Blood of Kings

by Billy Wong

  To her relief, Lamorak grabbed the new arrival by the shield arm and threw him back from the fight. "I will do this alone! Mildred, I don't just come for a challenge. Arthur was like a brother to us all, and we must avenge him. Die well."

  Mildy caught him on the arm with her flail, and he backpedaled trying to shake off the pain. "No," she said. "I killed Arthur in honorable combat—there's no need for you to seek revenge on me." His axe flashed in from the side and she intercepted it with her flail, shattering the blade. "Yield!"

  "Not this time." Lamorak threw his axe handle at her and drew his sword. "I haven't lost yet."

  Stupid man! Mildy glanced past Lamorak to her brother, hoping her inability to aid him had not cost him his life. Thankfully, he was still fighting. Excalibur sheared through Gawain's mundane sword, and he stepped into Tirant's reach and tried to restrain him in a bearhug. The more powerful knight pushed him away, smashed him to the ground with a hilt to the head. And Mildy was still too far away.

  She threw her dagger at the Frenchman, but it glanced off his shoulder plate. For being distracted from her own duel, Mildy received at least one broken rib from Lamorak's sword blow. Smirking at her, Tirant stabbed down at the stunned Gawain.

  Lance saved him, knocking Tirant off balance so that Excalibur plunged into Gawain's shoulder instead of his throat. Even so Mildy's brother did not make to rise, but just lay clutching the wound. Tirant turned to face his new opponent. "You will all die." The two Frenchmen laid into each other now, their weapons a clanging storm of steel. Their fury equal, neither of them held back anything.

  Lamorak's sword tore a strip of wood from Mildy's shield, and he kicked her in the gut as she stepped back. And Bedivere was on her again, slashing away. "Enough!" Lamorak roared, and shoved him aside.

  "What are you doing?! Let's kill her!"

  "I'm going to kill her."

  Mildy took advantage of their bickering to whip her flail at Lamorak's head. Though he raised his sword in time to save his life, the momentum of her blow ripped it from his hand and pulled him off balance. Mildy kicked him hard on the side of the knee. She heard a crack and he fell, a bewildered look in his eyes. "That wasn't fair."

  "It's as fair as you get," she said softly, and caved in his face.

  She looked up at Bedivere as he came on again, and her forced grin was enough to put new fear into his eyes. He threw rapid blows at diverse parts of her body, probing for some weakness in her defenses. But she dodged the strikes her shield could not block, and each of her own attacks made his expression grow ever more afraid.

  "Help me!" he called, and everything changed.

  Three knights joined him, and Mildy's offense halted as she was forced to focus just on staying alive. She tried to seek a more advantageous spot to make her stand, but could not retreat fast enough. Even she could not face four opponents, especially when one of them had the skill of Bedivere, and her armor split and broke under their relentless assault. Warm blood tickled her skin. She was losing badly, and Bedivere knew it.

  "So, it seems you are not invincible after all."

  Suddenly one of his partners stiffened and fell on his face, the back of his head a gory pulp. "No, but neither is she alone," Ares said, standing behind the fallen man with his shortsword and a bloody light mace.

  Encouraged by her friend's aid, Mildy fought back with renewed vigor, able to hold off Bedivere and another man while Ares engaged the third. The Greek flailed both his weapons in a haphazard whirlwind of steel, forcing his opponent to scramble back. Mildy's flail crashed into an armored chest. She heard Bedivere swallow loudly as bone crunched and his partner fell, gurgling with his final breaths.

  Bedivere grabbed her flail by the chain and hacked at her with the sword in his other hand. She blocked with her shield, and the heavy blade trapped itself as it bit deeply into the wood. For a long moment they stood staring into each other's eyes, weapons neutralized. Bedivere jerked on the chain, pulling Mildy forward, and rammed a shoulder into her lower chest. But as he bore her to the ground, she drew her dagger and plunged it through the exposed mail below his armpit.

  Coming to her feet, Mildy looked down at the dying knight. "Too bad you had to waste your life so vainly."

  Choking while blood filled his lungs, Bedivere gasped, "I go to heaven now to join my king. I may have failed, but God will reward me for my efforts." And he died, a smile on his face.

  He'd been a fool to the end, but a dedicated one indeed. Mildy rubbed at her suddenly moist eyes and turned to watch Ares' foe turn tail and run, frightened off by the blistering assault. Ares faced her, red-faced and panting with exertion. "Looks like I'm not up to fighting like that all the time, huh?"

  She smiled, refusing to show the pain and dizziness caused by her wounds. "You fought well, Ares. Thanks for saving my life—and, you can finally say you defeated a knight!"

  With that Mildy rushed again, straight for Tirant. Still he and Lance fought, seemingly equally matched. Yet always, it was Excalibur that decided the duel. Lance's sword snapped under a heavy blow, and the magic blade continued on to tear a gash across his chest. He gasped, stumbling back, and Tirant stabbed him in the thigh.

