White Angel

by R A Oakes

  “And who are you?” Chen sneered.

  “I’m her husband.”

  “Won’t you find it an offense to your manhood to follow female leadership?” Chen asked, looking at him harshly, suspicion readily apparent on her face.

  “I’ve been married to Tenacity, as you call her, for five years. I feel she underestimates herself. There are many people in this village who already admire her determination. It was she who convinced the women in Coldstream Village to resist sexual advances from gargoyle males.”

  “Is that so?” Chen asked approvingly, smiling at Tenacity.

  “Yes, and as far as feeding our family, Tenacity’s determination has fostered one other form of defiance.”

  “What is that?” Chen asked in a nicer tone of voice, realizing that this man, rather than being offended by his wife’s leadership, was proud of it.

  “We try stealing food from Swarenth’s farm fields during nighttime raids. To be caught on the roads without a gargoyle escort is punishable by death, let alone if they find us rifling their fields.”

  “So why is there so little food in the village if you’re making these raids?”

  “Most detachments we send out to the fields don’t make it back.”

  “And when they’re caught?”

  “The gargoyles make an example of them by putting the men’s heads on long poles and displaying them along whatever road is nearest the field they were pilfering.”

  “Only male heads?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you send women along? Don’t you trust them? Don’t you think they’re tough enough to risk death?”

  “I guess we were trying to protect our women.”

  “No, you weren’t, you were protecting your own feelings. You have a hard time accepting the concept of women dying in battle. But women, themselves, are already very familiar with death. And don’t pretend they’re not. They risk dying every time they bring a child into this world. And believe me, the prospect of being run through with a sword is a lot less frightening than facing childbirth. If men had to experience childbirth before they were allowed to go to war, there would be very few men brave enough to go through that rite of passage. Most battlefields would be nearly empty.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” Tenacity’s husband said looking down at the ground.

  “If I had a choice between facing a gargoyle in combat or going through childbirth, I’d gladly pick up my sword and go to war,” Chen said.

  “I hear what you’re saying, but the idea of a woman going off to fight still makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Were you with your wife when she gave birth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think you could handle what she went through?”

  “No, I couldn’t. In fact, I fainted after the birth of each of our children.”

  “And while you were busy fainting, what was your wife doing?”

  “Breastfeeding.”

  “So as you were lying on the floor in a crumpled heap, your wife was wide awake nourishing a newborn baby?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even after a painful experience that could have killed her?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s exactly why you should have sent women along on the raids. When out foraging, men are more likely to give up when caught. But women, when facing similar circumstances, know that surrender is not an option. Women would have brought back food.”

  “I’ve never looked at it that way before. You know what? You really do make good sense.”

  “I’m already aware of that, but what surprises me is that you caught on at all.”

  “Well, I agree with you that men need to change their perceptions of women. Maybe that can happen now that Tenacity has your support.”

  “Hopefully it will, but I’m not going to hold my breath. Anyway, you seem okay, but will other men give us a hard time over your wife being in charge of the village’s defenses?” Chen asked, looking around at the men nearby, trying to calm her rising anger over males feeling they automatically have the right to be in charge.

  “They won’t if they know what’s good for them,” Tenacity’s husband said angrily.

  “And why is that?”

  “I may not look like much when compared to your well- fed warrior women, but I’m the best bare-knuckle fighter in these parts. Other men will fall into line or suffer the consequences.”

  “I like this man,” Chen said to Gwendylln.

  “You always like men who willingly submit to female rule.”

  “Well, it shows they’re flexible, more adaptable and highly intelligent.”

  “Like your husband, Lord Pensgraft?”

  “Precisely.” Then looking back at Tenacity, Chen asked, “Do you have anything else you want to tell me?”

  “Gargoyle blood is a brackish, slimy ooze with a really pungent odor that’s so strong it’s like falling right on top of a skunk. A really mad skunk.”

  “I know it’s repulsive, but you’ll get over it,” Chen said.

