Blood of Kings

by Billy Wong

  Chapter 3

  "It's my quest too, isn't it?" Lance asked hopefully as Mildy prepared to leave. "I was right there with you when she asked for aid."

  She was a bit torn over the answer. She welcomed her friend's company, but with the lack of relevant information, her confidence wasn't great that she could find the faerie-killer anytime soon. Mildy was willing to take on almost any quest offered, but knew Lance wasn't nearly so desperate. He was never short on supplicants for his knightly aid.

  So Mildy told him of her doubts about her upcoming adventure. "It's up to you if you want to join us."

  "I won't back out. You're good company."

  So he would come, like she had really hoped. She nudged Ares' shoulder. "Looks like you finally have a proper male to teach you the gentlemanly ways."

  "I don't need any knight but you."

  Lance laughed. "Looks like you have him fooled. Well, you're a winner if nothing else."

  "Where do we start looking?" Ares asked. "Should we go back to where I found Adene?" He shuddered. "There were a few more victims there too."

  "Yes, that's a good idea. Let's get going."

  Mildy bought cheap horses for herself and Ares, arguing a bit over the value of her dragon-cave treasures until Lance offered to foot the bill. By the time they returned to where Ares had found Adene, there was no evidence of the other skeletons which must have disintegrated in the wind. The Greek youth nervously insisted he had led them to the right spot, pointing out a lightning-scarred elm as his landmark.

  Lance suggested they look for tracks, and they soon found trampled underbrush indicating a heavy body had moved through. "I think we found our man."

  The trio followed the tracks deeper into the woods, Mildy hoping they belonged to the right person. The trail disappeared over firmer ground, and they had little luck trying to pick it up again. But eventually, Mildy heard a rustling from a patch of brush and turned just in time to see a slight figure leap out, brandishing a long, thin dirk.

  The knife flashed down. Mildy stepped back, allowing the stab to skid off her breastplate, and grabbed her assailant's hand before he could retract it. She twisted the blade from his grasp and threw him to the ground, then realized that the golden-haired young man had pointed ears. Like Adene's dress, his robe was loose and light. "Faerie?"

  "Yes, and I'm going to kill you vile knights for what you've done to my family."

  Lance bristled and drew his sword, leveling it at the man's throat. "Who are you to dare threaten us like this? We are trying to help your hapless race!"

  Mildy looked closely at the man. She had heard tales of the supernatural beauty of the fey, but felt no attraction towards him. He seemed far too scrawny and frail for her taste. "I assume you survived the massacre of your village?"

  Ares nudged her. "Um, if he didn't survive, wouldn't he not be here?"

  "I meant to ask whether his village has been destroyed."

  "Sorry, Milady."

  The faerie man looked away, tears in his eyes. "Yes, I alone survived. I was away hunting, and when I came back, they were all dead!"

  Lance brought the tip of his blade closer to the man's throat. "So you didn't even see who killed your kin? How could you attack us on the assumption they were knights?"

  The faerie met his eyes defiantly. "Because of the sword wounds, and the heavy bootprints. Most men don't leave such tracks."

  Those whole prints they'd seen in muddier spots had looked like an armored knight's. "It wasn't us who killed your kin, though," Mildy said. "Why would we come back here, if we did?"

  "Maybe you want me to lead you to your next victims."

  "You don't have to tell us anything you don't want. We won't force you." She motioned for Lance to back off and offered him a hand up, but he ignored it and stood on his own. "But it'd be better if you could tell us where the nearest village of your folk is, and give us some sense of where the killer might be going."

  "You won't force me? You wouldn't be able to. You're trying to trick me into trusting you, but it won't work. I'll never help those who butchered my family."

  Mildy felt sympathy for his loss, but couldn't help thinking how she'd never had a family at all. Even the old knight who taught her hadn't cared so much for her, as to prove his fellows who didn't believe his boast that he could make a weak girl into a knight wrong. The training he put her through would have crippled many a fit boy, much less a girl, but her, well... she'd made the most of it.

