The Seventh Daughter

by Frewin Jones

  Not me! Cordelia! She was talking about Cordelia!

  She had been so caught up with the image of herself as the special one—the most important of the seven—that it had never occurred to her that someone else might be the target of Sancha’s prophecy.

  “Tanzen! To Cordelia!” she called. The wild unicorn roared up the hillside like the north wind. Tania clung grimly to his back as he fell upon the Gray Knights. They went slashing and hacking through them, buffeted by sword and spear as they fought their way toward Cordelia.

  She glimpsed her sister through the crowding knights. Cordelia was on her feet, standing over her fallen unicorn with a sword in either hand, the crystal blades whirling while her enemies swarmed around her, their monstrous steeds screeching as Cordelia cut their legs from under them and sent their riders tumbling. Birds attacked the milling knights, flying into their faces, talons raking at their eyes, curved beaks pecking. But the undead creatures of Lyonesse could only be destroyed by a strike to the heart, and too many hemmed Cordelia in now, blocking the whirl of her swords with their own blades, closing in on her for the kill.

  Cordelia lost her footing and fell. Screaming their triumph, the Gray Knights closed over her. Tania urged Tanzen forward, leaning over the unicorn’s head to stab and thrust at the knights that surrounded her sister. She was aware of someone at her side; someone on a bay horse—a rider in Faerie armor, a spinning sword, a shouting voice, a familiar face twisted in rage.

  “With me!” Rathina howled, hacking her way through the Gray Knights.

  Together, Tania and Rathina cut a path through to their fallen sister. Cordelia staggered to her feet and swung herself onto Tanzen’s back behind Tania. Horse and unicorn reared and turned, heaving through the enemy, bursting out of the throng and cantering into clear ground.

  “Are you okay?” Tania said, panting, twisting her head to look at her sister.

  “I am unhurt,” Cordelia said. “But it was an opportune rescue. I fear they would have butchered me else. Alas for Zephyr, I could do naught to save him. Come, find me another steed. I have a great debt to repay to the filth of Lyonesse.”

  “I wouldn’t have been able to reach you without Rathina,” Tania said, looking across to where her dark-haired sister sat astride her horse, catching her breath.

  “Aye,” Cordelia said, nodding to Rathina. “That was bravely done.”

  “A drop in the ocean of my debt to you all,” Rathina said grimly. She tugged on her horse’s reins. “Much is still to be done.” She kicked her heels and the animal went galloping back toward the enemy. “I shall see you anon!” she called back. “On the field of victory, or not at all!”

  “Have you seen the others?” Tania asked Cordelia.

  “That will be Eden,” Cordelia said, pointing down the hillside to an embattled huddle of knights. In the middle of the throng the air was livid with blue-white flashes, like spears of landlocked lightning. “I have not seen Zara and Sancha since the battle began,” Cordelia continued. “But Hopie is upon the hill, ministering to the wounded. Lord Brython stands guard over her like an oak tree, wielding a double-handed axe and allowing none to come near.”

  The two armies had broken into many smaller groups spread over the heaths and the vale between. There was some savage fighting going on almost under the eaves of the forest where the Earl Marshal Cornelius and his sons were attacking a serpent banner. The valley itself was like a deadly, boiling cauldron: knights of both armies pressing at one another while the hounds circled and pounced, pulling down horses where they could, while the shrieks and calls and cries of the conflict rose horribly into the air.

  The Moon banner and the Sun banner of Faerie had become separated: The Moon banner was to the rear of the battlefield, protected by Earl Valentyne and his knights, but the banner with the yellow sun on its sky blue background was partway up the slope of Puck’s Heath, the knights protecting it pressing forward toward the crest. Tania saw a small valiant figure galloping up the side of Puck’s Heath toward the Sun banner, sword raised and shining in the light. Zara!

  But a group of Gray Knights was racing across the sloping ground, closing in on her from behind, like storm clouds chasing down the summer sun—and their leader was wearing a black cloak that spread out behind him like bat wings.

  “They’re going to catch her!” Tania shouted.

  Cordelia leaped from Tanzen’s back. “Go to her aid!” she called, slapping the unicorn’s hindquarters. “I will find a steed and be with you as soon as I may.”

