Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “I won’t marry him. And it’s obvious my mother doesn’t love me,” Taliesin said. “I don’t count on her support, nor do I think she’ll acknowledge me, Zarnoc. Being a queen isn’t my top priority. You know that.”

  “Sister Samantha will take care of Jaelle; they know the gypsy girl is a darkling. And since you stuck the Moon Ring on her finger, the girl can summon the Hellirins, if she wants to. I’m not blaming you for what happened at Dreskull Castle, Taliesin, nor for what happened at Eagle’s Cliff, or for the death and resurrection of Jaelle. You gave her the ring to keep her from turning into a zombie. Your intentions were good; they usually are.”

  “That’s the first nice thing you’ve said to me since I got here. I just want to go home, Zarnoc. I don’t want any more life lessons.”

  “That I can’t help; you’ll get them, whether you want them or not.”

  The wizard sighed and shifted over to a nearby pile of pillows. He wiggled his feet and puffed on his pipe. Zarnoc didn’t have to appear as an old man with a long white beard, but that’s how he wanted to be seen. He was Lorian, a fairy, which meant his life span was considerably longer than a human’s. He was more than one thousand years old, and his true form was that of a man, not unattractive, in his late thirties. His gray eyes twinkled when he was in a good mood and darkened when angered. He was not without faults, for he had a fondness for smoking, drinking too much wine, and gossiping more than a blue jay. But he meant well, and she was fond of him. After all, Zarnoc was her uncle, seventy times removed, of course, but family all the same.

  “What is going to happen, Zarnoc? Wren had a way to predict the future,” she said. “Her visions were helpful. I know you can see the future, too. Will Tantalon Castle fall? Will Sertorius or Almaric sit on the throne? Or will it be me?”

  Zarnoc gave her a gentle smile. “There are many possible outcomes,” he said. “I believe it will be the youngest Draconus who sits on the throne. It’s a shame about the Deceiver’s Map falling into Sertorius’ hands, yet fortunate the map will continue to lie to him since it favors you. That boy is rotten to the core. I may not approve of everything his father has done during his reign, but say what you will about King Frederick, he has tried to maintain peace.

  “Sertorius has my map and Tarquin’s ring. But I have Ringerike.”

  “Does he?” Zarnoc laughed. “Last night I slipped into Sertorius’ tent and stole the map, Tarquin’s magic ring, and Calaburn. Sertorius was furious when he awoke to find these precious items missing. I now present them to you.”

  Taliesin gasped as the wizard lifted his hand to show off the sapphire ring on his middle finger, which he removed and gave to her. The tiniest piece of a red scarf poked out from under his nightcap. He gave it a tug and sent the scarf floating toward her. As it landed on her lap, it turned into the map.

  “I love you, Zarnoc,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Taliesin leaned over and kissed his cheek. His withered features altered, and he gazed at her with a youthful face, eyes moist with tears.

  “And I love you,” he said. “Of all my relatives, you are my favorite, and have been since the day you were born.”

  “You’ve always watched over me?”

  “Quite so. I was present when John Mandrake was born, on the first night of summer, the same day you were born,” Zarnoc said. “His father was a swordsmith of no real skill, but he loved his wife, who like your mother had royal blood. I introduced myself to John when he was six years old and eager to learn how to work the forge and make swords. His parents were humble folk and allowed me to teach the boy, in my spare time. John was an apt pupil, wanting to know all about magical swords and spells, and I spent the next ten years training him. Falstaff, Gregor, Rivalen, and Maltese, the only female among them, never had the skill John showed. His swords were superior, but he wasn’t as talented as Ardea, the Lorian sorceress who made Ringerike; no one was, or is, as talented as Ardea. Anyway, John grew into a fine young man, and soon had a reputation as one of the finest swordsmiths in the realm. That’s how he caught your mother’s attention; Calista wanted to purchase a sword for her brother, King Frederick, and appeared in John’s shop one day. It was love at first sight. I was there the day they married, and I was present the day he was killed and Calista taken away by Frederick’s guards to Talbot Abbey.”

  “I will never forgive the King for murdering my father.”

