Her Majesty's Wizard

by Christopher Stasheff

  One by one, the Moncaireans took up the chant, and the auxiliaries after them, till the whole length of the battlements thundered.

  "Joyful in the dawn, we thank Thee! God immortal, Who did bring Thy poor, undeserving servants Through the dark night! Praise we sing!"

  The hymn died, and the abbot removed his helmet, mopping his brow.

  Matt turned to survey the enemy army, still disordered. "Congratulations, milord. We held out against the worst Malingo could throw at us."

  "Worst?" The abbot looked up, startled. "You did not sense the slackening?"

  "Slackening?" Matt's euphoria vanished. "No, I didn't

  "'Twas hard after midnight, Lord Wizard. The force of their attack failed to strengthen, as I'd thought it would, in the darkest hours of the night. There was not light enough to see, nor time enough to survey; but I'd wager forces trooped away into the hills!"

  Matt stood very still, watching him.

  "This attack, though worse than any we have had, was still far weaker than I'd feared," the abbot went on. "I had thought to face foul monsters, spells to chill our marrow, Hell-spawned nightmares. Nay, Lord Wizard-this was far less than Malingo's fullest force!"

  Matt swallowed, heavily. "So. Just a good training session, huh?"

  "Nay; far more;" the abbot admitted. "There was more magic in this battle than ever I have faced. I am glad that you were here, Lord Wizard."

  Matt just stood for a moment; then he bowed. "Thank you, Lord Abbot. I am pleased that I was some worth to you."

  But he began to wonder. If this army had been depleted since midnight, what had Malingo done with the spare troops? And why? And what was it going to be like when Matt had to fight the whole mess of them?

  As he started to dive-bomb toward depression, a sentry cried out, "Hold! Who comes?"

  Matt looked up, startled.

  Beyond the far side of the army, around the base of the hill, a great dark-green shape waddled, with a dot of black on its shoulders.

  "Stegoman!" Matt grabbed the abbot's shoulder. "That's a friend of mine-and the guy on his back is one of your own kind! A little remiss, maybe, but yours nonetheless! If they try to get in here, we've got to get them through!"

  "Enough, enough, Lord Wizard!" The abbot twisted free and clamped his helmet back on. "We'll see them in!" the distance-dwarfed dragon paused; then it charged at the back of the swirling army, a great gout of fire clearing its way. Shrieks came dimly to Matt's ears, and a path opened before Stegoman. He bulldozed through, roaring; but a baron bawled orders, and a knot of soldiers began to form up against danger. Nearer the wall, a sorcerer rose up, arms weaving a spell.

  "Max!" Matt snapped. "Drain that wizard!"

  "Done!" the Demon sang, without even bothering to appear; and the sorcerer tumbled.

  "Great!" Matt shouted. "Now clear a path for my friend!"

  Soldiers and knights began to drop of sudden exhaustion, in a straight line that met the dragon's flaming breath.

  Stegoman plowed on through, waving his head from side to side, cutting a great circle of flame, like a pie with a slice missing,. about him. Pikes and swords rushed toward him, then rushed back as the heat wave hit.

  "I believe he will come to us unharmed!" Alisande cried, gripping Matt's forearm.

  "Well, there's a good chance, at least." Matt frowned, peering down. "What's happening there?"

  A last rally of men had formed, splitting off from the army of sorcery to gather in a skirmish line between the dragon and the monastery gate, just out of bowshot.

  Stegoman bulled his way through the last ranks and paused, glaring at the battle line.

  A baron barked out a set of orders, and the archers bent their bows. But a spark of light danced among them, and the bows snapped, sending the archers staggering back. Soldiers propped pike butts against earth, pointing the spear blade tops at Stegoman's chest height; but Matt could see the bright metal browning with rust.

  Stegoman bellowed and charged.

  Pike points broke against his scaly hide; swords cracked and crumbled at the first stroke. The dragon blasted flame about him, and the soldiers ran screaming.

  "He has triumphed!" the princess cried.

  "Thanks, Max," Matt muttered.

  "'Twas pleasure," the spark sang. "You have irony."

  The dragon charged headlong at the gates, and the abbot cried, "Open! These are ours!"

  The doors groaned wide, and the sorcerers' army howled, seeing their chance. A thousand footmen sprinted for the portal, pikes high, while sorcerers popped up behind them, hands weaving frantic spells.

