by Simon Hawke
"They're just about ready," Brewster said. "We've only got two of the big guns finished, but there hasn't been much time for field testing. We'll, just have to hope they work, that's all."
"You look tired, Doc," said Shannon. "You have done all you could. You need to get some rest."
"Yes, I'm about dead on my feet," Brewster replied, running his hand through his hair. "I feel as if I could sleep for a week. I just wish there was some way we could avoid all this. I feel as if it's all my fault."
"There is no sense in blaming yourself, Doc," Mac said. " 'Tis not you who is responsible for this. We are the ones being attacked."
"Yes, but it's all because of me," Brewster replied sadly. "If I hadn't come here in the first place, none of this would have happened."
"But think of all the wonderful things that have happened because you did come," Shannon said. "You have changed many lives for the better, Doc, ours included. If you were to leave, there is no one who would not be deeply sorry to see you go. And no one holds you to blame for this war."
"Aye, 'tis Warrick who is behind it all," said Mac. "And he remains the unknown factor in this conflict. We know what Kelvin will do. As to Warrick's plans, we can only guess. Get some sleep, Doc. There is nothing more that you can do for the present. Fear not, 'twill all turn out for the best."
"I sincerely hope so," Brewster said. "I don't know how I'm going to get any sleep, thinking about all the people who are going to die soon, but I suppose I'll have to try."
They watched him go off toward the stairs, moving slowly and slump-shouldered, like a man bearing the weight of the entire world. Shannon turned to Mac and said, "What do you really think of our chances?"
"Well, it depends on how well Doc's weapons work," said Mac. "Lord Kelvin will not expect anything like Doc's guns. They just may turn the tide. But without them ..." He shook his head. "Have you noticed that Thorny has disappeared?"
Shannon frowned. "Doc's pet bush? No, I had not."
Mac nodded. " 'Tis been over a week now. There is an old saying among sailors about rats leaving a ship before it departs upon its voyage. They say it means the ship is doomed, and the creatures know somehow."
Shannon gave him a sharp glance. "Say nothing like that around Doc," she cautioned him. "He has enough worries. I have never seen him like this. He looks drawn and haggard. Despite all we say, he still blames himself for this."
"Aye, I know," said Mac grimly. "He only wanted to change things for the better, but change never comes easily."
"Mac," said Shannon, "however things turn out, I just wanted you to know that if I should-"
He placed a finger lightly up against her lips. "Hush now," he said. "Let us not speak of such things. Remember the lessons of my father. Admit neither the possibility of victory nor defeat. Address the task at hand. Live in the moment. Now come, let us see if those mercenaries I've appointed to instruct our troops have killed anybody yet."
Shannon grinned. "They have been driving them hard," she said.
"As they should be," Mac replied, rolling up the map.
"Do you think we can really count on them?" asked Shannon. "I mean, they are mercenaries, after all. And they know the odds against us."
"They know," said Mac. "As they know the benefits that they can reap after this is over. We have hired the best, my love. And their worth shall go up considerably when they can claim they've turned back the mightiest army ever assembled in the twenty-seven kingdoms."
"You really think that we can do it?" she asked.
"Trust in your sword," said Mac. "And trust in Doc. He has never let us down before."
"And what of Warrick?"
"We shall deal with Warrick when the time comes," Mac replied. "We cannot anticipate what he will do, so there is no point to worrying about it."
"Mac ... I must confess, I am a little afraid."
"Only a little?" He grinned. "Shannon, my love, I'm scared out of my wits."
"You?"
"Aye, is that so surprising?"
"I never thought you could be afraid of anything," she said.
"Well, fortunately, it does not happen very often," he replied. "But when it does, I simply accept it. As my father used to say, why waste time fighting fear when there are other things to fight?"
"Your father was a wonderful teacher," Shannon said wistfully, recalling the man who had taught her all she knew.
"Aye, as I intend to be. But first, there is the minor matter of an army to dispose of." He offered her his arm. "Shall we, Your Highness?"
She took his arm and smiled. "We shall, my general."
