Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “How did you do it?” Taliesin asked. “Was it Heggen, Navenna, or Mira who helped you bring me here? You don’t have the talent.”

  “Heggen. But I too have magic abilities…that’s why I am a god.”

  A muscle twitched in her face, and for a moment, she feared a whisker was about to sprout. Taliesin kept her anger in check as she pointed her sword at the big white wolf and kept her eyes trained on Ragnal.

  “For some reason, I get the feeling you have trouble at home,” Taliesin said, on a hunch. “Something to do with Mira. The Goddess of the Moon is done with you, is that it? You quarreled, and you came to me to lick your wounds. I always wondered why Mira and Navenna agreed to share you. Twins, indeed, that possess personalities as different as night and day. But they have one thing in common…neither wants Ragnal leftovers.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ragnal shouted, shaking a fist at her. “Mock me, and I will cut the smile from your face, Raven girl!”

  “I’m right! You did argue with Mira!” Taliesin watched Ragnal’s eyes widened. It was not the sword that alerted her to Ragnal’s domestic problems, it was her Wolfen senses; she smelled his sorrow and heartache. “That’s why Heggen helps you; Mira won’t anymore, and it seems Navenna has turned her back on you, too. This is a surprise.”

  Minerva slunk toward the god. “Don’t listen to her, Great One,” she hissed. “The girl wants to delay her death. Kill her!”

  “Be silent!” Ragnal glanced at the old woman, causing her to move aside, dragging the two wolf boys with her. He lifted Bone in both hands and held it straight before him as he walked toward Taliesin. Both god and wolf snarled. “One last chance, Raven Mistress. Help Prince Almaric bring down the walls of Tantalon Castle. He is Wolfen, like you; agree to marry him, and I will spare your life. After you tear out the King’s throat and drink his blood, the realm will bay at the moon. Can you not hear the battle outside? The Red Cobras cannot defeat the Wolf Pack. True, the oldest wolves, the ones left behind to defend their home, fight them. But, old wolves are the fiercest.

  “Who called it off first? Mira or Navenna?”

  “You assume too much, girl.”

  “Cut out her tongue!” Minerva screamed. The twins stood at her side, grotesque and deformed, whimpering when she stroked them with her boney hands. “Cut it out and feed it to my boys, for they are hungry, Lord. We desire to dine on the Raven Mistress’s flesh.”

  “What happened?” Taliesin asked, one last time. “I sincerely want to know, Ragnal.”

  “Very well,” he said. “Mira no longer wants to share. She gave me to Navenna, as if I were a gift to be given away! Me! The god of war! Mira will not go unpunished! No one rejects my love!”

  “I did,” she stated.

  “Yes, a mistake on your part. Cano! Kill!” Ragnal shouted.

  Cano rushed Taliesin, and the Raven Sword lifted as the massive jaws opened, snapping, but they were unable to break through the blue orb that surrounded her. The light deflected a downward stroke from Ragnal’s sword. With a loud curse, the god chopped through the table, displaying the immense power of his weapon. Ringerike chose to strike the werewolf, and the tip of the sword sliced off a long fang as Cano clawed the blue light, trying to break through. Again, Ragnal struck the orb, and this time it collapsed.

  Cano was a blur of white as it lunged at Taliesin, and its claws scratched across her dragon armor. She slammed the sword against Cano’s flank and knocked the werewolf aside, while Ringerike cut stripes across the beast’s chest. Another stroke sliced through Cano’s neck, and a burst of blood sprayed across the room. As the werewolf collapsed, Taliesin spun to find Ragnal right behind her, his sword raised over his head.

  “Cano!” Ragnal staggered backwards. “What have you done, woman? You have slain my beloved werewolf!”

  “Varg is next; I’m feeling plucky,” Taliesin snarled.

  “Feel pain, mortal!”

  Bone flashed through the air. Ringerike instantly responded, and the two powerful swords clashed together. The single blow shook the floor. Ragnal lifted his sword with a scream of rage and hacked at Taliesin, forcing her to back across the room, on the defense. She blocked each blow, while Ragnal used Bone like a club, not parrying or thrusting, but battering at her. Red and blue sparks shot across the room each time Bone and Ringerike connected.

