Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “Not only possible, but most probable,” the wizard said. “The Raven Sword hides you from your mortal enemies, Taliesin, and this is why Sertorius’ knights cannot find you. As for the gods of Mt. Helos, they are not so easily fooled. When you use magic, the gods can easily find you, and you used magic to befuddle Sir Barstow and his men. If you saw Heggen, then my fears are confirmed, and he has sided with Ragnal against you. We must proceed with caution, for no doubt they will set a trap for you.”

  “Then take me to Penkill Castle, Zarnoc. I want to see my friends.”

  “Don’t you want to see what happened in the town?”

  “No,” she said. “The Knights of Chaos don’t leave survivors behind. I’ve seen enough bloodshed in my lifetime. I just want to go home.”

  “I could take you to the Raven Clan,” he said. “But I think you need to learn a few things before you go home. You lack discipline, confidence, and patience, to name a few. If you rely on me every time you’re in trouble, you will become dependent on me, and I will not always be around. For now, with Heggen and his raven sniffing about, we will refrain from using magic. The gods use magic against us, Taliesin. They use it to negate your magic powers and that of your sword, which is, possibly, why you have been so slow to reach your full potential. It could also be you simply lack concentration, which is something you must learn if you are going to help Sir Roland defend his beloved king.”

  “I prayed to Navenna for so long, it’s hard to think of her as an enemy. However, Mira has helped me since I left Raven’s Nest. I do not think she has sided with Ragnal, even if he is her lover, or she wouldn’t have helped me.”

  “They are not gods or goddesses,” Zarnoc snapped. “The Maeceni are a race as old as the Lorian and Hellirin. Be thankful you do not have Maeceni blood in your veins or you would have already sided with Ragnal. Perhaps Mira has turned against him—I really can’t say—nor do I care to make a guess as to what is going on at Mt. Helos. Those who still dwell on that cursed mountain are evil. Truly evil. Ragnal wants you dead. The war god is the strongest of the Maeceni, and the others do what he wants, even Stroud, the All Father. Navenna, Mira’s twin, is also Ragnal’s lover. Ah, I see this surprises you. Well, Ragnal can be charming, I suppose, when he wants to be, and the Maeceni never mate with outsiders. This is why so few remain, and why they are no longer able to breed. Broa, Stroud’s wife and mother to the twins, is as evil as your own mother.”

  “Sertorius turned my mother against me, but I do not believe Calista is evil.”

  “Trust me. All those years locked away in Talbot Abbey has turned her heart,” Zarnoc replied. “Get on your horse—he’s a fine Morgenstern and will get you to where you want to go.”

  Zarnoc flew off her shoulder and circled overhead as Taliesin turned toward the horse and climbed into the saddle. She rode from the oasis, and the raven settled onto the head of her horse. The animal snorted but allowed the bird to remain.

  “Sertorius has gone out of his way to anger Duke Fakar and his people,” Taliesin said. “The King’s Road adds miles to his march to Padama. The royal city is under siege by Almaric. Why does Sertorius take his sweet time getting there? What is going on, Zarnoc? Is Roland all right?”

  “Your thoughts travel a mile a minute, child. You worry about the gods. You worry about the princes. And you worry about Roland. What shall I answer first?”

  “I worry about everyone and everything, old man.”

  “I have already told you what the Maeceni are doing,” he said. “The Knights of the White Stag defend Padama, and Roland is hopeful you will arrive to offer aid. I think it is obvious what is on Sertorius’ mind.”

  “Fine. Anything else I can find out when I get to Tantalon Castle. I’ve tried several times to give my horse wings, but I’m not able to for some reason—I figure you’re blocking my magic. Do it for me, and let’s go.”

  “Do this, do that. You need to see first-hand what is happening in this realm. I am not the reason your magic is acting oddly. Blame Ragnal, not me. I will not simply whisk you away to Padama. You need to be able to tell Sir Roland what Prince Sertorius is doing; Sertorius will act like he’s coming to aid his father, but once inside the capital, he means to kill him.”

  Taliesin frowned. “All the more reason we should go now to Padama,” she said. “I could go as a bird. We can set the horse free.”