  Tanzen surged forward, his mane streaming out as he galloped full tilt down the hillside and across the valley to the rise of Puck’s Heath. Tania screwed her eyes against the shrilling air, her sword gripped tight in her fist as she leaned into the rushing wind. Running quicker than any horse, Tanzen soon closed the gap between them and Drake’s Gray Knights. Tania knew that these were the deadliest enemies on the battlefield, armed with swords of Isenmort, protected by black amber, led by the evil renegade Lord of Weir. But she didn’t care—she had been afraid of Drake for far too long. He had invaded her dreams and made her life a bitter torment. But one way or another his hold over her would be broken today.

  Tanzen didn’t flinch as he went crashing into the side of Gabriel’s horse, his long horn piercing the beast to the heart. But the force of the impact threw Tania from his back. Earth and sky wheeled around her, but she kept her wits and hit the ground in a urled roll, her armor absorbing the shock so that she was on her feet in seconds, a little dizzy from the fall, but crouched sure-footed with her sword ready.

  The collapse of Gabriel’s horse had thrown his knights into confusion, some of the hideous animals falling headlong, others bucking and swerving to avoid the chaos. Gabriel had been catapulted over his horse’s head and was lying motionless on the ground with his cloak over him like a shroud.

  With a cry Tania ran toward him, her helmet falling off so that her long red hair was released into the whipping wind. She stood over him, feet spread, her sword raised in the high ward. This was the moment to set herself free. A simple lunge and Gabriel’s dominion over her would be finished forever.

  But she hesitated. She believed herself capable of killing him in a fair fight, but to thrust a sword into his body while he lay helpless at her feet? Every instinct in her shouted out against it. She lowered her sword, stepping back. She was aware of a group of Faerie knights thundering up the hillside, Sancha and Rathina at their head. They broke against Drake’s disordered Gray Knights, fighting desperately against the Isenmort swords. Gabriel stirred, heaving himself up on his arms, shaking his head, struggling to get his feet under him.

  “Get up!” Tania shouted.

  Gabriel pulled himself to his feet. He swayed, his cloak swirling around him, his face dazed. Then he looked at Tania and the silver glint in his eyes was like knives in her heart.

  “Pick up your sword,” she said.

  “Gladly,” he said, stooping and sweeping up his sword of shining steel. “You were ever a fool, Tania. Now meet a fool’s end!” He ran at her, his sword aimed at her throat.

  She parried his blow and sidestepped, her smooth side sweep almost managing to slash him as he stumbled by her. He was quick, his blade coming up, ringing on hers as he fended off her attack. Now they faced each other again, their eyes locked—his a deadly silver that clashed and sparred against the gold-flecked green of hers. He leaped forward, sword extended. She turned his thrust aside, spinning and striking fast, her sword cutting through the billows of his cloak, striking solid flesh. He let out a shout of pain, stumbling to his knees. Tania saw that there was blood on the edge of her sword.

  He was up again in an instant, slicing the air with his sword, holding her at bay. She could see that she had hurt him—he stood bent over to one side with a grimace of pain on his face. But through the pain he still smiled that vile, knowing smile. Seeing the smile and looking into those silver eyes again, she beat and beat and beat down on his faltering blade, h
owling with an anger she had never known herself capable of as she forced him onto his knees.

  At last he let his sword fall away and knelt there, his arms limp, blood spreading over the gray mail on his side, staring up at her with eyes that were like twin full moons in an empty sky. She lifted her sword, trembling with rage.

  “Our bond does not end with my death, Tania,” he said. “Remember, we are bonded for all time. Murdering me will not set you free. I will haunt you down all the long ages.”

  She stared at him, shaken by his words in spite of her rage.

  Then his eyes moved away from her face, seeming to focus on something behind her. A smile curved his mouth. He spoke a single word, like a breath on the air. “Rathina!”

  Something hit Tania from behind, something that knocked her sideways, jarring her sword out of her hand and throwing her to the ground. She was vaguely aware of the stamping of hooves and of movement above her as a rider brought a horse to a sudden halt and swung from the saddle.

