The Dinosaur Princess

by Victor Milán

  Karyl saw his trail blanket rolled and tied behind the saddle’s high cantle. A dinosaur master to the bone, Rob had actually taken time to untie its ends and empty out the straw it had been filled with, to give Shiraa a vaguely man-shaped doll that smelled like her “mother” to comfort her as she slept. Karyl regretted that it wasn’t feasible to sleep in the blanket himself, curled up with her here as he did on the road. But he appreciated the way his often careless friend could focus on details when it mattered.

  He twitched the sword. “This is all that matters. But what’s that on your arm?”

  “Melodía’s loincloth.”

  Karyl raised a brow.

  “I ran into the Princess whilst blundering about the Palace, thoroughly lost. She saved my life, not to put too fine an edge on it. She gave me this as a sign I was under her protection, and not to be hindered on my way out the door.”

  Shiraa raised her head to stare hard at the partly open wooden door through which Karyl had slipped. She drew in a deep breath, whiffing notably through her nose. Then she uttered a low rumble of a growl.

  “We’ve got company,” Karyl said. He moved to the saddle and tapped its stout nosehorn-leather skirt with his fingertips. She promptly lowered her buff-colored belly to the bare stone to make it easier for him to mount. “We need to move. They won’t be friends.”

  “Catch the door, there’s a good fellow, Your Grace,” said Rob jauntily as he swung up into his hook-horn’s saddle and picked up the reins. “My lead, I think. If there’s one thing Little Nell can do, it’s clear the way!”

  Karyl moved to the door. He heard a mutter of voices from outside, the slap of leather on stone. But he paused and looked back.

  “Rob,” he said, “thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Karyl. And also premature. If we get out of this alive, then’s the time to thank me!”

  Chapter 47

  Saltador, Springer.…—Orodromeus makelai. Small, swift, bipedal herbivorous dinosaur with toothed beak, 2.5 meters long, 45 kilograms. Usually brown spotted white, with white bellies. Timid; adept at hiding. Flocks abound in Nuevaropa; common farm and crop pests. A highly favored quarry of hunters both human and dinosaurian.

  —THE BOOK OF TRUE NAMES

  He’ll likely kill me in the morning, Rob thought as Karyl gathered himself and pulled the heavy door open on its rollers. Should we live to see the sun rise.

  “Well, he’s entitled,” he said, pulling Wanda free of her straps. He left the leather case on her head. And clapping his boot heels against Little Nell’s stout sides, screamed, “Charge!”

  No Gallimimus as a sprinter, the hook-horn nonetheless had a powerful launch, with her squat build and mighty hindquarters—which the insensitive might call a “fat arse.” She snorted eagerly and took off at a rolling gallop that was within a few paces of her top speed.

  Karyl passed running the other way, toward Shiraa. Who was already screaming her name—the only thing she ever said, but for the odd gurgle chirp, or growl—in challenge.

  Ahead he saw the cleared space in front of the warehouse was awash in flickering yellow torchlight. By the lights of those little fires he saw a dozen arms upholding them, left half bare by sagging mail sleeves, and faces male and female between the pointy-topped steel caps worn by Los Defensores del Corazón. Whose expressions turned from grim determination to bloodlust to a sudden unanimity of surprise—and fear.

  It was well founded. The tough-looking female sargento leading the squad was knocked sprawling by the boss of Nell’s gigantic forward-hooking nasal horn. She never had the chance to raise her round shield and spear.

  The five squaddies behind her all carried, one-handed, the heaviest and most powerful kind of crossbows, already cocked by means of mechanical contrivances called cranequins and with bolts clamped in the slots and ready to shoot. At spitting range they’d shoot through any armor a human could walk around in and could drop even a smallish titan with a lucky shot to heart or brain. It was clear they had one aim: fast and brutal butchery of Shiraa and Little Nell, and their owners if the Creators smiled on them.

  They got both monsters and riders, to be sure. And Rob thought the Gods of Paradise did indeed favor the Heart’s Defenders squad when Little Nell merely knocked them sprawling. Even the one Rob felt squash-crack beneath Nell’s off forefoot. His screams indicated that it didn’t kill him at once. A mixed blessing at best, but blessing withal.