  “Yes, you could, but a bird can’t carry a sword as large as Ringerike. And a very large bird will be noticed. Come. We are needed in the town.” A change in the wind brought the odor of smoke from Dahkla. Tiny black dots that, on closer inspection, turned out to be buzzards hovered over the town. A stray camel, trailing its reins, appeared, followed by two more riderless camels. They slowed and turned to follow Taliesin’s horse. Zarnoc made another sweep across the path and vanished. Hearing a snort, Taliesin turned and found Zarnoc seated on a camel, one leg crossed over the other, smoking his pipe. He had added a black turban to his attire, and his long flowing robe was Erindorian. His white staff lay across his lap, and a thoughtful look hung on his wrinkled face. The steady rhythm of her horse changed. The sudden shift in motion thrust her forward and she gasped aloud; Zarnoc had turned her horse into a camel.

  “I prefer a horse,” Taliesin said.

  “Ride a camel instead, so you can blend in with the locals.”

  Taliesin wasn’t going to argue about whether a horse or a camel was more suitable, not when the town was in flames, and the dead lay on the ground. She had spent the last twenty years of her life as a scavenger. After a lifetime of collecting weapons for the Raven Clan, knee deep in guts and gore, she’d vowed never to revisit a battlefield. The smell, something neither soap nor perfume could cleanse, was firmly engrained in her senses, and the images had corrupted her dreams; not only soldiers died in a battle; the innocent were seldom spared too. She didn’t want to see what Zarnoc seemed insistent upon, and she raised a complaint.

  “I doubt anyone is left alive, Zarnoc. You can you see those buzzards. I’m sorry, but I already know what we’ll find. If you want to help, warn the next village. If you want to be of service, take me to Padama this instant.”

  “Consider this part of your education. Now stop complaining and making demands. Heggen will come to collect the souls of the dead; we must be quick about it. Now ride, girl. Ride!”

  Taliesin and Zarnoc approached the town at a hard gallop. Flames lapped at rooftops, and black smoke clotted the sky for miles. A dozen or more buzzards circled and appeared as dark shadows in the sky, attracted to the smell of death. From a mile away, Taliesin spotted the red cloaks of Erindorian soldiers left dead in the sand. Her mount slowed as she approached the bodies. She imagined the brave soldiers stationed at the small garrison, alerted by the arrival of the Knights of Chaos, had ridden out to meet them. No quarter had been given, and not one man had been spared; each had been cut to ribbons by the Garridans’ heavy axes and swords. Beside the dead soldiers lay their camels, peppered with arrows, their throats slit by broadswords. She looked away as Zarnoc dismounted onto the blood-drenched ground.

  “Thirty men defended Dahkla, and thirty brave men died,” Zarnoc said. The emotion in the wizard’s voice tugged at her heart as he waved her on. “Go see if anyone is alive. I will follow soon enough.”

  Taliesin rode to a brick archway. It was a pattern similar to one she’d seen at other Erindorian towns, opening to a large street that led to the center of town. She dismounted and drew Ringerike as she entered the town, and the camel walked behind her, its reins dragging in the sand. Palm trees, now burned to a crisp, bordered the street, and houses smoldered on either side. A few bodies, peppered with arrows with sea green fletchings, lay beside a well, but as she approached the center of town, the death toll mounted. Shopkeepers had died defending their stores. Women and children lay in the doorways of their homes or in small gardens. A string of chained slaves from Skarda had been put to the sword, and she averted her eyes from the remaining bits and pi
eces. Not a living soul, human or animal, had been spared, and she came upon as many dead camels as chickens, donkeys, and dogs.

  “Sertorius, you’re as black-hearted as a camel turd,” she muttered. “One day you’ll pay for your cruelty, and I hope I’m there to see it.”

  The loud crash of a nearby roof choked the sky with black smoke. Taliesin turned, holding her sword in front of her, and watched as the fire spread to an adjacent roof and back toward the town’s main well. She heard a soft snarl and spun around, her eyes widening as she saw a pack of jackals fighting over the body of a child. A dozen or more children had gathered at the well, and the knights had slaughtered them. Shattered dreams and broken bodies, Taliesin thought, as she noticed the great number of broken spears and arrows littering the ground.

