Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

“What will you do with us?” an old man asked. A whimper caught Taliesin’s attention. A nervous wolf pup sat at the man’s feet, wagging its tail in a puddle of urine. The pungent odor affected the Wolf Clan, and each turned into a wolf, leaving rags on the floor. As Taliesin lifted a hand, the pack lowered their heads in submission. She had to admit, as wolves, they were beautiful. “We’ll meet again in friendlier times,” she said, smiling at the frightened pup. With a wave of her hand, each wolf turned into a silver spoon. A snap of her fingers sent the spoons sailing into the air, and each landed on the table in a neat row.

  “That’s magic,” Ramla said.

  Taliesin shooed the captain outside, waved out his guards, and closed the door behind her. She clapped her hands three times, and the tower shrank to a small chess piece on the dirty flagstones. She crouched, picked it up, and placed it in the pouch on her sword belt, her thoughts already on Padama, where Sir Roland waited.

  “What are your orders, Raven Mistress?” Ramla asked in a firm voice. Another thing she hadn’t counted on was the loyalty of the Red Cobras. They had not sworn an oath to her, yet were hers to command, and she had accomplished that not with magic, but through a hard-fought battle.

  “You are in command, Captain Ramla. The Red Cobras will stay here. Hold Wolf’s Den until you are relieved by Ravens or Skardans. I will send word as soon as I can,” Taliesin said. “Let no one inside after I leave. People will come, begging entrance, and you will want to allow them in; don’t do it. There are Wolfmen in the forest, watching, and they will try every trick to enter. Close off the dungeon, fill in the sewers, and repair the gate.”

  “Where will you go? To your clan or to the king?”

  “To Tantalon Castle!”

  Spreading her arms, Taliesin turned into a small dragon, which meant she was as large as a horse. She sailed away into the night with the Raven Sword strapped under her left wing, and wondered why she had not tried this before, and why using her magic was suddenly easier. Sometimes it worked for her, and sometimes it worked against her; perhaps that was why more prudent minds saw fit to outlaw magic long ago—it was unpredictable.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Nine

  Dawn caught Taliesin from behind, and warmed her back as she spotted the royal city of Padama. Enemy troops were entrenched around the walls, and banners belonging to Prince Almaric and his allies flapped in the breeze. She flew faster as she heard the crow of a rooster. As she approached, so did the Garridan army with their green flags, led by Prince Sertorius, his blue banner with a white lion visible, and the Knights of Chaos behind the prince. The combined armies from Aldagar, Maldavia, and Scrydon, and the Wolf Clan, cheered the arrival of the Garridans. Soldiers ran out of their tents and waved as Sertorius rode to Almaric’s red tent on top of a hill.

  Taliesin had thought Sertorius might prove to be the one son worthy to sit on the throne, but such was not the case; every action he’d taken since war broke out seemed worse than the last. She had no regrets about her decision to fight him, and her day was brightened by the fact she was not his bride. She circled above the hill and watched Sertorius greet Almaric in a hearty embrace. Both brothers gazed upwards at the same time and saw her. An alarm sounded, and the dukes rushed out of their tents.

  Taliesin flew off and took note of the siege equipment. Catapults, with stacked piles of boulders, and ballistae were stationed on every side of the massive city. The outer wall, surrounded by a moat filled with oil, burned. The besiegers had smashed dozens of holes in the outer city walls, but they had not yet fallen, although the raised drawbridge was charred and peppered with arrows. The city bore signs of damage from the fire and the bombardment, but all was quiet in the streets of Padama. Soldiers slept on the cobblestones, and many slept where they fought. Riders and men on foot patrolled the streets. She flew over the market with its empty vendor stalls and spotted a few stray dogs sniffing a large funeral pyre; they burned their dead. The situation within the city was not critical—not while the walls held and the loyal dukes and soldiers continued to fight for their king.

  She flew higher as she approached a second wall surrounding Tantalon Castle. The enormous fortress was far more impressive than any in Caladonia. Twelve towers, each manned with soldiers, protected the castle. In the courtyard and on the grounds were stationed the armies of Fregia, Erindor, and Thule, and a smaller force from Bavol, that had managed to break through the lines to join King Frederick. The banners of the noble houses and orders of knights were so numerous Taliesin lost count. The soldiers cried out as she floated toward the courtyard, but no one fired at her.