  Taliesin clung to the sword’s hilt with both hands, jerked about like a rag doll as the Raven Sword fought with a mind of its own. Ragnal snarled as he locked swords with her, lifted his fist, and struck her in the face. Taliesin stumbled backwards, her jaw bruised, and shook off a wave of dizziness. The war god laughed maniacally as he rushed Taliesin, his sword raised high. She gripped Ringerike tighter and swung, catching his blade as it arced down, and another fountain of sparks shot into the air. Tiny sparks drifted toward Minerva and set her black dress on fire. The old woman burst into flame like a torch, and, howling in pain, ran toward the door, throwing it open as she ran into the midst of the battle. The twins loped after her, arms hanging at their sides without moving, and vanished.

  “Surrender, and I will spare your life,” Ragnal said, as the women-folk ran toward the door and stripped off their clothes to morph into wolves. He paid them no attention, yet his eyes appeared frantic behind the slits of his visor. “This is my final offer, Raven Mistress!”

  Taliesin struck. Her sword knocked Bone aside and plunged into Ragnal’s stomach. He stepped back, a shocked look on his face, and her sword slid out, slick with blood. The god turned and ran through the door.

  She pursued, racing out of the castle, and turned at the last instant as a wolf jumped her from the side. Her sword stabbed into its chest. The wolf hit the porch, rolled off, and turned into an old man. Sickened, she searched for Ragnal, wanting to finish him off. The god had reason to panic; the Red Cobras had managed to kill most of the Wolfen. The elderly wolves were no match for the Erindor soldiers, but they had inflicted losses.

  Taliesin stabbed two Red Cobras crouched on the ground, who were beginning to sprout muzzles, and continued after Ragnal. The god stood over Minerva’s burned body, one hand on his stomach and Bone raised high in the other. The twins spotted Taliesin and attacked. She killed both wolf boys with a loud sob while Ragnal backed away from her. As Taliesin advanced, Varg raced toward his wounded master and stood in front of Taliesin; the black wolf’s jaws dripped with blood.

  The battle abruptly ended at the sound of pounding on the front gate; someone wanted in. As the wood splintered, creating a hole, Taliesin saw men in furs and armor on the other side of the gate, using axes to chop their way into Wolf’s Den. The Red Cobras formed ranks near the gate as the wolves slunk into the castle.

  “We must flee, my Lord,” Varg said, in a deep voice. “Talas Kull fights against us! He has betrayed us!”

  “It seems you have won this fight, Raven Mistress,” Ragnal snarled. “But you have not seen the last of me. Come, Varg. We return to Mt. Helos.” He placed his bloody hand on Varg’s head, and together, they vanished into the night.

  The gates to Wolf’s Den crashed open, and Skardan barbarians, led by a tall figure in a fur cloak, streamed in. Taliesin ran to the Red Cobras, and stood beside Captain Ramla as the Skardans surrounded them. The brutish warriors wore helmets, leather tunics, and fur, and carried long axes and round shields, painted with grisly images. The Skardans killed the wounded wolves that had started to regenerate and rise. More barbarians entered the castle and outer buildings, and the voices of frightened women and children turned into howls. Two large wolves jumped from an upper story, an attempt to elude the barbarians that ended with savagery; caught near the wall, they were hacked into small pieces.

  “The Skardans help us? I don’t understand, Captain Ramla,” Taliesin said, keeping her eye on the tall warrior she assumed to be their leader. “Skarda fights for Amalric, or so I was led to believe. Is that Talas Kull? I don’t want the women and children killed. These people aren’t
evil, they follow orders. Please, Captain, the disease can be controlled. I know; I am cursed.”

  “You...you’re Wolfen?” The captain stared at her. “You were bitten?”

  “A long time ago, yes, but I can control my wild side. So can these people, with my help.”

  “That is Talas Kull; if you want the killing to stop, tell him. The Wolf Clan took many of my men this night, and I for one, want to see them punished.”

  With Ringerike carefully kept low by her side, and the blue light no longer visible, Taliesin approached the tall man. “Talas Kull! I am the Raven Mistress!” She lifted her hand. The bearded man scowled at her, and his dark blue eyes narrowed. He looked familiar to Taliesin. “These people are my prisoners. Tell your men to stop killing them.”

  “Why?” Kull said in a deep voice. “If you know who I am, woman, then you know I do not take orders. I give them.”

