Yorik sped back toward the aviary glade, preparing to jump. But the blockade was now taller than the trees, and he could not leap over it. Reaching into his pocket for Erde’s final mud-ball, he reared back and threw, and where the mud struck the Dark Ones, there was a rippling dilation. A tunnel formed, and Yorik dove through it. The tunnel closed behind him. The mud-ball was gone. Now he was trapped in the glade too.
The Princess manifested before him, radiating white-hot fury.
Yorik spoke fast, before he could be disintegrated or imprisoned in an acorn or subjected to any of the other horrible punishments the Princess had invented.
“I saw bea—I saw your father.”
The Princess dropped her hands, which, twigless, had been raised in threatening claws. The fury on her face drained into shock. “You what?”
“I saw your father. I talked to him.”
The Princess seized his remaining hand. “What did he say? Did he talk about me?”
“No,” said Yorik. “He didn’t talk at all. Listen, there is something I have to tell you. Your father did appear, on a throne of vines, and … and Lord Ravenby shot him. And then a giant Dark One crushed him. Your father is dead, Princess. I’m sorry.”
“A throne of vines, eh?” chuckled the Princess. “Oh, very good, Father.”
Yorik looked up at the clear night sky. Here in the quiet glade, he could almost pretend that the horrors outside weren’t real. “Princess,” he said quietly. “The Yg—They have nearly won. The last few defenders of the Estate are dead or fleeing. And the Dark Ones have completely surrounded you.”
“Have they?” The Princess sniffed. “They must want my glade. Well, they can crouch there eternally if they like, they’ll never get it.”
“Is Erde—” Yorik hesitated, not wanting to say it.
Silently, the Princess led him to the grass cradle. There in the very bottom was a crumble of dirt, falling to pieces grain by grain as they watched.
“There was nothing I could do,” the Princess said in a sad, hushed voice. “Maybe I’m not all-powerful after all.”
“No,” replied Yorik. “But there is still something you can do. You can leave the glade and fight the Dark Ones. Before he … before he died, I think your father forgave you.”
“You think? Did he say so?”
“No,” said Yorik, “but the look on his face—”
“Oh, the look on his face,” said the Princess with a bitter laugh. “I’m afraid you don’t just zip around defying the gods, tra la la, you know. It leads to all kinds of unintended consequences.”
Yorik squeezed her hand. “Princess, you have to try. The way he watched Lord Ravenby’s children tending to him—”
“The who tending to what?” the Princess snapped, yanking her hand away. “Don’t grab me like that, it’s very rude.”
“I could just tell,” continued Yorik, irritated. Then he saw the Princess’s eyes filling with tears. “I know it’s difficult,” he said more gently. “But you have to leave now. It’s over. You’re forgiven.”
“You could really tell?” the Princess asked, her voice cracking, the tears flowing once more.
“Yes, I could,” said Yorik. “Because I forgave someone too.” He held out his one hand. “Come with me.”
“But … what if you’re wrong?” The Princess backed away. “You don’t know what he could do … you’re just a ghost, you can’t possibly know.…” Yorik could see she was genuinely terrified.
“Princess, you can burn me or shock me or whatever you like, but it’s time for you to leave the glade.” Gently, he reached for her hand.
The Princess did not burn him or shock him, but she did punch him weakly in the chest. “No! You don’t understand! You can’t understand!” She sank to her knees in the grass, her silver glow dimming to nothing. In a whisper, she said, “What I did—it was unforgivable. I can’t be forgiven, ever.”
Yorik watched her curiously. There was something familiar in her voice—he looked into her gleaming eyes and saw terror there, true panic and fear.
Yorik burst out in a laugh.
The Princess’s head shot up. She looked at Yorik with pure poison. “Are you laughing at me?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Yorik, smiling. He knelt beside her. “I just realized something, Princess.”
“Well, out with it,” she ordered. “Stop being so mysterious. And get that smile off your face.”
Yorik composed himself. “Princess, we’ve been assuming all along that the Dark Ones couldn’t affect you—couldn’t harm you. They—”
“Of course they can’t!” interrupted the Princess, sitting up. “It’s quite rude to suggest! You’d better apol—”
Yorik broke in. “Princess, listen for once. We don’t have much time. Do you recall the memory you showed me, where the Dark Ones told Thomas to throw a rock?”
“That other ghost-boy,” said the Princess. “Of course I remember. Stop wasting time!”
Quickly, Yorik continued. He told her of the Dark Ones at the water garden, who told him he wasn’t needed, and of the terrible lies he’d heard them tell Thomas in his bedroom, and Susan in the attic, and Lord Ravenby in his study. “I’ve always wondered,” he said, “why they could influence Thomas and Lord Ravenby, and so many others in the Estate—but they couldn’t seduce me into falling when I was lying in the water garden, and they couldn’t make Susan poison Lord Ravenby. It’s because we didn’t believe their lies.”
“But what does this have to do with me?” the Princess fumed.
“It’s about the lies. They only have power over you if they are lies you were already telling yourself. The Dark Ones seduce us with our own darkest thoughts.”
“And …?”
“And that’s why they are surrounding the glade. They’re bringing all their power to bear, Princess, the same power I felt when they surrounded me outside the mews. They’re pushing their lies on you, encouraging you to believe your worst fear—that you are unforgivable.”
