Blood of Kings

by Billy Wong

  Mildy thought about it for a moment and frowned. "That's not fair."

  "I'll deny my part, if you want. You won all the fights, so it's only fair-"

  "No, you don't have to. Just for being my friend when so few want to, you deserve all the credit I can give."

  Ares interrupted their happy moment. "If the Grail's location becomes known again, might that lead to wars over it?"

  "I'm afraid it might. That's why I think it should stay a secret."

  "But it won't. Whoever we give it to will use it, and the word will spread, and then-"

  Mildy nodded. "I know, and I'm scared too."

  "Looks like even finding the Grail has its downside," Lance said sadly. "What if we kept it for ourselves?"

  She looked with doubt at him, but quickly saw the logic in his words. "If we do that, we won't have to let anyone know about it. But wouldn't it not do much good for anybody either?"

  "It'll do wonders for us when we're hurt, and for the people we can help while we'd otherwise be resting in bed. Better than people dying over it, at least."

  It was. "You say we should hold onto it, but we aren't always together." She winked. "So do you mean me, or you?"

  "You, of course. You beat the man who had it, and it fits you better anyhow. Virgin knight, unicorn mount, holy artifact..."

  She gazed down at Irethine and sighed. "This really makes it obvious, doesn't it?"

  "I'm sure everyone will just think it's because you're so pure and goodly, and love you for it," Ares said.

  "But I won't. Thinking of it just makes me feel lonely!"

  "Do you have to focus on the bad side to everything?"

  Lance stared at the squire, as if shocked at how bluntly he'd spoken to his mistress. But Mildy only smiled. "Or maybe the dukes and princes will start looking at me differently, when they see I'm a holy maiden."

  "Yeah, maybe they'll be even more inclined to stay away."

  Now she was starting to get annoyed. "Shut up. You're supposed to give me support, not dash my hopes before I even try to reach for them."

  "Sorry, Milady. I was mostly joking."

  #

  Laerin looked up at the returning warriors and groaned. "You didn't find it, did you?"

  Mildy figured the speed of their return must be why he thought them unsuccessful. She showed him the Grail. "Yes we did! Quick, drink up before it's too late."

  He drank and his skin returned to a healthy shade, at least for a faerie. Then, Mildy passed the cup to her waiting mother. "My God, even my lung feels good now," Morgan said when she was done. "This really is the Holy Grail."

  Lance's eyes widened with curiosity. "Your old wound healed too? Mildy, what about your scars?"

  She examined herself and smiled. "Yes, they're gone." One less thing to detract from her appearance.

  It didn't surprise her when Lance said, "Let me get a sip, too. I've taken my share of wounds over the years."

  Mildy made as though to give it to him, but retracted it teasingly. Then she handed it over and turned to her mother. "What will you do, now that you've lost your home?"

  Laerin replied, though Mildy hadn't been addressing him. "Ironheart's dead, so I'm thinking the next faerie village to take me in will be safe enough. Thanks for everything, and sorry for trying to kill you."

  "Accepted. You never came close!"

  Morgan stood there, not answering the question meant for her. "You could come live with me, if you want," Mildy offered. She had no choice; she couldn't leave her mother to fend for herself. "It's not much—hardly a proper princess' dwelling—but it's still better than here."

  "I'm so proud of you, Mildred. You must be the finest knight in Europe."

  "A lot of people would disagree with that, and if it's true, it's only in terms of fighting. But Mom, is that a yes?"

  "It is."

  Mildy still worried about Morgan's desire for vengeance against Arthur, but the responsibility and natural love she felt for her mother outweighed that now. She could handle what problems arose in their relationship. Right now, she felt like she could handle anything. Bad idea, she knew. She pushed her silly pride aside with the thought of all the faeries who had lost their lives to Ironheart's blade, and tears welled up in her eyes. She hadn't really done that well. She'd failed to save the faeries, and it was just luck that Morgan had survived. Still, she thanked God for that and what success she had found.

  "Okay, Mom, let's go. Lance?"

