In a hazy delirium of pain and blood, he saw a vision that some might misconstrue as a delusion: Maria, with her gathered army, preparing to set out for him.
The only problem was she didn’t know exactly where he was.
The crystal hung around his neck, currently pressed up against the underside of his beard, which was mottled with blood.
The Widow’s laughter boomed, sounding both far away and right inside his head. He turned to see her staring into the Blood Tree. He had not seen one of those in many, many years. The sight alone was terrifying, but not as terrifying as the situation he was in, or as terrifying as the idea of the Widow winning this war and wreaking havoc across the worlds.
I have to do this. For Maria. For those still lost in the world in between. For all of the good left in the worlds.
He jerked his head up so the necklace would fall down his beard, over his chin. Gravity worked with him. With all the energy he had left in his body, he opened his mouth wide and let the crystal fall into it. With his tongue, he pressed the button, jumpstarting the beacon.
He felt the thrum of power as the crystal pulsed.
He swallowed, knowing the pain in his future if the crystal decided not to dissolve like it was supposed to. This would ensure that the Widow didn’t take the crystal and discard it somewhere, throwing Maria off the trail. It was painful, but no worse than the pain already wracking both his mind and his body.
As the Widow turned toward him, all Ignatius Mangood could do was hope.
When Odarth landed in the clearing, folding her wings so she’d fit, Gelbus, Claire, and Tabby were already there. So were a gang of robed witches. Maria smiled, realizing that Frieda had pulled through.
She did not see any Light Elves, though; after seeing how friendly E’olin had been with her grandfather, this disappointed her.
Oh, well. I can do this with or without them. Or at least die trying—trying to do some good, just like Ignatius Apple taught me.
Maria got down from Odarth’s back. Joe handed her Sherlock then hopped down himself.
“That was one fun ride! We should do that again. Hell of a second date so far, Maria,” he said.
Maria smiled at him and went over to Gelbus.
“I’ve failed you,” the Gnome told her. He hung his head low, and Claire and Tabby patted him on the back. “The Light Elves said no; that this is our battle to fight, and ours alone.”
“That’s not true,” a beautiful woman in ragged black robes answered. She held the same air of confidence as Frieda. “We are with you, granddaughter of Ignatius Mangood.” The woman knelt, and the others, dressed in their matching garb, followed suit and bowed their heads.
“These are the dark witches of the northern border of the Dark Forest,” Frieda explained. “My family.”
“You may rise,” Maria said. “Thank you for helping us. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
“We share a common enemy,” the Head Witch said. She stuck out a hand. “I am Gloria. These wonderful witches are Olivia, Asia, Petunia, and Tania. Our combined magic should be of some use to you.”
Maria bowed. “Pleased to meet you all.” She looked back down to Gelbus. “You have not failed me, Gelbus. You being here by my side, ready to sacrifice your life for a greater good, is more than enough, my Gnome friend. And Sherlock has missed you.”
Sherlock barked in reply.
Gelbus looked up, his eyes watery—though he had yet to cry—and smiled.
Maria’s army gathered around her and watched their leader intently.
“Tonight, we put an end to the madness. Tonight, we show the world there is still some good left in it. Tonight, we will be victorious!” she yelled.
They cried out in agreement.
She mounted Odarth again and pulled the sword free.
I can trust you, right?
Maria Apple, I owe you my life. You needn’t worry, Odarth promised.
The young witch looked back at her soldiers. “Are you ready?” she yelled.
“Yes!” they cried.
Claire and Tabby looked on with admiration and love and fear.
“Then let’s go!” Maria yelled.
Gramps’s beacon had come to her in a flurry of images. She didn’t want to call them up again, after sending them to Odarth. The dragon had cringed at their brutality as well, but now the location was known.
She urged Odarth forward as shapes manifested from the darkness in front of her. A small jet of flame rumbled from the dragon’s mouth, about to blast forth.
“Hold!” Maria shouted, her heart thumping. “These are not enemies.”
“You are forgetting us,” E’olin said.
Maria smiled. “I knew you’d come.”
With him were five Light Elves, radiant in their beauty and fierce in their armor and weapons.
“These are all I could get to join the cause,” E’olin said apologetically.
“Better than nothing.” Claire grinned. “Glad to see you, E’olin.”
He nodded at her.
“Down, girl,” Tabby said, mimicking a spray bottle with her hands.
“Oh, shut up,” Claire said, rolling her eyes, and continued smiling at him. Maria figured he probably got that a lot during his time on Earth.
“Do you want a ride?” Maria asked E’olin and his soldiers, three men and two women.
E’olin eyed the Rogue Dragon warily. “No, thanks, Maria. I believe we will follow.”
Maria shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Mentally, she urged Odarth on. She didn’t slide the blade into the dragon’s neck; she trusted her. Instead, she held her sword up, looking like a picture of insanity: on the back of a Rogue Dragon, with a dog in her lap, and three humans behind her.
Odarth walked on, shaking the ground. Birds took to the sky, and Sherlock barked at them, but the wanderers stayed low.
They were heading to the Widow’s lair, where Gramps’s crystal guided them.
Through the Dark Forest they went, and they did not go quietly. When a Rogue Dragon was among the party, there was no such thing as going quietly.
Odarth bulldozed entire trees over, making
