by Chris Colfer
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE MIND ITSELF
Brystal opened her eyes.…
It was like waking from the worst sleep of her life.… She was so exhausted she could feel it in her bones.… Her head was pounding and every muscle in her body ached.… The ocean air was freezing, but she was too weak to shiver.…
Brystal awoke to the sound of marching boots and clanking armor. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed there were four dirt walls surrounding her. Brystal looked around and discovered she was lying at the bottom of a deep grave. She could see the fortress’s towers stretching into the sky above her and realized she was still somewhere in the courtyard. She heard the living and deceased clansmen moving near the surface, following the commands of their Righteous King.
“Make sure we clear out the arsenal—don’t leave a single piece of bloodstone behind,” Seven ordered. “After tonight there’ll be no need to return to this miserable place ever again. And make it quick—I want to get to Chariot Hills by sunrise!”
Brystal didn’t know how or why she was still alive. The last thing she remembered was her slow death on the platform. As she pondered the mystery, she heard the sound of ticking coming from somewhere inside the grave. Brystal found a silver pocket watch that she had never seen before clipped to the waist of her pantsuit. Her name was engraved on the back of it, and curiously, instead of twelve hours, the watch was counting down twelve months.
The pocket watch triggered Brystal’s memory and she suddenly recalled her time in the gray field. She might have thought it was just a dream, but the watch was proof it had actually happened. Brystal had made a deal with Death, and the watch was a reminder of their bargain. She had exactly one year to find and kill the Immortal with an ancient enchantment, and if time permitted, she could use the same enchantment to destroy the Righteous Army of the Dead. However, none of it would happen if Brystal didn’t survive the fortress first.
She inspected the dirt walls and didn’t know how she’d get out of the grave without her wand. Brystal was in so much pain she could barely sit up, let alone climb.
Don’t even bother.…
You’ll never escape.…
The walls are too tall to climb.…
You’re going to die down here.…
You deserve to die down here.
For a moment, Brystal thought the disparaging thoughts were right. She was so eager to return to life, but now that she was back in her life, her deal with Death seemed pointless. Mistress Mara’s curse made her so emotionally and physically depleted she didn’t have the energy or the willpower to keep going.
That’s it.…
There’s no reason to continue.…
There’s no reason to keep fighting.…
There’s nothing to live for anymore.…
So don’t.
As she sat in her grave, wounded and heartbroken, the ticking watch reminded Brystal of the space between life and death. She visualized the stars and planets in the sky, the smooth surface of the gray field, and the beautiful white trees. Brystal remembered all the pocket watches hanging from her branches and how each of them represented a living and breathing person. She thought about all the souls she had saved, all the lives she had helped, and all the people she had encouraged. It made her think about all the friends and family members who had inspired her over the years, all the love and laughter they had shared, and how she would give anything just to see their smiling faces one last time.…
And suddenly, like finding a life raft in the middle of a storm at sea, Brystal found the drive to push through her despair.
Despite what the curse made her think and feel, the world was worth fighting for.… She was worth fighting for.… There were people who cared about her.… There were people who were rooting for her.… Even if she failed and died in the process, she owed it to them to keep moving.… She owed it to her friends and family to keep trying.… She owed it to herself to keep going.…
So Brystal kept ticking.
She ignored everything her mind and body were telling her and gradually got to her feet. She slowly walked forward, focusing on one footstep at a time, and moved toward the edge of the grave. Brystal reached up with her aching hands, grabbed two handfuls of dirt, and began climbing. It was difficult, it was painful, and it required strength she didn’t know she had, but Brystal did it anyway.
You’re wasting your time.…
You’ll never make it out alive.…
Go back to sleep and return to the gray field.…
Let Death take you to the other side.…
You’ve already lost.
For the first time, Brystal talked back to the voices in her head.
You’re wrong.…
It doesn’t matter how long it takes me.…
It doesn’t matter if I fail or die in the process.…
They’ll only win if I stop trying.…
And I’ll never give up.…
Never!
As if her response had caught the curse off guard, the negative thoughts went silent, and it took them a moment to return.
It’s time to face the facts.…
The grave is too deep, and you’re too weak.…
The army is too big, and you’re too small.…
You’ll never defeat them.…
It’s impossible.
I am facing the facts.…
If I were too weak, I wouldn’t be here.…
If I were too small, I wouldn’t have come this far.…
The army may be big, and they may be strong…
They may have risen from the dead…
But so have I.…
I’ve already accomplished the impossible.…
And I’m not done yet!
Each time Brystal responded to the thoughts, it took them longer and longer to return. She was almost halfway up the dirt wall—just a few more feet and the surface would be within her reach.
Everyone hates you.…
The world thinks you’re a murderer.…
No one will ever trust you again.…
You can’t stop the Army of the Dead alone.…
But that’s exactly what you are…
Hated and alone…
Hated and alone.
Brystal placed both hands on the surface. She grunted and gritted her teeth as she summoned all her remaining strength for one final heave upward.
You’re wrong.…
Even if the world loses trust in me…
Even if we lose mankind’s acceptance…
I’ll never be alone.…
I have family who love me.…
I have friends who care about me.…
And they’ll always be there when I need them the most!