  "I'll stick with you until something comes up. I don't have any urgent business to attend to."

  Her mother, her best friend, and her faithful squire. Not bad company for wherever she was going. She should probably drop Morgan off at home, her mother not being the adventuring type. "Let's finally go pick up that dragon horde, and then back to my barony."

  "You're a baron?" Morgan asked. "How did that come to be?"

  She laughed. "I made father make me one. He had no real choice, after I killed the most vile knight in Britannia. But it's not much of a manor I live in, unfortunately. Not much of a barony, either."

  "Mildred..."

  "I know. I'm such a man."

  Morgan frowned. "I was going to say, what a warrior."

  "Don't worry, Mom. I'm proud of who I am, and I don't really care if other people think it's improper. This is what I do best, and I wouldn't waste that for the world."

  #

  Nimue grimaced at the sight of the body at her feet, flies buzzing about the pulpy red mass of his ruined face. Her champion had failed her, even with all the advantages she'd given him. But somehow he was still alive, his breathing a horrid whistle through his destroyed visage.

  She raised her arms to the sky and cried out in the old tongue of Atlantis, calling upon mystical energies which tugged Ironheart's face back into proper shape, mending the flesh and bone. Then she fell to her knees beside him, exhausted by the powerful spell. He twitched and his hand shot out, iron-clad fingers tightening about her throat as she gagged and choked.

  "It's me, you idiot!" she managed to gasp.

  Instead of simply letting go, he sat up and punched her with his free hand. The blow knocked her out of his grasp with the force of a charging bull, and she fell gracelessly in mud which splashed up around her body.

  Pushing herself to her knees, she stared at Ironheart. "Now why did you do that?"

  "You let me get killed."

  Nimue rubbed her throbbing jaw, annoyed by the man's hasty attack. "You didn't quite die, did you? Besides, I thought you said you could handle whatever got in your way. If anyone should be disappointed, it should be me."

  He picked up his helmet, found it dented beyond use, and dropped it back to the ground. "I meant any fey when I said that, sorceress."

  She stood fighting a rush of dizziness, not wanting to show any sign of weakness before the man she knew could only be controlled through power. "I can tell it wasn't a faerie who did this to you. Who, then?"

  "A woman knight, who rode a unicorn and seemed not to know when to die."

  A strong friend of the fey, obviously. This could prove a real problem to Nimue's plans. "Do you know where she went?"

  "No, but she said she was the daughter of Morgan le Fay, not that the woman who claimed that name proved anything worthy of her legends."

  Nimue frowned. A virgin knight daughter of Morgan le Fay who championed the faerie folk and was good enough to beat Ironheart. It would have made perfect sense in a folk tale, but not so much in real life. "And I gather she wears spotless white armor, too?"

  "Black armor with skulls here and there."

  Now that was unexpected. "In any case, it doesn't matter. We need to continue with our plans, and not let one episode of bad luck dishearten us. I will have my Grail, and neither its faerie owners or their friends will keep it from me."

  "But what if I encounter her again? I could not beat her in direct combat before... would it not be wiser to catch her off guard and kill her so she can never trouble us again?"
<
br />   "What's the chance you'll bump into her again?"

  "Quite high, if she is a protector of the fey. So let me get rid of her before we continue our hunt for the Holy Grail."

  Nimue saw the urgency in Ironheart's eyes, like he really wanted, needed, to kill this woman knight. Why? His wounded pride? "If you meet her, deal with her then. I'll brook no delay in our quest. So don't fail me again."

  Out of nowhere a tremendous haymaker impacted on Nimue's delicate cheek, and she was thrown once more to the ground, her face cut and bleeding. "And what was that for?!"

  Ironheart glared at her and raised his sword. "I feel numb. Why is that?"

  She stared at his threatening blade. "You came too close to death, and I haven't the power to restore you completely. I've preserved your life, but only God can truly heal you." It wasn't true, though. She had chosen to deny him much of his sensation, as added motivation to continue hunting for the Grail.

  "So this feeling of numbness won't pass, then?"

