The Shadow Cadets of Pennyroyal Academy

by M. A. Larson

  “She has to be a prisoner, Maggie, that’s how no one will know Malora’s betrayed them. Just until they’re through the forest. Then Malora will give her the Waking Kiss and Cinderella will be safe.”

  Maggie shook her head and looked from one of them to the next. “So that’s it, then? You’re off to hand over the most important princess we’ve got to a witch and I’m supposed to go along with it.”

  “Well . . .” Evie looked from Demetra to Basil. “Yes.”

  “I won’t do it. I’m going to Beatrice before you get us all killed.” She charged toward the door.

  “Maggie, no!” cried Demetra.

  They all jumped up to stop her. She writhed out of Demetra’s grip, struggling like a fly in a web, then knocked Basil to the floor, causing a pot of gardening supplies to crash over.

  “Jab her, Evie!” Basil said.

  “What?”

  “Jab her!”

  Maggie pulled open the door. In a panic, Evie grabbed her wrist, raised the spindle, and jabbed her finger.

  “Aah!” Maggie clutched her hand and fell to her knees. She looked up at Evie, her face full of reproach. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she was asleep.

  They all stepped over and looked down at her. She was peaceful. Dead asleep.

  “She’s going to be furious when she wakes up,” said Basil. “Glad I wasn’t the one who did it.”

  “You made me do it!” said Evie.

  “Well done,” said Demetra. “Just when we’re all getting along so well, you go and put her in an eternal slumber.”

  “I ought to open the gates and whistle a wolf call,” said the Fairy Drillsergeant, chewing on a small piece of fairyweed. “This is without a doubt the most ill-conceived, foolhardy plan I’ve ever heard.”

  “And yet it’s something we must do,” said Cinderella. They were huddled in her quarters at the front of the Ironbone Company barracks, only a single candle providing any light. “Fairy Godmother,” she continued, “you remember Javotte. She used to torture the mice for her own amusement. She killed the birds because she could. She took the fire poker to the horse whenever—”

  “Hang on,” said Basil. “You’re her fairy godmother?”

  “Of course I remember Javotte,” said the Fairy Drillsergeant, ignoring him.

  “Well, now imagine Javotte with an army behind her.”

  The Fairy Drillsergeant threw her fairyweed to the floor and floated back and forth, pacing through the air. “This is madness! Ever since I was assigned to you, I’ve dedicated my life to keeping you out of the witches’ hands. And now you want to walk right into them?”

  Cinderella held out a finger, on which the Fairy Drillsergeant landed. They looked at each other. Evie could see the depth of their relationship in that one, brief moment. “I’ve no choice, Fairy Godmother. I do believe Evie is right about Malora. I saw many awful things in her last year, but I also saw the capacity for goodness. I’ve never seen that in a witch before.” She reached up with her other hand and flicked her fingertip, gently wiping a tear from the Fairy Drillsergeant’s cheek. “Come on, Mum, we’ve made it through some tight spots before, haven’t we?”

  “None tighter than this, I daresay.” As if realizing the cadets were still there, she sniffled away her tears and growled at them. “Get out of here, will you? Let the adults talk.”

  Evie, Demetra, and Basil went out into the night and waited. The moon had not yet risen, leaving the earth as black as the sky.

  “Maggie’s never going to speak to me again,” said Evie.

  “If this works, she will,” said Demetra.

  The door opened, just a crack, and the Fairy Drillsergeant flew out. “She wants me to stay here.” Her voice was gentler than any of them had ever heard it. “She says Malora is bound to be on edge and seeing me would only make things worse, which is probably quite true. She won’t even let me send you three home, which is what I’d like to do more than anything.” She was looking off into the distance, in the general direction of the flickering torchlight that marked the campus roads. “She’s just writing a letter now. I’m to deliver it to Princess Beatrice tomorrow, once you’ve gone.” The three cadets stood in the dark, motionless and wordless. “I’m trusting you with her. That woman is more than just a princess to me, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Fairy Drillsergeant,” they said quietly. The night was still. They could hear the soft chime of the dust falling from her wings. Another owl hooted, hoot-hoo-hoot.

