Consequences (Majaos Book 2)

by Gary Stringer

  The mood was good, but it couldn't last. Later there would be decisions to make. That would come after the weekly war progress report that the Prince had invited them to attend.

  * * * * * When the companions had assembled in the main hall, they recognised an old acquaintance who had come to deliver the briefing message: Knight Officer Sir Quentin Marr, Leader of the First Shakaran Dragon Cavalry Division, Dark Knights of Zhentilon. He spared them a brief nod before dropping to one knee before the Prince Regent and handing him the sealed message. The Prince was looking resplendent in his full state trappings, including the great golden sceptre, ceremonial sword and imperial purple cloak. His daughter, the Princess Mystaya was in attendance at his right hand, dressed in a gown of purest white silk, adorned with silver embroidery. To the belt she wore around her slender waist, was attached a scabbard entrusted with diamonds in which rested a well-polished short sword. No reason she couldn’t be armed for defence and look stunning at the same time. Freshly picked lavenders were woven in her flaxen hair and she matched her father's cloak with a long velvet train that reached the polished marble floor and continued for about half her height again. A pair of young handmaidens had held it for her while she entered, but they had now retired from the chamber, being in no way privy to this sensitive information.

  Prince Garald took the message and thanked the Knight, bidding him to rise. Sir Quentin stood, bowed once, and moving to where the princess stood, he took her left hand and kissed it before removing himself to where Eilidh and the others were gathered. Mystaya had told her rescuers that this was considered the ancient and proper greeting for her rank and station: a kiss on her left hand was appropriate for an official statesman; the right hand was reserved for a suitor declaring their intentions.

  When Eilidh asked why it was that way around, the princess had just smiled and confided, “I've never dared to ask.” The Prince Regent unsealed the message and declared, “Here in my hand, I hold the official document of war. Let those who hear it be warned that repeating it, in whole or in part, without authorisation, is strictly prohibited on pain of summary execution for treason.”

  The main doors were ordered sealed, then he took a deep breath to begin reading. Just before the doors were completely closed, however, they were opened once more to admit two persons: It was Bernice Ardra - Bunny - accompanied by a female Knight in silver armour. Sir Quentin's eyes widened slightly at the sight of a mythical Knight of Balance. The Lady Knight strode confidently up to the throne and dropped to one knee before the Prince, handing him another sealed document to add to the first.

  “Your Grace, by order of Sir Marcus Braithwaite, Supreme Commander of the Knights of Balance, I am come to represent our order in all discussions pertaining to the war, in line with the terms of the Knight Alliance. My name is Knight Scout Leader, Lady Tanya Nightingale, and I place myself in your service, Your Grace. My companion is one Bernice Ardra, an associate of certain other guests of yours.”

  “Hi,” said Bunny.

  Eilidh stepped forward. “I can vouch for her,” she offered.

  The Prince unsealed the document and checked Lady Tanya's credentials. Satisfied, he bid her arise and she obeyed, pausing to kiss Mystaya's left hand. “Your Highness,” she offered in greeting.

  The Prince repeated his official warning and prepared to read the report, when the door opened a second time.

  “This is intolerable!” He exclaimed. “Never have I known these confidential proceedings to be inter-” He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw the individual that had been admitted. It was another Lady Knight; this time wearing golden armour...at least, patches of it were still gold. Most of it, however, was charred and blackened and covered in blood stains. The entire hall was hushed and subdued at the sight. And it wasn't just any Knight...it was Lady Hannah Collins.

  She stumbled as she approached the throne, but glared balefully at the instinctive offers of assistance. She was exhausted and barely able to stand; her face was blackened and tear-streaked; her eyes were red and puffy, but she was still a Knight and she would approach the Royal Throne of Shakaran under her own power and with dignity.

  Kneeling before the Prince Regent, she said, “Your Grace, I do apologise for this inexcusable interruption and beg thy pardon for presuming to approach thy throne in my current state, but I fear I doth bring news that can in no ways wait one moment longer.”

  Prince Garald offered no sympathy, no assistance, no leeway in protocol, though every part of him ached to do so, for he knew it would be offensive.

  “Understood, Knight Lady. Your appearance is excused. I will hear thy news immediately.” Without getting up, Hannah announced, “Your Grace, Your Highness, My Allied Knights, Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my sad duty to inform thee of a most foul deed of great dread: Merlyon is gone.”