  Little Nell bleated in glee. Though less immense, to say nothing of dramatic, than her cousins the Triceratops, she was still a nosehorn in good standing; and like most of that ilk, took almost as much joy in a good fight as any great meat-eater did.

  Rob didn’t look down any more than he regretted his beloved friend trampling someone. His heart was filled with righteous fury that they’d come with undeniable intent to harm Nell and Shiraa—bloody hero of the whole entire world that she was—much less him and Karyl. He swatted the ones who hadn’t yet fled outside his arms’ reach with his axe’s leather-covered head and gusto.

  The Defenders who didn’t jump or get shouldered bodily out of the hook-horn’s path were mostly overrun by those who had, but kept their feet. Then out from the barn’s shadowy depths burst Shiraa, roaring her name in happy anticipation of biting off some faces.

  For a moment Rob feared she’d miss her chance. The guards still standing threw away their torches and arbalests and ran away in all directions like a flock of springer who had, well, a raging matadora appear in their midst. Then he heard a shriek of wild terror from behind.

  Since Little Nell was headed the right way, and more than canny enough not to run full tilt into a brick building no matter how happy she was to be trouncing louts, and he’d run out of foes in smiting range, Rob glanced over his right shoulder. A Defensor who’d been bulled to that side had lost his helmet but retained his crossbow. He had come up on one knee and was taking aim at Rob’s back when Shiraa came thundering down on him on her powerful hind legs. He shrieked as her open jaws lunged toward his face.

  The jaws clashed shut. The man’s terrified outcries were cut off, along with his head.

  Without breaking stride, Shiraa yanked up, freeing her prize of any stubborn bits of skin or sinew holding it to the rest of him. As the torso fell over, hosing blood from the surprisingly clean stump, she tossed the head aside. She was immaculately trained not to eat her kills without her mother’s permission. Though Rob sussed that she mostly refrained not from dog-like obedience, but just to please her beloved human, the way a cat or ferret might.

  His cheeks flushed hot as he turned forward again. They’ll not be welcoming us back here anytime soon, he thought, except to hang us. Well, it’s not as if I’ve had that grand a time tonight.

  Little Nell was already loping between the dark angled masses of buildings. He steered her in what he hoped was the shortest route to the gate through the twisty maze of this part of the Porche, near the wall and far from La Entrada.

  Then he got her nose turned down one of the more regular avenues near the Imperial Way. He had a straight sight line to the Patio, now awash in the orange light of dozens of torches and lanterns, as well as shouting men and rearing dinosaurs. At once he reined her to a haunch-dropping stop, waving Wanda frantically above his head in hopes of keeping Shiraa from plowing right into them.

  The Allosaurus cried “Shiraa” somewhat peevishly. But Rob smelled no carnosaur breath, inevitably foul despite regular tooth cleanings, nor did he feel the impact of a couple of hurtling metric tons.

  “I think it’s your turn to take the lead,” he said, twisting in the saddle. Little Nell was tossing her big head and blowing loudly through her nostrils in obvious agitation. At the smell and nearness of so many big, excited dinosaurs—and at one presence in particular.

  Karyl had to lean left out of his saddle to see past Shiraa, who had her own large head raised and was staring keenly toward the Courtyard with torchlight gleaming in her scarlet eyes. Rob saw his own friend’s
eyes go wide. Then the lean, bearded face took on a look of the closest thing to pure pleasure Rob had seen that tortured soul express during all their months together.

  “Yes,” said Karyl, “I believe you’re right.” He raised his single-edged sword and nudged Shiraa in her ribs.

  Rob pulled Little Nell to the limestone side of an apartment building to clear the way as the matadora bounded eagerly past.

  * * *

  “Knights!” Falk roared, rearing Snowflake and brandishing his knight’s axe overhead in a gauntleted fist. The visor of the special black bascinet that his mother had brought from Hornberg, its “fatty-break” visor molded and painted to suggest a screaming toothed-falcon beak, was open to allow him to properly shout such orders. And display his manly bearded visage, of course. “Get ready! To escape, the traitors Bogomirskiy and Korrigan have to get through us!”

  That was the story his mother had ordered him to spread: that the pair from Providence were behind an assassination attempt on the Emperor’s life. As if I didn’t think of it myself before she even said it! he thought. She never gives me credit.