  Lance snorted. "Believe what you want, faerie. We'll find him ourselves—but if the delay costs your people, it will be on you."

  "I'll take that chance. And the name's Laerin, not Faerie."

  Mildy wished they had some way to prove they weren't the enemy. "Do you have any idea of who this killer might be, or what grievance he might bear against your race?"

  "Assuming he's not you, no. Remember, I didn't even see him."

  Whoever he was, he had the confidence to assault villages by himself. Mildy needed nothing else to know he would make a dangerous foe. "Another one of his victims said that she thought her village was safe, magically warded. What kind of protection do you have?"

  "I suspect you already know this, but our glens exist outside your perception, in a world attached to but not part of your own. Humans cannot see the pathways between the realms, not with only the senses natural to them."

  "Then how does this killer find you?"

  "I don't know, but he or she must have some magical means of doing so. As well, they must have some means of protection against our spells and charms, for otherwise we would have stopped them long ago. They must have a powerful magic user on their side, if not be one themselves."

  That was bad. Could a warrior wielding steel really stand against someone who could twist nature or control the elements with a thought? But Mildy was no coward who backed down just because the odds might be against her.

  "Hold on," she said. "You think we're the killers, but aren't our footprints a bit smaller than the ones you saw?"

  "Maybe. That doesn't mean you can't be his allies."

  Mildy turned, and walked on.

  #

  They had only continued searching for a short time when Mildy's ears picked up the ruckus of a fierce struggle nearby. From the whinnying she heard, she figured there was at least one horse involved. "Laerin, did this killer ride a horse?"

  "I didn't see any hoofprints at my village."

  "He could have picked one up since, I suppose." She drew her flail, and Lance and Ares their swords. "Be careful. It might be our man, and he'd have to be a hell of a fighter to take on so many opponents at once."

  Lance smirked while they advanced on the noise. "They're just faeries."

  "Just faeries?! How dare you belittle our people?"

  "Well, look how well you did when you tried to ambush us."

  Ignoring the other men, Ares looked at Mildy and nodded in acknowledgment of her words.

  Laerin drew a thin, flexible sword and followed behind the group. Mildy frowned at the blade. If this was the kind of weapon all faeries preferred, no wonder they could fall so easily to a properly armed warrior!

  "This might not be him," Laerin said. "At the least, they aren't inside a glen. If they were, you wouldn't be able to hear them."

  Mildy shrugged. "Someone's probably in trouble, whoever it is."

  "Help!" a young woman's voice shouted from the sound's direction. Seconds later its owner ran into view, her light brown hair a disheveled mess and an ugly bruise covering the right side of her face. Seeing the warriors, she threw herself at Lance's feet. "Please help, he's killing my friend!"

  "Where is your friend?" he asked. The girl pointed the way. They came into a small clearing, and Lance stopped in surprise. Seeing as he did, Mildy too slowed her pace.

  At the far edge of the clearing, a huge man in drab gray armor grappled with a horned white horse. The man had the unicorn's neck in a bear hug, and the equine suddenly fell to its knees, its
now limp head jostled in an inhumanly powerful grip while he wrenched it back and forth. Noticing the new arrivals, he threw the animal's body down and stared at them through the visor of a heavy full-face helm.

  "Who are you?" Mildy asked the monstrous man, who must have been close to seven feet and at least as wide as gigantic Lamorak.

  "I am Ironheart," he rumbled, "and I will not rest until all the pagan fiends are destroyed."

  Pagan fiends? Mildy hadn't thought much about it before, but supposed wild faerie folk would hardly be devout Christians. Still, that certainly didn't mean they had to be wiped out. "Wouldn't it better to convert them?"

  "No, you do not understand. They are not merely godless people, but fiends who do the devil's work."

  Mildy's first faerie encounter had been with the dying Adene, so she had no idea if there was any truth to Ironheart's words. But she had heard similar theories before, if only from zealous preachers. She looked to Laerin.

  "Devil's work?" he said with conviction. "His mind is addled."

  "Do God's creatures rot away and melt into nothingness when they die?" Ironheart challenged.

