Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “In that case, Captain Ramla, I accept your hospitality.”

  Taliesin climbed into the saddle, finding the Andorran horse a fine mount, and watched the captain mount the other horse. With a whistle, he signaled his men to move out. They headed north and avoided the King’s Road. After a few miles of riding in silence, Taliesin took time to scrutinize the captain. Under a layer of arrogance, Ramla was a brave man, loyal to his duke; loyalty was a quality she admired in men. The fight against the giant cobra seemed to have put things in perspective for both of them. She had arrived in the town as an enemy of Erindor, and left with an armed escort, which increased her odds of reaching Penkill Castle and her clan.

  “We travel along a route used by caravans,” Ramla said when he caught her staring at him. The sun was setting and dust devils whirled across the dunes. “I doubt Prince Sertorius will come this far west to find you. Why, may I ask, did he take you prisoner, Mistress Taliesin?”

  “I refused to marry him,” Taliesin replied, noticing she caught Ramla by surprise. He lifted an eyebrow and let out a soft chuckle. “I didn’t want him to have Ringerike. Sertorius is in love with power; I found that out long ago.” She looked away, scanning the horizon, and wondered where Zarnoc had taken the children. “Are you married, Captain Ramla?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I have a wife.”

  “Only one? I thought Erindorian men had many wives?”

  “It takes money to have more than one wife. I find one quite enough,” Ramla said, laughing. “If I had a magic sword like yours, then perhaps I could make a name for myself as a swordsman. A man can make a great deal of money fighting someone else’s battles, especially these days. As the commander of the Red Cobras, I have a steady income, and I hope to acquire wealth, one day.”

  “Being rich in love is far better,” Taliesin said, thinking of Roland.

  “In that case, I am a very wealthy man, for I love my wife. Had you married Prince Sertorius, you would not need to be a warrior. How did he come by the Garridan army? It was my understanding Duke Richelieu is a King’s Man.”

  Taliesin shook her head. “Richelieu was killed by Master Phelon. The Wolf Pack pursued me into the desert and followed me into Garridan,” she said. “They took the castle and killed the duke, then lost the castle when Master Xander and Sir Roland Brisbane of the White Stags arrived. Prince Sertorius went there as well, married the duke’s daughter, and now has the wealthiest dukedom, and the largest army.”

  “Duke Fakar has no use for Sertorius. He has said many times the youngest Draconus prince is the most dangerous. A few weeks ago, I escorted Prince Konall through our lands to the Thule border. Konall is a kind man; if he were to be king, he would be greatly loved.”

  An image of the headless prince popped into her mind. Poor Konall would require a closed casket by the time Sertorius arrived at Padama with his gut wagon. It was cruel of Sertorius to present Konall to his father in such a state. As far as she knew, no other Draconus had ever beheaded a brother, though many had waged war against each other over the centuries. The Draconus family was bloodthirsty, and the more she learned about them, the less she liked being related. She knew the citizens of Caladonia would have loved Konall, and she felt terrible about his death, and for what had transpired at Dreskull Castle; had she not intervened, Konall might still be alive. She remembered Zarnoc once told her it was better to be feared than loved; if that was true, then Sertorius, as well as Almaric, had already achieved that goal. Almaric and the Wolf Clan laid siege to Padama, turning people into Wolfen, doing what Ragnal wanted, while Sertorius burned a trail through the southern dukedoms. Both were horrible men, and she’d been told Almaric also wanted to marry her, which gave her no more pleasure than the idea she might have been Sertorius’ bride.

  “You look pensive,” Ramla said, at last.

  “Konall is dead. Sertorius took his head.”

  “Unforgiveable. King Frederick is not a bad ruler, not compared to those in the past, but he did sire two monsters. Almaric is no better. I know the Raven Clan was killed by the Wolf Pack, yet you attacked Lord Arundel’s castle, which means the Eagles are your enemy as well.”

  “Arundel was behind it. He always is,” she said. “I could be wrong, but I think the other two clans work together against the king; Arundel and Lykus have been friends a very long time.” She didn’t tell him how long.

  “You keep searching the dunes,” he said. “Do you expect Karnok to try to kill you again?”

  “I look for my friend Zarnoc, a Lorian wizard. We found four orphans in Dahkla. I mean to take them back to my clan, as they would have a home with the Ravens.”

