“Catapults!” Florence yelled. “Get back! Away from the windows!”
Alex stepped back as a multitude of things flew toward the mansion. “What the . . . ,” he muttered. “What are they?”
In the air, the things sprouted parachutes, slowing them down, and as they neared the island they began to float toward the ground.
“They’re people!” Alex shouted. “Warbler’s first line is landing on the shore.” And they aren’t very big or scary-looking, he thought, a bit puzzled. He turned to face the Unwanteds. “Leaders, take your places outside and attack!”
The Battle with Warbler
The Artiméans streamed outside the mansion from all doors as Simber’s continuous roar rendered the Warblerans unable to fight, leaving them cowering instead.
“Some of them are barely more than children,” Claire Morning said, looking closely at the living arsenal coming toward them. “I wonder if Warbler’s youth took to fighting by necessity, like our young Unwanteds.” She prepared a spell and glanced at Mr. Appleblossom, who was standing next to her with a look of horror on his face. “What is it, Siggy?”
Mr. Appleblossom stood staring at a girl of about twelve who was now frozen by a magical spell, a look of fear on her face. He lowered his hand and looked down. “What shame it is to see this cherub’s face,” Mr. Appleblossom said softly. “And cowardly of them to sacrifice their youth to take their Queen Eagala’s place! I have no means in me to do this twice.”
“They may be children, but they’re attacking us!” Ms. Morning said. She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. Her gaze swept over the young Unwanteds around them, already fighting, and wondered if anyone on Warbler felt guilty for fighting against children. She doubted it. She reached over and squeezed Mr. Appleblossom’s shoulder. “I understand. You didn’t hurt her, though.”
“That look of fear is hurt enough, you know.” Mr. Appleblossom nodded brusquely, turned, and walked back to the mansion.
Ms. Morning pressed her lips together. After a moment, watching her friend Sigfried leave over his convictions, she looked at Crow and Henry and the rest of the generation of Unwanteds who had been fighting since they were small. She continued on with the task, though she wore the dilemma on her troubled face for some time after.
By now, the other team leaders had given their orders, and the Unwanteds spouted off a plethora of freeze spells, blinding spells, and shackles. Some cleverly thought to use scatterclips, which sent Warbler fighters flying backward through the air until they hit the sides of their own ships and stuck fast just above water level, unable to be reached by those on board.
As the Unwanteds defended Artimé, the catapult arms moved slowly, skimming the sky as they returned to their initial positions.
“Prepare for round two!” Florence shouted.
Just as the last enemy was frozen, the catapults released again, sending dozens upon dozens more young Warblerans soaring through the air and coming to rest on land, only to be immediately made useless by the simplest of spells.
It was almost too easy, Alex thought. “Stay on your guard!” he warned.
Several Unwanteds stationed near the wall that separated Artimé and Quill had had none of the action thus far, and began to scoff at the efforts of Queen Eagala.
“Stay on yourrr guarrrd!” repeated Simber.
But it wasn’t easy when Warbler’s best efforts seemed ridiculous. Several minutes passed as Artimé waited to see what was next. Some of the Unwanteds, tired of standing, sat down despite the warnings.
“Hold your ground,” Alex commanded, and Florence repeated it so all could hear.
Finally the catapults let loose a third time . . . and another round of Warblerans sailed up into the air and down toward Artimé, their parachutes bringing them lightly to the ground, where the Unwanteds put a swift end to their movements completely.
“Is this all they have?” Alex muttered.
“I don’t know,” Florence replied. “If it is, we’re in luck. Watch—here’s another round. Maybe Eagala thinks we’ll run out of spells.”
“Maybe.” But Alex knew his army was well stocked, and even if they ran out of the old faithful spell components, the Unwanteds were coming up with new spells all the time and were fully armed.
The thwapps were heard again, and the catapult arms swung once more. The people of Artimé watched nonchalantly as the fourth round released into the air.
Simber stood on his hind legs, madly sniffing the air. “Take coverrr!” he cried. “These arrren’t alive!”
But it was too late. Dozens of giant boulders flew toward Artimé with no parachutes to slow them down, bowling over rows of Unwanteds as loud thuds and the sound of breaking glass filled the air. The mansion windows had been hit.
Immediately the catapults returned to loading positions and let loose once more. Dozens of boulders even bigger than the last ones flew at the Unwanteds. Artiméans everywhere dove to get out of the way, or flew if they could fly, some managing to dodge one boulder but ending up directly in the path of another. The ground shook as the boulders hit it. Screams filled the air. Artimé was in chaos. There was no spell that would stop an attack like this. Not that Alex knew, anyway.
As a third round of boulders pelted the island, enough time had passed to allow the first group of Warblerans to come back to life from their temporary frozen states. And almost as if they’d planned it, they began charging at the Unwanteds, drawing knives from their belts.