  Not that Mildy knew. But dragons didn't either, and they were indeed servants of the devil, possessed of foul hearts from birth. So melting wasn't a trait shared by hellish minions, at least. Besides, "I'm pretty sure a creature that prides itself on purity to the point of only letting virgins ride it can't be too vile."

  "Why virgins, if not to despoil them?"

  Meekly, Ares said, "He has a point..."

  "And why use magic charms, if not to deceive mortals as the succubi and incubi do?"

  Why indeed? Of course, she hadn't felt any fiendish aura from Adene or Laerin, the only faerie creatures she had come into contact with. But maybe among the servants of hell, only some—like dragons—reeked of brimstone.

  Luckily for Mildy, Lance, who as an educated man knew considerably more faerie lore than she, gave his own trustworthy opinion. "Faeries are devils? What nonsense. How many tales of helpful faeries have you heard? There are harmful ones, I know, but I've heard no more of those than the former. From what I gather, faeries are just people with varied dispositions."

  "That's correct," Laerin agreed. "If your stories of God are true, then we were created by him, the same as you."

  His doubt in the Lord's existence disturbed Mildy, but maybe he was too uncivilized to believe in something he couldn't see. Whatever the case, he didn't seem like much of a devil. "Step away from the horse, Ironheart."

  "The fiend, you mean!"

  Mildy raised her flail and heard her friends' feet shift behind her. Of course, it would be dishonorable to all go after Ironheart at once, though that might be their only choice if he proved to be a mage.

  "Who wants the first shot?" she asked.

  Lance stepped forward. "Come on, big man. Let God grant me victory, and so prove the error of your ways."

  "He has always proven me right," Ironheart said stonily.

  The two met on foot in the middle of the clearing, Lance's sword and shield pitted against Ironheart's larger two-handed blade. Lance came in hard, slashing rapidly with his sword. Ironheart tried to strike back, but the flamboyant knight skipped out of the way, smiling. Mildy frowned while she watched Lance dance around the giant, playing hit and run. Playing with him. Being a fool. This was a real battle, not tourney. Finish it already!

  Lance continued to harry Ironheart, scoring many a glancing blow on his armor and controlling the pace of the duel. Suddenly Ironheart switched to a one-handed grip on his great sword, and Lance seemed not to notice. He swiped high at Lance, who ducked the blow with ease. But then Ironheart punched him in the side near a kidney, and he stumbled back.

  Off balance and in pain, Lance could only try to block the next chopping blow at his neck. The heavy hit to his iron-rimmed oak shield splintered its face and knocked him down. Favoring his arm, he stumbled away from the massive blade that seemed so light in the giant's hands.

  Ironheart pursued, driving him back in a reluctant retreat, and disarmed him with a mighty slash. Lance stepped into his reach, grabbed hold of his sword arm, and tried to bring him to the ground. But Ironheart lifted him effortlessly into the air. He slammed him down hard, bouncing his head off the earth. Groggily, Lance tried to rise, but Ironheart smashed his hilt into his face and knocked him flat.

  "See? Our Lord has blessed me with the favor of victory."

  Mildy stared. She felt quite unnerved that her friend, one of the best knights in all Europe, had managed to leave himself at the mercy of this unknown warrior. "Who are you? You're powerful; I can hardly believe a man could hold such strength."

  "Would you believe it if I told you I was God's emissary, sent to purify the world of its fey refuse?"

  Almost, considering his apparently superhuman strength. But it was still too crazy to quite accept. "Maybe if you can beat me too, then you'll convince me of your mission."

  "You? A little girl playing at knight wants to challenge me, God's champion? I laugh at your jest, and if not a jest, I laugh at your foolishness. To think you could stand against me, when a real warrior lies beaten before me. No, I do not accept."

  "What, are you scared?"