  "Stegoman! Torch 'em!" Matt yelled, and the dragon slewed to a stop in the gateway, skidding in a full turn. He roared, and a ten-foot bar of flame shot out toward the attackers.

  "Give him a boost there, will you?" Matt said, aside, and Max sang, "Aye, Wizard!" and winked out.

  Stegoman's flame shot out to thirty feet. The dragon's head whipped back in surprise, accidentally charring a careless sorcerer who'd thought he should lead, for a change. Then Stegoman recovered and depressed his aim, turning his head. Flame swept a clear arc around the gateway, and enemy footmen screamed; body armor conducted beautifully. They pulled back-or ran, more truthfully, the ones who were still ambulatory. Stegoman bit off his flame and shifted into reverse, backing up fast. Monks heaved, and the great doors boomed shut.

  A shriek of frustration went up from the enemy lines, and the abbot turned to Matt with a hard smile. "Well done, Wizard. They'll not prevail 'gainst our gates."

  "'Tis a priest, Lord Abbot," a knight called from below, "one near to exhaustion."

  "We ha' known it," the abbot called down. "Bring him up to us."

  "Must he come up?" Sayeesa objected. "Can he not speak from below?"

  "I think it unlikely," the abbot said, frowning. "Did you not hear Sir Pedigraine? The man's nearly spent!"

  Brunel appeared at the top of the steps, gasping, propped up by a knight and a novice. "God be ... praised! I ha' ridden as though ... a demon pursued me this night, in hope ... I would find you!"

  "Welcome, Father." But there was a dubious undertone to the abbot's greeting.

  Matt tried to sound hearty. "Good to see you again, Father! Did you rouse any monks?"

  Brunel nodded, beginning to catch his breath. "The Knights of the Cross, and ... the Order of Saint Conor. And, yestere'en, I rode toward the convent of Saint Cynestria."

  "The convent?" Sayeesa cried. "What business had you there?"

  "There are warriors among them," the priest said simply.

  "Yes, and probably some beauties, too." Matt frowned. "I should think that wasn't too wise, Father-for you."

  The abbot frowned, puzzled and angered; but Brunel smiled sourly. "Secure, I assure you. There may be beauty there, but a man who shows recognition of it might suffer-and harshly. With such knowledge in mind, there's scant chance of desire arising."

  The abbot lifted his head, beginning to understand; and Matt hurried on before the knight could start catechizing. "You only said you rode toward the convent. Did you get there?"

  "To the hill above the plain that surrounds it, aye. But there, in the dark of the moon, I saw an army of Evil gathering about its walls!"

  Alisande gasped, hand covering her mouth, and the abbot swore, "By'r Lady!"

  But Sayeesa gave a short, mocking laugh. "A fool's errand, that! If any, could withstand a fell Hell-host, 'twould be the House of Saint Cynestria!"

  "There is truth in that," the abbot said, frowning, "yet they, too, are only mortal ..."

  "It may be as you say." Brunel avoided looking at Sayeesa. "But there were foul beasts among them and fell things of most unholy sorcery. Still, their walls were unbreached when I turned, and this great dragon and I rode to find you."

  "Siege," Matt mused. "About what hour did you come there?"

  "The fifth, after midnight." The priest frowned. "Does that signify?"

  "Aye!" The abbot's eyes lit. "'Twas midnight
when their host round our walls did lessen!"

  "You must go!" Father Brunel blurted. "Do not ask the why of me; still, I know it, and my bones know it, that 'tis yourselves must ride to their aid!"

  "So we shall," Alisande said, with iron resolution. "You are right in this, Father-I am certain."

  That decided the issue, Matt knew. Still... "Uh, with all due respect, your Highness-wouldn't an army do little more good?"

  "What army?" The princess rounded on him. "Those gathered here? If they come out as slowly as an army must, there will be a great battle outside these walls-and, even though lessened, the warriors of Evil outnumber the Knights of Moncaire!"

  "'Tis as her Highness says," the abbot agreed somberly. "A small party can travel quickly; with support from the walls, they might carve a path through this host. But an army could not; there are too many to travel quickly enough to avoid all the blows. Yet I am loathe that ye should depart; for Heaven knows we might have fallen this night past without the aid of this good wizard and his ... spirit."