  “An animal can sense a person’s kindness better than any fairy or human can. The same is true for cruelty. That’s why the princesses in all those stories are surrounded by animals. They know our hearts.” For the first time in nearly two years, the Fairy Drillsergeant’s voice sounded like that of an ordinary fairy. It was soft and tender. Evie looked over at her, unable to reconcile it with the screaming rage she was used to.

  “I’ll never forget the day those mice came to our tree. Their bodies were covered in scars. Big chunks of fur missing. But they weren’t there for themselves. They’d come because the girl who was doing that to them was doing the same things to her own stepsister. They told our village elders that this stepsister was the most kindhearted person they’d ever met. They couldn’t bear to see the torment she’d been put through. I was assigned to investigate. I was skeptical at first. I’d seen enough humans to know that their suffering was usually self-inflicted. But I’d been given an assignment, so off I went with the mice. And what I found . . .” She shook her head and chuckled softly. “It changed my life.

  “I watched that girl for days before I spoke to her. What the mice said was true. She didn’t have a cruel bone in her body. And yet she was forced to live with three of the cruelest people I’d ever come across. It was as though they lived only to torment her. To humiliate her. Belittle her.” Evie saw the fairy’s jaw harden at the memories. “I wanted to fly in and burn the place down, with the stepmother and stepsisters inside. Adults are supposed to protect children, to keep them safe and let them be innocent and free before they’re turned loose into this horrible world . . .” She trailed off. Though it was dark, Evie could hear the emotion in her voice. “Javelle turned herself round, obviously. And it was due in no small part to Cinderella’s kindness. But the stepmother and that other one, Javotte. They’re humanity’s worst . . .”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the barracks and saw that the door was still closed.

  “You remember the story of Cinderella at the ball? That happened as much because of my pettiness as her kindness. She was so excited about it. She hadn’t been to one since her mother passed. And the stepmother and stepsisters snatched it from her just before she was meant to go. That drove me right over the edge. Of course I gave her the gown and the carriage and all the rest because of her kindness. Certainly that’s true. But really I just wanted to see the looks on the faces of those filthy hags when she walked into that ballroom. It was petty and mean-spirited, and it was the single most exquisite moment of my life.

  “As for Cinderella, she met her true love at that ball. Such a good chap, the prince. He had a heart as kind as hers until that giant got him. It would have been awfully easy for the two of them to ride away in a bridal carriage and live happily ever after, but they didn’t. He helped form a party to drive the giants back into the mountains, while she set her own happiness aside and enlisted at the Academy to train to battle witches. And she trained harder than anyone who’s ever stepped foot on this campus. She even brought her horrible stepsisters here, and Javelle blossomed into a very respectable Princess of the Shield in her own right. It wasn’t until much later that Cinderella and the prince finally married.” She paused and glanced at the dim candlelit window at the front of the barracks. “You know, I was never a particularly good fairy before I met her. I liked to use my magic to play tricks on people. They were nothing but big, dumb animals t
o me. But Cinderella infected me with her compassion. I like to see the goodness in people. I really do. But I love to see the greatness in them. That’s what being a fairy drillsergeant allows me to do. And Cinderella taught me that.”

  The door opened and the princess emerged, a folded parchment in her hands. She handed it to the Fairy Drillsergeant, who used her wand to hold it in the air. “Remember, don’t deliver it until morning.”

  The Fairy Drillsergeant fluttered over and gave Cinderella a tender kiss on the forehead. “I’ll find you when the year is out. Until then, be safe, child.”

  “I will, Fairy Godmother. All will be well.”

  And with that, she flew off into the darkness. Cinderella turned to her three cadets. “Shall we?”

  With shaking fingers, Evie held up Malora’s letter. She flicked her wrist and tossed the parchment. It snapped into a hawk, much more smoothly than the last time she’d tried it. The hawk circled above, then began flying north. The four of them hurried across the field toward the edge of the meadow that led down to the wall and the enchanted forest beyond. Evie’s sister awaited them there, that much was known. But would they find Cinderella’s sister first?

