Any Man So Daring

by Sarah A. Hoyt

  Scene Forty Four

  The same scene seen through Miranda’s eyes.

  Now, what should she do, and whom should she believe? Her uncle, whom she’d learned to consider evil, had asked her help.

  Was he telling the truth? Did villains beg?

  Miranda stared at him, her eyes wide.

  “My kingdom,” he said. “My life if you believe yourself wronged--all of mine is yours if only you will free me. For if you do not, then will my friend be killed, and you, and your troll also.”

  Should Miranda trust again, when she’d been most cruelly deceived?

  Yet, if she trusted not....

  She looked on Caliban, who had after all not been a deceiver--or not of her, but lying in wait till he could avenge her. Was Caliban alive still?

  Looking close at the furry body, it seemed to Miranda that she saw him breathe. His head upon her ankles still trickled blood.

  She looked at the mortal, arms wide, sparks of magic flying, his hair -- possessed of a life of its own -- standing around his head.

  If she said no, if she did not help her uncle, all this would be lost. Well she knew that neither she nor the mortal nor the both combined could oppose the might of these beings trained in magic.

  Yet if her uncle lied, what would he do? What could happen that was worse than what awaited them already? Miranda would die, but maybe Caliban would be saved. And the mortal would be rescued, if Quicksilver had any say in the outcome of this.

  She’d risk her life in saving Caliban because her uncle — like Proteus — might not wish to have competition for ruling in elvenland. Once the game was won, he might have her killed.

  Yet her life was already forfeit if she didn’t help Quicksilver.

  Besides, was Miranda’s life worth all that much?

  She’d stolen from her father and she’d left her home, all in pursuit of a false, foolish love.

  If she died now, redeeming the mortal and Caliban, what was she doing more than what she must do? Her duty was to redeem herself now and, in so doing, to save all these others.

  Trembling, she sat up, afraid that Proteus would notice her and kill her with a magical blow before she could free Quicksilver.

  But Proteus and the centaurs, in close, hot battle with the mortal, looked not at her.

  Trembling with nervousness and fatigue, Miranda reached for her uncle.

  Gambling her life to save those she prized, she reached over and, with nimble fingers, pulled Circe’s net away from Quicksilver and threw it wide.

  Scene Forty Five

  The scene through Will’s eyes. Behind him, the door of the castle flies open.

  Will felt another magic strengthening his shields, putting extra force in his punches. Had Quicksilver freed himself?

  Turning to where he felt that magic, Will met the eye of — he opened his mouth in shock and, for a moment, almost lost control -- Quicksilver stood, free, behind Will; but even as Will watched, Quicksilver melted and changed, and the Lady Silver smiled at him.

  Naked as the day she’d seen light, she was pale and beautiful, cloaked only in her silken black hair. Her silver eyes shone impishly, and she said. “You are gifted in magic use, Will, for a beginner.”

  And in saying it, she took hold of his newfound power and threw it at their enemy.

  Will felt his stomach churn and his teeth rattle with the force of his own punch.

  “I’m too old for this,” he said, looking at the lady and at Miranda who, behind her, seemed to hesitate still.

  But Silver grinned and said, “To me, my friend, you shall never be old.”

  Their gazes locked, and Will realized with a shock that Silver did mean what she said. She didn’t see him as old or unattractive.

  He felt a blush of gratified pride warm his cheeks.

  The lady loved him still, who had so adored him in his youth.

  In her eyes, he saw himself as young and, dazzled by her affection, he failed to feel the magical punch from Proteus that threw him to the ground.

  “Will,” Silver screamed.

  His face hurt. His eyes fogged in pain. Will said, “Care not for me, for you must defend us all.”

  Silver turned. Will felt her shield go up, but feared it would be too little too late. Then he felt another power yet join their conjoined powers.

  This power was stronger than all of theirs.

  The door of the magical white castle flew open wide.

  “Father,” a man’s voice called.