  "No, but think of it this way—you won't have to feel pain anymore. Could be useful in battle."

  Rare terror showed in Ironheart's eyes. "I won't rot, will I?"

  "You're not dead," Nimue said after a pause. "Just half-dead."

  He kicked her in the face, and she flopped face-first to the ground. This time, mud splashed into her mouth when she landed. "Useless witch."

  That was it, Nimue had had enough. She stood and gave Ironheart a backhanded slap, then shook her hand as if she had hurt herself. He laughed. Then she hit him for real, assaulting his unprepared mind with a spell which dropped him to the ground, curled up and screaming in pain.

  "You know what I told you about not feeling pain anymore? It was the truth with regard to physical blows. But I can still make you suffer like you've never imagined before, and this is only a small sampling of what I can do. Now, are you ready to behave?"

  He nodded weakly, and she released the spell. Faster than she could have imagined, Ironheart punched her in the stomach, knocking her against a tree. "Now what?" she gasped, dropping to her butt.

  "I can hurt you too, witch."

  Nimue's magic ripped into him again, driving him down to writhe in agony. She spat a bit of blood and smiled while he squirmed, pulling herself up against the trunk behind her. She would never admit it to him, but she enjoyed his rebellious outbursts. He'd been her favorite partner ever since he first hit her over a disagreement. The pain was just too delightful.

  #

  A while later Ironheart returned to the road, having recovered from Nimue's attack but not his mental distress. Though he had enjoyed standing up to the witch who thought him her slave, pain be damned, his mind anguished over his physical state. His body felt like a puppet guided by his mental strings, and he didn't like that at all.

  He'd always cherished the sensations which now seemed so far away; he knew what his body saw, heard, smelled, and touched, but it was as if separated from the actual experience by a metaphorical haze. Like he'd been disconnected from his body. He needed his senses back, and so could not obey Nimue's wishes for him to continue hunting the faeries. She didn't know that what he needed wouldn't be found that way.

  She had said only God could save him, and if that was the case, the closest path to His power was through the relic the female knight had stolen from him. Having found it some months ago in a faerie village, he had never told Nimue of the discovery for fear she would dissolve their relationship upon reaching her goal. He needed her help to continue his war against the devils who seduced his father, whisking him away and leaving Ironheart and his mother to suffer in poverty and despair. He had sworn vengeance upon all their race the day he realized daddy wasn't coming back, and never let go of that oath.

  He had to find the female knight soon, before she could give the Grail to someone even harder to take it from. But he was sure he would succeed, for this could only be a trial from God to test his faith. After all, the Almighty had chosen him to find the Grail; why else would He do that unless he granted Ironheart His favor?

  #

  "Here it is, Mom. See? I told you it's nothing."

  Looking over the little wheat field with its stark farmhouse in the center, Morgan asked from her seat on the treasure-laden cart, "How can this be a baronial estate?"

  "On paper, that's how. It's really just a farm and a small one at that, and as the field is the extent of my domain, I don't really rule anyone either. But I'm never home, anyway. I just wanted the title, for my tourneys. Baroness Mildred of Lurbger. Not quite Princess, but it'll do." Mildy waved to her two grown servants, a young couple who were virtually the masters of the estate considering how often she was away, and they came to help unload the carts. "Treat them well, Mom. They're not used to hard discipline."

  "You mean you baby them."

  "Well, I'm never around, and I do try to treat them like people when I am. It's a good idea if you don't want them messing things up while you're away." In case her mother was still attached to the ideas of her genteel past, the latter explanation should work well.

  Morgan nodded, but asked, "Shouldn't you have someone here you trust, taking care of the house?"

  "I trust them, as long as I don't do them wrong. But what, you mean like a wife?"

  "Yes, a wife-"

  Mildy stared intently at her for a moment before breaking into laughter. "I got you."

  Morgan joined her shortly in her mirth. "Yes you did. Maybe when you find yourself a husband, you can make him stay home and take care of things, as if he were the woman."