  Of seven war-hadrosaurs currently housed on El Porche, five had turned out to join him, including the green-and-gold striped Lambeosaurus, with Archduke Antoine on her back. Only Mandar, that old fart, held out, along with a mysterious blond woman who served the horrible old witch La Madrota as a retainer. Margrethe’s best efforts to persuade Felipe to turf her sackbut out to house a dinosaur belonging to another of their loyalists had failed. Apparently, Rosamaría Delgao actually owned the Imperial Heart.

  They had other dinosaur knights in their faction, of course. But their war-mounts were housed in La Majestad—as were several of the knights themselves, since accommodations were always at a premium inside the Wall. They were on their way.

  But I’m not going to leave them the chance to do anything, Falk thought.

  He kept Snowflake turning left and right to better spread the exhortations around. He heard a squawk of surprise and pain as her tail clipped someone on foot. He didn’t so much as glance that way; whether foot soldier or servant, it was only a peasant.

  He and his beloved white T. rex happened to be facing straight down the Via Imperial toward the gate when a single furious scream pealed from his right: “Shiraa!”

  He grinned. “Time to finish what we started, eh, boy?” he cried to Snowflake as he spun the big dinosaur right to face his rival—and somewhat smaller—predator.

  He saw a gape of red mouth, and teeth shimmering orange and gold in the torchlight, closing fast.

  Too fast.

  * * *

  White rage filled Shiraa’s consciousness and whole being like an all-consuming flame.

  WHITE MONSTER! WHITE MONSTER! she thought.

  HATE.

  TEAR! KILL! EAT!

  He turned to face her. Joy joined her fury as she clamped her jaws shut on his hated white snout. The blood that gushed hot into her mouth was the sweetest taste she’d ever known. Almost as sweet as the moment she’d first seen her mother’s beloved form across the field of waiting food, after so many suns of separation.

  I WIN!

  * * *

  The big albino meat-eater turned just in time for Shiraa to catch him by the snout with her jaws.

  Snowflake whistled like a volcanic steam vent as Karyl sent his matadora running to her right, twisting the tyrant counterclockwise.

  Clad in breast and back and helmet with its visor open, Falk turned toward him, mouth open, screaming something Karyl couldn’t hear for the high-pitched bellowing of the two enormous flesh-eating dinosaurs. But in the blue eyes he saw a flash of pain—sympathetic pain for the hurt being done his war-mount and friend.

  He was trying to swing his axe to cut down the unarmored Karyl. But Karyl had maneuvered Shiraa so Falk, who had no shield, still had to strike cross-body to hit him. Whereas Karyl’s sword-arm was positioned to strike directly.

  He thrust the tip into the bearded wide-open mouth. He felt the tip rake the top of the Duke von Hornberg’s upper palate.

  Such a stroke, if pushed to its fullest extent, would punch through the back of its recipient’s mouth and pierce the brain stem, causing instant death.

  Karyl did not press home the death blow. He drew back his never-dulling blade in a fountain of blood from Falk’s ripped roof and cloven tongue. The Alemán fell away from him.

  At the same time, his pressing knees sent Shiraa into a violent pirouette to her left. He sensed Snowflake’s splayed white hind feet tangling. She overbalanced and went down.

  Though already half unseated, Falk managed to fling himself away from his stricken mount before the animal fell and crushed his right leg between his two tons or more of bulk.

  He really is a splendid dinosaur knight, thought Karyl. And he loves his Snowflake.

  “Coming through!” Rob bellowed from behind. Karyl reared Shiraa back before she could try to rip out her fallen foe’s snowy throat with her jaws. Karyl turned to see Little Nell thunder by just beyond Shiraa’s left-curled tail to rudely shoulder Archiduc Antoine’s halberd crest out of the way.

  Karyl pulled the reins to turn Shiraa to follow. He felt her reluctance to abandon her fallen prey before finishing her kill. But she obeyed. She was the best of dinosaurs.

  As she turned, he saw a massive blur in the corner of his eye. Swiveling his eyes, he saw a sight remarkable even for this chaotic, blood-drenched night: the Princess Melodía, clad only in a tight breast-band and cavalry trousers and boots, on the back of a Parasaurolophus bull that had blundered right into the midst of the Courtyard and Falk’s assembled dinosaur knights.

