JACK EXPLAINED HIS OBJECTIVES in very simple terms to the Guardians and to Shadowbent. He had gathered his friends in the high tower of the Werewolf King’s castle.
Jack held up his dagger. “Pitch comes to destroy me, to render this dagger useless, and then destroy us all.” North looked to Tooth, who looked to Sandy, who looked to Bunnymund, who looked to Katherine, who looked back to North. None but Katherine had seen its final form, and they were awed by its sinister brilliance.
“In all his years of confinement his hate has grown ever stronger. Even our combined relics cannot destroy him,” Jack said. “But this dagger . . . this dagger will end him.”
“And how?” asked North.
“It is made of his sorrow,” Jack explained. “And his sadness is what fuels all his hate.”
Jack placed the weapon flat upon Shadowbent’s massive dining table. The blade began to quiver, then move by an unseen force, its tip rotating till it pointed due south.
“It will always point to Pitch. To his hate-filled heart,” Jack explained. “Katherine, take out the compass North gave you and see where it points.”
Katherine was startled, but she pulled the beautiful compass from a pocket in her skirt. She had carried it without fail ever since North had given it to her when she was a child. It pointed toward North himself, so she could always find him. North smiled at the sight of the old gift. But his smile quickly fell to a frown.
The compass needle turned from him and pointed south.
“His hate has become so powerful, it can retard even the purest good,” said Jack grimly. He paused and let that statement speak to each of them. They understood what he was saying without his having to explain.
“I cannot tell you my plan, only my goal,” Jack now told them, his voice echoing out from the tower and down into the valley and forests below. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Pitch must be stopped.” His voice had a certainty that caused the other Guardians to look at Jack anew. Jack sheathed his dagger.
He was at this moment the strongest of them all.
Today he was their leader.
♦ ♦ ♦
Each Guardian army was in position. Bunnymund’s Warrior Eggs surrounded the base of the castle. With their armor-plated eggshells, they would be a tough defense to crack. With them were the great holy men warriors of the Himalayas, the Lunar Lamas. Such a strange mix of troops—serene priests in their V-shaped formations, hands tucked in the sleeves of their robes, their faces squinting with blissful grins. And standing side by side were the various Yeti tribes.
In the woods that surrounded the castle the Spirit of the Forest lay in wait with every animal and insect with whom she was kindred. Untold millions of ants, beetles, snails, and centipedes were grouped in hidden masses awaiting the order to swarm. Legions of battle-ready squirrels and chipmunks, ten thousand birds, and even the grand old owls of Ombric’s library roosted in the trees of Werewolf Valley.
The Tooth Fairy armies were positioned inside the castle itself. They waited in orderly groups by every window, ready to fly out to battle Pitch’s airborne Nightmare Men if they attacked.
Katherine’s Raconturks stood outside every tower and wall, braced to shout their battle words. Shadowbent kept his werewolves inside the castle, where they crowded the doorways and passages. They were the last and fiercest line of defense, and Jack was thankful they were there.
“Thank you, my friend,” Jack said to the Werewolf King. “If you hadn’t taken me in all those years ago, I’d still be wandering, or even dead.”
Shadowbent snorted his peculiar werewolf laugh. “Nonsense. But you should visit more often. You always bring a party.”
“I like this royal wolfman,” North murmured to Bunnymund. “He’s a bit furry, but he understands life.”
Bunnymund twitched an ear in agreement, then asked Jack, “You met only once, more than a hundred years ago?”
“Friendship will always amaze me,” the Pooka mused.
“You realize that you’re almost becoming human yourself, Bunny,” said North.
“Well, I know how to fix that,” Bunnymund replied. He plucked one of his transformation chocolates out of his vest pocket and popped it into his mouth. Before three twitches of his impressive whiskers, E. Aster Bunnymund had grown a total of ten arms (five on each side) and carried not only nine large sabers, but also his relic, the elaborately carved egg mounted on the end of his ceremonial Pookan staff.
North looked at him with a hint of envy, for Bunnymund stood a good two feet taller than the rotund Cossack when he was in warrior rabbit mode. “I need to invent a new kind of candy cane that will do the same for me,” North groused. But he grew quickly serious because from the south came a distant droning sound. A breeze kicked up, fluttering battle flags. The Guardians looked to Jack.
“It’s Emily Jane and the tree fairies,” Jack announced.
“It’s time,” Katherine added.
They carefully, deliberately placed the four relics of the Golden Age together. North held out his sword, which had belonged to MiM’s father, Tsar Lunar, the last ruler of the Golden Age, with its crescent-shaped orb at the tip. Bunnymund held out his egg-topped staff, which held the purest light in all the universe and could bring life from any darkness. Queen Toothiana brought forth her ruby box, fashioned from the ruby arrow that had nearly killed her parents and which held the Man in the Moon’s baby teeth. Then Sandy came forward. He placed his hand in the center to sprinkle his Dreamsand, the fourth relic, with which he could destroy any nightmare and leave in its place a happy dream. Jack placed his hand on Katherine’s, and together they cupped the relics, for Jack himself was the fifth and final relic, or he had been, when he was Nightlight. But now he was even more powerful. Then Twiner morphed into six sturdy strands that wrapped, vinelike, around each Guardian’s hand. They all—North, Bunnymund, Sandy, Tooth, Jack, and Katherine—looked from one to the other.
Everything had changed since they’d first become Guardians and found these miraculous relics, and they could feel the change within themselves. They were older. They had, in different ways, grown up. But they had not lost their childhood selves.
And this was their greatest strength. As they felt their bond renew and become stronger, they could feel the radiant hate of Pitch spreading toward them. He had grown stronger too.
But Toothiana felt something more particular. She could feel her old enemy, the Monkey King. He was near, she could tell, and up to something wicked.
“Jack!” she said urgently.
“What is it, Tooth?”
“There’s something we don’t know. I’m sure of it,” she replied. “Something that is meant to hurt you.”
“Search it out,” Jack told her. “But wait until I signal you.” He thought for a moment. The pain in his hand was strangely different. It hurt in a way that harkened back to his earliest days as Jack Frost. Pitch was hiding something. His hate was blocking Jack’s view into his thoughts. Jack held Toothiana’s hand tightly. She nodded and spread her wings.
“I’ll go with you,” Katherine cried out.
“No, Katherine,” said Toothiana. “Your place is with Jack. Especially this day.” Then she dove into the air and flew out the window to the sound of countless leaves and a desperate wind rippling the air.
The remaining Guardians rushed to watch. In the dim midnight light they could see that the tree fairies and Emily Jane were losing control of Pitch and his army as they descended on Shadowbent’s castle. The Nightmare Men and Fearlings were spreading out and pushing against the fairy leaf armada.