BANG! Just as Brystal’s head rose above the surface, the south wall of the courtyard exploded. The blast covered the fortress in debris and knocked the Brotherhood off their feet. When the dust settled, Brystal saw Lucy standing in the midst of the damage. She was joined by the Fairy Council and the witches from Ravencrest.
Brystal was so overjoyed to see her friends she slipped off the surface and slid back to the bottom of the grave, but she landed with a huge smile on her face. Seeing her friends coming to her rescue validated everything she had said to her disturbing thoughts, and the negativity retreated so deep inside her that Brystal’s clarity, her optimism, and her confidence returned at last. The curse hadn’t been broken, she knew it was only a matter of time before the disturbing thoughts returned, but Brystal had finally learned how to fight it—not with magic, but with the mind itself.
As the fairies and witches entered the courtyard, they were shocked to see the Army of the Dead among the clansmen—the Brotherhood was over four times the size they were expecting.
“Well, this was falsely advertised,” Emerelda said.
“Is it just my imagination, or do most of those men look dead?” Xanthous asked.
“They sure are,” Stitches said with a wide grin. “And it’s not
even my birthday!”
The Brotherhood pointed all their swords, spears, and crossbows at the newcomers and waited for the Righteous King’s commands. Seven climbed the platform to get a better look at the intruders and howled with laughter.
“Is this supposed to be an ambush?” he scoffed.
“You bet it is!” Lucy declared.
“They must not teach math at your schools,” Seven sneered. “There’s only nine of you and well over a thousand of us.”
The living clansmen chuckled at their commander’s remark. Lucy scowled at him and put her hands on her hips.
“Sorry, I can’t hear you over that obnoxiously loud outfit,” she said.
“Archers, prepare to fire,” Seven told his men. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
“You know, for such a flashy dresser, you sure are dim,” Lucy said. “You’re not the only one with backup, buddy!”
Lucy whistled into the dark beach behind her, and the fortress started vibrating as something very big approached. Suddenly, all the lynxes from Ravencrest Manor stampeded into the courtyard. The Brotherhood wasn’t prepared for such an attack, and they didn’t have time to raise their weapons before they were bitten, scratched, or tackled to the floor by the massive felines.
While the lynxes clawed and pounced on the clansmen, Lucy pulled the fairies and witches into a quick huddle.
“So we’re a little outnumbered,” Lucy said.
“A little outnumbered?” Skylene asked.
“We can’t beat these guys on our own!” Tangerina said.
“We don’t have to beat them—we just have to save Brystal!” Lucy said. “You guys help the lynxes distract the Brotherhood while I look for her! As soon as I find her, we’ll get out of here!”
The fairies nodded and followed the lynxes into battle. The witches ripped off their golden necklaces so their true appearances would help them in the fight.
Beebee buzzed through the air and stung the Brotherhood with her giant stinger. All the archers fired their crossbows at her, but the witch flew so erratically, their arrows whizzed right past her. Xanthous zigzagged through the courtyard and set the clansmen’s robes ablaze, sending the men running toward the ocean in a panic. Skylene hit the Brotherhood with watery geysers that erupted from her hands, and she made the ground so muddy the clansmen slipped and slid before they could get anywhere near her.
Sprout kicked off her shoes and sank her toes into the dirt. Her feet grew through the courtyard like large tree roots and tripped the clansmen as they ran about. Once the men were off their feet, Sprout’s fingers wrapped around their bodies like vines and kept them restrained. Tangerina sent her swarm through the courtyard, and the bumblebees snatched weapons out of the Brotherhood’s hands. The insects also showered the clansmen in honey, sticking their boots and bony feet to the ground.
The Brotherhood’s bloodstone weapons went directly through whatever magic the fairies and witches produced, but the clansmen themselves did not. Once Emerelda figured this out, she made large emerald blocks appear throughout the courtyard. The clansmen collided with the blocks headfirst and were knocked unconscious. Pip aimed her backside at the Brotherhood and sprayed them with an odor that was so foul it burned the men’s eyes and made them vomit.
Stitches snatched a hair off a deceased clansman’s head and quickly sewed the follicle onto a knitted doll. After muttering a short incantation, Stitches moved the doll’s arms and legs, and the clansman mimicked the motion against his will. The witch played with the doll like it was an action figure, forcing the clansman to fight members of his own Brotherhood. Stitches was thrilled the incantation was finally working and jumped with joy.
“Annnnnd that’s why they call me Stitches!” she cheered victoriously.
While the lynxes and her friends battled the living and deceased clansmen, Lucy weaved through the action in search of Brystal. Her sense of trouble guided her through the courtyard like a tracking beam, and with every step she took, she knew she was getting closer and closer to her. Just when Lucy was certain Brystal was right under her nose, she suddenly fell into an open grave and landed right beside her.
“Lucy!” Brystal happily exclaimed.
“Oh, thank God!” Lucy cried. “I was afraid we’d be too late!”
The girls gave each other a tight embrace.
