Armies of Nine, Book Three of The Adventures of Sarah Coppernick

by SJB Gilmour

  ‘I’m in here, bitch!’ the voice teased. Sarah recognised that voice!

  ‘Mel!’ She looked about. ‘Mel, you mad face-painter, where are you?’

  ‘Duh, I’m in here! Love the new hairstyle.. Those Amazons turning you into a lesbian already?’

  Sarah turned to the source of Mel’s voice. She stared at the glowing yellow crystal ball in wonder. There, inside the ball, was Melanie. To be more precise, it was an image of Melanie, and since the ball was round, it was slightly out of shape. Her head looked definitely too big for her body.

  ‘What—’ Sarah began to say. Then she realised that as clearly as she could see Melanie, Melanie could see her. She tossed the towel back on the ball. She jumped out of the bath and hurriedly dried herself, then put on the nearest things she could find — her uniform.

  Dressed again as an Amazon officer, and not nearly so dizzy now that she was out of that soup of bath herbs she had created, Sarah took the towel off the glowing yellow crystal ball.

  ‘Mel!’ she gasped. ‘Where are you? Are you all right? What’s going on? I’ve got so much to tell you!’

  Mel laughed. ‘Mate, you wouldn’t believe what happened to me!’

  The two girls began talking very rapidly at the same time. Sarah told Mel all about her fight with N’butu and Moira and how she had wrecked Conundrum. She told Mel how she had gone to Hades’ realm and then found herself recruited to the Amazon ranks. Then she told her about the demons and meeting Apollo again.

  ‘Apollo met you too?’ Mel asked, surprised.

  ‘He kinda likes me,’ Sarah confessed. ‘He smells good too!’

  ‘You better watch it,’ Mel warned. ‘Aunt Angela might get jealous.’

  Sarah laughed. ‘She can have Him.’

  Mel leaned in to peer at her with glee. ‘Mate, I got it!’

  Sarah tilted her head sideways. She was still tired and didn’t grasp what her friend was talking about. ‘Got what?’

  ‘The command prompt!’ Mel blurted. ‘Cromwell couldn’t put the pieces together because he didn’t realise they needed a spell to join them together. All you have to do is command it to amalgammus!’

  ‘Amalgammus?’ Sarah repeated excitedly. ‘That’s it?’

  Mel nodded. Yep! Once you do that, it’ll all make sense. Give it a try. Watch this!’

  Mel showed Sarah how she could manipulate the silver within and around her by making various weapons come and go.

  ‘Whoa,’ Sarah breathed. ‘Cool!’

  ‘Damn it,’ Mel said, sniffling back a sudden rush of emotion. ‘Wish I was there with ya.’

  ‘Same,’ Sarah also choked back a sob.

  ‘Before you both reach for tissues and chocolates,’ a new voice from the ball said dryly, ‘would you ladies mind if some grown-ups used the balls for a little while?’

  The image of Melanie suddenly halved in size as her grandmother Cassandra appeared in the ball. Moments later, James, Benjamin and Ronny all squeezed into view. Uncle Robert and Aunt Roberta also appeared, wagging their tails and grinning with their tongues lolling out. Angelina had obviously received a crystal ball as well. She too appeared in the glowing yellow orb.

  Everyone was quite impressed with Sarah’s display on the parade ground and thankfully diplomatic about her haircut. Melanie’s news was more disturbing. However, enchanted folk like these who were all quite powerful sorcerers and werewolves, were well-acquainted with strange and unusual people and their various powers. They seemed to take the news about Mel’s dependence on silver rather than iron in their stride.

  When all the catching up was over, James became quite serious. ‘I made a deal with the Pixierazzi to keep them off our backs, so it’s safe to talk with these things,’ he told the group. ‘We’ve got four distinct groups in The Alliance so far,’ he reported. ‘I’ve got about three thousand mercs and wizards in my wing.’

  Angelina raised one eyebrow. ‘The Alliance?’ she asked sceptically. ‘Isn’t that a bit twee?’

  James spluttered for a moment. ‘Alright, what would you have us called?’

  She thought for a moment. ‘We’re all fighting for the same cause,’ she nodded at Sarah. ‘Apollo called us The Nine Forces of Hope. What about that?’

  James shook his head. ‘The word “Hope” implies that there’s a chance we’ll lose,’ he argued. ‘Call us whatever you like but for the sake of the troops, you’d do best to make it sound like something invincible.’