  Still avoiding the word "Demon," Matt noted. "I wouldn't worry too much about that, milord. You see, Max did a number on their weapons and armor, and set a microorganism on their food supplies."

  The abbot frowned. "What means this?"

  "It means that, by nightfall, their metal will fall apart at the slightest blow." Matt grinned. "And right after dinner, the effects of breakfast and lunch should start showing-abdominal cramps, nausea, diarrhea, and fever. They won't have much stomach for fighting-those who survive."

  The abbot stared, his mouth gaping open.

  Then he grinned and clapped Matt on the shoulder. "Aye, we should live through the night, even without you! Go, then, with good heart! I would I could lead my hosts out behind you. Yet after your spell has done its work, by morning there should be but a remnant of their army still standing. Then may we sally out to cleanse our environs and, after, ride west to meet you at the convent."

  "Great." Matt smiled. "And, uh-I don't want to sound unduly optimistic, but-if the army's gone from the convent when you get there, keep riding west, will you? Be nice if you could meet us in the mountains."

  "Aye; we will have strong need of you there," Alisande agreed.

  The abbot bowed to her. "We will, then, your Highness. At the convent, then, or the mountains."

  "And we will ride to the convent-now." Alisande turned away, toward the stairs.

  Matt could have pointed out a few unpleasant facts, such as the unlikelihood of four people and a dragon being able to help much against an army that included a strong corps of sorcerers; but he knew what the answer would be. This was a public matter, so Alisande had to be right. He sighed and turned to follow her.

  "'Tis my choice also," Sayeesa breathed, cutting ahead of him. "I cannot see Saint Cynestria's walls too soon!"

  "I, too, shall come." Father Brunei started to limp after her.

  Sayeesa spun about, rage flaring in her eyes; but the abbot pulled rank.

  He put out a palm and caught Brunei in the breastbone. "Nay, Father. Methinks you will stay here amongst us; for you are wearied and not fit for travel."

  Father Brunel started to stutter a refusal, but there was the gleam of combat in the abbot's eye, and he did rank a simple country priest. Brunel swallowed his objections and lowered his eyes. "Even as you say, of course, Lord Abbot."

  "Of course," the abbot echoed grimly. "And when you have rested, good Father, I wish to have some converse with you."

  Father Brunel looked up, alarmed. Then he swallowed heavily and looked away again.

  CHAPTER 15

  Stegoman shouldered up beside them as they waited behind the great gate.

  Matt looked up, surprised. "You haven't had much sleep."

  "Nor have I need of it," the dragon snorted. "I am easily fit for another twelve-hour chase. Do not seek to dissuade me, Wizard."

  "Wouldn't dream of it," Matt murmured.

  "'Tis well," the dragon said gruffly. "Mount, Wizard."

  Matt climbed aboard, picking his way carefully between pointed fins. "I really appreciate this, Stego--"

  "Loose!" the abbot yelled above.

  A hundred arrows darkened the air, arching high to hail down on the enemy. Shields snapped up all around the gate; enemy soldiers cowered under their shells.

  "Open the gate!" the abbot bellowed.

  "Ride!" Alisande cried, and charged out as the gates cracked open.

  "Don't let her lead!" Matt cried, and Stegoman shot ahead, past the princess's horse. She howled in anger as he cut in front of her, then saved her breath as the dragon's torch lit. He charged out like a flame thrower into Hell, carrying Matt, with Alisande, Sir Guy, and Sayeesa galloping behind. Even then, the sorcerers almost got them. A geyser of fire erupted right under Stegoman's nose, and the dragon pulled back, almost starting a chain collison. Sir Guy and Alisande just barely pulled their horses up in time. Then the footmen charged in from the back with a howl, and the princess and the Black Knight turned to meet them with razor-edged steel. They bought just enough time for Max to douse the volcano and make it re-erupt right under the enclave of sorcerers. While they were busy screaming and running around swatting out flamelets on each others' coattails, Stegoman let loose a fire-blast with a Demon-assist and torched a path through the army. They rode out full tilt, and nobody seemed minded to dispute the right-of-way with them.

  Sir Guy reined his horse back to a walk when the bulk of the western foothills hid the monastery from sight. He opened his visor and yanked off a gauntlet, so he could wipe his brow. "That was hot, heavy work, Lord Wizard."

