Jack stabbed the first huntsman, so the rest had had no choice but to fight. "Impulsive" wasn't even close to describing his attitude. But he had to take action. Fable had exposed everyone.
Cerené stepped forward and kicked all the breadcrumbs away, so Fable would be freed of the breadcrumbs' enchantment. She shook her hard and rubbed away the breadcrumbs gathered in Fable's hem. "Listen to me," Cerené yelled. "It's time to fight. You can do it. I won't let anything happen to you. Later I will explain what you have been through to the Lost Seven."
The Lost Seven were about to fight an endless crowd of huntsmen in the Queen's chamber. A suicide mission for sure. Fable gathered herself slowly as the rest were already fighting. Cerené protected her, though, until she gained full consciousness.
Fable was crying. Being a Lost Seven hadn't stopped her from messing things up. She must be a loser, just like her mother. She watched everyone fight in the chamber, especially Jack Madly.
"My name is Jack Madly, by the way," Jack shouted at the Queen as he dueled another huntsman. "Someone is going to write a book about me," he said as he turned to face the huntsman. "But never about you. Because you're dead." Jack stabbed him in the heart.
The Queen ordered her daughter to be kept away from the rest. She didn't care who lived or died. Her daughter's heart was the world to her—in a sinister way, of course.
Ladle began killing the most skilled huntsmen in the world. Killing was the norm for Death. After each stab, she looked up and asked the Tree of Life for forgiveness. Fable thought Ladle could have just worn her red cloak and scared them all away.
Marmalade was as strong as Ladle—not as skilled with a sword, but good at maneuvering and protecting her friends from harm. She seemed extremely skilled at protecting others, and Fable wondered why.
The Beast killed sporadically. He had pulled his cloak back, and Fable saw how ugly he was. He was so deformed that she couldn't stare too long at him, although she cared for him.
The Beast's face did half the killing when anyone saw him. The rest he did with bare hands.
Cerené, on the other hand, wasn't skilled at fighting, but she was like a monkey, jumping left and right. She ran away and dodged them, not really stabbing anyone. She didn't fight with a sword, but with her blowpipe. Every now and then, she used it to spit fire at them. She didn't do it often, since she needed a source of fire. Also, every breath of fire stole a day from her life—well, her current life.
As for Fable, she was the weakest of them all, even after regaining her full consciousness and being unaffected by the breadcrumbs Cerené had thrown away.
But Fable's nerdy looks seemed to help. Many huntsmen hesitated in killing her. She looked harmless, like a passing fly, too unimportant to waste breath on and kill. Fable used it to her advantage and stabbed first, surprising her opponents. But her stabs hardly made a difference. They barely wounded the huntsmen and didn't kill anyone. It gained her enough time to run, though.
The confrontation lasted a long time. It was not without wounds. But who cared? Like Jack said, the Lost Seven had nothing to lose.
Ladle surprisingly wounded Loki, so badly that he had to get mended by some of his huntsmen. The wide smile on her face when she killed scared away half of those watching her. She was a mad girl, indulging in killing without the slightest bit of remorse. And with a quirky smile on her face. She waved her scythe with ease, as if waving a spoon.
Marmalade and Jack fought back to back, running after those who were pulling Shew away.
"I love you, Jack!" Marmalade said, his back to her.
"I love me, too!" Jack never seemed to confess his love to her. "How about someone gets some horses?" he said, as he used the moment to show a few peasant girls the way out of the castle.
"I will," Fable volunteered. Her talent was running, after all.
Cerené and Ladle followed her.
Outside, the three of them gathered horses, rode a few, and got back into the chamber. Ladle turned out to have been badly hurt.
"You don't have to get back in," Fable said. "Cerené and I can get inside. The Beast is already pulling Shew's coffin out."
"I'm going in," Ladle said stubbornly.
"You're bleeding," Cerené warned her.
"So what?" Ladle's quirky and lovable childishness shone upon her face. "I am Death. I'm not supposed to die." She stopped to ponder that. "I think." She scratched her temples.
"She's got a point." Fable smiled at Cerené, and they kicked back in. Fable discovered she was a great horse rider. At least she was good at that.
Jack and Marmalade were still fighting back to back. The Beast put the coffin on his horse.
More blood splashed everywhere. It was hard to tell who was wounding whom. The huntsmen seemed weaker in Loki's absence.