It’s alright. This is only a dream, after all.Alex turned his attention back to the drama unfolding before him.
“While I am thankful for everything you have done for me, uncle, my answer is the same. Until you and your forces return through the gate and leave the mortal realm untouched, I am staying here.” Celesta shifted slightly, crossing one slippered foot behind her.
Alex furrowed his brow. From her stance, it seemed as if the little ballerina were preparing herself for action. But how could she possibly be thinking of fighting against an enemy both well-armed and obviously well-trained? She had no weapons, no armor, no means of defense. And she was sosmall. He was sure that if they were to stand side by side, her head would come no higher than the middle of his chest. It was like watching a tiny kitten preparing to go toe-to-toe with a large, sleek hunting dog.
“Have it your way, then.” The mouse king threw up his hand and beckoned to his soldiers. “But if you will not go quietly, I will be forced to remove you. This rests on your shoulders, Celesta.”
He dropped his hand, and his men sprang forward with a shout. Celesta leapt gracefully to the side, spinning as she went, and the red soldiers stepped out to meet their enemy.
The sounds of clashing steel, angry yells, and cries of pain combined together in a deadly cacophony of sound that brought Alex to his knees. He pressed his forehead to his knees and covered his head with his arms as the sights and sounds of war crashed into him with a deluge of memory.
“Remember men!” his captain called over his shoulder. “Don’t fire until we see the whites of their eyes! Make every shot count, and if you must go down, take as many of the blasted Brisians with you as you can.”
Alex adjusted his hold on his gun and checked the extra ammunition hanging on his belt. Out of habit, he reached a hand into his pocket. His fingers closed around the cold metal of his harmonica, the last physical reminder of the aspiring young musician he had been before war had torn his world apart. Once his fingers had created beauty, pulling the music and harmony in his heart and soul and bringing it to life through the strings or keys of his instruments.
Now, instead of instruments of music his hands held instruments of war. Instead of creating beauty, he dealt destruction. Instead of bringing emotion to life, his hands wielded death.
“Steady, men! Steady!” The call of his commander jolted his attention to the front, and Alex pulled his hand from his pocket. He pushed every emotion away, and a hard coldness settled over him. It was easier to fight if he didn’t feel. Easier to ignore the fact that the enemy before him was a man just as he was, with a family and loved ones. Easier to move on from the sight of dull, lifeless eyes staring up at him.
Until the battle was over, at least.
One moment Alex was standing in tense anticipation, and the next he was surrounded on all sides by the sounds of shouting and gunfire. Arms and legs flailed as men drew weapons more effective in close combat. He spun and ducked and aimed and fired, trying to take out as many of the enemy as he could while keeping a close eye on his fellow soldiers. Harrison and Fritz were to his left, fighting back to back. Karl was to his right, shooting a handgun in his right hand while wielding a knife in the other. Somewhere behind him was Frederick, his sharpshooter eyes keeping him up and above the heaviest part of the battle while he efficiently picked off the Brisians one by one.
Alex saw the glint of a gun in his periphery and heard the sharp crack. He ducked just in time to avoid the bullet that was streaking past his ear. He raised his own rifle in return and sighted down the barrel. The enemy soldier was just a boy, barely old enough to grow the peach fuzz that covered his cheeks in patches. Alex forced himself to ignore the screaming of his conscience and woodenly pulled the trigger…
A strain of melody punctured through the dark haze of memories. The notes were fast, intense, and passionate, and as Alex focused on them, the roaring in his ears slowly began to die down. His mind returned to the present as the juxtaposition of harmony with the sounds of fighting and discord caught his attention. He raised his head.
On both sides of the fight, soldiers had raised instruments to shoulders or lips, standing on the edges of the fray. They played with passion and feeling, their faces reflecting the emotions of the music, some with eyes closed and bodies swaying and others with bright, intense gazes. A pale blue light streamed from the instruments and wound itself around the red soldiers, weaving across the battlefield. The song they played was bold and heroic, and Alex could feel his heart lighten as the notes settled around him. His limbs were filled with a new strength, and he rose to his feet.
While standing, he was able to gain a better perspective of the battle. Though the red soldiers were outnumbered, they valiantly held their own and even started to push the mouse king’s army back. Alex could see the imposing figure standing in the rear guard, a violin raised to his shoulder. The musicians on his side played a rival melody, and where the light from their instruments spread over black uniforms, the soldiers moved with increased speed, striking faster and harder than before.