  “You are even more generous than I realized,” Ramla said. His helmet cast a shadow over his bronze-colored face, and he kept his cloak pulled around his armor as the sun set. “So, you travel with a Lorian, and yet a second sorcerer stalks you. I do not approve of magic, but I cannot deny your sword was helpful. My responsibility is to look after the people of Erindor, and that is why I escort you, for I owe you for saving my life and those of my men, Raven Mistress.”

  “People are quick, too quick, to look away when they see something they don’t approve of or understand,” Taliesin said. “Lord Arundel and his son, Master Xander, are sorcerers, Captain Ramla. Even the Wolf Clan are not whom they pretend to be; Chief Lykus and his clan are Wolfen, similar to the Night Breed, who are true werewolves and turn at the full of the moon. The difference is the Wolf Pack can turn at will…they hunt me as well.” She again refrained from telling him everything, not wanting to reveal she was a Wolfen.

  “No harm will come to you in our company. I know the duke fears many things, including wolves and snakes, but I do not.”

  “I imagine Fakar’s fear came from Tizona,” Taliesin said. “Karnok enchanted his family’s ancestral sword, and I believe he’s the man who also set the snakes upon us. What I’d like to know is how a slave managed to steal Tizona and bring it this far north without being caught.”

  “This I do not know,” Ramla said. “The duke left Shaemone weeks ago to join Lord Arundel at Tantalon Castle. Most our army has gone to Maldavia, but the Red Cobras stayed behind to patrol the area. When we came upon Dahkla, it was only natural to suspect you killed the villagers. May I ask what side you fight for, Raven Mistress?”

  “I don’t know, Captain Ramla. If I must choose, then I suppose it would be for King Frederick, though I have reasons to hate him.” Taliesin sagged in the saddle, exhaustion heavy on eyelids that refused to stay open. The captain drew his horse closer and pushed her upright.

  “Don’t fall asleep,” he said. “We camp soon enough.” He continued to talk while they rode for miles. There was no sign of another town, or smoke, in the distance. His voice was pleasant, and it was difficult to remain awake listening to him drone. “In my leisure, I race camels. Last year my rider came in second in the Annual Desert Dash. I had hoped to have the honor of racing Nairobi in the championship at the capital.”

  Taliesin licked her lips as she imagined a plate full of roasted meat, boiled potatoes, carrots with butter, and fresh baked bread. Her stomach growled, and she sniffed the air, able to smell the bag of jerky tied to her saddle. Her hunger threatened to turn her Wolfen, and she was thankful she still wore her Broa necklace. Captain Wolfgar of the Wolf Clan had bitten her months ago, and Master Phelon had made her drink human blood to ensure she transformed into a beast. But Zarnoc and his sweetheart, Ismeina the White Witch, had created the magical necklace, with a single hair from the goddess, Broa, and an enchanted iron nail. Brought together in a necklace, the two items kept her from morphing into a beast, and she was thankful Sertorius had not taken it from her. Her hunger for raw meat was satisfied with a piece of dried camel jerky; tough to chew, but it took the edge off her hunger.

  “I sent riders ahead to search for your wizard friend. We will make camp without fires tonight, Raven Mistress, although the temperature is already starting to drop.”

  “Call
me Taliesin,” she said, yawning.

  “It is not our custom to be informal; we use only titles, unless we are in private,” he replied. “Your ways are different from ours. A long time ago, Erindor was a sovereign nation, and many of our customs come from the Ghajar and Djaran, who were driven to the corners of the kingdom by Prince Tarquin Draconus. We call him the ‘King for a Day,’ for he ruled but one day before he was struck down by his enemies. The sword you carry betrayed him, they say. To use Ringerike, you must be descended from King Korax Sanqualus, which means your blood must be blue. “

  “It’s true,” she said. “But I am also Draconus on my mother’s side. She is Princess Calista, the king’s younger sister, and my father was John Mandrake, a swordsmith. Mandrake was descended from King Korax.”

  “I know of Mandrake. His swords are coveted by the nobles,” Ramla said, sounding impressed. “I understand now why you did not want to marry Sertorius, since he is your first cousin. The law allows such a marriage, though it does not happen often. You are both a Sanqualus and a Draconus; you have more right to sit on the Ebony Throne than Frederick or his sons.” He looked away from her and pointed to the north. “My men return. Let us hope they’ve found your wizard friend and the orphans.”