  It appeared a defender had been here, trying to protect the children. Given the number of broken spears and the bodies of three dead armored horses, the defender had been someone of immense height and strength. Among the dead children lay an Erindorian slave who fit this description. In one massive hand, he still clutched a scimitar of exceptional value, and in the other, the hand of a small girl who cuddled against his corpse. The girl moved as a jackal attempted to slink past Taliesin to take a nip. Its eyes gleamed as its muzzle opened wide, displaying sharp fangs and a long black tongue.

  “Mama!” the girl screamed.

  “Get away from her,” Taliesin shouted as she swung her sword. Ringerike showered the jackal with sparks of blue energy, sending it rushing down the road. The rest of the pack took one look at Taliesin, armed with the powerful sword, and slunk off with their skinny, black tails tucked between their legs. She lowered the sword and took a knee beside the girl, holding out her other hand. The girl stood, threw her small arms around Taliesin’s neck, and held on tight. Taliesin felt every shudder in the child’s body as she sobbed, and she considered apologizing to Zarnoc for her earlier reluctance to enter the town.

  One life saved was worth the effort, she thought.

  “It’s all right. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything hurt you. I’m Taliesin, and this is my friend Zarnoc. He’s a wizard.” Taliesin stood and turned toward Zarnoc, who was standing at the edge of the carnage, visibly upset. A pair of brown eyes lifted and a small hand wiped away stray tears before pointing at the robed man. “That’s right. He’s a wizard.”

  “Wizard,” the little girl said and buried her face in Taliesin’s neck. “Make it stop hissing. Please make it stop.”

  The hissing came from the fire, which snapped, crackled, and hissed as the houses burned. Taliesin wanted it to rain, but no clouds appeared in the sky, and her sword gave a mournful cry. The little girl’s head lifted, and she pointed at Ringerike, let out another soft “Oh,” and offered a weak smile.

  “More children are alive. I hear their sobs,” the wizard said. He slid off his camel and ran toward the pile of bodies. A bit of dragging revealed a boy and two girls hidden beneath their dead mother. The children clung to the wizard as he returned to his camel. The two stray camels remained nearby.

  “What is your name, boy?” Zarnoc asked.

  “Marsal,” came a shy reply.

  “Marsal, you are going to ride a camel with your two sisters,” Zarnoc informed him. “Are you a good rider? A brave one?” The boy nodded. “Then climb onto the smaller camel. He’s already settled to the ground for you. Be quick, boy. We’re taking you to the Raven Clan, and their home is far from here.”

  Taliesin placed the girl on her camel as Zarnoc spoke in a soft voice to the three children on the smaller camel. The riderless camel remained for whomever they might find. Taliesin let Zarnoc deal with the children and camels, while she walked among the dead. She stood beside the man who had defended the children and considered taking the time to bury the dead. “I wonder who he was,” she said as she bent to close his eyes.

  “Can’t Ringerike supply you the name? Must I tell you everything?” Zarnoc asked as he mounted his camel. “He was just a man; his name is not important. He gave his life to protect these children. It’s time we left, Taliesin. Get on your camel. Be quick.”

  The sword, annoyed at the wizard, provided the information.

  “His name was Faheem, and he was born into slavery. He managed to escape and traveled here from the capital of Erindor. The scimitar is not an ordinary weapon,” Taliesin said. “It’s magical. Faheem stole it from Duke Dhul Fakar before he fled. He was bringing it to the king.”

  Lifting the scimitar from the ground, Taliesin recognized Tizona by the engravings of snakes on the blade. She knew the names of magical swords. Mandrake had taught her well; she’d never forgotten the stories he told her about magical weapons. This knowledge had once made her an invaluable part of the Raven Clan she now led. The boy, Marsal, seated in front of his two sisters, stared at the gold scimitar. A second pair of eyes also watched. The little girl seated on Taliesin’s camel no longer cried, and her curiosity was evident as Taliesin lifted the scimitar high, watching it glisten in the sunlight.

  “Do you recognize this sword, Zarnoc?” Taliesin asked.

  Zarnoc sat on his camel, holding the reins to the other three. “Well, of course I know it,” he said, flustered. “It belongs to Duke Dhul Fakar.”

  “It’s Tizona, forged by Rivalen centuries ago. And if I remember right, it was enchanted by the sorcerer Karnok,” Taliesin said. “This blade can cut through anything without breaking, and it causes nightmares with prolonged use.”