Queen Sandy and Lord Aubrey reached the river with Lord Kelvin's army perhaps several hours behind them. They lost valuable time in circling through the forest, around the troops, and when they reached the crossing, the ferry was on the opposite shore. Aubrey rang the bell to summon the ferryman, and after a few moments, they could see the ferry raft moving out slowly from the far bank, along the guide ropes that kept it from drifting away with the current.
Seeing the ferry's slow progress toward them, Sandy shook her head with impatience. "Why must it take so long?"
"Patience, my queen," said Aubrey. "The delay will work for us, in the long run. We will gain significant time here. There is but the one ferry, and even if Lord Kelvin constructs additional rafts, which he will undoubtedly do, 'twill take days for the entire army to cross."
" 'Twill take even longer if we cut loose the raft once we reach the other shore," said Sandy.
Aubrey grinned. "Funny you should mention that," he said. "I was just thinking that very same thing." And then the grin slipped from his face as he glanced back sharply toward the road. "Horses," he said, "coming fast."
"Could it be the army already?"
Aubrey shook his head. "No, they are still several hours behind us. But it could be an advance party of scouts. We had best get out of sight, and quickly."
They rode their horses to a stand of trees, behind some shrubbery, dismounted, and covered the mouths of their mounts with their hands to prevent them from whickering and giving their hiding place away. Moments later, a group of riders came into view.
"Warrick's men!" said Aubrey, softly as he recognized their colors.
"Are they after us?" asked Sandy.
Aubrey shook his head. "I do not know. 'Tis possible. Warrick may have divined our plan somehow."
"What shall we do?"
"Keep still and wait," said Aubrey. "I do not think they saw us."
"But what of the ferryman?" asked Sandy.
"Perhaps he'll think 'twas they who summoned him," said Aubrey.
They watched as the riders reined in at the riverbank, by the crossing. The ferry was not quite halfway across the river.
"There are two women with them," Sandy whispered. "Do you recognize them?"
Aubrey frowned and shook his head.
"The ferry comes, milady," said one of the men at arms.
"Good," said Pamela. "How much farther?"
"Once across the river, 'tis but a few hours ride to Brigand's Roost," the man replied.
"So we should be there by nightfall," Pamela said. "How far behind us is the army?"
"Perhaps three, four hours march, at most, milady. We could have made much better time had we not gone around them. I confess, my lady, I still fail to see the necessity for that. Would it not have been more prudent for us to join Lord Kelvin and-"
"It is not for you to question my decisions," Pamela replied curtly.
"Aye, your pardon, milady. Yet, once we cross the river, we shall be in enemy territory, and we are wearing Warrick's colors, which are well known throughout the land. If we were to ride into an ambush-"
"You say the road on the opposite shore leads straight to Brigand's Roost?" asked Pamela, interrupting him.
"Aye, milady."
"Then you need not cross with us. We shall proceed alone from here."
"If that is what you wish, milady," said the man-at-ar
ms, with obvious relief. "Have we your leave to go then?"
"We need some coin with which to pay the ferryman," said Megan.
The man removed his purse from his belt and tossed it to her. "With my compliments, milady," he said.
"Thank you. You may go," said Pamela.
"Good fortune to you, milady," said the man-at-arms. He signaled to the others and they wheeled their horses round and rode away.
"Most strange," said Aubrey, watching from their hiding place. "I have never known Warrick's minions to take orders from anyone but Warrick, much less a woman. I wonder who they are."
"Well, there is one way to find out," said Sandy, mounting up.
"Your Highness, wait!" said Aubrey, but she was already riding out toward the two women. He hurriedly mounted and rode after her.
Pamela turned quickly at the sound of their approach, her hand going into her purse for her pistol. "Stop right there!" she said. "What do you want?"
"I might well ask you the same thing," Sandy replied, unaccustomed to being challenged in such a tone, but reining in a short distance away as Aubrey rode up beside her. "You ride with Warrick's men-at-arms, and you give them orders, yet you are unknown to me. And you are dressed most strangely. Who are you?"
"Who wants to know?" asked Pamela, her hands grasping the butt of the pistol in her purse.
Sandy pulled back the hood of her cloak. "You do not know me?"
"No," said Pamela cautiously. "Why should I?"