  ‘Okay, how about The Armies of Wolfenvald?’ Angelina suggested.

  James shook his head. ‘Like it matters,’ he muttered. He waved dismissively. ‘Whatever. Anyway, at the moment, I can only count four of these armies of yours.’

  Melanie surprised them all. She waved Jerrit’s copy of The Babylonian Heresies at them. ‘It says in here that the nine armies are gonna be the Gilded Warrioresses, The Lightning Ones, The Winged Fire, The Forever Dead, and All The Men Of Jilde. There’s also gonna be The Horned Herd, The Renegades Of Wolfenvald, The Halfling Hunters, and The Profiteers.’

  Benjamin’s eyes went wide. ‘Is that what I think it is?’

  Mel nodded. ‘The one we got from the temple was a decoy. This is Jerrit’s copy. I pinched it from him. I think it’s the one Cromwell lent out but never got back.’ She made a face. ‘You know Jerrit’s mad,’ she told them. ‘He’s convinced I’m some sort of saint.’

  James nodded approvingly. ‘The Imperial Guardslins would also be a great help, especially if they’re fighting out of some kind of religious fervour.’

  ‘Why?’ Mel asked him.

  James shrugged. ‘Religious fanatics are wonderful foot-soldiers. They’ll fight to the death at the drop of a hat if they think their god’s on their side.’

  ‘Apollo’s just ordered Penethelia to help us,’ Angelina told them. ‘She’d probably have done it anyway just for fun, but now that she’s been given a direct order, I think you’ll find her Amazons will be even more effective than the goblins. She’s pulled every Amazon mission out of the field. They’re arriving as we speak. She’s definitely going to join the fun.’

  ‘Fun?’ protested Ronny.

  Nathan appeared and bobbed his head in agreement. ‘That would mean The Gilded Warrioresses are the Amazons. Gilded means covered in gold — might be a reference to Miss Sarah.’

  James nodded. ‘That’d explain it,’ he agreed.

  ‘Then All The Men Of Jilde, are the goblins, and The Profiteers are most likely Isaacs’ Irregulars, Nathan told them seriously. ‘The Renegades of Wolfenvald are the werewolves. That makes the four that Master Isaacs counted.’

  ‘My minotaurs are a hardy bunch,’ Cassandra told them. ‘If any group could be called The Horned Herd, it’s them. That’s five.’

  ‘And the Halfling Hunters are probably my gnomes,’ Ronny told them. ‘They bring us up to six.’

  Nathan wriggled further into view past Robert and Roberta. ‘We can assume the Winged Fire refers to the dragons,’ he told them seriously. ‘Siouxanne has promised her aid and since Mistress Hazelwood is Amixo, that means pretty much every other dragon alive.’

  There was a general pause. Had anyone been able to see Mel’s green eyes more closely, they’d have noticed a brief flicker of mischief in them.

  James was the first to break the silence. ‘Okay, that’s seven. Who are The Lightning Ones and The Forever Dead?’

  Nobody answered at first. Then Ronny’s usual sunny disposition came to the fore. ‘They’ll turn up,’ he assured them. The grey-skinned gnome rubbed his gnarled hands together with glee. ‘They’ll show up.’

  When everyone had said their goodbyes and gone their separate ways, Sarah put the crystal ball down beside her cot. Tired and still sore, she didn't bother to peel off her uniform or even her sword. She simply changed form and curled up on her cot with her tail over her nose and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When he came to, Marzdane was lying clean and dry, in a simple be
d in a warm room. Sunlight was streaming in through an open window. Outside that window, birds were chirping their morning song. He tried to sit up and realised this was impossible. He was bound to the mattress with strong thick leather straps, inlaid with silver runes. He swore to himself and tried to focus his power, but he was still too weak and the straps that bound him shimmered and tightened the moment he tried. He gave up in disgust and lay back down, panting. Where was he?

  He closed his eyes and listened. Yes, he could hear the starlings and the sparrows. They were common all over the world. That was no help. He inhaled deeply through his nose. He smelled field flowers and fruit tree blossoms. He had to be in the northern hemisphere… There was rosemary and garlic, too. A herb garden was nearby — probably just outside that window, he thought miserably to himself.