  “He was killed by an assassin from Bavol, whom I later had the pleasure of drowning in a lake. I didn’t bother to ask the man’s name, nor does it matter. The culprit paid for his crime, but I too was grieved by John’s death,” Zarnoc said, offering a sympathetic smile. “It was then that Master Osprey of the Raven Clan took you to Raven’s Nest to raise as his own daughter. He gave you the name of Taliesin, and the rest you know.”

  “I was six years old when it happened,” Taliesin said.

  “Frederick was furious with Calista for marrying a commoner and would have killed you too,” Zarnoc said. “I wanted to explain to Frederick who Lord Arundel and Chief Lykus really were, and why he should not trust them or listen to their advice, but I didn’t dare reveal myself. For two hundred years, since the reign of King Magnus and the Magic War, no magic user had stepped foot inside Tantalon Castle, and I was not going to be the first. Arundel and Lykus are wary of me; they know I want to restore magic to the realm, and they know I support you. I suppose they blame me for the death of King Korax. Perhaps it was my fault. A long time ago, they were my friends. After Lykus was bitten by Varg, Arundel blamed me and grew bitter and hateful, and since then I have avoided them. Out of spite, Arundel rounded up all my former pupils and hid them from Frederick at Eagle’s Cliff. You ask what will happen. They will try to kill us when we go to Tantalon Castle, which we will, just not yet.”

  “Didn’t they know you were living as a hermit at the ruins of Pelekus Castle?”

  “No. They never suspected I was the old man,” Zarnoc said, altering his appearance. He pulled at his beard. “Since the day you were born, I knew you would be the one to return magic to the realm. You are related to both King Korax and Prince Tarquin, and though you carry the Raven Sword, I know which you take after. Korax was cruel, there’s no denying it, and Tarquin was honorable. Tarquin would have made a fine king. Had he been born a Sanqualus, and not a Draconus, Ringerike would have served him. Tarquin should have relied on Calaburn, not Ringerike, but both men are dead, and now you have their swords.” He turned and pointed to a long bundle wrapped with plain material. “There is Calaburn. Ringerike will not want you to have it, Taliesin, but you carry both bloodlines, and both swords are yours to keep.”

  “But do I want the Ebony Throne? I won’t marry a Draconus.”

  “I don’t know. Do you?” Zarnoc said. “You also have Tizona. All magical weapons want to be found and kept by you, Taliesin. You’re a sha’tar, and it’s for you to decide what to do with these swords. The real battle for the Ebony Throne has not yet begun. Almaric has been forced to retreat now that Duke Andre Rigelus of Thule has arrived at the capital with his army. The King placed Sir Roland Brisbane in command.”

  “Roland,” Taliesin said, sighing. “He thinks I picked Sertorius over him, and we parted on ill terms; I doubt he’ll be happy to see me.”

  “It’s General Brisbane, now. But what do you care how Roland feels? You have said countless time you hate him, and blamed him for wanting to give Ringerike to King Frederick. But, he is an honorable man, and would make a fine king, Taliesin. He wants nothing more than your love.”

  “I do love Roland, Zarnoc. I do, and I always have,” Taliesin said.

  “Then tell him when you see him, child,” Zarnoc said. “Now let me sleep. The sun has yet to rise, and I am tired.”

  The wizard set aside his pipe, pulled a cloak over his body, and laid his head on a pillow. Taliesin leaned back on the pillows and considered the possibility that one day she and Roland might marry and rule Caladonia as queen and king. It was cer
tainly possible, she thought, and that put a smile on her face.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Five

  The loud snores of the wizard caused the children to stir in their sleep. Marsal lay between his sisters, and the little girl with the dark curls slept closest to Taliesin. Four young recruits were precisely what the Raven Clan needed, if it was to be rebuilt from the ground up. She had neglected to ask the names of the girls, but nicknames would take care of the oversight. It was the way of their clan, and would help the children recover from the loss of their parents. It had helped her.

  Taliesin sat on her pallet with Ringerike beside her. The other magical swords lay at her feet. With the Deceiver’s Map spread on her lap, she studied the positions of the armies outside Padama. The Knights of Chaos had rejoined Sertorius on the King’s Highway and would arrive in about two weeks. It never failed that her magic worked better in Zarnoc’s company. He claimed he was stronger in her presence, a fair trade it seemed, but she would never wield magic like the Lorian wizard, although Ysemay had tried to train her. Taliesin didn’t feel guilty for her death, but it seemed a terrible way to repay someone for their help.