The Princess’s face bloomed like a lily. “My goodness. You are absolutely right. How embarrassing.” She jumped to her feet and snapped her fingers, and her silver glow returned in a burst that left Yorik blinking. From outside the glade he heard a furious roaring.
“That’s over with, then,” the Princess announced. “I feel terribly silly. That never would have happened, you know, if I’d been able to see out of—”
“I know, I know,” Yorik assured her. “Are you ready to leave?”
“Yes,” the Princess said. “I believe I am.”
“Then let’s go,” said Yorik, taking her hand. Together they walked out of the aviary glade.
The wall of Dark Ones had vanished. Yorik led the Princess toward the Wooded Walk. With small gestures, the Princess extinguished the little fires burning here and there. A wild-eyed horse hobbled past, its foreleg broken. The Princess spoke a soothing word and the leg straightened, the horse cantering away. Then a dirigible crewman crashed from the bushes, firing his pistol at them. The Princess did not seem to notice, but Yorik watched as the bullets became honeybees and the crewman slumped to the ground, snoring.
In this way, they soon arrived at the path. The Princess released Yorik’s hand. “Where is he?” she said. “I’ve got to go to him, you know. He can’t come to me. It wouldn’t be proper.”
Yorik decided not to remind her of the massive Yglhfm who had destroyed her father. He could hear a distant rumbling from the direction of the Manor. “I don’t know, Princess, but we have to move quickly.” Yorik took her hand again and hurried her to the Manor lawn.
They were only steps onto the grass when Yorik noticed a firefly hovering motionless, its abdomen alight. He looked around. The world had stopped. There were motes of soot and dust and fire suspended in warm light, just as they had been a few minutes ago. He felt bathed in a spirit of purest love, and when he looked at the Princess, he saw that she felt it too. Her hand slipped from his and she rose into the air, eyes closed, as though lifted by an invisible hand. Her gossamer dress and face shone, her silver hair glistened, and her laurel crown sprouted white flowers. As if from far away, Yorik heard the faltering voice of the young Princess and the warm, rich voice of her gentle father. They were speaking in a beautiful language that he could not understand. There were tears in the voice of the girl, but happy tears now, and happiness in the stern tones of her father too.
Of course he’s not dead, thought Yorik, feeling embarrassed that he had ever thought her father could be disposed of so easily.
Then time began again. The Princess drifted back to the ground as the dust motes swirled away in a sudden burst of foul wind. They were on the Manor lawn under a bloody sky, distant screams all around, and a Yglhfm mountain towering over them, so tall now that Yorik could not see its peak.
A furious roar shook the heavens. Violent blue thunderbolts slashed the clouds.
The Princess was beaming. “Ah,” she said. “At last I’m my old self.”
Yorik pointed upward. “Princess, it’s time. You must fight the Dark Ones. They’ve all combined together somehow to form this mountain, and—”
“Oh, Yorik,” said the Princess, her face tear-streaked and dreamy. “Isn’t it wonderful? Father has forgiven me. I’m free.”
“I know,” said Yorik. “Now, Princess—”
“And I owe it all to you,” the Princess continued in a misty voice. She clasped his arm. “Lovely, lovely Yorik. My little ghost friend.”
Yorik grasped the Princess by the collar. “Dark Ones! Millions of them, they—”
But he could see the Princess was not at all focused on the immediate problem. Around them the grass was putrefying, stinking like the rotting vegetation in the Dark Ones’ world. Yorik could no longer recognize features of the Estate, and here and there masses of earth were pushing up into new hills.
“Yorik! Oh no, your arm!” The Princess’s face creased in deep concern. “Dear Yorik, what happened to your little arm?”
“Your twig fried it off. Princess, look!” He tried to turn her by the shoulder.
“Oh yes,” said the Princess vaguely. “My leafy twig.” She looked at her hand. “Where is it?” She knelt and began feeling around in the grass.
“Your father burned it to a cinder,” explained Yorik quickly. “Princess, please—”
A dark chorus of angry bellows interrupted. Yorik looked up. The mountain was now ringed by foothills, which surrounded him and the Princess as though they were at the bottom of a vast bowl. Atop each hill were crowds of giant Yglhfm. They began crashing in black waves down toward the center. Thousands more were raining from the flame-blue clouds.
“He burned it?” murmured the Princess. “Oh, naughty Father … I must make a new one … let’s go back to my aviary glade and get a twig.…” She wandered off dreamily in the other direction.
“Erde!” Yorik shouted desperately. “Princess, remember Erde—these are the ones who hurt Erde!”
The Princess snapped to attention. She quivered as her brilliant glow turned red. “They hurt Erde,” she said in a deadly tone.
She put out one hand. From the ground, a twig flew to her. Instantly it sprouted leaves. “Where are they?”
“Ah …!” Yorik swept his arm toward the on-rushing horde of Yglhfm.
From the dark wave, a multitude of voices combined to thunder in victory. YOU WILL SERVE US!
The Princess looked crossly at the horde. “Oh, you’re still here? Don’t you ever give up?”
She pointed her leafy twig.
“Caterpillars! All of you! Now!”