  Down the steps a man came running, a young man of maybe twenty attired in red and blue silk. It took Will a few seconds and a hasty breath to recognize Hamnet. But he could feel Hamnet’s power touching his, shoring his, like soothing water upon abraded skin.

  “Father,” Hamnet said, and smiled at Will. Sparks flew around them. The centaurs neighed and screamed as fireballs singed their hair. The Lady Silver, naked and noble like a goddess of old, stood with hands raised and shaped the crackling magic to righteous assault of the unrighteous foe.

  Now Miranda also rose and, looking very oddly at Hamnet, drew herself to stand behind the Lady, supporting Silver’s magic with her own.

  Under their conjoined command, flames of magic fire erupted round the centaurs’ hooves.

  Miranda, looking dazed, still held in her hand the net of Circe.

  Proteus, pale, his lips white and trembling, stood his ground despite the flames that licked at his broad shoulders, his noble features. Hamnet threw himself into Will’s open arms. “I’ve been raised by the Hunter these long years, but I knew you’d come and rescue me; I was sure of it.”

  Will felt his eyes burn with tears but turned away. “Let us first be safe,” he said. “And then shall we talk of all the years wasted.”

  Speaking thus, he turned towards the enemy who, in a disarrayed group, stood facing them.

  Hamnet’s power, and -- Will realized -- Hamnet’s knowledge of magic, had joined in had given them victory.

  The centaurs buckled and fell backwards, whinnying and crying. Proteus alone stood, staring.

  Madness burned in his eyes.

  “Oh, I am betrayed,” he said. “I am undone. I, who loved the Lady Miranda well, and loved her true.”

  Scene Forty Six

  The scene from Miranda’s eyes, as she stares at Proteus.

  How pale he looked and yet still handsome.

  Miranda felt the old accustomed softness towards him, as he turned his dark, dark eyes towards her.

  “Oh, Miranda,” he said. “I loved you well. Yet, you betrayed me.”

  The centaurs, behind him, in disarray, looked on, their faces full of terror, their eyes rolling, as magical flames licked their tall legs and singed the ringlets of their human hair.

  Miranda could sense that the power of the alliance, hers, her — uncle’s? She looked at Lady Silver — and that of the two mortals, all of it did no more than keep the centaurs encircled in fire and neutralize Proteus's power so he could not attack them.

  But they could not penetrate Proteus's defenses. The force of desperation strengthened his shields and put steel in his self-defense.

  Unharmed, yet he looked ill and tired and miserable. “Miranda, you used to swear you loved me true. I know I’ve done you wrong.” Proteus opened his hands wide in a gesture of appeasement. “But think you on my many wrongs. I lost your father, my beloved cousin, who would have advanced me in his realm. And then I lost my father.

  “I might have done wrong, but can you fault me? It was only my angered heart that led me astray.”

  As he spoke, he approached her step by step, step on step closer. “You have the net, Miranda. Just throw it over Silver; she’s but Quicksilver’s female aspect. Stop her making magic. Then, together, we can be happy yet.”

  Proteus's presence that near, as in the days of yore, was disturbing, but Miranda remembered what she’d heard him tell the centaurs when she’d hid herself in the forest.

  Had that been naught, but his intemp
erate, angry tongue? Had he truly meant naught by it?

  She couldn’t quite believe it, and yet his beautiful, stern face commanded belief, and his black eyes shimmered with held-back tears.

  “Miranda, please,” he said.

  “Mistress, don’t,” Caliban said, from the ground.

  Looking down, Miranda saw that Caliban had crawled towards her till he lay at her feet, his hand on her ankle.

  “Mistress, don’t, for he is but a villain, and he’ll kill you too. Those others — mistress, they might not be perfect. Indeed, the king has many crimes upon his tainted soul. But they’ll not hurt you. That villain Proteus will. Oh, Mistress, I care not what happens to me, just so you live.”

  “Listen not to the vile creature,” Proteus screamed.

  But Miranda looked down at Caliban’s sad eyes and bloodied fur.

  She heard a scream form in her throat, and she leapt forward past the Lady Silver.