  DRIED LEAVES RATTLED across the ground, swept along by a breeze so cold that it passed right through the cloaks they wore over their uniforms. Evie wished they could move a bit faster, but the terrain was so steep and the ground so pitted, it was difficult enough just keeping their eyes on the bird. The ferns shuddered in the wind, waving wildly as though warning them to turn back.

  This is discipline, she reminded herself. Control your fear and move forward. You’re trained for this. She kept her right hand on the hilt of her sword. Basil had his as well, but Demetra and Cinderella carried only their courage.

  She scanned the ground before her. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness as best they could, but with no moon in the sky and a thick tangle of winter branches overhead, the forest had become even more treacherous than usual. Dead leaves and dead needles, and tree trunks like the iron bars of a dungeon cell sprouting up all around them. Vertreiben and witches out there in the darkness.

  Something was coming alive in the night, though she couldn’t decide if it was the enchanted trees or just her imagination. They swayed in the wind, boughs groaning and leaves whispering. If we don’t find Malora soon, we’ll have more trouble than witches and failed princesses.

  None of them spoke as they worked their way farther and farther into the dark forest. The parchment hawk waited on a branch for them to come into view, then flew ahead into the darkness to wait for them again. Cinderella, with her vast years of experience, led the party. She was the only one capable of tracking the bird.

  Evie brought up the rear. The only thing she needed to follow was the dim outline of Demetra’s shoulders. Her head ached from the intensity with which she stared into the shadows. She was convinced Javotte herself would appear at any moment, then the rest of the Vertreiben and the witches and Calivigne and even a wolf or two for good measure.

  She tried to ignore the sounds of the forest popping and rattling and swishing with every gust of wind. She thought back to that day on the tower at the end of the previous year, to the ruins of Pinewall, when Malora had first learned that she wasn’t a highborn princess, but a witch. She had still helped Evie save Remington, even after discovering that her entire life had been a lie. She had gone against her own mother, Countess Hardcastle, one of the Seven Sisters. And in doing so, she had given Evie the courage to fight.

  She’ll do it again, she tried convincing herself. All Malora needs to see is that she is still my sister.

  Finally, two hours after they’d left the Academy, and one hour after the fog had begun to creep in like a wolf tracking its prey, Cinderella stopped. The hawk screamed from the darkness. “Fie-yaah! Fie-yaah!”

  “We’re here,” whispered Cinderella.

  Basil turned around and looked at Evie. She gave him a nod, though she felt far less confident than she must have looked.

  They threaded their way through the trees to the top of a hill, where Cinderella paused once again. She was peering into the mist that had settled in the lower parts of the forest. Evie did the same, but could barely make out anything in the gloom.

  “There.” Cinderella pointed into the distance. Evie looked, but could see nothing aside from endless trees and wafting mist. “Come.”

  She started off down the hill. Evie hesitated. The bird was sitting on a branch looking at her. It dared not go any farther into the woods.

  Cinderella was moving quickly now. They raced through the undergrowth, dodging the lazy swipes of the sprawling oaks at the bottom of the valley. Evie’s feet splashed through icy puddles. Her slippers were sodden, as was the bottom of her dress. Finally they reached the far side of the basin and started up the hill. Evie’s eyes darted around, searching every shadow, every pocket of hanging mist, every snapping branch. They were not alone. She could feel it.

  Once they reached the top of the hill, Cinderella stopped, her eyes boring through the darkness. “It’s just there,” she said. “Now listen, all of you. Once Malora and I have gone, I want you to get back to the Academy as quickly as you can. Don’t dawdle. I’ve written the way back on this hawk. Do you understand?” She handed a parchment to Demetra, who put it in her pocket.

  “Yes, Princess,” they said.

  “Good.” She nodded to herself, as though running through a list in her head. “Good.” The densely packed firs growing atop this hill were covered in hair-like branches, which gave them the appearance of tall, thin monsters. Cinderella stepped into them. Her cadets followed.