  “Maybe there is hope for the realm, Ringerike.” The sword let out a soft hum. “I keep thinking about Roland. Sometimes I think we never should have left Raven’s Nest, but if we had not, you would still be locked away inside the Cave of the Snake God. I’m glad you’re my sword. It sounds funny, but you have no reason to be jealous. Nor does Roland. I just need to tell him, and maybe he’ll forgive me. Think he will?”

  Another soft hum came from the sword; it was excited, but not by what she said. Taliesin noticed a glimmer of light outside the tent, reached for her sword, and shivered at a tingling sensation that lifted the hairs on her arms. Something was amiss and warranted investigation. She got to her feet, pulled Ringerike from its scabbard, and stepped outside. Ismeina the White stood beside the pool of water. Her long white hair hung to her knees, which made the petite witch seem even smaller.

  “Ismeina? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at Penkill Castle.” Taliesin approached the witch. She’d first met Ismeina in Duvalen, where she was locked inside a harp by Zarnoc’s jealous wife. After Taliesin and Zarnoc released her, Ismeina had gone with them. “Do you need Zarnoc? He is sleeping. Shall I wake him?”

  “I have come to speak with you, Taliesin. More and more people flock to the castle, seeking your protection,” the witch said. “A squire named Tamal arrived a few minutes ago. He said he is a friend of yours.”

  “Before you say another word, tell me how you got here. Karnok has been trailing us and leaving traps, and Zarnoc won’t let me use magic to return to the castle. When I try, I end up with a headache.” Taliesin drew the witch toward the tent. “I feel like a failure. You and Zarnoc had proper training, but I must use my imagination, and when I’m upset, it doesn’t work. And, I think Arundel is using Karnok to block my magic.”

  “It’s a simple enough transportation spell. I could teach it to you, but if Karnok is about, then I’d best not. I’m lucky I made it here. Please, be patient, Taliesin. You have more magic than Zarnoc and I combined. You are a sha’tar, a natural-born witch, and all you need is to harness what is inside. It takes focus and confidence. If others block your magic, it is because you let them. Now, don’t you want to hear what Tamal had to say? He brought news from Sir Roland.”

  “Roland? Is he all right?” Taliesin swallowed a lump in her throat, imagining a dozen horrible instances where Roland was injured, lying in a bed, and calling her name in delirium. She squeezed the witch’s hand. “Tell me. Please.”

  “King Frederick has fallen ill, Taliesin. Sir Roland believes the king was poisoned and does not think he will live through the day. Roland has requested your help. He wants you to come to Tantalon Castle.”

  “Wren is the one who knows about potions, not me. I cannot transport myself to Padama, and Thalagar is not here right now. Honestly, I’d be afraid to try to help the king. Wren and Rook should go in my place.”

  “Captain Rook told me you would say something like this,” Ismeina replied. “Wren has already agreed to go with Tamal, provided you approve, and Rook insists he travel with her. It will mean there is no captain of the Black Wings to protect the castle. I can keep soldiers from the gate, but I cannot fight them. The Black Wings are there for that reason, and they would need another commander.”

  “What about Hawk? He was with Shan Octavio. Has he returned yet?”

  Ismeina nodded. “Last night,” she said. Reaching into her cloak, she removed a small black chess piece and handed it to Taliesin. “I’m returning the Traveling Tower to you; Hawk thought you might need it. I think he will be a fine captain.”

  “Then tell Hawk he’s in charge,” Taliesin said. “I know he’s Wolfen, and that’s my fault, but as long as he wears the Broa necklace I gave him, he won’t turn. I think I should wake Zarnoc, and you both should return to Penkill Castle with the four children we found. Captain Ramla and the Red Cobras will escort me to Tantalon Castle; I need to see Roland.”

  “What’s all this noise?” Zarnoc asked. He walked out of the tent, took one look at Ismeina, and hurried to her. “What a nice surprise.” His arms opened wide and Ismeina embraced him. Their passionate kiss caused Taliesin to look away. “Now, what’s this about King Frederick? Poison, you say. Wren knows what to do, though I admit I am leery to send her and Rook to the royal city.”