  “I won’t have to get used to it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I like the smell of a badly wounded gargoyle. Their blood’s harsh fragrance clears my nostrils, makes my eyes water and does one more thing.”

  “What?”

  “It gives me hope.”

  Chen took a long, hard look at the ravaged woman in front of her. Then she glanced at Gwendylln, and they smiled at each other.

  Aerylln shuddered. The two warrior women were happy, and that could mean only one thing. All hell was about to break loose.

  Chapter 8

  The College of Wizards. A month ago, immediately after King Tarlen was run through with a lance.

  As Captain Polaris held King Tarlen’s limp body in his arms, he found himself facing over 100 wizards ranging in age from Eldwyn, the youngest, who was in his early 70s, to Tenaray, the dean of the college, and who, at 5,000-years-old, was the eldest.

  “Form a protective circle around the king,” Captain Polaris told his 20 warriors, while smiling awkwardly at the ancient ones in front of him. Being in a parallel universe, even a friendly one, was making the captain and his men more than a little nervous. However, Captain Polaris wasted no time getting right to the point. “Please save our king. He’s mortally wounded and will die without your help.”

  “Give him to me,” Dean Tenaray said, rushing forward and reaching out with open arms.

  Surprised by the quickness of Tenaray’s response, all the king’s warriors went for their swords. “Hold!” Captain Polaris commanded. Then to Tenaray, he said, “Sir, even now, it would prove ill advised to approach King Tarlen without giving us fair warning. To put it mildly, we’re all a bit jumpy.”

  “I understand,” the dean said in a comforting, calm tone of voice. “But let me ask you something. Do you trust Eldwyn?”

  “Yes,” Captain Polaris said. “He was King Ulray’s best friend, while Tarlen’s father was still alive.”

  “Eldwyn, do you trust me?” Tenaray asked the younger mystic, Marcheto’s immediate predecessor.

  “Always, my lord, without hesitation,” Eldwyn replied.

  Sensing the king’s men’s acceptance, Tenaray reached out with his arms once more.

  “I’m sorry, he’s rather heavy,” Captain Polaris cautioned the elderly wizard.

  “I’ll be careful,” Tenaray said as a golden cloud about the size of a large, overstuffed pillow appeared on his outstretched arms. Taking a deep breath, Captain Polaris slowly and gently laid King Tarlen upon it.

  Instantly evaluating Tarlen’s condition, Tenaray said, “Captain, the king’s life energy is virtually nonexistent. All that’s left is a faint residue, and he’ll be dead in a minute unless I have your total cooperation.”

  “I’m at your command,” Captain Polaris said, and he and all the king’s warriors went down on one knee and bowed their heads.

  “Thank you, Captain. Now rise quickly, for I need
you to remove the lance from King Tarlen’s stomach.”

  “How?”

  “The old-fashioned way, I’m afraid. Just pull it out.”

  Captain Polaris stood up, took hold of the lance, then hesitated and asked, “How can you be sure this won’t kill him?”

  “I’m not, but I can tell you with certainty that he’ll be dead in a matter of seconds if you don’t.”

  Upon hearing that, Captain Polaris flexed his arm muscles and tugged on the lance moving it slowly but firmly. Even so, when the shaft was removed, it was covered with royal blood and left a gaping hole. Then, sighing in despair and sickened by what he saw, Captain Polaris almost vomited for though he was a veteran of many battles he’d never seen such a savage wound on a loved one before.

  “Save him, Tenaray, please. He’s more than just my king. I’ve raised him since he was six-years-old, and he’s like a son. I’ll do anything you ask.”

  “Good, to begin with, I want you and your men to hold hands and form a circle around Tarlen and myself.”

  The captain of the king’s personal guard nodded to his warriors and joined them, adding his own strength to the circular human chain. Then, the ancient mystic pulled back the sleeve of his robe, gently inserted his right hand into the deep wound and raised his left hand high above his head.