  ‘Tuscany,’ a female voice said calmly. Marzdane opened his eyes and got quite a surprise. The woman he had seen on the beach was not his beloved Angelina. This woman, also beautiful and dark-haired, was something else. Though he did not know who she was, he did know what she was. She was a Medici succubus!

  ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

  The succubus smiled, revealing gleaming white fangs. Her black eyes did not match her smile. The same odd contrast applied to her clothing. What little of it there was, just the filmiest of gossamer robes, did little to hide the lush body beneath it, but there was something forbidding about her — something dangerous. Even if he didn’t already know that she was a wraith, his instincts would have warned him to run like hell. Of course, being strapped to the bed like that wasn’t helping.

  ‘Lord Hardingleflass,’ she said quite formally, ‘I am Charity Medici.’ She crossed the room with extraordinary grace and stood beside his bed. ‘You don’t need those any more.’ She nodded at the bonds that bound him to the bed. There was a loud click and they fell away.

  Still weak from his ordeals, Marzdane struggled but managed to get himself into a sitting position. He pushed back the bedding and looked at himself. His ruined clothing had been replaced with simple cotton pyjamas. His hands and nails, once bruised and scored, were now clean and fresh with no signs of the struggles he’d been through. He passed a hand over his face. His beard had been trimmed very short and his hair had also been attended to.

  ‘You seem surprised,’ Princess Charity observed.

  Marzdane squinted at her. ‘How long have I been here?’ he demanded.

  Again, the succubus smiled coldly. ‘A while,’ she told him calmly. She reached out and touched one cold hand to his forehead, making him flinch. ‘Your fever has broken. I apologise for the restraints. For a while there, you were so restless we could not treat you without them.’

  Marzdane reached and gingerly put his fingertips to his neck. He remembered the awful feeling as that cursed werewolf’s fangs ripped at his throat.

  ‘That damage was mostly repaired by a sorcerer, Lord Hardingleflass,’ she told him. ‘We finished the job, but you suffered quite a bit of blood loss, I’m afraid.’

  For the first time in his life, Marzdane saw sympathy in the black eyes of a wraith.

  ‘We were able to replenish that with our own supply,’ she went on.

  Marzdane gave a start. He gaped at the princess with horror.

  ‘Fear not, Lord Hardingleflass,’ she said with a sultry smile. ‘Of course we would love to turn you. Such is our nature, but we Medici only do so if the subject is willing. The blood came from our own stores. We use it for food. Occasionally however, it is useful for more humane purposes.’ She smiled coldly. ‘After all, we are not monsters.’

  ‘Could have fooled me,’ he muttered as he lay back in the bed. He kept his eyes shut for a long time. He felt old and tired. He’d been through so much and he was still nowhere near finding Angelina. Now he was here, in an Italian hospital fortress, home of the infamous Medici wraith sub-clan.

  ‘Why did you bring me here?’ he demanded bitterly. ‘You should have let me die.’

  Charity shrugged, somehow making even that innocuous gesture seem deeply sensual. ‘You have been removed from your seat of power, Lord Hardingleflass. That puts you in a similar position to The Medici. We are yet to choose a side in the coming conflict. Master Cromwell has deserted the werewolves and the family of Troy.’

  ‘Conflict!’ Marzdane scoffed. ‘It’ll be an annihilation.’ The effort brought on a fit of coughing that left him gasping for several moments. When he recovered, he continued. ‘Neither side will benefit from my help, and I don’t need them.’

  ‘But you do need, don’t you, Lord Hardingleflass?’ Charity purred. ‘Your needs are great indeed.’

  Now Marzdane was very serious. He sat up and glared at the succubus princess. ‘Yes,’ he admitted bitterly. ‘I need my youth back. Cursed Hazelwood robbed me of a thousand years.’

  ‘You do need your youth,’ she admitted. ‘Do you not need your wife too?’

  ‘Stay out of my mind!’ he yelled suddenly.

  Charity remained unmoved. ‘Your past is rich, Lord Hardingleflass. It is enough to keep a succubus alive for months—’

  Marzdane drew himself up, really wanting to argue, but he felt too weak and this succubus was making him feel all kinds of emotions he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.

  ‘No succubus has fed on you,’ she assured him. ‘However, to diagnose your condition, our healers did reach into your mind for a time.’

  Resist! He had to resist… Marzdane concentrated, trying to draw in his power. Nothing happened. He shook his head, trying to clear it from the intoxicating fog with which the succubus was filling his mind. He tried again. If he could break free, he’d blow this impudent wraith into cinders! Again, he could feel his power inside him, but he just couldn’t grasp it. All his strength kept slipping away.