  Her arrival in the inner bailey triggered an alarm, and a church bell rang in the castle. Taliesin landed on her feet and transformed into a tall, young woman with fiery red hair in dragon armor, with the only visible wings on her helmet. Ringerike let out a shrill sound. She approached a door and wondered where the guards were, for no one came to greet her. As she reached for the handle, a silver net dropped from above, fell over her head, and the weights attached to the edges dragged her to the ground. Cursing, Taliesin struggled to get free, but it was no use. Guards in blue tunics with the royal crest of three golden lions, armed with spears and shields, rushed her from all directions.

  “We’ve caught the dragon,” an officer shouted.

  “I’m no dragon, you idiots! I am Taliesin, the Raven Mistress, invited here by Sir Roland Brisbane to help the king!” She stopped fighting and lay still. The guards refused to listen to her, chattering on about dragons as they leveled their spears at her. “Someone fetch Sir Roland. I’ll wait.”

  No one moved to do her bidding. That wasn’t good, she thought. But she didn’t have to wait long before a commotion in a doorway brought a large group outside.

  “Make way for Prince Dinadan,” a soldier shouted as a group of impressive lords and knights, accompanied by several servants, walked toward her. Leading the way was a tall, thin man with a drooping moustache, wearing a red robe trimmed with ermine.

  Prince Dinadan Draconus was not as healthy as Sertorius or Talas Kull. He stood beside Lord Arundel, an older man with a large nose in a gold Eagle cloak. Arundel wore a leather glove on which perched a black eagle. His son, Xander, stood behind him, holding an enormous brown eagle. Both birds squawked at her.

  “Don’t be rude, Claw,” Xander said, petting the brown eagle, which continued to protest. Xander was almost identical in size, shape, and facial features to his father. But there was something less resplendent in his bearing—an indolent refusal to act like a noble—and he sneered with contempt. “That’s our little raven girl. Not so proud are we, Raven Mistress, now you’re down on your knees.”

  “Suck eggs!” Taliesin said, furious. Someone in the crowd laughed. “Where is Sir Roland? I demand to speak to him! I was invited here, asked personally to help save the king, and arrived as soon as I could. Why am I being treated this way?”

  Her thoughts turned to Talas Kull, who had told her not to come to Padama. Everything he said had come true; she had been captured on arrival, and suspected a prison cell or an executioner’s axe awaited her. Wren and Rook might have received the same reception. If they had arrived with Squire Tamal and the Nova brothers, Khamsin, Simoon, Sirocco, and Harmattan, she imagined they now sat in the dungeon. It was possible Roland kept them company; if he remained in command, he would have greeted her and not ordered a net thrown over her. She regretted not remaining in dragon form and eating Arundel and Dinadan for breakfast; sometimes indigestion was worth eating the enemy.

  “I told you they were lovers, Father,” Xander said. “It is part of the reason Sir Roland has been rebellious since his return.” Though the Eagle heir acted and sounded like a spoiled young man, he was eight hundred years old. She had thought Xander was Roland’s friend.

  Taliesin studied Master Xander’s father, finding it hard to fathom either as a merman. Arundel was clean-shaven, and his hair gleamed a lustrous shade of blond. No one knew what the Aladorius f
amily was—it was a well-kept family secret. She knew, of course, but she found them less terrifying than the Wolf Clan, until Arundel took a close look at her; she saw monsters swimming in the depths of his eyes. “You will curb your tongue, girl,” Lord Arundel said in a high, nasally voice. “Take a look, Duke Fakar. You and Banik wanted to meet the Raven Mistress. Here she is, in all her ruffled glory.”

  Two men from Erindor stepped forward. Duke Dhul Fakar wore elegant robes in bright and vibrant colors, and a gold turban on his head. His cousin, Grand Master Banik Dzobian of the Knights of the White Stag, in silver plate mail, wore the familiar white tunic with a golden stag across the front. A large, non-magical scimitar hung at his side, and his long, slick black hair hung straight beside his oval-shaped face. Neither offered friendly smiles. A command from the crowd parted the men.

  “Move aside,” growled a loud voice.