  “Latus matrar sitra mystus diwonda yanetor,” the dean shouted.

  Over 100 ancient wizards, their eyes blazing, focused on Tenaray’s left hand and shot jagged bolts of purple, blue, green, yellow, orange and red lightning directly at it. King Tarlen’s body arced upwards, his back almost breaking from the force of the energy being channeled into him.

  Next, with a deafening clap of thunder, bolts of lightning erupted from the king’s chest striking his warriors and causing their bodies to shake violently. Legs were flailing wildly, arms jerking spasmodically, teeth clenching, heads snapping back and eyes bugging out. But just as the men seemed ready to explode, a sudden hush settled over them, and the exhausted warriors collapsed with Tarlen’s body sinking deeper into the comfortable golden cloud.

  “Is King Tarlen going to live?” Eldwyn asked.

  “Yes.”

  “But at what cost?”

  “Neither the king nor his men can go back into the physical world. Their molecular structure has been altered too dramatically.”

  “King Tarlen will never accept that.”

  “I know.”

  “But there is one other alternative, isn’t there?” Eldwyn asked hesitantly, hinting at a radical course of action, yet not wanting to anger the dean of the College of Wizards. After all, this 5,000-year-old man standing next to him was the most powerful and influential dean in the college’s history.

  “Eldwyn, have you taken leave of your senses? I know what you’re suggesting, and there’s no way the college will sanction such a reckless course of action.”

  “But desperate times require desperate measures, my lord, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “No, Eldwyn, most emphatically, no! The last time you performed that incredibly dangerous incantation was over 50 years ago. Delving into the realm of such untried, untested, experimental magic was totally irresponsible. There are wizards in the college who’ve been practicing their craft for thousands of years who still can’t figure out how you pulled it off. Me included.”

  “It was for a good cause, my lord.”

  “A good cause? We’re talking about the end of the world, Eldwyn. You came close to triggering a cataclysmic apocalypse.”

  “I couldn’t let my king die, my lord.”

  “But he wasn’t king back then, Eldwyn. You and Prince Ulray were on one of your cockamamie adventures a thousand miles from home. You were ambushed by hostiles, the prince ending up with three arrows in his chest.”

  “He wasn’t just any prince, my lord, he was the crown prince,” Eldwyn reminded him.

  “Nonetheless, you were way too emotionally involved with Ulray. And your judgment was sorely lacking back when you two were what? Around 20-years-old?”

  “Yes, my lord, but I could sense his potential.”

  “Maybe, but what you were really worried about was how lonely you’d be if he died. Prince Ulray was your only true friend at the time, wasn’t he? Yes, you were always a bit different. Dare I say brilliant, without it going to your head?”

  “You’re most kind, my lord.”

  “Don’t get too full of yourself because you ended up being my greatest disappointment. You were a rising star, Eldwyn, the brightest young wizard to come upon the scene in many a year. I even had hopes that, in a few thousand years, you would become my successor.”

  “So quickly, master? Only a few thousand? My, what an opportunity.”

  “Don’t be impudent. Anyway, you blew any chance of that happening when you performed such a wildly irresponsible, totally experimental incantation.”

  “But it worked,” Eldwyn said quietly.

  “Yes, it worked,” Tenaray admitted.

  “And Prince Ulray became the greatest Kardimont king of all time.”

  “True, true.”

  “So, it was worth the risk.”

  “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. Eldwyn, you got too caught up in your love for Ulray. The desire to keep your friend alive got the best of you, outweighing your common sense.”

  “But isn’t that the reason we value love so highly? It causes us to abandon reason in the search for something greater?”

  “A love that causes a young wizard to risk destroying the world as we know it is just too great a love, Eldwyn. It’s not worth it.”

  “If I had it to do all over again, my lord, I’d still do the same thing.”

  Tenaray slowly shook his head. “Have you learned nothing in the last 50 years? Nothing?”

  “Everything I’ve learned confirms my original view. Risking all for love and friendship is worth it.”