  Two riders approached as a crescent moon rose in the sky. Ramla threw up his arm, and his men halted. He rode forward to address the scouts and returned to Taliesin, a relived look on his face.

  “My scouts found an old man and several children not far from here. Two of my men stayed with them. Come,” Ramla said. “Their camp is not far.”

  “By the way, Captain, exactly what does ‘Dahkla’ mean?” Taliesin asked, glancing at him. Curiosity had gotten the better of her; she had wondered about it since they left the town.

  “Oasis,” Ramla replied.

  The answer was not what she expected, and she vowed never to look at an oasis in the same way. While an oasis might appear to be a safe haven in a desert, she now knew safety was nothing but an illusion, and in the future, she needed to remember this lesson.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Four

  Within the hour, Taliesin and the Red Cobras reached Zarnoc’s camp. Nestled in an oasis between high sand dunes, it offered dubious sanctuary. She didn’t want to get too comfortable among the palm trees that grew near the pool of water, not when giant cobras were on the loose. The odor of cooking meat filled the air, yet there was no smoke from the fire.

  “Come meet Zarnoc,” Taliesin said to Ramla.

  “It will be my pleasure,” he replied.

  They dismounted, leaving the men to tend to their horses, and found Zarnoc seated beneath a colorful pavilion. The children, appearing safe and comfortable, sat beside the wizard. Taliesin held her hand out toward the captain.

  “This is Captain Anwar ben Ramla of the Red Cobras,” she said. “Captain, this is Zarnoc the Great, a Lorian wizard, and my dearest friend.”

  “A pleasure,” Zarnoc said. “Both of you look and smell disgusting. Captain Ramla, I suggest a bath for you. I think I can clean up Taliesin.” He waved his hand and her garments and skin became clean and smelled twice as nice as before. “Enjoy the meal I have prepared for you and your men, sir; no giant cobras will bother us tonight.”

  “May I sit with you and talk?” Ramla asked.

  “Certainly, for I have much to talk about,” Zarnoc said.

  “Fine. You two talk. I need to sleep.”

  Taliesin staggered toward a tent, eyes focused on a large pink pillow. The wizard said something, but she dropped to a pallet, face first, closed her eyes, and fell into a restless sleep.

  Images of Tantalon Castle, the mightiest fortress in the entire realm, under siege by Princes Almaric, filled her head. The dukes from Maldavia, Aldagar, and Scrydon had joined the rebel princes’ combined army, and multiple banners waved in the breeze as fires raged inside the castle. Troops from Fregia, Erindor, and Thule, stationed in the castle, fired catapults at siege equipment rolled into place by the enemy. The Wolf Clan slaughtered soldiers from Bavol, loyal to the king, before they reached the border of Maldavia, and outside the castle walls, the Wolf Pack lurked, feeding on soldiers who fell from the battlements. The drawbridge lowered, and the Knights of the White Stag, led by Sir Roland, charged into the fray, cutting through the wolfish beasts. Fregian soldiers blocked the entrance, firing arrows at the enemy. Taliesin stirred in her sleep and groaned aloud as a Wolfen raced toward Sir Roland, foam dripping from its jaws, and jumped into the air. Its teeth sunk into the knight’s throat, and she woke, screaming.

  “You cried out Sir Roland’s name in your sleep,” Zarnoc said, seated at the entrance of the tent and smoking his pipe. Four small forms, covered by blankets, lay behind Taliesin. “Our little birds have found a comfy nest. I have spoken at length with Captain Ramla; he’s a good man, and we’re fortunate to have him with us. He’s assured me the children belong to you.”

  “Belong to me? I don’t want slaves.”

  “I mean, they may join your clan as members. By the way, I took the liberty of changing your clothes while you slept. From the looks of them, Karnok’s snakes nearly made a meal out of you. Don’t worry, though, I used magic.”

  “So, Karnok did survive, after all.”

  “Karnok is quite resourceful. Fear not; he will not find you here, not while you are in my company,” Zarnoc said with pride. “As you grow older, you will become more comfortable using magic. For now, do the best you can. You learned quickly how to use Ringerike, and it will see you become Queen of Caladonia.”