  Then he turned forward, as Shiraa followed Rob and the hook-horn out of the Patio and down the narrow Imperial Way to the open gates of La Bienvenida.

  Chapter 48

  Alabarda, Halberd, Halberd-Crest.…—Lambeosaurus magnicristatus. Bipedal herbivore, 9 meters, 3.5 tonnes. Prized in Nuevaropa as a war-hadrosaur for the showy, bladelike crest which gives it its name. Easily bred for striking coloration, like the more common Corythosaurus and Parasaurolophus; bulkier than either.

  —THE BOOK OF TRUE NAMES

  “Whoa!” Melodía yelled, as Tormento lurched across the crowded Courtyard at an angle.

  The sackbut ran at good speed into the right haunch of Archiduc Antoine’s blue-and-white halberd bull, Triomphe. Already off-balance from being struck hard, if glancingly, by Little Nell, disconcerted by the violent paso a dos between Snowflake and Shiraa, and the latter big predator’s close passage, Triomphe all but toppled onto his beak. He managed to keep himself from going over onto his shoulder by dropping a hoof-like left forepaw to the Porche stone, but the unexpected impact and angle change in his mount pitched the young Archiduc right over the hadrosaur’s left shoulder to slam upside down against a wall.

  Serves you right, you insufferable prick, Melodía thought savagely, for advancing against Jaume’s orders at Canterville. And for taking the side of the man who raped me! She knew from servants’ gossip passed on by Rosamaría that Antoine was all in a pet over a brisk letter he’d gotten from King Louis, telling him that going to war with Trebizon was an idiotic notion and that Antoine was to stop saying anything that gave the impression the Francés throne endorsed it. Yet he still stood willingly with the Alemán.

  “I can’t control it!” she shouted, sawing at Tormento’s reins. Or miming it; she kept the reins just slack. In the dubious dance of light and shadows that filled the Patio, she hoped no one could tell they weren’t straining taut.

  She hoped to be able to squash Falk into red paste and agonized screams. Not even a full harness of plate armor could protect a knight on foot against being crushed by the weight of a full-grown war-duckbill, as Melodía had seen firsthand. But he stood off to one side of the open space holding Snowflake’s reins as the Tyrannosaurus tossed his huge head, spraying blood liberally over both the rapist and several attendants trying in turn, to staunch the astonishing flow of blood
from the Alemán’s mouth. She was unwilling to risk crushing those who were possibly innocent, and her own mount wasn’t about to go near the maddened meat-eater.

  Instead, still doing her best to pretend her mount’s actions were random, she turned Tormento back toward a pair of female knights riding their hadrosaurs side by side toward La Bienvenida. They were Mora Lindsay of Becca’s Spring and Mora Ofelia de Ventoso, and first cousins, despite the one being from Anglaterra and fair, and the other a Mesetera with dark hair, eyes, and skin—even for Spaña. They were both in the Palace as paid bodyguards of hadrosaur breeder Don Hilario of Highplains. While their master played a dangerous game of neutral opportunism between the rival war and antiwar factions at Court, the women were merely turning out to answer an alarm, guilty of no more than no doubt hoping to curry Imperial favor. They were certainly no creatures of Margrethe’s, nor her son’s bedmates, especially Ofelia, who didn’t like men.

  As such, Melodía didn’t bear them the ill will she did toward the Francés archduke. But that didn’t stop her from seemingly getting control of her “rampaging” mount enough to turn him directly into their path. He reared up, trumpeting, and his tail tripped Lady Lindsay’s halberd.

  “Sorry!” Melodía cried, as the purple duckbill stumbled, forcing the Anglaterrana to jump off in case he fell.

  She turned her sackbut back into Ofelia’s female morion, who was blue with rather fetching pink spots—an unusual combination, meaning a chance for her employer to show off his prowess at breeding war-mounts for color. On his own, Tormento swatted the Corythosaurus with a nasty side swipe of his long-crested head, stunning her and causing her to reel off into the path of Mor Carlos de Ojosfrios, a young buck who had orbited Melodía’s attacker from La Merced days on.

  “¡Disculpeme!” Melodía called to Mora Ofelia.

  She was thinking, He did that on his own! He understands what I’m doing!