  "No one can beat me," he beamed as he kicked Lance to the ground.

  Mildy stopped him just as he aimed a decapitating slash at her friend, taking Excalibur through the shield and down to the bone of her forearm when she darted into its path. Tirant wrenched the sword free of her shield and flesh with shocking ease, and she cried out in pain. He cut her again, just above the elbow of her flail arm.

  "No one," he repeated with a grin.

  She didn't reply, but smashed her flail into his shield, praying it would break. But the heavy balls glanced off as Tirant stepped forward, catching them on the curved wood before they could gain their full momentum, and elbowed Mildy in the face. She reeled back, and Excalibur flicked out at her eyes. Leaning away while her heart raced, she took a cut on her cheek that would have blinded her had she been a moment slower. She lashed out again, sure this attack would prove fruitful until Tirant hit her flail with his sword and knocked it off course.

  Damn. A normal sword would have been broken by that impact, but not the holy blade. The fight continued, none of their exchanges allowing Mildy much of an advantage. Was he better than Arthur? Morgan had told her he'd been fighting all his life. Just like her, except he was at least ten years older and more experienced. And that sword...

  Excalibur met her flail at the chains and cut through two of the steel links, leaving it with one head. "You bloody cheater!" Mildy screamed, hating the idea she'd fall to Excalibur after all.

  "God gave me this right," Tirant said, his voice calm. "He delivered the blade on the waters into my hands, and as such marked me for my new crown. Surrender now and be my queen. You're the worthiest one I've met."

  His respect for her warrior prowess was somewhat admirable, but he wasn't. "Never," Mildy spat. Unfortunately, the angry blow to his shield that accompanied her words was far too light.

  "You're losing, Mildred. Even the greatest warrior of Britannia can't stop my tide." He twisted away from her downward strike, and spun back around with a cut which rent the armor over her belly.

  Mildy sucked in her stomach while she recoiled, but still felt a sharp pain and fell to her hands and knees. She touched shaking fingers to her wound, face grim as she realized the extent of the damage. The gash was long and deep, and too much blood poured forth...

  Tirant stood over her, sword lowered at his side. Why didn't he try to finish her? His eyes told her she was his, and she couldn't stand the thought. Mildy pushed herself to her knees and began to stand, jaw set with determination. "Not yet."

  He gazed at her for a moment, then frowned sadly as if finally recognizing a lost cause. His sword swept down. The blade whooshed past her shoulder as she threw herself aside. She smashed her flail into his knee, and he grunted and staggered aside. But he kicked her in the face when she tried to rise, putting h
er on her back. He lunged, plunging Excalibur down.

  She rolled barely in time, then brought her legs up around his waist and pulled him to the ground. Quickly straddling him, Mildy slammed her fists into his head again and again, her flail forgotten in hand. He shoved her off, protected by his helm to a large extent. She stood painfully and tried to brain him, but Excalibur swept up and took the last of her flail's heads.

  "You just... can't win," he said, panting between words.

  Mildy drew the axe she carried for backup from her back. "You're getting tired."

  He sneered. "That little axe won't save you." He came at her again, Excalibur slashing high. She ducked and tried to bury her axe in his kidney. He twisted so it glanced off his armor. He chopped downwards as she struck at his neck, cutting through one blade of her battleaxe. But she stepped forward immediately, shoving the edge of her remaining blade into his eye. It burst with a soft, disgusting pop, and he screamed. "Y-you whore!"

  "At least you won't come away unscarred, even if you win." Mildy's dizziness grew while her blood continued to drain away, and she longed for a drink from the Grail. But she had to finish this. She lurched in, trying to keep toward Tirant's blind side. He thrust low, but his movements had slowed, and she sidestepped without great difficulty. Her biggest challenge was simply not falling. Before he could aim another blow Mildy struck Excalibur near the hilt, tearing it from Tirant's weakened hands. He reached out to grab her, but she leaned aside and clove into his ribcage. He fell to his knees.

  "You win," he breathed, mouth bloody. Then his eyes lost focus, and he flopped down in the dirt.

  Mildy barely heard him, just holding onto the last shreds of consciousness. She had bled so much, her undershirt was drenched as though she'd taken a swim. The sting of her wounds started to give way to numbness, and she fell to all fours and began a desperate crawling search for the Grail. Where was it? Oh right, in her pack. She freed one arm and shrugged it off, barely finding the strength for the simple movements. A shadow fell over her, and her warrior instincts forced her to look up.

  Lance leaned over her, watching her with a worried frown. "Looks like you got him when no one else could. Same old Mildy. Are you alright?"

  She tried to nod, her fingers thankfully brushing against the warm gold of the sacred chalice. She lifted it, bringing it to her lips. Then Lance's eyes widened, and Excalibur burst bloodily from his gut. Mildy gasped, reached towards him just as the blade ripped out through his side. Oh no, oh God no...