Alex’s combat-trained eyes took in this information in a matter of moments. As impossible as it seemed, the music was directly impacting the soldiers. But while the mouse king had more musicians and should have theoretically had the advantage, still the red soldiers were steadily gaining ground. As Alex searched the field of battle for an explanation, a flash of white and blue appeared in his periphery, and he found the answer.
Celesta leaped and spun amongst her men, performing a pirouette here, an arabesque there as she danced to the music. Her wings glowed and sparkled more with every beam of light she intersected. The light twisted around her arms and legs, before resuming its course among the men brighter than before. Her movements were mesmerizing; in them the music was personified with perfect grace and expression. Alex found himself so transfixed by her dance that he almost missed what came next.
The mouse king stepped forward and began a new, more ominous melody, turning their previous symphony into a concerto. Rather than traveling out to the soldiers, the magical light gathered before him, shaping itself into a dense orb. As more and more tension was poured into the music, the light changed from blue to a dark red and grew in size. The king’s eyes were dark and cold as he fixed his gaze on Celesta.
The music crescendoed and the harmonies increased in tension until suddenly the sound stopped. The notes hung in the air for one short, dreadful moment, the silence more deafening and terrible than the melody had been. Alex watched as the red orb streaked across the battlefield towards the ballerina’s soldiers. He knew the moment she registered its presence, for her eyes widened with fear and her steps faltered.
Then the tiny dancer, rather than ducking out of harm’s way,jumpedinto the air in front of it, spreading her slender arms out wide as if by doing so she could protect the army behind her. The magic slammed into her chest, and she hung suspended a few inches above the floor. Rather than wrap around her, the light slowly began to disappear. Celesta’s wings began to take on a pinkish hue and her body began to shake, and Alex realized that she was absorbing the magic into herself. With what seemed like considerable effort, she brought her arms down towards her sides and pulled her elbows back to push.
The mouse king must have guessed her intent at the same moment, for with a frustrated growl he lifted his violin to his chin and began his song again. This time, the light flowed immediately from his instrument to the ballerina. Celesta let out a tiny whimper of pain.
Alex was moving before he even realized what he was doing, his steps carrying him as far as the mirror leaning against the curtain rod before he realized that he had no weapons at his disposal and an injured hand on top of that. He stopped, forcing himself to remain calm and emotionless as he considered the situation. He was, accounting for his new stature, about twenty yards from the mouse king from his new position. The fighting had slowed, as the king’s army held the red soldiers at bay now that Celesta was no longer amplifying their magic. Those closest to her attempted to help but were cut off by the enemy. As far as Alex could see, the only chance the little ballerina had was if someone could distract the mouse king long enough for her to do what she had tried before and push the magic back at him.
He patted his pockets one last time. He had his harmonica, but nothing else. Nothing except the shirt on his back and the boots on feet.
The boots on his feet.
Without a second thought, Alex leaned his weight onto his good leg and pulled off his right boot. Gipping the soft leather at the ankle, he drew back his left arm and let the boot fly. It wasn’t a perfect throw, but it managed to sail over the heads of the soldiers and make contact with the edge of the mouse king’s shoulder. The king’s concentration was broken for a moment, and his bow scraped stridently across the strings.
The moment was all that Celesta needed, and with a yell of exertion she pushed the ball of light, now a bright lavender color, away. It went racing back along its path to the mouse king, slamming into him forcefully. As soon as the magic hit him, he vanished from sight with a yell. The light cascaded over the rest of the battlefield in ripples, each of the soldiers disappearing as soon as the light touched them. In a matter of moments, they were gone. The silence in the room was deafening.
In his surprise, Alex took a step backwards but forgot to compensate for his missing footwear. As he stepped unevenly and threw his arms out for balance, he bumped into the mirror. The frame teetered dangerously for a brief second before falling to the floor with a crash of broken glass. A ripple of magic flew out from the shattered mirror and into his knees, knocking him once again off-balance. A sharp sting bit his left hand as he tried to catch himself and landed on a shard of glass. A moment later the floor seemed to disappear from beneath him and he was tumbling into darkness.
Three
Consciousnessreturnedslowly,andthe first thing Alex noticed was the feeling of warm sunshine on his skin and the sound of birds chirping in the trees. A fresh, gentle breeze blew over him, carrying with it the scent of wet dirt and green and growing things. He was lying on his back, but as he became more aware of his surroundings, he realized that there was something soft underneath his head and the crackling, popping sound of a campfire nearby.