" 'Strewth!" said Megan." 'Tis the queen!"
Lord Aubrey unsheathed his sword. Pamela quickly drew her pistol, aimed, and fired. The bullet struck the guard of Aubrey's sword and he dropped it with a yell.
It would have been very dramatic as a threatening gesture if it had simply ended there, but as anyone familiar with both firearms and horses can attest, if you plan on firing a gun from the back of an unfamiliar horse, you'd best bring along a parachute. Horses and loud, sudden noises don't really mix too well, unless the horse is used to such things and trained not to react. These horses had never heard the sound of gunfire before, and while a Walther .38 semiautomatic does not sound anywhere near as loud as a .44 Magnum going off, it does have a very sharp report, enough to make all four horses in this case start plunging around in consternation.
Lord Aubrey's horse reared up and almost threw him, but he managed to hang on, struggling to keep the animal from bolting. Megan's horse whinnied in alarm and plunged into the trees, where an overhanging branch swept her out of the saddle and the horse took off, galloping back down the road the way they came. Pamela's horse started bucking like a rodeo bronc, and though Pamela was an expert rider, Larry Mahon she wasn't. She tried to ride it out, but was unable to remain in the saddle for more than a few seconds. She went over the side and rolled down the bank into the river as the horse took off. Sandy managed to stay in the saddle, but only because the moment her horse reacted to the shot by neighing and veering off sideways, she clamped tight with her knees and reached out to grab the animal's mane, speaking a spell to calm it down. All in all, it was a rather ludicrous scene, fully worthy of F Troop.
Aubrey finally got his horse back under control, twisted the reins around his fist, dismounted, and snatched up his sword. Megan was still groggy from being struck by the tree branch. She lay on her back in the underbrush, moaning and clutching her head. Pamela managed to grab on to some reeds growing by the riverbank and slowly pulled herself out of the water, streaming wet and gasping for breath. Sandy dismounted and walked over to where Pamela had dropped her purse and her gun. She bent to pick up the pistol, examining it curiously. She turned it and looked down into the bore.
"Don't!" Pamela said quickly. She held out her hand in a warning gesture. "Don't move! Don't even breathe!"
Sandy glanced at her with a puzzled frown.
Pamela approached her, cautiously, water streaming from her hair and clothes. "Be careful!" she said. "Please, point that thing away from you, and to the ground."
Sandy did as she was told.
"The safety was off and a round was chambered," Pamela said. "You could have been killed."
"Safety? Round?" said Sandy. She glanced at the pistol and shook her head in confusion. "I do not understand."
"No, you wouldn't, would you?" Pamela said. She retrieved her purse. "It's a weapon. It, uh ... shoots very small projectiles with a great deal of force and speed. And it's very lethal."
"If you try to harm her, then you shall have to kill me first," said Aubrey, stepping between them with his sword. Pamela backed away.
"Take it easy, Mister," she said. "I wasn't trying to hurt anyone."
"Wait, Aubrey," Sandy said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Stand aside."
"But, Your Highness ..."
"You drew your blade. She was merely trying to defend herself. Go see to her companion."
"As you wish, my queen," Aubrey said, glancing at Pamela uncertainly before leading his horse over to where Megan lay, groaning.
"I have never seen nor heard of such a weapon," Sandy said, carefully holding it out to Pamela in her open palm. "It seems so small to be so fearsome. I have never seen such magic."
"It's not exactly magic," Pamela replied, taking the gun back and clicking on the safety.
"Are you not a sorceress?"
"No, not really. Just a stranger in a strange land." She grimaced. "A really strange land."
"Who are you, then? And why do you ride with Warrick's men at arms?"
"It's a long story," Pamela said, "and I really don't have the time to get into it right now." She glanced toward the ferry, which had almost reached the bank. "I've got to get to Brigand's Roost before the army does."
"As do I," said Sandy.
"Oh, my God!" said Pamela suddenly, glancing around with alarm. "Colin!"
"And who is Colin?" Sandy asked with a frown.
"Somebody who really should have stayed home," said Pamela with a sigh of resignation. "He's probably halfway back to Pittsburgh by now. And I can't spare the time to go after him."