  Miranda flung the net, and it flew wide — a golden cobweb sparkling in the cold light of the crux.

  It opened as it flew, like a bird opening its wings.

  Proteus stepped back, startled, but it was too late.

  The net fell on him and stretched to envelop him.

  He fell to the ground, wrapped in the coils of the very weapon he would have used.

  The centaurs, too, their power worn out by the magical flame that encircled them, collapsed to the ground, one atop the other.

  Miranda, staring at Proteus, who writhed in the coils of the net, felt a human hand upon her arm.

  Turning, she looked into the golden falcon eyes of the creature who’d been the human child that she had kidnapped for the love of Proteus.

  Now he was no child and his features, his demeanor looked like those of a prince of elvenland.

  He smiled at her, and his gaze sparkled with something she didn’t quite understand.

  “You’ve done well, milady,” he said.

  Miranda’s breath caught upon her throat, and her hands trembled.

  The odd sense of belonging together that she’d felt before at seeing him, upon the pond, was a hundred times magnified, and she realized suddenly she’d loved him since that first, magical glimpse.

  Did I love before? she thought, and, bewildered, glanced at Proteus who, writhing upon the sand, seemed insignificant, unimportant. A stranger for whom she cared not.

  Heart, forswear its sight. For I ne’er saw true beauty till last night.

  Scene Forty Seven

  The scene through Will’s eyes. He looks amazed at Hamnet and Miranda, then gazes in wonder at Quicksilver, who has resumed his male aspect.

  “Look you upon them,” Quicksilver said and smiled at Will. “Have you ever seen sweet love so fast birthed?”

  Will shook his head.

  He remembered his lust for Lady Silver, but it seemed to him here something else blossomed. In the way the young people embraced, the way their gazes met, he read something else than lust.

  Prodigious birth of love, so quickly grown, and she no more than fourteen.

  Imagine there, he thought, a tragedy, where a fourteen year old girl falls for an enemy — a man of another house, another realm almost.

  He shook his head. This was not a play.

  There could be no tragedy here. But what else could it be, when Miranda was an elf and Hamnet a mortal?

  “How can this be contrived?” Will asked Quicksilver in amazement. “How can they live together?”

  Quicksilver smiled, and his eyes were soft. “I fear me you’ll say I stole your son from you, to my shadowy realm of slippery magic. But only listen, Will, with thy consent....

  “You cannot take your son back to the mortal world. He was raised by the Hunter, and he is magical. He’ll never fit amid mortal men. Give your consent and he’ll a changeling be, a prince among the elves, Miranda’s betrothed, their union confirmed when she first shall reach the age of reason, and to be together, they’ll be my heirs when I the world depart, or am too tired to carry the burden of state.” He looked at Will with soft, pleasing gaze. “Thus shall our blood joined be. Say you’ll allow it, and with that one word, secure so many people’s happiness.”

  Will did not know what to say. Or perhaps he simply couldn’t find the words to say it. So long he’d been afraid of magic. So hard he’d fought to keep magic from stealing part of his family.

  And now, he’d let the dearest part of him go to elvenland?

  He looked on Hamnet and Miranda and would swear they’d not heard any of the conversation, their gazes lost in each other.

  “Aye me,” Miranda said, and glanced at Will and Quicksilver. “My only love sprang from my only hate.”

  Hamnet, his gaze on her, replied. “Prodigious birth of love, this is to me,that I must love whom I thought my enemy.”

  Will remembered his Nan and how he’d loved her in the first blush of love, how neither her age ten years more than his nor her reputation as a shrew could divide them.

  Truth, he loved Nan still so well he would not part with her forever. Not willingly. How could he ask Hamnet to do that, and reduce himself to a smaller world than he could attain?

  Will forced a laugh and heard it echo, brittle, at the edge of tears. “You have my consent, friend.” And in saying so, for the first time, he named Quicksilver thus. “I never thought for all my ambition that I’d sired a king.”

  Now, this the young people had heard, and turning stared at Quicksilver, who smiled kindly on them.

