleaf's feet. “I beg you for forgiveness, Redleaf. For all the pain I caused. For all the sadness. It is I who bear the brunt of this war. Kill me – or forgive me, as you will. But let your anger end with me.”

“And with me!” My father chimed in, kneeling at Redleaf's feet. “Do not take my daughter. Do not take this child. It is I who hurt you. It is I who swore to be faithful to you – and lied. I thought I was above such petty laws. I thought, as King, I could do what I wanted. I know now that my actions have been cruel, and that I have paid the price. I will not stand in your way. I am sorry, Redleaf, for what I have done to you.”

“You...sorry?” Redleaf looked back and forth at my mother and father in confusion. “
You are sorry
?”

“We have played our parts in the history of this war. We are prepared to accept whatever responsibility you mete out.”

“Killing them won't make you feel any better!” I cried. “It will only keep you here, trapped in this hatred. You have to move on, Redleaf. You have to forgive them. You have to let go.”

Redleaf looked at me, the hatred in her eyes replaced by pain. “Let...go...”

“It's the only way you'll find peace. Killing my parents won't bring back your youth, bring back your life. It will only keep you here. Do you want to be a ghost forever.”

“Forgive me, Redleaf,” my mother whispered. “I didn't know I had caused you so much pain.”

“Nor I,” my father added.

“Forgive...” Redleaf repeated. Her eyes were flashing red and brown, the colors of Autumn. Her tortured, contorted face began to slack, to relax. “You would sacrifice yourselves – both of you?”

My father and my mother both nodded, closing their eyes.

“Forgive...” Redleaf began to shimmer once again. “You both truly know love.” Tears were falling from her face, vanishing like mist before they hit the floor. “I never knew love. I wished I had...”

“Redleaf,” my father began.

“Keep the castle safe.” With that, Redleaf's shimmer grew brighter, until with a single burst of light, she vanished completely.

From the corners of our eyes, we spotted more such lights out the window, on the battlefield. Kian and I rushed to the window. There we saw all the Dead – all of Redleaf's army – vanishing likewise, her forgiveness extending to each of them in turn. One by one, like bursting stars, the Dead soldiers flickered out and vanished, leaving only the rest of the Dark Hordes, so faintly illuminated by the glow, on the plain.

“I hope they've found peace,” Kian whispered. I saw that he too had been crying. “Like mother.” But now was no time to mourn.

“I am the Winter King now!” He turned to the rest of us. “I am the Midnight Knight. And we must wait no longer. The old Fey tales have the Midnight Knight and the Red Wolf defeating the Dark Hordes. But we have more than that. For we have the Knight, we have the Wolf, and we have our Queen.” He took my hand. “We must wait here no longer. We must combine our magic – all of us! Breena, Delano, all of us!”

“Then let's leave the castle now,” said Logan. “No more waiting this out. We'll do or die. Like the Queen would have wanted.”

My father stepped forwards. “Then I will go too. We will link hands. We will lead our men. We will combine our magic to create light where there is no light. We will create warmth for the other soldiers. We will inspire them, one last time.”

“I'm ready,” I said.

“I too,” Delano added.

Shasta said nothing but stepped forth, her eyes wet with tears.

“Then break down the protection spell on the gate,” I said. “And let us all march forth and lead our armies – one last time.”

We returned to the courtyard, rushing from group to group of the remaining soldiers, giving orders, telling them the plan. We were to march forth, linking hands, each of us connecting with each other's magic, working together. There would be no retreat. There would be no surrender. We would use the magic of Feyland, the magic each creature has harnessed whether they are fey, pixies, or other mythical creatures and keep walking forth until Feyland was saved, or else the rest of us were dead. Pixies, fairies – Winter and Summer both – wolves, centaurs, Minotaurs, satyrs: we all joined hands as we marched towards the gate.

Kian was on my left, Logan on my right. I squeezed both their hands as we positioned ourselves before the gate. Behind the barrier set up by the protection spell, the Dark Hordes were groaning and wailing, gnashing their teeth and snapping at us.

“Are we ready?”

The wolves and centaurs howled and neighed in approval; the fairies cried “aye.”

“For the Midnight Knight!” Kian cried. “For the Red Wolf. For the Queen of Summer!”

For the King of Winter
, I added telepathically.

“For Feyland!” We all shouted together.

The fairies in charge of the protection spell concentrated hard, and the gate of magic flickered. In a moment there would be no turning back, no safety. We would be marching on the Hordes: our final stand.

The lights of the gate vanished with a flash, and then there was nothing between us and the Hordes but ten yards of earth. We marched towards them, cheering, our hands squeezing each other's hands with all our strength, all our courage thousands of hands strong. We bore no arms: no swords, no shields. We had our magic the magic that tapped into the great strength of Feyland.

A glow began to surround us all as we marched forth, a glow that gave us light and heat and courage. It started out as a golden glow – the glow of Summer – but was soon joined by the colors of Winter, Autumn, and Spring. The pixies too began to spark green and yellow, and their colors too added to the glow of magic that surrounded us, making it shine brighter and brighter. Even the wolves, howling, seemed to connect their magic with ours, their long-dormant powers awakening at this hour of need.

“You will not take Feyland,” I cried. “Too many have died already.”

The Hordes began rushing towards us, their teeth bared, their horns sharpened. But as they drew near, they found that they could not touch us. The magic around us was too strong, and one by one the banshees and the giants tried to breach it, only to be thrown back into darkness.

The earth began to shake as our magic connected with the magic within it: the trees began to glow, the life on their buds offering us hope, offering us strength. The blades of grass beneath us began to shine, and the Hordes howled with pain as their feet made contact with this magical light. The wind itself seemed to take on a faint glow as it whipped past the Hordes, slashing their faces with the magic in the air.

This was the great magic of Feyland – the ancient magic. This was the sign of the Frostfire: pixie and fairy, Winter and Summer, Minotaur and centaur all united together, willing to die together, willing to die for the land that we loved.

This was love.

Kian and Logan held me tighter as we marched forth, chanting loudly.

“For Feyland! For Frostfire!”

For love.

The magic we had been afraid to face; the magic we had not allowed ourselves to use for so many centuries. The most powerful magic of all.

Within the magic glow I could make out faces, faces I thought I recognized. The Winter Queen, the light taking her form, whispering something to Shasta. Queen Tamara, her mouth twisting into a smile. Other Queens, other Kings: the power of all the dead of Feyland who had gone on to peace, and yet returned to keep us safe. Those whom I had seen fall on the battlefield: Vineseed, the pixies, even those I myself had killed before we had made peace.
Because they loved Feyland, too. Because they loved.

And in the tangle of light and form, I could have sworn that I made out Redleaf's face.

The light grew ever-stronger, ever-brighter. The earth continued to shake beneath us.

We fell back as a chasm opened before us, the earth breaking in two.

The Dark Hordes let up a collective scream as the wind pulled them towards the chasm. The air itself was against them; the earth was against them. Feyland was crying out against their invasion. We would not let them take us. We would not let them own us. We were stronger than they were.

We loved. And love was the strongest magic, the strongest power of all.

And the light surrounded us, keeping us safe, as – thousands upon thousands – the Dark Hordes were sucked down into the earth, into its darkness, into its endless gravelly sleep.

They had not taken us. We had not let them take us.

The surfaces of the chasm fastened together; the earth closed up once more. We were standing on an empty expanse. The light surrounding us diffused – it illuminated every living thing in Feyland. The apples on the trees. The grass. Each other.