  “I don’t want to be a queen, Zarnoc.”

  Taliesin rubbed sleep from her eyes. She smelled clean, her hair carried the scent of vanilla, and she wore fresh Erindorian robes. The air was cool, not bitterly cold as it had been during the nights in the Salayen Desert in Garridan. There were no fires lit, but Zarnoc had set up ten tents, which she assumed were larger inside than they appeared from the outside. The silence of the night was not as comforting as it should have been. She was worried, and her thoughts were of the rogue wizard from Eagle’s Cliff.

  “You said Karnok summoned the snakes. How do you know?”

  “Because I pay attention,” Zarnoc said with a huff. “I know Karnok; he was my apprentice a long time ago and had a promising career as a sorcerer. Karnok came from Antillia, Bavol. His mother was a high priestess of Broa, and his father a guard at Clairmore Castle. Even as a child, Karnok showed signs of being a warlock. That was three hundred years ago. With the passage of time, magic can corrupt the best of our kind. Karnok was also a pupil. Most of the magic users slain at Eagle’s Cliff were pupils of mine…well, not Ysemay; I met her at Black Castle, one thousand years ago. It’s rather discouraging; either I’m a bad teacher, or I teach the wrong things.”

  “I think you’re a very good teacher.”

  He rolled his shoulders, a frown on his face.

  “You know Ysemay is dead, Zarnoc.” Taliesin found a flask of water beside the wizard, and paused to take a drink. “You know she was using Rook to spy on our clan for Arundel, and she also helped the Eagle Magic Guild capture you and Jaelle. She was dangerous.”

  Zarnoc wrinkled his nose. “You’re dangerous,” he muttered. “Ysemay was a mistake, and I do not mourn her death. However, I am upset you went against my advice, took Jaelle to Talbot Abbey, and gave her the Moon Ring, for in truth, it actually controls the Hellirins. But you don’t listen to my advice. Is it because you think I’m a foolish old man? Do you think I don’t have feelings? Everyone turns on me in the end.”

  “I haven’t turned on you,” Taliesin said. “I didn’t take Jaelle to Nethalburg because I’m afraid of it. Jaelle belongs with her own people, the Ghajar, and since they won’t have her, she’s at the abbey. Sister Samantha is very nice, and she promised to take care of Jaelle.”

  “The same nuns who looked after your mother? Yes, most promising,” he said, spouting smoke into the breeze. The wispy cloud turned into a winged horse and
flew into the night. “I do love horses, and they love me. I know dozens of songs about the virtue and valor of horses. There’s nothing finer than a Morgenstern, but I love the Andorran breed the best. Desert horses run fast, and are steadfast and loyal. Thalagar loves me.”

  “I do too. How is my horse, Zarnoc? I know he made it back to Penkill Castle because Ringerike told me. But has Thalagar forgiven me for nearly getting him killed?”

  She had ridden Thalagar into battle at Dreskull Castle. She’d asked for Stroud’s help, and when he sent a storm that nearly killed them both, she wished ‘things had never happened.’ Ragnal had offered his help, but she’d turned him down, and he allowed Sertorius to defeat Konall. Thalagar was able to escape, but she was caught by Sertorius, who bound her in silver chains and tossed her into the gut wagon.

  “Thalagar is growing fat in a barn at Penkill Castle. Rook is taking very good care of him, don’t worry. However, the story Thalagar told me did not present you in the best light, Taliesin. I warned you before about making wishes. Had you taken to heart what I said, Prince Konall would be alive, your mother would not have sided against you, and you would now be in command of Sertorius’ army.”

  “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, Zarnoc. What happened that night will haunt me forever. Konall was my cousin, and he was kind and good. As for my mother, she has disappointed me, and I have disappointed her. But sometimes I think you expect too much from me.”

  “Oh, posh,” Zarnoc said. “I simply want you to believe in your abilities, Taliesin, and to help you learn how to control your magic. Sertorius had already decided to kill Konall before he attacked the castle; he will do whatever is necessary to be king, and now he has one less brother to worry about. And, turning your mother against you gave him an advantage. If your mother refuses to claim you as her legally-born child, you will never be queen, unless you marry Sertorius.”