"Hallo!" shouted the ferryman, having heard the noise and seen all the commotion. "What goes on?"
" 'Tis all right!" Sandy shouted. "All is well! We need to get across!"
"We?" said Pamela.
"We have the only horses," Sandy replied. "Without us, you will have a long walk ahead of you to Brigand's Roost."
"Wait a minute," Pamela said. "If you're the queen, and your army's marching to war against Brigantium, then what are you doing trying to get there first?"
"I am trying to prevent the very war of which you speak," said Sandy. " 'Twas all Warrick's doing, and not mine. And 'twas the poor judgment of the king, my husband, to lend his sanction to this venture. If you are in Warrick's service, then you shall have to try and stop me. Yet you are not with Wanick, are you?"
"No, I'm not. It looks as if we both want the same thing," Pamela replied. "As for Warrick, you don't have to worry about him. Where he is now, there's nothing he can do. But how did you intend to stop the war all by yourself?"
"By offering myself as hostage to the wizard Brewster Doc," said Sandy. "Lord Kelvin will not attack if he knows they hold me prisoner. He will be forced to negotiate, and thus many lives may be spared."
"Girl, we need to talk," said Pamela. She glanced toward the ferry pulling up to the bank, then looked to see Aubrey approaching, leading his horse with Megan sitting astride it groggily. "You'd better brace yourself," said Pamela. "You're going to find this real hard to believe."
Sandy glanced at the pistol as Pamela put it back into her purse. "Somehow, I doubt that," she replied. "Come, let us go. I am most curious to hear your tale."
Okay, now we're cooking. The big climax is approaching, Warrick's finally out of my hair, all the different plot elements are coming together, and the stage is set for the grand finale. Lord Kelvin's army is coming up hard on Pamela and Sandy's heels, but they still have to cross the river, which will give them plenty of time to
reach Brigand's Roost and find out that Brewster's at the keep. There will be a touching reunion between Pamela and Brewster, Sandy will find out that Brewster wasn't at all what she had thought, and when Lord Kelvin finally gets his army into position, he'll discover that the queen is being held hostage in the keep and he won't dare to attack.
Flags of truce will be sent out and they will commence negotiations, with Harlan arriving in the nick of time to handle the talks on Brewster's end. He'll inform Lord Kelvin that an alliance has been agreed to with the dwarves and they are on their way in force with their deadly little crossbows and their nasty little warhammers-boy, let me tell you, nothing hurts as much as being kneecapped by a dwarf-and at the last minute, Rachel will arrive on Rory's back to bring the news that the elves are on their way, as well. Lord Kelvin, realizing that the odds have shifted, will be compelled to agree to a truce while riders are sent back to King Billy with the terms, and... wait a minute. What the hell is so dramatic about that?
Brewster won't get to use any of his neat new weapons, and the dwarves won't have anything to do but stand around and rap, and we haven't even seen the elves yet, except for Rachel, and she still hasn't had a chance to use the magic sword which we made such a big deal about, and Rory won't get to breathe fire on anybody, and Mac and Shannon and the brigands won't get a chance to show what they can do, and Mick will have gone to all that trouble with his work crews to make all those weapons which never get used and that wouldn't be much of a climax at all, would it?
Of course, on the other hand, using Queen Sandy and her hostage ploy to force negotiations with Lord Kelvin would avoid a violent ending, and then we could have a nice romantic scene with Pamela and Brewster, where the focus would be on how she braved the dangers of the unknown, all for love, and went back through time and across dimensions to get her man and rescue him.
Queen Sandy would have saved the day, and once her subjects learned about the treaty she had negotiated with Brigantium, which included economic benefits and trade agreements that would lower taxes and provide thousands of new jobs, the revolution would fizzle out and she'd be hailed as an enlightened ruler. Sheriff Waylon and his corrupt deputies would all be thrown into prison; King Billy would finally come to his senses and realize the error of his ways and rule with Sandy in a comonarchy, or else abdicate in her favor and simply be her consort (that would please the feminists among the readership) and we could even have Teddy appointed Royal Mascot and Thorny made the state tree or something. (The environmentalists would like that.) Actually, that would be the perfect, politically correct ending to the story.