  Taliesin kept her head high. “As the Raven Mistress,” she said, “it is my right to offer protection to another clan. I give my protection to the women and children of the Wolf Clan. Order your men to stand down and release the wolves. These people belong to me, Talas Kull, and I do not want them killed.”

  “A few Red Cobras are injured. They must be put to the sword.”

  “The injured will not turn; not unless they drink human blood.”

  “I do not pay heed to the laws of the Three Clans nor of your king. Nor do I care what the Raven Mistress wants. I am Talas Kull, and I want to kill the Wolfen.”

  “This is Ringerike, the Raven Sword. You know the stories about this sword,” Taliesin said in a fierce voice. “Give the order. Now.”

  A gloved fist raised in the air as Talas Kull signaled his warriors; though he said not a word, the killing ended. Shouts came from inside the castle. Warriors filtered into the courtyard, dragging women and children on leashes. Ramla approached Taliesin and Talas Kull, while the Red Cobras collected their dead and pulled them into a pile. He removed his helmet, tucked it under his arm, and bowed his head.

  “I am Captain Anwar ben Ramla, my Lord. Will you allow us to burn our dead and tend to our wounded?” Ramla asked. He glanced at Taliesin. “If you can heal my men, I would appreciate it. You might also explain how we came to be here, instead of Raven’s Nest.”

  “Ragnal was helped by Heggen, and they brought us here. I thought you saw the war god, Captain; I wounded Ragnal and killed Cano. The dead wolf is in the hall, if either of you don’t believe me.”

  “You killed Cano?” Talas Kull kept his eyes on Taliesin. “I came here to clear out this den, not to assist you, Raven Mistress. But I am glad we came when we did. I should like to skin Cano and wear his pelt.”

  “He’s yours.”

  “You think me cruel,” Kull said. “This civil war threatens Skarda. Mt. Helos is in my kingdom; if the gods are involved in this war, then I’d like to hear your story, Raven Mistress.”

  Taliesin held out her sword. “Gods can bleed,” she said as she sheathed Ringerike. “The story is long.”

  A Skardan approached his leader and handed him a horn filled with ale. Talas Kull drank, and then handed the horn to Taliesin. “Drink, Raven Mistress,” Kull said. “One of you men bring the Captain and the Red Cobras ale. And burn these bodies!”

  Ale in two more horns was brought to the Skardan leader and the Red Cobra captain, and the soldiers were offered drinks. Skardans stood by and watched three Erindor soldiers tend to their wounded while bodies were dragged outside the castle walls, lumped into a pile, and burned in a large fire. Taliesin lifted her horn and tapped it against Ramla’s, but Talas Kull was already drinking his ale. She gulped the contents, wiped foam off her upper lip, and studied Kull’s face.

  The image of a young boy chasing her through the gardens in Padama entered Taliesin’s thoughts. Five Draconus princes frequented the royal gardens, but only Sertorius and his older brother, Galinn, had played with the blacksmith’s daughter. She had been close to Sertorius, her playmate, but remembered Galinn had made them each a wooden knight, carved by his own hand and presented to them one sunny afternoon. Years later, Galinn had been riding with Almaric when he’d vanished near the Scrydon border. Taliesin wondered if this man could be Prince Galinn. His eyes were the same color as Sertorius,’ and he was handsome beneath his scruffy beard. She finished the horn, and was pleasantly surprised when a Skardan stepped forward to refill it from a keg.

  “I know you,” Taliesin said, lifting her index finger off the horn to point. “We met in Padama many years ago. You were a few years older than me, but I recognize you, Prince Galinn Draconus, fourth son of King Frederick and Queen Aislynn. Princess Calista, your aunt, and John Mandrake, the blacksmith, were my parents. My true name is Rosamond Mandrake, and that makes us cousins.”

  “You are a clever woman. But I do not go by that name now.”

  Ramla lowered his drinking horn. “I cannot believe what I am hearing,” he said. “A Draconus prince is the Talas of Skarda.”

  “Talas is a title for ‘king,’” Kull replied. He moved aside for a warrior woman dragging a body by its heels who glared at Taliesin with disapproval. The trio walked to the porch of the main hall to watch as bodies were taken through the gate and the yard was cleared. In the distance, wolf howls continued to haunt the night. “The title comes from Prince Tarquin’s son, Talas Draconus, who was first to conquer the northern lands of Skarda. These warriors are descendants from the soldiers who joined King Talas on the march north. How I came to be Talas is a long story, best told over a campfire, far from this place. And yours, Raven Mistress?”