  After a minute’s walk, the trees thinned. There was a clearing ahead. And Evie’s dread turned to panic.

  A structure rose up from the fog. Or, rather, the ruins of a structure. As they drew nearer, Evie could see the remains of an outer wall of stone lined with wooden posts. Most of it had fallen away, leaving only the earthen ramparts, but here and there patches remained. An iron gate lay twisted and rusty on the ground. Inside, the hulking mass of an ancient series of buildings loomed. What had once been a triple tower had been reduced to one. The remaining tower was topped with a diamond-shaped spire. The other two were only broken stone and moss and memories. Beyond the towers was the main bulk of the structure. It was high and thick, with small windows and no doors. Ivy clutched at the walls, some of which were blanketed in thick, green moss. The final piece of the structure stood behind. It resembled a giant’s chimney, a tall stone rectangle covered in black char, as though centuries of rain and snow and wind had been unable to erase whatever horrors might have happened inside.

  “What is this?” asked Demetra.

  “This is the Drudenhaus,” said Cinderella. Then she stepped forward and walked through the opening where the gates had once stood. The others followed, afraid to fall too far behind her.

  “Oh my,” she said, stopping abruptly. “Oh no . . .”

  Demetra gasped. Evie walked up next to her and found a statue made of granite flecked with black and silver. It was a woman, small and frail and dressed in a princess’s gown. It was Princess Lankester. She had been turned to stone.

  “What a shame,” said Cinderella. “What a cold, gray shame.”

  Evie studied Lankester’s face. Terror coursed through her veins at the sight of such a fearless princess trapped in a cold, helpless eternity.

  “Be afraid,” said Cinderella, looking each of them in the eyes. “Be afraid, but do what needs doing.”

  “Yes, Princess,” they said softly.

  Leaving the lifeless statue of Princess Lankester behind, the four of them headed for the triple tower, which had once served as the Drudenhaus’s main entrance. A quick look at the other two structures led Evie to conclude that it was not just the main entrance, but the only entrance. The only exit as well.

  They climbed the three eroded
and water-pocked stairs to the doors, which had long ago rotted away. Hideous stone beasts leered down at them from above, black-furred creatures with looping tongues and curved horns. Some had long fingers and toes with birdlike claws. Others had the bent hooves of goats. Several held hooked staffs. Thankfully, much of the cornice had fallen away with the other two towers, and the beasts had fallen with it.

  They entered. Evie was surprised to find that it felt a bit like stepping inside a cave. There was a great hole where the other towers had once stood, giving the impression that, despite being inside the Drudenhaus, they were still mostly outside. The floor was overgrown with weeds and ferns. In spots, it was completely crumbled and gone. Evie looked up into the hollow shell of the remaining tower. Instead of finding a bell, she saw only dangling chains and a crumbled staircase.

  “This way,” whispered Cinderella. “Malora’s got to be here somewhere.”

  She passed through the towers toward a small, square cutout in the wall. This had once been the entrance to the main structure of the Drudenhaus, but the wooden doors had disintegrated, leaving only the rusted iron bands and spikes that had once held them.

  Be afraid, she said, thought Evie. I’m afraid enough for all of us.

  Cinderella passed through first, followed by Basil and Demetra. Evie went last. It was like walking into a tomb. There was no happiness inside these walls, and may never have been. As large as the structure had seemed on the outside, it was quite claustrophobic inside. The ceiling was low, the stone bricks only a few feet above Cinderella’s head. Suddenly, there was a chink and a candle sparked to life.

  “A princess is always prepared,” said Cinderella with a smile.

  The room itself was a vast empty space, with a staircase leading to an upper floor and a pile of rubble where another had once been. Each wall was lined with doorways. Each doorway had once been a cell.

  They stepped carefully through the debris-strewn prison. Evie didn’t want to look inside the cells, but found she couldn’t help herself. Each contained a small window, though many had crumbled away, leaving jagged holes in their place. Inside one cell, Evie saw iron rings that had been screwed into the walls. There were rusted chains piled on the floor, along with other iron implements, and all of them had once been sharp.