“It’s so wonderful to— What happened to your hair?” Brystal asked.
Lucy waved it off like it wasn’t important. “I cursed a bunch of body-shaming ballerinas—but I’ll tell you all about it later,” she said. “I’m so sorry for getting angry at the cavern! I know you were only trying to protect me and I should have never acted like such a jerk! I’m a horrible friend and I hope you’ll forgive me!”
“I’m sorry, too,” Brystal said. “I haven’t been acting like a good friend either.”
“It wasn’t your fault! You were cursed!”
“Yes, but I finally figured out how to—Wait, how’d you know I was cursed?”
“Because an invisible butler and a goat led me to a pumpkin in a witch’s closest! Wow, that just sounds crazy when you say it out loud. But the important part is that you’re alive and we’re friends again! Is there anything I can do to make up for my horrible behavior?”
“Actually, there is something,” Brystal said.
“Name it! I’ll do anything!” Lucy said.
“You can help me out of this grave.”
As the battle raged on above them, Seven watched his Army of the Dead from the safety of the platform and was exhilarated by what he saw. While the living clansmen were dropping like flies, it didn’t matter what the witches, fairies, or lynxes did to the deceased clansmen, the dead always returned to their feet and kept fighting. They were resistant to Pip’s fumes, they weren’t bothered by Xanthous’s flames, and if their foot got stuck in Tangerina’s honey, they’d simply leave the foot behind and continue on.
The witches and fairies were getting tired and wouldn’t last much longer. Seven was convinced he and the Brotherhood would be celebrating their first victory sooner than expected—until he spotted something that made his blood boil.
Across the courtyard, Lucy emerged from the open grave and then helped Brystal climb to the surface. Even though Seven had witnessed a thousand clansmen rise from the dead earlier, seeing Brystal come back to life horrified him, and it filled the Righteous King with unfathomable fury.
“NOOOOO!” Seven seethed. “That’s impossible! I saw her die with my own eyes! I felt her cold flesh with my own hands!”
Lucy and Brystal raced through the courtyard, narrowly dodging the swords, spears, and arrows that came their way.
“I found her!” Lucy told the others. “Let’s get out of here!”
The fairies and witches were thrilled to see Brystal had survived, and slowly but surely, they pushed through the clansmen and headed for the giant hole in the south wall.
“ARCHERS!” Seven screamed. “STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AT ONCE AND AIM YOUR WEAPONS AT THE FAIRY GODMOTHER! DON’T LET HER ESCAPE!”
The Brotherhood immediately turned toward Brystal and pointed their crossbows at her. The fairies, the witches, and the lynxes formed a protective circle around her, but there were hundreds and hundreds of arrows aimed directly at them, and they didn’t know how they could possibly stop them all.
“Lucy, please tell me you have a plan C!” Brystal said.
“Sorry, I thought the lynxes would be enough!” Lucy admitted.
“NOTHING IS GOING TO SAVE YOU THIS TIME!” Seven yelled. “WE’RE GOING TO CRUSH YOU LIKE THE VERMIN YOU ARE!”
“Well, now he’s just flirting with us,” Stitches said.
“ARCHERS! FIRE ON THREE!” Seven ordered. “ONE!”
The fairies and witches searched for an escape, but they were completely surrounded.
“TWO!”
With nothing to do and nowhere to go, they held one another’s hands, closed their eyes, and braced themselves for the end. Only a mir
acle could save them now.
“THREE!”
Their bodies went tense, expecting dozens of arrows to pierce their skin at once. However, the moment never came.
“I SAID THREE, YOU IDIOTS!” Seven roared.
The fairies and witches opened their eyes and saw that the Brotherhood were no longer focused on them. Thousands and thousands of kitchen utensils flew through the courtyard and began attacking the clansmen like a flock of rabid birds. Sharp knives sliced through the crossbows and cut all the arrows in half, pots and pans whacked the swords and spears out of their hands, and rolling pins knocked their feet out from under them.
“Who’s d-d-doing this?” Beebee asked.
“It isn’t one of us!” Sprout said.
The fairies knew there was only one person it could be. Everyone turned toward the south wall as a familiar figure stepped through the damage and joined the fight.
“MRS. VEE!” the fairies said together.
“Hey there, kiddos!” Mrs. Vee said. “Looks like you could use an extra pan! HA-HA!”
The bubbly housekeeper twirled her arms like a maestro conducting an orchestra as she assaulted the Brotherhood with her kitchen supplies. She smacked their faces with wooden spoons, she beat them over the head with baking sheets, and she poked their eyes with whisks and forks. Mrs. Vee unleashed such a powerful and ruthless attack that the fairies almost felt sorry for the clansmen.
“GET UP AND FIGHT!” Seven screamed at his army. “SHE’S JUST A COOK!”
Mrs. Vee was horribly offended. “Just a cook?!” she asked. “Just a cook?!”
The housekeeper pointed at the Righteous King and he was wrestled to the ground by an apron.
“I’ve seen some bad apples in my day but that guy takes the worm! HA-HA!” She laughed.
“Mrs. Vee, what made you come out of your room?” Tangerina asked.