  “Gone? What do you mean, `Gone`?” The Prince demanded.

  Hannah was clearly flagging - Bunny noticed that some of the blood on Hannah's left side was her own, coming from a deep gash where the plates of her armour parted to allow movement. Rochelle noticed, too, but even with her Life Store intact, the druid could do nothing to help Knights went through ritual Life Draining, renouncing all magic. The druid's healing spells simply had nothing to work with. What Hannah needed was a cleric. Fortunately, though, Rochelle's trained healer’s eye told her that the wound was not immediately life threatening. Not yet.

  The prince continued to show Hannah no mercy.

  “On your feet, Knight Warrior!” He commanded. “Yes, Your Grace!” Strangely, the act of obedience seemed to revive her. Standing straight now, shoulders back, head up, she told her tale to the hall.

  * * * * * It began as an electrical storm originating from the heart of the city, except that the lightning travelled upward instead of down. There were reports of a woman in golden robes standing in the middle, but all attempts to stop her proved futile. Then the shield fluctuations began like the last time, only tenfold, a hundredfold. In no time at all, the impossible happened: the magic failed in the City of Magic. First the lights went out and the sunstone ceased to shine. Household magic appliances shut down or exploded. Chaos creatures poured into the city through gaps in the shield. Knights both light and dark rushed to arms alongside the Guard. Enforcers futilely tried to re-establish order, while other mages of all types fought the chaos horde. Bards sang magical and uplifting songs even as they fought for their lives. Clerics were torn between tending the wounded and calling upon the gods to smite down their enemies. Finally, the shield flared brilliantly and died completely: the impenetrable defence shield had fallen, leaving Merlyon completely vulnerable to attack...and then it got worse.

  “Worse?” demanded the prince. “How could it possibly get worse?”

  “Merlyon is...or rather was...a city on two levels,” she reminded everyone. “The upper level is

  - was - suspended magically above the second.”

  There were a few physical supports, but they were merely ornamental, not practical. It simply never occurred to anyone that magic could ever fail. Princess Mystaya’s face turned a ghostly white; clutching at her father, tears ran unchecked down her cheeks and she wasn't alone. Three Knights: gold, silver and black clamped a fist over their hearts as one and bowed their heads. All could see where Hannah's litany was going, as much as they were desperately willing that it would not be so, that she would say something else - anything else. But the truth was undeniable.

  With the magic gone, there was nothing to support Upper Merlyon and the entire level fell, crushing the level below in a gigantic mushroom cloud of dust, ash and flame.

  “I was lucky that the battle hadst taken me beyond the outer edge of the city,” Hannah explained. “I believe the sound was the worst thing,” she reflected, after a moment.

  “The sound?” The Prince Regent's voice was a strangled cry. “Yes, Your Grace. When the cha os creatures didst attack the city, there was a great cacophony of sound: steel, magic, cries of agony
, powerful explosions and the tears of terrified children. Then, after the upper level collapsed, there was silence. Terrible, deathly silence. Even the battle stopped, momentarily. Time slowed that we mayest witness the fullness of the devastation.”

  The destruction of Mythallen's first city was utterly complete, the loss of life incalculable.

  “When the fighting resumed, my sponsor Sir Warren Mitchell - newly promoted to Knight Commander didst call for me by name.”

  * * * * * “Knight Warrior Lady Hannah Collins!” He had summoned her. “Yes, Sir!” As she had fought to his side, a large creature loomed over her, almost like a grizzly bear with a crocodile's head...and foot long retractable claws - that was how she'd received the vicious wound to her side. She killed it, and a few others of various types before she finally got close enough to talk to her commander properly.

  Without even looking at her - being quite busy at the time fighting a super-agile monster with sword blades for arms he had just said, “What the hell art thou still doing here?”

  “Sir?” she had questioned, not understanding. “If my memory dot h not fail me, I didst place thee on detached duty to pursue a quest that wouldst put an end to Niltsiar for good. The situation at hand doth lead me to conclude that thy quest is incomplete. Therefore, I ask thee again: What the hell art thou still doinghere?”

  “Sir, with all due respect, the Sacred Code of Paladinius doth clearly state that a Knight placed on special duties or leave of absence mayest not presume that such a situation is to be sustained post promotion.”

  “'Tis always the letter of the law to thee, Hannah, is it not?”