  “Tell me the truth. Since Swarenth’s conquest of Dominion Castle and King Ulray’s subsequent death, you’ve experienced a deep, desperate loneliness. Haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ulray’s been dead for 30 years. It’s time to let go.”

  “Never!”

  “King Tarlen’s not his father, Eldwyn. Ulray’s never coming back, no matter what risks you’re willing to take to rebuild his son’s future. At least Tarlen’s alive, be thankful and let it at that.”

  Eldwyn was silent.

  “Let me make it very clear to you. If you even attempt something as radical as you did 50 years ago, I’ll have you banished from the College of Wizards.”

  “You forgave me before.”

  “You’re not 20-years-old anymore. Everyone has to grow up sometime, Eldwyn. You’re no longer a foolish, young wizard.”

  “Maybe I’m a foolish, older wizard.”

  “You’ll be an outcast. All the other wizards will turn against you.”

  Eldwyn again remained silent.

  “And look at the logistical obstacles,” Tenaray said. “Before, when you saved a young Prince Ulray, you drew on the life energy of a dozen tigers. Well, the descendents of Ulray’s big cats are being held captive at Dominion Castle, forced to serve as gladiators in the arena for Swarenth’s amusement. So, the harsh reality is that you’d have to find a way to get the tigers out, or get King Tarlen in. And how likely is that?”

  Eldwyn began brooding. It did seem hopeless.

  “You’d have to go up against Swarenth and Balzekior all by yourself, not to mention 10,000 gargoyle warriors,” Tenaray added, trying to be the voice of reason.

  Eldwyn sighed but said nothing.

  Looking at the youngest member of the College of Wizards, Tenaray realized he still hadn’t gotten through to him. In frustration, the dean said, “You’re grounded.”

  “What?” Eldwyn exclaimed.

  “You’re not to leave the College of Wizards. And I’ll post sentries by the gateway in case you try to sneak out.”

  “You can’t do t
hat.”

  “Oh, yes I can. Watch me.”

  “You’ve no right to restrict my freedom of movement.”

  “I may not have the right, but I have the power. But let’s not get caught up in semantics. Eldwyn, I’m 5,000-years-old, and most of the wizards here owe me. I’ve been a good dean. I’m respected, not just feared. There’s no way you can possibly outmaneuver me.”

  Eldwyn remained silent but thought, Now it’s all up to Marcheto.

  Chapter 9

  Coldstream Village. A month later.

  Eldwyn’s apprentice, Marcheto, was bathing in a stream near the village scrubbing himself vigorously. The young wizard had accompanied Chen and Aerylln from Hawthorn Village making a hot, two-day ride followed by hours of backbreaking work helping villagers unload food from wagons. And the trip down had not been easy. To avoid gargoyle patrols, they’d kept off main roads, hauling the wagons through fields and along little-used paths winding through the woods.

  The 21-year-old was grimy and sweaty, and Aerylln didn’t like men who were unkempt. Eager to please his girlfriend, the young wizard lathered himself all over with soap and rinsed off by dunking himself below the surface of the water, which was enough to take anyone’s breath away. Marcheto had discovered that Coldstream Village was appropriately named. The water was freezing!

  Planting his feet firmly on the streambed and shoving off hard, he leapt above the surface swinging his arms furiously, splashing water everywhere in an effort to warm up. Feeling less chilled, he kept it up, so much so that a mist began forming around him. Well, it was more like a fog. A thick fog.

  Suddenly, Marcheto stopped moving and peered into the dense water vapor, sensing his unexpected visitors before actually seeing them.

  “Eldwyn, is that you?”

  “Yes, my apprentice, it’s me. And a few others.”

  With that, the older wizard appeared in the mist, but he wasn’t on the banks of the stream. Instead, he was gliding along the surface of the water. And as Marcheto watched his master approaching, he noticed that the wizard’s robes weren’t even getting wet.

  “Eldwyn, you’re not really here, are you?”