  Tania lay winded on the ground as she saw Rathina step in front of Drake, her face grim and set, her sword held in both hands. “I cannot let you do this,” Rathina said. “Leave him, Tania—I do not wish to fight with you, but I shall if you seek to do him any more harm.”

  “No!” Tania groaned, staring into her sister’s face. “Rathina, no!”

  “I cannot help it,” Rathina said, her voice cracking with something close to madness. “I am his!” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “No more blood need be shed, Gabriel, my love,” she cried. “It is not too late. Let us quit the battlefield—let us leave this Realm entirely and be forever as one.”

  Drake rose to his feet, his eyes shining, his face twisted with a malevolent smile of triumph. “Did I not warn you, Tania?” he said. “Did I not tell you she would turn on you?” He pushed indifferently past Rathina, making her stumble to one side, his sword ready in his fist as he strode toward where Tania lay.

  Tania reached blindly for her sword. But she was too late—his booted foot came down on her wrist, trapping her arm. And then, even as his sword cut down toward her, a shape came darting in from the side: a small, slender shape that pushed in under his blow, standing between Tania and her impending death.

  Tania saw Faerie armor. Flowing golden hair. A sword raised to fend off the falling blade. There was a clash as iron sword struck crystal. The crystal blade shattered, the iron sword plunged downward, piercing the breastplate, thrusting through to the hilt, the bloodied blade jutting from the arched back.

  Tania scrambled to her knees as the weight of the collapsing body crashed against her, falling into her arms. The helmet tumbled from the golden hair, the neck strained back, the face ash white, the glazed blue eyes staring up into the sky. Tania let out a cry as she stared down at the beautiful, lifeless face of her fallen sister.

  XXVII

  “Zara! Zara, no!”

  Tania was half aware of figures looming and floating around her like living shadows. The sounds of the battle came into her head, booming and thundering, terribly loud but somehow distant. She stared down into the glazed sapphire eyes, remembering the first time she had met her sister, standing at her chamber door, dressed in a yellow gown and smiling like all summer. She saw Zara seated at the spinetta, her mouth open in song. Dancing with a handsome lord in the Great Hall of the palace. Playing her flute and calling up a wind to fill the sails of the Cloud Scudder. Standing on the shoreline of Kymry Bay, the echo of her voice suddenly clear in Tania’s ears. We shall defeat this evil, Tania—I know we shall. And you and I will dance again in the Great Hall of the palace and play duets upon the spinetta and the lute once more.

  A cold rage filled Tania’s mind, freezing out fear and grief as she gently put Zara’s body aside and stood up. All around her, and down the long slope into the valley and up the rise of Salisoc Heath, the fresh green grass began to brown and wither and the flowers to die. The Power of Seven was lost forever.

  Drake stood poised, blood dripping from his blade, watching with hooded, taunting eyes as Tania stooped to pick up her sword, so sure that he would defeat her that he let her arm herself again before he attacked. But Tania was not alone. Sancha stood beside her, tears pouring down her face, but her sword ready. Drake lunged forward with a shout, the edge of his blade flicking Sancha’s sword aside. He hammered his shoulder into the princess and threw her to the ground. Tania stepped back, fending off his flashing sword. But she stumbled, falling backward over Zara’s body.

  He stood over her, victory in his eyes. But before he could strike, a huge dark shape came plunging in from the side, knocking him off balance.

  It was Rathina, on horseback again, her sword slicing the air. She screamed out a single word. “Murderer!”

  Drake was adder quick. Even caught unawares and thrown half off his feet, he turned and brought his sword whistling upward. The two blades rang as they clashed, but Drake’s blow was the more powerful. Rathina’s sword spun out of her hand. Following his attack through, Drake stabbed at her horse. The stricken animal came crashing down, legs kicking, hurling Rathina from the saddle. She sprawled on the ground, gasping and weeping.

  Drake gave her one contemptuous glance then turned again to Tania. Behind him Tania saw Rathina lift herself to her knees, groping for a sword. Her fingers tightened around a hilt. She picked it up, gripping it in both hands. She clambered awkwardly to her feet, coming up behind Drake and shouting aloud as she raised the shining weapon: “For Zara!” She thrust the sword into his back right up to the hilt.