  “What else is there, sir?” “Behind just laws there layeth reason and 'tis that reason that must be obeyed even if the letter of the law is not completely adhered to. Rules-” he broke off and grunted as he fended off a heavy blow with his shield. “Rules, by their very nature, art conceived in the past whilst we must live in the present. The rules of our order must guide us, certainly. BUT. NOT. STIFLE. UAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!” His last four words had been punctuated by a series of desperate blocks and parries, until finally the creature’s left blade-arm penetrated his armour.

  Hannah screamed, “NO!” And with a resurgence of energy, she fought to her commander's side and slew the creature while it was still trying to free itsarm from Warren Mitchell’s body - with a superhuman effort, he was actually holding the thing inside him to keep it off balance and vulnerable. The creature dropped to the ground and a group of Knights - Light and Dark - formed a protective ring around them. They would fall to the last warrior before harm got a glimpse of the fallen Commander. Every breath that rattled in his chest was agony for him, but he beckoned Hannah closer. She knelt beside him.

  “Thy place is not here,” he whispered in her ear. “I am ordering thee to return to thy quest and put a stop to this madness. Thou canst do it; thou art destined for great deeds. Thou wilt take thy bronze dragon and leave this bloodbath forthwith. For thee to die here wouldst be a waste of thy potential. Not honourable. This order cannot be countermanded, save by the Lord High Chancellor himself. Do I make myself clear, Knight Warrior?”

  “Perfectly, Sir,” she choked. “Then go. Now...Ah...” he smiled serenely, the pain forgotten, “...I see Father Patreleux. He leadeth me unto Paradi--” blood poured from his mouth and he exhaled for the last time. The light faded from his eyes.

  Tears were flowing already, yet Hannah spared not a moment - there would be time for grief later. She stood and called for Brash, who created a space for another of his splashdown landings. A heartbeat later they were winging their way to Shakaran, whereupon Brash elected to return to his own people and inform the aquatic kingdom authorities of what had taken place.

  Hannah staggered into the castle unopposed, for who would dare hinder a Knight, fresh from the battlefield?

  And now she was here.

  * * * * * Prince Garald dismissed her but bade her, “If injury and fatigue permit, please stay a moment,” he said, “for there is still the matter of the war report and it would be only fitting if you could bear witness as a representative of the Knights of Paladinia.”

  “It would be my honour, Your Grace,” she assured him. “I can…” she winced, “stand a little while longer, methinks.”

  So, at last, the report: it was not pleasant reading. Chaos creatures were everywhere. The smallest city, Keothara, was overrun; Baltacha, the breadbasket of Mythallen, was under heavy siege, cutting off vital supplies; the elves were pinned down in their sacred woods; the dwarves had sealed themselves inside their mountains, vowing never to surface again; the hobbit villages were burning and a large force of the monsters was preventing any approach to gnomish country.

  The Hand of Darkness Liberation Front had reportedly signed a non-aggression pact with Niltsiar's agents, and the chaos creatures seemed to be leaving Avidon alone as a result. The Dark Knights of Zhentilon were marching to lay waste to that city in response. It remained unclear whether the Paladinians would back them.

  One piece of good news was that a huge force of chaos creatures that had been spotted en route to Shakaran, had mysteriously disappeared due to parties unknown.

  “Actually, Your Grace,” Tanya offered. “That would be us. The Knights of Balance intercepted and destroyed them and without serious injury to ourselves, I'm happy to say.”

  The other two Knights, so far unsure quite what to make of her, looked at her with a new respect.

  It was the princess who responded, “The City of Shakaran is grateful to your Order, My Lady.” “Indeed,” her father agreed. “So now the capital city, the centre of magic is in ruins. Now Shakaran stands alone as a beacon of freedom!” He raised his voice. “Now we redouble our efforts and we fight! Shakaran will not be cowed into submission. We will fight them in the streets; we will fight them in our homes; we will fight them whenever and wherever they appear and we will never surrender! We will stand united together, or we will fall to the last man, woman and child. We may die, but we will never be defeated!”

  His voice echoed around the walls and high-vaulted ceiling of the great hall.

  For a moment, there were cheers as everyone in the hall was caught up in the Prince’s defiance and determination. Then all was quiet, all was still. At last, Bunny spoke up: typically irreverent, but no-one could deny the truth of her words.

  “Well then,” she said. “Looks like I've got here just in time for the end of the world.”

  END OF MAJAOS: PART 2