  Taliesin glanced through the open door into the hall where men were skinning the white wolf. She looked away with a shiver. “Your father murdered mine,” she whispered as a distant mournful howl turned into a chorus. “Master Osprey fetched me that same night, gave me the name Taliesin, and made me a member of his clan. I only recently found out about my lineage. But I don’t want to discuss it here.”

  Captain Ramla finished his ale and shook his head when a waiting Skardan offered to refill it. “Our duke fights for King Frederick. Not Prince Almaric. Who do you fight for, Talas Kull?”

  “Skarda. I took Almaric’s gold, but that is all,” Kull said with a sigh. “You said Ragnal brought you both here. My people have long guarded Mt. Helos. We do not pray to your gods; to us, they are the enemy. So are the Wolf and Eagle Clans. It would seem we are on the same side, Taliesin. But you should know Lord Arundel and Chief Lykus are allies. The Eagle and Wolf lords’ friendship has lasted centuries. I know what they truly are, and they do not serve the Kings of Caladonia; they merely bide their time waiting to rip out the royal jugular vein. Let me do you a favor and kill your enemy.” He pointed at the prisoners. The old and young knelt on the ground, huddled together, guarded by Skardan warriors. “Never trust anyone who has reason to kill you. These people and their chief worship Ragnal, and while Almaric does so, they will serve him. But that won’t last.”

  “When Varg is dead, the curse will be lifted,” Taliesin said. “If I can save these people, I will, Talas Kull. The hour is late. I have the means to contain these prisoners so they can harm none while I arrange to find Varg. There is much to do before I am ready to scale Mt. Helos. I also mean to hold this castle, and I need your help to do so, Kull.”

  The Skardan king finished his ale and tossed the horn to a warrior. “Before we talk, show me how you intend to contain the Wolf Clan. I want to see your magic at work.”

  “I spent a part of the afternoon as a dragon,” Ramla said. “I assure you Taliesin is a sha’tar. Only this morning, I was in Erindor, and now we are here.”

  “I will not hand over Wolf’s Den unless I can be sure she is what she claims to be,” he said. “I am not a trusting man.”

  Taliesin reached into the pouch at her side. She removed the Traveling Tower, no larger than a rook from a chessboard, and walked from the two men. Motioning for the Skardan and Erindor warriors to move aside, she placed it on
the ground and returned to stand beside Talas Kull and Captain Ramla. Stillness fell over the courtyard, and not even the Wolf Clan stirred. Everyone watched as she clapped her hands three times, and the chess piece sprouted into a large tower in a matter of seconds.

  Taliesin approached the tower and opened the door. A golden glow came from the entrance. Within the tower, logs sputtered to life in the fireplace and candles lit of their own volition. She motioned for the two men to step forward.

  “Come inside, gentlemen, so we can talk in private.” Taliesin smiled when neither man budged; both stared at the tower in awe. “This is the home I use when I travel abroad. You said you wanted to see my magic at work. Please. Join me inside.”

  “I am already impressed,” Talas Kull said as he stepped forward, more curious than frightened. He snatched Captain Ramla’s arm and dragged the Erindor captain with him as they followed her into the tower.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Shadows moved across the walls of the tower, whispering, as Taliesin led the two men to a long table. They sat across from each other on benches while she poured wine into three crystal glasses. The Traveling Tower came with everything; arranged on the table was a wide selection of items, from hairbrushes, daggers, and jewelry, to a writing quill and several books. The whispers came from the objects. Kull looked concerned as he stared at a silver hairbrush that giggled like a woman.

  Each article was one of the members of King Korax’s royal court. Queen Dehavilyn of the Duvalen had turned them into the items on orders from the goddess Mira, for reasons Taliesin thought selfish, at best. Mira had been angry Zarnoc had allowed King Korax to die. Though Dehavilyn had a hand in the deaths of Korax and Tarquin, the goddess did not blame her; instead, Mira asked the queen to turn the returning Raven Clan from the Raven King’s court into enchanted objects as punishment. It was hardly fair, but that’s how it had played out.