  Chief Lykus, in black armor, a dark gray cloak edged with wolf fur, and a long sword in a leather scabbard burned with the image of wolf prints attached to his belt, bullied his way through the crowd. A shaggy black beard covered his jaw and neck, and his dark eyes narrowed. Taliesin was not surprised to see him; Talas Kull had warned her Arundel and Lykus remained friends. The curl of his upper lip exposed yellow teeth, and he laughed with a deep rumble.

  “Well done, Arundel,” Chief Lykus said in a gruff voice. “Now, all we must do is deliver the Raven Mistress to Prince Almaric to seal our agreement. In exchange for your cooperation, I have delivered Sertorius and Princess Calista to you as hostages. The three-day truce will stand.”

  Wolfmen stepped forward, and the nobles appeared nervous. Xander stepped away as Claw tugged at its leather cords and flapped its wings as it tried to escape. Arundel swept his arm wide as Prince Dinadan, thin and ill-fitted in royal robes, stepped forward. He sniffed the air as he turned to Chief Lykus.

  “Three days is more than enough time for my father’s funeral,” Dinadan said. “If Almaric wants to attend, he may do so, Chief Lykus. He may also remain for my coronation; I intend to place the crown on my head this very evening. You may extend my thanks to my older brother for sticking to our agreement. The battle may resume after I am officially crowned king.” He reached into his robe, removed a heavy gold crown, and offered it to Arundel, who placed it on Dinadan’s head and bowed. “There now. I look like a king, do I not? You may all bow.”

  “Sire,” Lykus said, bowing low. The rest of the men dipped their heads, arms extended, though not one looked impressed. “With your permission, the Wolf Pack will remove this dragon-maiden from your lawn.” At Dinadan’s nod, Lykus stalked past Taliesin, motioning with his hand. “Captain Wolfgar, bring the prisoners forward!”

  Captain Wolfgar’s tall figure emerged from the crowd. His long blond hair blew in the breeze, and his green eyes narrowed. Taliesin knew Wolfgar would not offer help, and her heart ached to see him as she remembered how they had briefly been friends in Duvalen. Those days seemed far removed. Two hooded prisoners, one male and one female, were led forward. The Wolfmen handed them over to the Royal Guards and gathered around Taliesin where she struggled beneath the silver net.

  “What is going on?” Taliesin asked. “I demand to know what happened to King Frederick. I sent a healer who was more than capable of curing him.”

  Lord Arundel whipped about and glared at her, a mocking expression on his gaunt, pale face. As she stared at the Eagle lord, he blinked; two sets of eyelids closed over his pale blue eyes. “You have come too late, Raven Mistress, King Frederick is dead. Long live King Dinadan,” he said. He turned to Lykus and Wolfgar. “Leave the way you came. When you and your men are safely behind the wall, we will close the tunnel, permanently.”

  “It’s just like the old days,” Lykus said, patting Arundel on the shoulder. He did not explain his comment, but Taliesin knew most men thought they had met during the reign of King Frederick, not King Korax’s, one thousand years ago. She considered blurting out the truth, but no one would believe her, nor would they care.

  “But you fight on the wrong side.” Arundel, his arm around Lykus, nodded toward the new king and lowered his voice. “King Dinadan is far more suited to rule than Prince Almaric. I did counsel you against siding with him. The Raven Sword won’t serve Almaric any more than the girl will. You should know by now I never lose, no matter what game I play, old friend.”

  “Varguld is upon us—I could do nothing less, Arundel. Ragnal expects obedience from the Wolf Clan. When Ragnal comes here, and he will, these walls will not protect you or the people inside. If I could, I’d take you with me right now. I will grieve your death, and that of your son, Xander. This is not what I want; if you change your mind, come to me and all will be forgiven.”

  “I offer the same deal to you, Lykus. Tell Almaric he stands a better of chance of ruling if he gets rid of the girl and her sword. Her magic is powerful. Do not forget that, and do not let her out of the silver net, or she will be able to cast spells and turn into a wolf. She is dangerous.”

  “You have a high opinion of her,” Lykus said. “But she does look a little like him, doesn’t she?” He meant King Korax, but kept that part to himself. “She is impetuous and aggressive. Pity; I wanted her broken.”

  “There is no resemblance.”

  “What’s that? You two have whispered long enough,” Dinadan called. He pulled Duke Fakar with him as he approached the two Clan lords. “Take your prisoner and leave, Chief Lykus. I have every intention of disbanding your clans after Almaric is defeated. My father indulged you because the clans were tradition, but some old traditions need to be broken. That much I did hear you say, and I agree.”

