Page 56 of Heir of Autumn
The guardian of earth had answered, arriving once again in the form of an ancient humanoid tree. Frederick the harpy had come, too. Excellent.
“Protect us,” I shouted, intent on erecting strong enough defenses to relieve the pressure on Sylvain, perhaps even mount a counterattack.
The great tree slammed its fists into the ground, massive roots and twisted trunks erupting out of the beautifully polished wooden floor, splintering it utterly. The guardian’s instant forest would buy us some time, thick and wide enough to absorb the worst of Aurelia’s blades.
Frederick flapped his wings, calling on the elemental magic of air. Queen Aurelia cried out in frustration as the powerful gusts caused the terrifying buzzsaws of her leaves to wobble mid-flight, sending them careening into far walls, or dropping them uselessly out of the air.
“Well done,” Sylvain said, grateful for the breather. “But now we have to find a way to restore Mother’s will.”
Wait. The guardian of water. The kraken and the essence leeches. I wouldn’t ever know where the kraken developed such a talent for hucking things at other things, but its ridiculous onslaught back in the Oriel of Water had worn down every last one of us through sheer perseverance.
I winced, imagining the wet slap of the essence leech against my face. I glanced over my shoulder, back down the corridor toward the alchemy lab. Would Dulcifer and the rest of the court alchemists ever forgive me? Still, this was a simple matter when it all came down to it. We could always replenish the Court of Autumn’s supply of Wispwater.
As far as I knew, there was no way to bring back a dead Autumn Queen.
“I’ll be right back,” I shouted at Sylvain.
“What?” he shouted back, frowning. “Where in the world are you going?”
“Keep her busy. I have a plan. Promise. Frederick! Satchel!”
The harpy swerved out of battle without missing a beat, scooping me up by the armpits and lifting me out of harm’s way. I pointed down the corridor, all the way back to the laboratory, already thinking up ways to apologize to the alchemists. Satchel zipped to follow us, eventually overtaking us when he realized where we were headed.
“Your pocket dimension,” I said. “Stuff as much of the Wispwater in there as you can carry.”
“Oh gods, oh gods,” Satchel stammered, fluttering toward the phials. “Is Sylvain going to be okay?”
“Not if we take too long. Frederick, can you carry some with you as well?”
Wordlessly he swept his arms along the shelves and cabinets, gathering a dozen or so of the phials. I stuffed my pockets in the meantime.
“I can’t lift you with all of these weighing me down,” Frederick said.
“No, it’s fine. We’re running back. And you know what? When we get to the audience chamber, dump them all on her head.”
Frederick blinked. “Treating a queen in such a manner seems highly inappropriate.”
I frowned, already sprinting out of the laboratory. “Forget protocol, Frederick. Just do as I ask, please.”
“Understood,” he said, beating his great wings as he sped ahead of me.
Satchel huffed and puffed as he followed us, once again zipping like his life depended on it. Poor little guy would need a break after this. We all would. But first, we needed to break some phials over Queen Aurelia’s head.
Even running at full speed I could barely catch up to Frederick. I was at the entrance by the time he’d flown near the queen, doing exactly as he promised. Parting his arms, he delivered a payload of phials, carpet-bombing Queen Aurelia with broken glass and splashes of Wispwater.
But not enough, apparently. The queen shrieked in rage, unleashing more of her whirling blades throughout the throne room. Furniture splintered. Pillars crashed. With shaking hands I unloaded the Wispwater phials into a pile on the floor. Panting and breathless, Satchel did the same, disappearing and reappearing with more phials, glass clinking as our stock grew.
I reached for my medallion, fingers clenched against the Tears of the Ocean, willing the guardian of water to manifest, begging. A writhing mass of tentacles appeared by my feet, accompanied by wet squelching and the smell of seawater. Good thing krakens could breathe out of water.
Sylvain rushed to my side, deflecting one of his mother’s blades with his own shield of leaves. “Whatever it is you’re trying to do, Lochlann — do it faster.”
“Okay, okay!” I blinked at the kraken. The kraken blinked back. “You’re — smaller than I expected,” I muttered, distinctly remembering a much larger kraken. Maybe the high concentration of elemental water made the guardians more gigantic in the oriel.
The kraken frowned, tentacles already probing at our pile of Wispwater phials.
“Yes, exactly. Remember how you pelted us with leeches? Do that, but against her.”
I pointed at the Queen of Autumn. The kraken said nothing, only gleefully reaching for the first batch of phials, then launching them at full speed toward Queen Aurelia.