  For a moment Drake hung in the air, pinned to the shining blade, his face petrified at the moment of triumph. Then he slumped forward, sliding off the sword and dropping soundlessly to the ground.

  Rathina stared down at him, her face as white as bone. “For Zara!” she said again. “And to be free of you! My love could have saved us! It could have redeemed us both!”

  Sancha stumbled to her feet. “Rathina!” she called. “The sword—it is Isenmort! Let it go! You will be killed!”

  Tania had seen the blade gleam as her sister had lifted the sword, but she had not realized that Rathina had picked up one of the Sorcerer King’s Isenmort swords, dropped by a slain Gray Knight. Rathina stared at her hands in alarm and fear—she had obviously been unaware of the deadly nature of the weapon when she had picked it up.

  “It does not burn,” she murmured. She looked at Sancha, lifting the bloodied sword. “It does not burn me at all!”

  Sancha stared at her. “Your Gift is revealed at last!” she said. “You have the power to touch Isenmort without harm.”

  “I wish for no Gift! I deserve no Gift!” Rathina tossed the sword aside and stumbled forward, falling onto her knees by Zara’s body. “I am sorry!” she said, weeping. “I am so sorry!” Sobbing aloud, she gathered her dead sister in her arms, burying her face into Zara’s neck.

  Tania got to her feet. She had expected to feel glad at Drake’s death, but her relief was mixed with horror and dismay and regret and a deep, bewildering sense of loss, as if some fragment of her own spirit had died with him. And Zara had fallen—Sancha’s terrible prophecy had come true. But there was no time to grieve now—many of Drake’s Gray Knights were still alive upon the hillside, and the princesses were far from safe.

  In fact, so much had happened so quickly that Tania was surprised to see that the fight was still raging all around them. The reality of their peril was brought home to her as an unhorsed Gray Knight came lurching toward her brandishing a spear. Acting almost on instinct, she knocked the spear aside with her sword and aimed a darting thrust at the creature’s chest. The undead knight’s eyes still glowed with red madness as her sword pierced his heart and his body erupted into ash.

  More of the Gray Knights came and for a short time Tania was forced to focus on the simple act of staying alive and of keeping her screeching enemies away from where Rathina crouched, huddled over Zara’s body. But Tania was not alone. Sancha fought at her side and more F
aerie knights came galloping to their aid, led by Cordelia and Eden.

  The battle against Drake’s knights was hard and vicious, but suddenly Tania found herself standing among the empty gray mail of the last of the dreadful creatures while the dust of her final kill drifted on the air. The battle still raged furiously over the two withered heaths, but in this one place the gathered princesses were given the bitter gift of a few moments to mourn for their fallen sister. Hopie was the last to arrive, galloping up with Lord Brython at her side. She jumped from the saddle and stood with her sisters over Zara’s body while silent tears flowed down her cheeks.

  Rathina was still curled on the ground over Zara. Brython took her by the shoulders, gently lifting her away from the dead princess, scooping Zara up in his arms and getting to his feet as if she weighed no more than an infant. No one spoke a word as Brython cradled Zara against his chest and walked toward his horse.

  A Faerie Knight took Zara from Brython and held her as he climbed into the saddle. Then the delicate body was lifted again into Brython’s arms.

  “I will bear her into the forest,” he said, his voice cracking. “She will be safe there till all is done.” He set off at a steady canter toward the dying eaves of Esgarth Forest.

  Rathina got to her feet. “I would have given my own life to save her,” she said, crying. “I would render up my very soul to have her alive again. I have brought this upon us!” She stared down at Gabriel Drake’s body. “I am more monstrous far than he! I cannot bear it!”

  Tania stepped forward and put her arms around Rathina’s shoulders, holding her close. “You’re not a monster,” she said. “You’re my sister.”

  “This battle is far from won,” said Eden. “The very air is full of dread and the ground trembles in trepidation.” A look of terror came over her face and she pointed down toward the palace. “Oh, sweet spirits of earth and water, look! Look! He comes! The Sorcerer comes!”