  Both Lykus and Arundel laughed and clasped arms. The bond between them had lasted through the ages, and their affection for one another was evident. Taliesin thought about the Traveling Tower in her pocket. The royal court of King Korax, men and women known by Lykus and Arundel, were inside, where she’d left them on the table. She could sense an uproar inside the tiny tower, for Tantalon Castle was built on the remains of Black Castle, King Korax’s residence, and the royal court knew they’d come home. While she lay on the ground, unable to move under the net, she willed the royal court to remain quiet. If they started shouting, even within the tower, she feared Arundel or Xander would hear them.

  “Fetch the Raven Mistress, Captain Wolfgar,” Lykus said. “Taliesin still has the Raven Sword, and if she gets out, there will be bloodshed. Make sure she is delivered to Prince Almaric. I will be with you momentarily.”

  “As you wish, my Lord.”

  Wolfgar and five of the Wolf Clan approached Taliesin and put on gloves before they grabbed the silver net. As they dragged Taliesin past Sertorius and Calista, still hooded, Calista shouted in a muffled voice, and Sertorius offered a string of curses. Sertorius stumbled forward and slammed into Wolfgar. Furious the King’s Guards had reacted so slowly, Wolfgar released the net, caught the prince, and used a knife to cut through the ropes and remove the hood. The prince had a knife of his own, and a scuffle ensued between Sertorius and Wolfgar. The prince traded jabs with Wolfgar, turned to stab a royal guard, and then ran across the yard. Wolfgar chased the prince, tackled and disarmed him, dragged Sertorius to the lords, and threw him on the ground beside Taliesin.

  “Dinadan, you’ll pay for your treachery,” Sertorius shouted. “You poisoned our father; I know you did. I didn’t want that to happen, nor did Almaric. You have blood on your hands, Brother. The people won’t follow a king who murdered his own father. Had you let the battle play out, our father would have surrendered and been sent into exile.”

  “I didn’t poison father! Take it back!”

  “If you didn’t kill him, who did?”

  “I have no idea, and it’s no longer your concern, Sertorius. Take him away,” Dinadan shouted. As his brother was dragged off, Dinadan approached his aunt, who sat with legs curled under her. He removed her hood and extended his hand to help the woman to her feet. “I do apologize, Aunt
Calista, for your rough treatment at the hands of the Wolf Clan; these Wolfmen have no manners. You must not believe Sertorius. I did not poison my father. He was sick. Old and sick.”

  “I am not here to judge you, Your Grace. Nor am I surprised to find you are the son to wear his father’s crown. You were always the smartest of the litter.”

  “Then you’re not angry with me?”

  “How can I be angry when you are my savior? You delivered me from Sertorius and Almaric, my cunning boy,” Calista said, almost purring. Her brown hair, usually pinned on top of her head, hung in disarray. She smiled when Arundel helped her to her feet then cut the ropes from her wrists. “I’m glad Frederick is dead. My brother imprisoned me in the abbey and murdered my husband. There is no blame here, I assure you, only my sincere appreciation, my Lord. It saddens me to tell you Sertorius killed your brother, Konall, in cold blood; the runt deserves the same fate as Frederick. Now take me to my brother’s body, for I desire to make certain he is dead.”

  “Do you not want to talk to the girl?” Arundel asked.

  “Why should I want to talk to her? Have her removed from the lawn,” Calista said, taking Arundel’s arm. “I should so much like it if you escorted me inside. You can tell me everything that has happened during my absence from court.”

  “Have my letters not been enough?”

  A blush appeared on Calista’s cheeks to convey she had not wanted this known. Taliesin wondered what they had shared over the last twenty-five years, and wondered if anyone else found it odd. Arundel lowered his gaze, a frown on his face, realizing his error, but Calista merely laughed and gave the Eagle lord’s arm a little shake.

  “Exchanged letters are nothing compared to a good, long talk, Lord Arundel,” Calista replied, casting a sly gaze on Chief Lykus who motioned for Wolfgar to attend to Taliesin. “Be careful with that one, Chief Lykus. I have seen her use magic. When she is angry, she is better able to control it, so you don’t want her to lose her temper.”