“How are you faring?” asked Hoxley.

  “Better now that the shadows have come alive to carry the broth.” He said. It was then that Hoxley noticed the night air moved unnaturally around them. What appeared at first to be floating vessels of pots and bowls levitating on their own changed as they drew nearer. Faint outlines of glittering moonlight reveled themselves in girl-shaped forms with glowing white eyes revealed themselves by the dozen.

  “I’ve come to help.” The first shadow said. “The babes are all attended to and sleep in their cribs.”

  “Your help would be greatly appreciated.” Said Hoxley. “All of you!. Err, how many of you are there?” she asked.

  “A few dozen.” Said the shadow. I’ve delivered all my broth and need to refill my containers but the light from the kitchen fires keeps me from entering.”

  “For the aid of a few dozen extra sets of helping hands I would gladly refill your containers myself.”

  “Then let us combine our efforts.” Said the shadow girl. “I’ll take the cart from here.” The lead form morphed and changed itself, growing in size until it was an almost prefect copy of Hoxley before standing next to her.

  “Dip me in honey...” Siouxsie gasped. “What is this sorcery?”

  “It’s a welcome addition to our efforts, Siouxsie.” Said Hoxley, already unclasping her tack and harnesses. “Our work is easier now that we’ve increased our ranks. I’ll take the aid no matter how strange or unexpected.” Three shadow girls leant a hand and had the faun unhitched in seconds before her shadow copy took its place.

  “Come along, Siouxsie.” Said the shadow faun, patting the cart. “Perhaps you can best guide me where we need to go.” The witch looked to Hoxley who nodded her approval. Seeing this, Siouxsie gleefully hopped to plant her butt on the end of the cart.

  “Then let’s get going.” She patted the cart. “There’s still many mouths to feed.” The shadow faun gave a tug and the cart started along its way once more, Siouxsie waving goodbye as they clopped their way into the night.

  “Can this plan really work?” asked Atticus.

  “I don’t believe we have any other choice.” Said Hoxley, nodded for him and the shadow girls to follow.

  “I’m grateful for my freedom.” He said. “I’m indebted to you.”

  “I hope your freedom is permanent.” Said Hoxley. “Should the king awake and be angry with us for letting you out, we might just be joining you in those cells. However, I’ve never known a heart to be so cold or ungrateful if their kingdom is saved from ruin while they lay comatose and drooling.”

  “Let us hope for both our sakes that you’re right. Is the ginger boy really an alchemist?” asked Atticus. “Can he really perform mushroom magic?”

  “I’m not entirely sure, but I am sure that Morell’s intentions are pure and I have no reason to doubt his knowledge.”

  “Then I suppose we’ll learn in time.”

  “I suppose we will.”

  “I have to go.” Said Atticus. “My pot is empty and I need to refill so the rest of the prisoners can continue.”

  “How are things faring with them?” She asked. “No problems?”

  “Only one.” He frowned as he shrugged to resituate the heavy pot he cradled with one arm. “One of the others said that chicken man wasted no time in finding an opportunity to filch a pair of hens and go running over the hills to the east. I don’t believe he’ll be found.”

  “Mercy.” Sighed Hoxley.

  Thanks to the diligent work of the companions, the freed prisoners, and the shadow girl’s ability to replicate herself, the entire kingdom had been enough sustenance to survive another day. In the hours before dawn, each of them returned to the kitchen exhausted. Hoxley felt like she could collapse at any moment but couldn’t relax until she’d confirmed with the others that they’d completed their assigned areas. It was only after she’d checked and checked twice and checked a third time that she dared give in to kneel for rest. The prisoners helped themselves to the food stores to make up for meals they’d missed while trapped in the lower levels while the others returned to the throne room. Ignatius arrived first; a pair of witches hung over his shoulders like snoozing sacks of potatoes. As delicate as one handles babes, he set them down on the floor before removing belts from beneath his cloak. The belts fastened and hung from the pair of broomsticks midair. Once the hammock was fashioned, he picked up each one and laid them within it where they unconsciously reached for the other to intertwine themselves. Ignatius took a chair but didn’t relax.

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  “Shall we set a guard?” he asked.

  “We all need sleep.” Said Hoxley. “When everyone is inside, we’ll barricade the door. That should give everyone the opportunity to sleep.” As if on cue, Morell and Prince Damron entered, their shoulders sagging as much as their spirits. The mace and shield clunked to the floor as they settled themselves against a wall and closed their eyes.

  “What of the prisoners?” asked Ignatius

  “They’re sated by food and are resting in the warmth of the kitchen.” said a man’s voice from the edge of the room. “I told them to stay there until they’re summoned for.” They looked to see the burly man, Atticus, enter wearing more than his underclothes. Hoxley instantly recognized the garb as his uniform. His torso was covered in well-worn armor made of leather; Its surface seasoned with gashes and slashes denoting that it had seen its share of combat. A large sword hung in an intricately decorated scabbard from his waist. It hung higher than most so it didn’t impede the movement of the legs. Upon his left hand and arm a shield with an aged picture of a horse rearing on two legs painted upon its face. Across his right shoulder he carried a spear with a staff twice as thick than Hoxley’s with a blade as long as a sword in itself.

  “You look whole again with your effects.” Said Hoxley.

  “I’m glad you agree.” The man said with a serious tone. “Hoxley, tell me what’s happening. This is all too strange a riddle for me. I’m in a throne room missing its king, I’m surrounded by witches, babies, a mushroom lore scholar, and if I didn’t know better, I’d guess that boy by the wall is the prince of the eastern kingdom. Tell me the truth, Hoxley. As ugly as it is, tell me the truth. I’d expect no less from you.”

  “The truth is very strange but I will tell it to you as I know it to be.” She said. The man grabbed a three-legged stool and sat upon it. So massive was his girth that the thick legs strained and popped from the weight before growing silent. Hoxley would go on to relay her story from the day on the bridge when she met the prince to the moment she found Atticus in the cell below.

  “A hidden hand with great power is pulling strings.” Atticus frowned. “And this boy’s uncle is the one who can do all these things?”

  “He has a lich, an undead conjuror who summons these unnatural abominations.” Said Ignatius. “His uncle commands it to send monsters of ice and rain that lays entire kingdoms helpless.” Just then, the shadow girl returned, walking past the three as several of her copies melted back into her form like water droplets coalescing.

  “And this?” Atticus pointed. “What is this madness?”

  “A valuable ally and a trusted part of the group.” Said Hoxley. “The shadow maiden has delivered us from harm on more than one occasion. She is seeking to find herself and has aligned with us until she chooses the path that suits her.” Atticus looked upon the ghostly form with suspicion, even going as far as to run his fingers across the black mist that looked like hair above the glowing eyes. The girl stopped and returned the gesture by poking him with a rigid finger in the center of the chest before continuing on. Atticus took a step back with wonderment.

  “I’ve never seen the like.” He marveled.

  “We don’t believe anyone has.” She was about to tell him the story of their time in the desert when a long, pained groan came from the adjacent rooms. The witches fell out of their hammock in shock and everyone rushed to investigate. They entered the king’s chambers together to find the king and queen writhing in their bed. Hoxley rushed to his side where she found them finally awake but deep in pain and clutching their guts.

  “Who are you?!” He demanded as the strangers poured into his chambers. “Agggghh. What have you done to me?!”

  “Be still, your majesty.” Hoxley tried to calm him and press him back into the bed. “Be still, your kingdom has been afflicted by dark magic.”

  “Get off me!” he tried to shrug her away. “My guts! Feel like they’re on fire!” Everyone looked at the other as they’d all eaten the broth as well. Finally all eyes fell to Morell.