  "Shoulda shtayed aroun' 'n' burned 'em down t' the' groun'," Stegoman slurred.

  Matt eyed his mount warily, but he seemed docile enough for the moment. The ride was a bit on the bumpy side, though. "Well, we got out with only a few scratches, and that's what matters, Sir Guy ... We are heading west, aren't we?"

  "Aye." The Black Knight grinned. "The dragon did not swerve too badly. We should arrive at Saint Cynestria's convent ere nightfall."

  "Good." Matt pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I have a feeling that somehow, without us, they're in heavy trouble."

  "Not unless the army besieging them is far more fell than that which we battled last night," Sayeesa said grimly.

  "Which it is," Matt replied. "I'll lay you long odds on that one. I have a sneaking suspicion the whole situation is set up to guarantee that we have to be there, to give the Cynestrians a fighting chance. Why else would they attack this particular convent?"

  "I think it has to do with our good Sayeesa," Alisande said thoughtfully. "She May have a greater part to play in this war than we ha' known."

  "Yeah.. ." Matt chewed at the inside of his cheek. "The priest who heard our confessions in that country church said something of the sort."

  "Nay, surely not!" Sayeesa frowned. "I am humble and a sinner! I could not have such great import!"

  "Yet still 'twas said," Alisande pointed out. "And if 'tis so, the sorcerer has done all he may to prevent her coming to the convent..."

  "Without much luck," Matt added.

  "That is to your credit," Alisande admitted. "Yet 'ware false pride, Lord Wizard."

  One of these days, Matt decided, Alisande was going to give him a real, full, unqualified compliment-and when she realized she'd done so, she'd probably have a heart attack.

  "So," the princess went on, "if he cannot prevent her arrival at the Cynestrians' gate..."

  "He can eliminate the gate." Matt's lips tightened. "And the convent with it. Sure. But wouldn't that indicate that Sayeesa, herself, isn't vital? Instead, it's her joining with the convent that's a key event."

  "That, I can more readily accept," Sayeesa said. "Yet not fully; for I cannot believe I'd add much power to those iron, holy women!"

  "Some change may overcome you there," Alisande said offhandedly, "transforming you to a greater force than we can think."

  "I'll not hear more," Sayeesa said fl
atly, and nudged her pony on ahead.

  "But I kinda think she wants to." Matt frowned at the ex-witch's retreating back.

  "There may be truth in it," Alisande mused. "Yet it could be no more than their joining; the two could form a most potent combination. For, look you, Lord Wizard-the Cynestrians accept as novices only women who have sinned, and deeply. All within their walls are therefore penitent, laden with remorse-and, as a consequence, staggering in the intensity of their devotion. They fast and pray both night and day with greatest fervor, seeking to atone. 'Tis said they pray with vengeance-on themselves."

  "Hmm." Matt pursed closed lips. "They could put out a lot of spiritual power, couldn't they? Come to think of it, they'd have to-what else could have held Malingo's army off all night?"

  "If they did succeed in that," Alisande reminded him. "For which, let us pray ... Yet their power is not prayer alone; for there are former bandits in their midst."

  "Women?" Matt's eyebrows shot up. "Female bandits? In this kind of society?"

  "'Tis our ways and customs formed them," Alisande demurred. "They are women who could not, would not, be subjected to a man's command; and in such a land as ours, there is scant space for such unfeminine women."

  Sir Guy nodded. "These Ladies of the Waste could best most men. Nay, I've heard of them. Such a band did gather one short year a small army, they were indeed-bandit-maids and scourers, who did loot and burn throughout these marches. They were, for several months, scourges of the West, lording it over all the borderland."

  "This did begin when Astaulf came to power?" Alisande demanded, thin-upped.

  Sir Guy nodded. "As the king does, so do the subjects; and Astaulf is a bandit king. Yet when these bandit-maids had grown intolerable, the Mother Superior of the Cynestrians swore they gainsaid Nature, in that God made women to protect and care for others, not to sack and slay them. She vowed that she would bring them to repentance, or die in the attempt. Many of her order sought to join with her, but she'd not have them; the hazard was for her, and her alone. Thus she rode singly out to face the outlaw band. She found them, endured their torments and their insults, then began to speak to them of Christ and Blessed Mary. Thus she showed them the estate that they were born to and had spurned; and by Heaven! not a one of them who heard her could stand against remorse!"