  “It’s time to come home, Zarnoc,” the witch said. “You’ve both been away too long. I won’t ask what you’ve been doing, Zarnoc, but Taliesin is needed. I can take her to Tantalon Castle, while you take the children to our home.”

  “Out of the question.” The wizard sniffed. “In fact, it’s a wonder you made it here alive, Ismeina. Karnok is on the loose, and using a transportation spell is too dangerous; it will be safer if we take the children together to Penkill Castle. I also have Tizona and Calaburn, and do not want them falling into the wrong hands. Taliesin and the Erindor captain can make their way to Padama, though I do not approve. Nor is it a good idea. But in any case, Karnok must be found and killed.”

  “Then get ready to leave. I will take care of Karnok.” Taliesin tapped the sapphire ring. Red dragon scales appeared on her body and feet, and a winged helmet covered her head. She slid Ringerike into the scabbard on her back, and with a quick pull on her scarf, turned it into a map in her hands. “It’s not working. Why won’t the map show me where Karnok is?”

  “It’s a magical map, and may or may not show the location of another magic user. But I assure you, child, Karnok is nearby,” Zarnoc said. “I have no doubt he’ll appear after Ismeina and I leave.” He patted the witch’s hand. “Don’t look so worried, dear. If the girl is going to be queen one day, she must get used to handling these matters on her own.”

  Ismeina gave him a stern look. “I think you’ve interfered in Taliesin’s affairs long enough, Zarnoc. She should have been home days ago, and while you think you’re helping her, all you’re doing is delaying the inevitable. The King is dying,” Ismeina said, in a sharp voice. “Your days of being a teacher are long over. Now come with me, for I have a few things to say to you in private; I’m not at all happy with you.”

  While the witch dragged Zarnoc into the tent, still scolding him, Taliesin searched for Captain Ramla. She found the inside of his tent to be as large as a castle barracks, with soldiers sleeping in beds next to tables holding pitchers and bowls for washing.

  “Captain Ramla! Wake up,” Taliesin said. A head lifted from a soft pillow; Zarnoc had made her sleep on the ground. “We have a sorcerer to catch and someone has poisoned the King, so rouse your men. The sun is up.”

  “All of you wake up,” Ramla shouted and sprang from his bed. The bed vanished the moment his feet touched the ground. He dressed in his armor and belted on his scimitar while Taliesin waited.

  The soldiers were quick to dress. The tent vanished, and they stood outside, th
eir horses saddled and waiting. Taliesin turned to her tent and found it gone, along with Zarnoc, Ismeina, the children, and the two magical swords. She ran to her horse, took the reins, and swung into the saddle while the Red Cobras mounted. Slivers of yellow and red sunlight appeared on their right as Taliesin led the men north. The temperature remained chilly, and steam rolled from the nostrils of the horses as they trotted through thick brush and cacti. The Erindor soldiers were grumpy, having been denied breakfast, and remained quiet as Taliesin rode beside Ramla. She removed the red scarf from her neck, and it turned into the Deceiver’s Map. She attached it to a board, placed it on her lap, and scanned it for Karnok. The map revealed the sorcerer moving fast ahead of them. She tapped the map. It turned into a scarf and she again tied it around her neck.

  “Was that a map?” Captain Ramla asked, curious.

  “A Deceiver’s Map, created by Zoltaire, a powerful sorcerer. There are only three in existence, and I have one of them. The sorcerer who destroyed the town is a few miles ahead of us. Karnok travels as a bird, but Ringerike will warn me when he changes course, and he will, for he knows Zarnoc has left our company.”

  “The armor you wear is made of dragon scales,” Ramla said, “and dragon scales are valuable. If I was this Karnok, I would make certain your enemies knew where to find you, and in that armor, you stand out.”

  “That’s the whole point, Captain Ramla. I want Karnok to come after me,” Taliesin said, tempted to glance at the map once more. The sword gave her a tap, reassuring her that, for the moment, they were not in danger. She knew it was a bad habit to rely on Ringerike for information, instead of focusing on her surroundings and honing her magic skills; Zarnoc had told her so. His new lover, Ismeina, had been displeased with his strategy, forcing Taliesin to ride back, but he was right; the wizard was usually right about his decisions, though Taliesin hated to admit it. She gazed at the captain, able to see his mind clicking and thoughts whirling, as his eyes narrowed.