  Mildy watched the familiar rage bubble up in his livid eyes, but instead of charging her Ironheart chopped down at Lance. But she was ready, and thrust her right arm up. Having loosened the straps of her shield during their exchange of words, she slung the heavy bowl, metal rim first, into Ironheart's face. His head snapped back as it crashed into his visor. Mildy rushed in. His sword came up in a clumsy swing, but she ducked and her whipping flail put a huge dent in the side of his helm. Moaning, the wounded man ran, blood dripping from the joint of his helm and neck guard.

  As Ironheart disappeared into the forest, Mildy looked down with concern at Lance. "Are you well?"

  "My face!" he groaned, wincing while he touched a cut opened up on his cheek.

  "I told you you should've worn a helmet."

  "You don't."

  Mildy fell silent, contemplating her own feminine vanity. She did only wear a helm while jousting.

  "Aren't you going to chase after him?" Laerin asked.

  "I've given many a skull-crushing blow like the one I just did, and as I remember none of them survived. So I'd rather leave him to die than risk his last fury." Besides, her wounded side, which had never gotten a chance to heal with all the strain she'd put on it, hurt like hell. Even the brief exertion of her attack on Ironheart had covered her forehead with sweat. She had no desire to tax her body further by chasing him.

  The faerie nodded. "I suppose I must admit I was wrong about you. Sorry. Is the unicorn still alive?"

  "I think so. I see his chest moving." She looked again to Lance, still trying to clear his head. "One more victory for me."

  "Yes, but do you think you could have done it without cheating?"

  "Cheating? I saved your life."

  "Thank you. But do you think so?"

  Mildy wasn't sure. Ironheart had upset Lance in their little spat, but her friend had been taken off guard by his tactics. With her, things would more likely have gone the opposite way. Moreover, she did feel pretty good about herself, being melee champ and all. But she was also wounded, which could make a difference. She decided to answer as if unhurt.

  "Sure I could have. Bet he would've had more trouble with my flail, than I with his big sword."

  Lance finally raised himself into a sitting position, holding his head. "So Laerin, do you know anything about fixing up injured unicorns?"

  "Me? You should be better equipped to handle that being a knight, while I've never ridden a horse."

  "But it's a magical horse."

  "No, he's a fey. But he's still closer to horse than anything I know to deal with."

  "I'll try," Mildy volunteered. She walked over to the unicorn and knelt by its side. Its thick neck was bruised, and its breathing labored. Maybe its throat was injured. She didn't know what
to do, but patted its head and said, "Hang in there, okay? You'll be fine, I'll take care of you." And then she found herself feeling stupid for talking to an unconscious horse.

  "How is it?" Ares asked, crouching beside her.

  "I don't really know. I'm kind of bad with horses, you know that. Lance, come over here!"

  Eyes still a bit groggy, he ambled over and shook his head. "Well, we can try putting some cold cloths on that neck to help with the swelling. Other than that, we'll just have to wait." Just then it began to rain, and Mildy set Ares' pack under the unicorn's head to keep its nose out of the water.

  Mildy's confidence at having defeated Ironheart faded in the face of her frustrating helplessness. "Maybe that girl would have a better idea of what to do?"

  Lance shrugged. "What could she do so differently from us?"

  "I don't know, but she knows the beast better than we do. Can you find her, Ares?"

  He stood and walked towards where they'd last seen her. "Girl? Are you still there?" he shouted. "It's safe now!"

  Mildy collected her shield, and soon enough her squire reappeared with the young woman in tow. "So you defeated him, brave knight. I knew you could-"

  The girl looked directly at Lance while she spoke, and Mildy interrupted before she could finish expressing her false assumption. "Excuse me, but I beat him. Me." Though she knew the defeat of an unknown like Ironheart wouldn't do much for her dubious fame, she wasn't about to let another knight steal the credit for her—albeit dishonorable—victory.

  "Is Irethine all right?" the girl asked.

  Mildy assumed she meant the unicorn. "He's alive. We're still waiting for him to wake up. What's your name, anyway, and how did you get into this?"

  "I'm Prue, of the town of Haun. I was just enjoying a walk with my friend when that monster attacked Irethine for no reason whatsoever. I tried to stop him, but he hit me... I ran for help once I'd found my senses, and I'm sure glad you came along."