“I don’t think they’re here for us, are they? They can’t be.”
I heard banging on the front door, and a voice calling out. Mother Pepper’s super fruit once again proving itself useful. If they weren’t yet inside, it meant the front door was locked, and that meant my mothers had left the Magic Box. I was alone, here, but I couldn’t leave. The soldiers were blocking the only way out of the house.
Maybe if I stayed in my room they’d go away?
“Someone’s saying something!” Gullie called out from the window.
I rushed over to her and listened.
“—of the Winter Court of Windhelm, by Royal decree and on behalf of the King, you are hereby ordered to open this door.” Whoever was speaking emphasized that last part by banging against the door to the Magic Box.
Of course, there was no reply. Nobody was home except me, and like hell I was going to make myself known before I had to.
“We need to get out of here,” I whispered.
“Really? Because I was thinking we could hang around, maybe put a kettle on and invite them in for tea.”
“Now is not the time to be a smartass.”
“Then say something clever and I won’t have to be!”
I turned to face my bedroom door. They weren’t in the house yet. I had time. The only problem was, time for what, exactly? I lived in a house of mages; there had to be a closet somewhere full of magic items I could use to fight the fae off, but if such a closet existed, I didn’t know about it.
There was only me and my totally human self between them and whatever they’d come here for.
“Do it,” I heard someone outside say.
I looked out the window in time to catch one of the fae wind back his arm and hurl a bolt of whooshing energy straight into the side of the house. The walls and the window trembled, dust fell from the ceiling, and then my ears popped. Something had changed; something was gone. A moment later, the fae soldier standing by the door kicked it in. I heard the bell jingle, the shattering of glass, the splintering of wood.
They were inside, now.
I ducked behind the window and covered my head with my hands. They were inside. I didn’t know who exactly they were, what they wanted, or why they’d come here, but in a moment, they were going to get it, and there was nothing I could do.
“Please tell me you have an invisibility cloak in the wardrobe, or something,” Gullie begged.
“Oh, yes!” I hissed, “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Gullie blinked at me, dumbfounded. “Wait, you have one?”
“Sarcasm!”
I could hear them downstairs, their suits of armor clanking as they rushed through the shop and into the back. One of them was barking to the others not to touch anything, but to spread out and find her. Considering there was only one her in the building, it had to be me they were talking about. I was starting to think they’d planned to show up at exactly this moment, when my mothers were all out.
“What are we gonna do?” Gullie asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, “But I’m not gonna let them take us without a fight.”
I didn’t have anything in the way of weapons, and I didn’t own any magic clothes of my own. My mothers would never let me keep any of the spare materials left over after I’d finish a project. So, I was going to have to deal with them all by myself.
Time wasn’t on my side. Without many real options, I rushed over to the bedroom door, flung it open, and headed into the adjoining living room. The stairs were narrow, and those guys with their big suits of armor were already going to have a tough time getting through to make it up here.
I needed to block it, somehow, but the heaviest thing I could find was an armchair. With a bit of effort, I dragged it into the stairwell and pushed it toward the edge catching one of the intruders by surprise as he made his way up. When he saw me, he stopped, and jabbed a metal-gloved finger at me.
“You!” he yelled.
I pushed the armchair, making it topple end over end and screaming, “Get out of my house!”
“By order of the Wint—” the armchair bounced on its feet a couple of times before striking the armored soldier, pushing him back down the way he had come and pinning him to the wall at the bottom of the stairwell.
Another soldier came into view at the foot of the stairs, but between the armchair and his downed buddy, who was struggling to get up, he was going to have a hard time getting through. I ran into the kitchen and started grabbing pots, pans, knives; anything I could get my hands on.
Chaos was unfolding at the foot of the stairwell, voices floating wildly around. The armchair was well and truly stuck in its place, and they hadn’t succeeded in getting it out of the way by the time I returned to the top of the stairs. With a knife in one hand, and a pot in the other, I struck a defiant pose and glared at the intruders.
“If you don’t get out of my house right now,” I yelled, “I’m going to rain all kinds of hell on you.”
“Don’t try to resist!” one soldier called out, “We’re here to take you away from this stinking place.”
“Stinking place? My house smells like a bakery, you cretin!”
I launched a cooking pot at the soldiers, striking one of them on the shoulder. Another pot bounced off his helmet, and even though none of this was going to hurt him any, it was enough to make him retreat around the corner, but I wasn’t even given a second to savor my small victory.
The soldier I had squished with the armchair was starting to slide out from under it. I had thought it would hold them for a little longer, but with the help of one of his friends, they had picked it up and were quickly able to shove it out of the way.
With the chair gone, the intruders began their advance.
I held out my knife and backed away as one of the soldiers started marching up the stairs, but the sword in his hand was way bigger and deadlier than the kitchen knife in mine. Still, it was all I had, and I wasn’t ready to surrender.
My mothers hadn’t raised a wimp.
When he reached the top of the stairs, I found myself entranced by the armor he was wearing. It was a gorgeous, deep blue surrounded by a crisp, white trim with a large set of antlers emblazoned on the breastplate. He wore a long, luxuriant cloak, white on the outside and deep blue on the inside. I couldn’t help but admire the stitching, the craftsmanship, it was exquisite.
He raised his sword arm and aimed the tip at my throat. “By the authority of the King of the Winter Court of Arcadia, Yidgam Woflsbane, Lord of Windhelm, Slayer of Giants and Master of the Forge, you are to come with us, or die where you stand.”
I couldn’t see his face, his helmet covered it all save for his chin and his eyes. But he had a deep, gruff voice, a thick, white beard, sparkling blue eyes, and unusually pale skin. His breath formed in little puffs around his lips as he spoke. I was stunned. I wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or blown away with sheer awe.
“Hello?” Gullie whispered against my ear, snapping me out of the trance. “Answer him!”
Right.
“I… I don’t recognize your authority,” I said.
“You don’t?”
“The fae have no authority on Earth.” That was a rumor I’d heard; one I hoped was true and would get me out of this bind. The fae had their realm, and we had ours; neither had a say in what happened in the other’s home.