  Her father, John Mandrake, another great swordsmith, had drawn every magical weapon ever created in a book and added their stories. Sertorius had taken the book from her, one of many valuable items now in his possession. She knew the sword, but remained uncertain if Karnok had died when she rescued Zarnoc and her friend, Jaelle, from Lord Arundel’s castle. A week ago, she had attacked the castle on her winged horse, Thalagar, taking on the Eagle Magic Guild. She had killed the others, but Karnok had entered the castle before it burst into flames.

  “Quite right. Give it to me and let’s leave,” Zarnoc insisted. “There is dark magic in this place; I can feel it in my bones, and we mustn’t linger.”

  Taliesin sheathed Ringerike and found a cloak to wrap around the scimitar. She handed it to Zarnoc and turned to gaze at the courtyard one last time, wondering if he sensed any other magical items among the dead. The jackals were gathered at the far end of the street, watching. The girl Taliesin had saved pointed across the street, mouthing a silent scream, which revealed missing front teeth.

  “Monster!” Marsal shouted.

  Taliesin spun and spotted a giant cobra sliding across dead bodies, a dead jackal wrapped in the end of its long tail. She stepped backwards as large, golden eyes focused on her. The boy gave a whistle and banged his legs against the camel, trying to get it to move. With a grumpy, low-pitched nurr, the camel walked down the street, followed by Zarnoc and the rest of the camels. Three more giant cobras slithered from an adjacent street toward Taliesin.

  “Where did these come from?” she asked, drawing Ringerike.

  A bolt of lightning shot out of nowhere and slammed into the lead cobra, killing it. Zarnoc rode up on his camel and shook his staff in the air.

  “I told you it was time to leave,” he said in a sharp voice. “Isn’t it obvious where they came from? When you destroyed Eagle’s Cliff, you released Lord Arundel’s collection of pets. Giant cobras were his favorites. One bite and there is no hope of survival. Climb on behind me! Be quick!”

  “But who sent them here?”

  “One of the sorcerers you failed to kill. Now, hurry!”

  Taliesin shook her head. “Get out of here, Zarnoc. Protect the children!”

  “Have it your way.”

  With a rap of his heels, Zarnoc rode off and Taliesin yelled a warrior’s cry. She lifted her sword with both hands as a hooded head streaked toward her. Ringerike reacted and yanked her off her feet. She was pulled ten feet into the air, and the tip of the sword pierced the under
side of the snake’s jaw and slid out the top of its head, splattering blood on Taliesin’s face. She dropped to the ground, twisting her ankle in the process, and slammed into the side of the well. A cobra slithered toward her with a loud hiss while a second moved toward the dead warrior slave and swallowed the large body in one gulp.

  Taliesin limped across the courtyard and entered a house through an open door. She stumbled into a kitchen and made a great deal of noise as she fell into a table covered with pots and pans. Taliesin bent over, placed her hand over her ankle, and the pain subsided at her touch. She tested her ankle by placing her full weight on it and confirmed the injury was healed. A commotion at a window caused her to turn, just as the head of a cobra appeared. She swung her sword, cut deep, and ran from the kitchen. As she passed the main living section, the second snake forced its way through the door and snapped its jaws.

  Taliesin rushed toward a staircase, going up three steps at a time, and reached the upper floor. “Why would anyone want giant cobras as pets?” she muttered. “How did they get here so fast? Eagle’s Cliff is hundreds of miles to the south! Did you know I was coming here? Is this personal?”

  A thunderous roar answered her questions.

  “Okay. It’s personal.”

  She ran along a corridor, open on one side, to an inner courtyard where she saw a spouting fountain and the bodies of the family who had lived in the house. Blood pooled beneath the corpses and filled the fountain, turning the water red. Smoke billowed from the back side of the house, and flames appeared in the doorways on the second level. The far side of the house collapsed as a cobra smashed through the walls and slithered over the bodies and fountain to reach her.

  Another hiss brought its companion into the courtyard from a second entryway. Both cobras struck at Taliesin simultaneously, but collided with each other, giving her enough time to turn and dash into the nearest bedroom. A dead servant and open chests filled with rich clothing lay near a window. A loud commotion beneath her made the floor tremble. A scaly head appeared in the window, and a black tongue jetted out of the cobra’s open mouth.