  Charity watched him calmly. ‘There are wards set in this cell, Lord Hardingleflass. Your powers will not work here.’

  ‘What do you want?’ he moaned weakly. Now Charity smiled again, this time with some sincerity. ‘You need our help, Lord Hardingleflass. We could have merely fed upon you, however human lives are inexpensive.’

  ‘And I’m worth more to you if I owe you something, is that right?’ Marzdane grated. The effort of resisting the charms of the wraith was draining nearly all his strength.

  Charity nodded calmly. ‘We can restore your youth. You will be vigorous and handsome once more—’

  ‘What’s the catch?’ he panted.

  ‘You will become a wraith. Our race is suffering from a depleted gene pool, Master Hardingleflass,’ she purred, using more and more of her deadly charm with each word. ‘Upon me and my sisters, you could spawn a new clan of succubi! Clan Hardingleflass!’ She knelt so close to him that her lips were only millimetres from his ear. ‘You can love Angelina all you want and when she’s not in the mood, we’ll always be here for you,’ she breathed in a sultry whisper.

  ‘You’d make a wraith of me? I’d rather die.’

  Charity reached out and gently ran her fingers over his forehead. ‘We know that’s not true, Lord Hardingleflass,’ she purred even more seductively. ‘Wouldn’t you rather have your youth once more? Live to have her forever? And in the meantime,’ and now her lips were touching his ear and her hand had moved down to his chest, ‘all the delights she hasn’t shared with you for centuries are here for the taking…’

  Marzdane turned his head slowly to face the beautiful wraith. When their lips touched, a cold, electric chill went through his body that finally washed away all his remaining strength to resist her seductive charm. Just when he was expecting her to begin her deathly feed, she drew back.

  ‘Say the word, Lord Hardingleflass,’ she purred. ‘You will be released, as you are now, and no succubus shall touch you. We would not turn one who is truly unwilling.’

  Marzdane gaped at her. She leaned forward once more and gently touched her hand to his chest.

  ‘However,’ she continued, ‘if you wish to be young and strong a
gain, there may be other cures, but we know them not.’

  Marzdane closed his eyes. ‘Forgive me,’ he murmured to himself. Unable to fight it any more, he sighed and gave himself over to the deadly embrace of the succubus.

  Mautallius glared at Cromwell. ‘We need that sacrifice!’ he growled. ‘My Mistress is running out of patience. Convergence or not, it is time to activate Conundrum Gate.’ The demon-possessed sorcerer waved one bony finger at Cromwell. ‘Your predecessor failed us. Do not make his mistake.’ He waved at the battered ruins that was all that was left of the tower and The Nonagon. ‘This was to be our palace! Look at what the Golden Mane did to it! We cannot even rebuild it until The Gate is under our control.’

  Cromwell nodded and bowed to his new master. His eyes were haunted and his face was pale. The master necromancer, who for more than eight thousand years had been able to resist all manner of demons and devils, had finally had his willpower overridden. Now, whatever Mautallius commanded, he had to do, and it terrified him. He had to keep Mautallius calm, so he waved his hand around at the ruined hall. An illusion far better than any gnome could have created, shimmered into being. The hall now looked grand. Rich tapestries hung from the walls. The windows gleamed with multi-coloured crystal glass and Mautallius’ stone throne was transformed to gleaming gold, inlaid with red and green jewels.

  While Mautallius gazed smugly at his new surrounds, Cromwell merely shook his head. ‘I know where the Hazelwood child is, My Lord,’ he said coldly.

  Mautallius forgot all about the splendour with which he appeared to be surrounded. ‘And Hazelwood and Coppernick? Where are The First and The Last? They have your precious Star. We cannot allow such power to interrupt our plans!’

  Oliver shrugged. ‘Melanie is on Jilde. I can’t go anywhere near the place. Jerrit’s got the palace sealed off with more Imperial Guardslins than you can count. We can’t touch her. I did get word from Medusa, though. Coppernick’s at Lentekhi, but with all those Amazons watching her every move, she’s just as untouchable. And,’ he stressed, ‘if you send me to get the Hazelwood brat, you can bet your life Coppernick will arrive about two seconds after I do. I don’t have a chance to get in and get out without her biting me in two.’