  "That would be nice. You don't mind me being this way, do you Mom?"

  "A little," she admitted. "It does feel strange that my daughter spends her days running around in armor and fighting men."

  "It is rough, but I'd rather be a warrior than the boring wife of some lord or another."

  "Boring?"

  "They don't do anything."

  "I suppose I never much liked the courtly life. I wasn't a fighter like you, but I missed my childhood in the country so much when I moved into Camelot. It was all gone, the freedom, adventure, exchanged for routine and restraint. I'll never understand why Arthur betrayed the old ways for his oppressive order."

  Because it was better, Mildy knew her father would argue. Everyone argued their way was better, and she often wasn't sure who was right. Even if Arthur had committed unthinkable sins, he'd also done much to bring peace to Britannia's once strife-filled lands. His legacy couldn't be all bad.

  "You don't live in that world anymore, Mom. Whatever he does, he does, but you're with me. And here, you can act however you want. God knows I don't behave in the proper manner."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "With your life."

  "Same as before, go on quests, fight in tourneys. Maybe I can help Lance out next time. People don't tend to ask me directly for aid, much."

  "I wish that somehow, you could take your rightful place as royalty."

  It wasn't exactly Morgan's earlier demand for vengeance, but close enough in direction and implausibility. "I've tried to tell him I was his daughter," Mildy said wearily, "and no one believed me. Even if he accepted me, that would mean living with him, and with all I know now, that wouldn't be too pleasant."

  Morgan looked at her feet. "I'm willing to expose myself, for you."

  Mildy shook her head in exasperation. "No, Mom, all that would do is make me even more of a freak, for being a child of incest. It wouldn't help me at all."

  "You're right. I just want my daughter to have what she deserves!"

  "My life is fine the way it is. It's not perfect, but it's worthwhile, and I'm used to it. Like you said yourself, courtly life is a bore."

  "But it's safer."

  "Would it really be that safe around the man who raped you? What if he decided he'd rather erase the evidence of his sin, by killing me?"

  Morgan's eyes narrowed into angry slits. "That's why you'd have to
kill him first. And you could rule in his place, Queen Mildred."

  It always came back to that, to killing her father. Before Mildy could respond, Ares walked into the room. "Milady, Irethine is refusing to stay in the stable with the other horses. Like he's an equine prince or some such."

  "We'll talk later," Mildy said, and escaped to tend her mount. On the way out, she couldn't help wondering what it would be like to be acknowledged as royalty. But though she imagined it would be a more comfortable existence, she decided it wasn't a life she would really want to live. She was a woman, but she would never be a lady.

  #

  "Fine, Prince, stay outside," Ares snapped after their unsuccessful attempt to coax Irethine into the stable, the unicorn having some aversion to going inside. Of course, he had probably never slept in a stable before.

  Leaving Mildy to chat with her mother, Ares decided to get himself a rare bath. He found Lance inside the washroom brushing his newly cleansed hair. "You're looking good," Ares said offhand while he began to undress, the tub already filled by one of Mildy's servants.

  "I'd hope so. I must get back to Camelot soon."

  "Why? I thought you didn't like it there."

  Lance shrugged. "It's nothing for you to worry about."

  Ares caught the look in his friend's eye. "A lady?" Or a gentleman. Though he'd never really given thought to Lance's sexuality, he'd heard the innuendo from Mildy's own mouth.

  "A lady. Sorry about not telling you earlier."

  "It's Mildy you ought to apologize to. She was counting on you to give her something to do."

  "She's smart. She'll find something."

  Lance set off for Camelot early next morning, leaving Ares and Mildy to ponder their future with uncertainty. "Damn him, why now?" Mildy said. "What am I supposed to do?"

  "Let's just stay home for a while, and relax with your mom."

  "Maybe. We might not have another choice."

  Ares leaned back in his chair and sifted through the contents of his mind. "There's a local fair in the county of Enan in two weeks."

  "Local fair. That pretty much means I get a free pass to victory, right?"

  "Almost. Unless one of the big boys decides to show up."