  “Then as my gift, and thine own acquisition, worthily purchased take my niece. Sit and talk with her. Soon, we shall to the hill and there shall both of you be happy.”

  “Not so fast, sir,” Miranda spoke. “My father’s leave I crave, the Hunter’s dispensation. And then there are these creatures.” With her gesture she encompassed Caliban who had sat up looking dazzled, and the centaurs, who, looking scared, were regaining their senses. “They rightly fall to my father’s justice.”

  Scene Forty Eight

  In front of the castle steps, the centaurs start to revive, and Proteus writhes upon the ground. Miranda and Hamnet gaze adoringly at each other. Will and Quicksilver look on the couple with bittersweet tenderness. They all start as the rumble of thunder echoes.

  Quicksilver started. Thunder? In the crux? Could that be, when there was neither rain nor true sun here?

  Then he saw the gigantic shadow leaving the white castle and forming into almost human aspect as it approached. It was a hunter on a giant horse, who rode down the front steps followed by snarling, dark dogs.

  Miranda cried out and held Hamnet tight in her embrace, as tears ran down her face at her adopted father’s approach.

  Still on horseback, the Hunter stood a few paces from the group.

  The centaurs attempted to rise but could only fall again and whimper in fear.

  Will jumped to stand in front of Miranda and Hamnet, his arms open wide as if to protect them.

  And Quicksilver, feeling less than innocent here, feared the blood would drain from his heart as he faced the immortal lord of Justice.

  “How, now?” the Hunter asked, his voice rumbling with the thunder of all the storms absent from the crux. “What have we here?” He looked at them, a smile of amusement in his inhumanely perfect features.

  “It seems to me that all of you are guilty of crime, or action, or absent thought.” He grinned. “So make confession and, mind, make it true. Some will be pardoned, the others punished. For never was there tale of greater woe than this you have enacted.”

  Quicksilver, rousing himself, looked at the perfect immortal face, then glanced back at his scared companions who lay upon the sand. He stepped forward.

  He must take his punishment and protect everyone else. He could feel Silver’s agreement within him.

  Naked and vulnerable, his silvery blond hair his only covering, leaving bare the scars with which war had marked his flesh, he stepped forward and bowed to the hunter.

  “Lor
d of Night, and Justice and Eternal Law, leave my companions and adversaries in peace, for I alone am guilty.

  “By my own reasoning and upon my own head, I decided to suppress what I was and make myself only into a king of fairyland.

  “Thus became I inflexible and harsh and, with my stern rule, tempted my kinsmen to revolt.” He waved towards Proteus. “By my ill thought did I also allow crimes against centaurs and trolls to continue, till those races erupted in fresh mutiny. Thus did I, my crown and power abuse, till the reels ensnared in their plots my friend, his son, your daughter.

  “All here are innocent, save myself. I alone am guilty and you may punish me.”

  He knelt and waited, and the Hunter looked on him.

  Quicksilver’s heart beat fast, fast. Would the Hunter kill him? Or make him one of the cursed dog that, even now, slavered and strained towards Quicksilver’s flesh, lacking only the Hunter’s word to let fly?

  The Hunter’s loud, rumbling laugh erupted, and Quicksilver looked up, terrified.

  “O king, you are guilty indeed,” the Hunter said, "of folly and love. But if those were the crimes that I punished, there would scarce be a living being, human or elf, still alive on Earth. Trust that Lady Silver who shares your soul, and mend your ways. You’re not so guilty that you can, upon your shoulders, carry the burden of guilt of all these here.”

  Scene Forty Nine

  All stand, or lie, in front of the white palace. Quicksilver looks bewildered as he rises from his knees. The Hunter smiles. Miranda advances.

  “It is my fault, Father,” Miranda said. “I thought myself in love and disobeyed you.”

  “No, my fault, mine,” Caliban said. “I loved her so much, that, for her sake, I did not reveal her encounters with the traitor elf. And, in seeking to save her, I allowed the centaurs to ensnare the mortal and the king.”