  Tirant knelt, swaying on his knees. "My last... gift to you. So that you won't... forget me. Farewell, Dread Lady." And before she could do anything he fell, dead.

  "Hold on, Lance, please hold on!" Mildy pleaded hoarsely while she dragged herself to his side, her hurts forgotten as she stared dazedly at his hideous wound. He couldn't die, not now... he was still twitching, she saw, and hope bloomed in her heart. She raised the Grail to his lips and tipped it forward, and the healing elixir flowed into his mouth.

  Before he could swallow, a horrible rattle flew up from the depths of his throat, and his gaze fixed on her face. For a few seconds, Mildy continued pouring the elixir into his mouth, her heart denying what she saw. Then she moaned and laid her head onto his chest, cursing her life.

  #

  Mildy barely noticed anything that happened after that, not Ares dragging her from Lance's side or the surrender of the surviving enemy. She had not even healed her wounds, but physical pain was the last thing on her mind. Eventually, Gawain appeared before her with Excalibur in hand.

  "Your father's sword, Mildred. Here, it's yours—you won it fair and square."

  Looking up from her seat against a tree, she shook her head. Her thoughts were still cloudy, and she did not really think about her response, which seemed to come automatically. "No, you keep it. I don't care for a sword... and besides, I wouldn't want to wear something to remind me of my father and best friend's deaths."

  As her teary eyes settled again on the grass between her legs, Gawain said, "I'm sorry about Lance."

  "It's so unfair," Mildy whispered. "Even though his love died because of us, he tried to help me to the very end, and he died for nothing. What justice is there in that?"

  "There's no such thing as justice in this world," Gawain said flatly, "except for that we make. You did good, Mildred. No one will ever have to worry about Tirant anymore."

  "It was all such a waste."

  Ares, who had stayed with her since Lance's death, patted her back. "I know, Mildy. But we'll always remember him. Besides, he's in heaven now, right?"

  A grateful smile came to her face. "Of course. I'm sure of it." He'd done more than enough to make up for an adulterous love. "What about me, Ares? Do you think I'll go to heaven?"

  He waited a bit too long for her taste, but nodded at last. "Yes, Mildy. I'm sure you will. But it won't be for some time. You've still got the rest of your life ahead of you, and plenty of time to make sure you get that seat in heaven."

  "Thank you, Ares. You teach me well."

  They held Lance's funeral that night, and though Mildy should have had the most to say she could hardly speak. She told of what a good friend he'd been and how much he'd helped her through her harsh life, then sat back down and wept.

  He had been like family to her, she realized, even more so than the brother she'd managed to save. Why did it have to be this way? She hoped he was with his love, who had died because of her, and that they were happy. But in her heart, she wished he could be back here by her side, so she wouldn't be so lonely.

  #

  Ares watched his friend suffer over the course of weeks, moping listlessly through the castle and spurning all company. He knew she missed the man who had given her friendship when no one else would, but she did herself no good by forsaking her social life. Thankfully, she seemed to recover bit by bit. One morning Ares bid her farewell, informing her he was returning to Greece. He packed his things and took his horse from the stables, but had only made it about a hundred feet from Camelot when a mounted Mildy caught up to him.

  "Where are you going?" he asked.

  "Where do you think? I'm coming with you."

  "Aren't you supposed to be busy ruling the country?"

  She smiled, though she looked about ready to cry. "I told them I'd be building foreign relations. I suppose it might be true, if I can work up the spirit to talk to anyone."

  "Why?"

  "I can't stand to be here right now. Britannia feels almost cursed to me, after all that's happened. I've lost so much, and I'm tired of fighting. It's not that I intend to give up. I just need a break."

  Yet Ares knew from experience that taking one would endanger her tenuous grasp on the crown, and likely set her back more than a little bit. "Are you sure, Mildy? I really think it would be better for you to stay. You're so strong; even after you fought Arthur, you were always able to soldier on. And you still have family here to support you. You should be fine."

  "Family, yes. But Gawain barely acknowledges me as his sister, and while I know Morgan loves me, it sometimes feels like it's for what I represent more than who I am. Lance was one of the only ones who truly understood me, and just when I thought I'd gotten him back I lose him for good... I can't afford to lose you, too."

  Ares thought to tell her she wasn't losing him, that he would be back, but as he looked into her eyes, he realized just how much she needed him now. "I won't leave you, then. Let's go home, and we'll win the fight to secure Britannia together."

  "Home..? But aren't you going back to Greece?"

  "My trip can wait." And as they turned their horses around he took her hand, ready to guide her towards a better tomorrow.

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  Author Billy Wong is an avid fan of heroic fantasy, with a special love for strong female warriors. He draws inspiration from the epic legends of old, and is on a quest to bring over the top deeds and larger than life heroes back to
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