Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “That’s Phelon’s scent,” she whispered. “I also smell Xander.”

  Taliesin walked past a number of coffins, attracted to the brilliant glow of candles in an alcove to her left, and wondered if Prince Konall lay entombed there. She entered the alcove, stared at the hastily carved effigy, and found it in poor taste that instead of a sword, the figure held a head in his hands. It was Konall’s coffin, and someone had placed a wreath of white roses at his headless shoulders, and a pair of beautiful gauntlets beside it. If Sertorius and Dinadan had paid their respects to their brother, it certainly had not been while she was there, and from the way they acted, she doubted they had at all, and it made her sad. She walked to the coffin, stared at the head, and remembered his smile had been warm and friendly in life.

  “My poor cousin,” she said. “You’re the best of those brats, and you’re the one who is dead. I’m sorry, Konall. I feel like it’s my fault. I did try to fight for you; I really did try to save you. Please, forgive me for failing you.”

  Something moved behind the coffin.

  “Hello, Taliesin.” Phelon popped up and grinned, catching her by surprise. He was shorter than Taliesin, and very slender, with red hair and a narrow face, like a fox. A dagger was clutched in his hand. “Sir Roland is careless to let you wander around this place without a chaperone. Did you tell him it was I who turned you?”

  “It was Captain Wolfgar who bit me, not you, and yes, Sir Roland knows what transpired between all of us. Had you stayed with me, Phelon, instead of running off, you could have met the dragon, Bonaparte. He was very nice.”

  “I decided to leave after thirty minutes of watching you remain lip-locked with that monster. Did you tell Roland that part of the story? I can tell you left it out,” Phelon said, laughing. “I knew you’d go to Duvalen, and you did, so I sent Captain Wolfgar to find you. You know, the last time I saw you….” he paused to scratch his initials into the effigy’s cheek with his dagger, “…. my right leg was caught in a wolf trap near Raven’s Nest. You killed the trappers, but failed to release me. I had to gnaw off my own paw to escape, but it regrew; it always does. You’re a Wolfen, yet you tried to turn Wolfgar into a little Raven.”

  “I like Wolfgar.”

  “You seem to like quite a few men,” Phelon said. “Does Roland know you slept in the same bed as Wolfgar, tended his wounds, and kissed him? Just how many men have you kissed, Taliesin? You kissed me; a chaste kiss, granted, but a kiss all the same. You’re quite fickle, aren’t you? Rather like Korax, so they say. The curse can be passed on with a little kiss. You must be careful or you will infect your lover the moment you...well, how can I put it delicately?”

  “Even your essence can spread the disease,” Xander said as he appeared beside Phelon. His hair was blond and lank, and he wore black to blend with the shadows. Dark rings hung under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days, and his pale complexion gave him the appearance of a walking corpse. “I warned Roland Brisbane to stay away from you; I told him not to send for you. You’re too late to save King Frederick. I can tell you wear Ringerike under your cloak, Princess Rosamond. I told you she’d wear it, Phelon.”

  “So, the runt of the wolf litter and the sickly eaglet have joined the same side. What are you two doing here? You’re not here to mourn Konall.”

  Taliesin wanted to laugh when Sertorius appeared beside her. She did not need the prince to defend her, not when she had the Raven Sword.

  “Conspiring and plotting,” Sertorius said with contempt. “I am not surprised to find you here. Neither of you has any manners. You scratched my brother’s face, you little wolf. How dare you defile his effigy?”

  “You took his head,” Xander replied. “I think you’re the little wolf.”

  “I could make him one,” Phelon said. He and Xander laughed.

  Footsteps rushed toward them, and Taliesin glanced over her shoulder as Roland, Bedwyn, Landrake, Andre, and several Thule knights arrived.

  “Is there a reason you two are here?” Duke Andre asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Guards, take these two gentlemen out of the crypt and secure the door; I do not want anyone gaining entrance. Advise us when Prince Almaric arrives.”

  “Take your hands off me,” Xander snarled when a guard reached for him. “I should have killed you in the Salayen Desert, sha’tar.” He pointed at Taliesin. “She destroyed Eagle’s Cliff and then Wolf’s Den. She has killed her fair share of innocent people, Duke Andre. Instead of searching for the king’s murderer, you should arrest this woman for conspiring with the Ghajar and Skardans against us. She intends to sit on the throne regardless of what the High Council decides. Perhaps we should battle it out, girl; I have magical powers, as well.”

  “Not now, Xander, let’s not upset the Raven Mistress,” Phelon said, and put his hand on Xander’s shoulder. “Taliesin can easily turn you into a spoon and stick you inside her pouch. We know what you did at Wolf’s Den. How did you find Minerva and the twins? Were they still gnawing bones and scratching at fleas?”

  Roland stepped forward. “Enough,” he said. “Both of you will come with us. You can explain to Lord Ungus why you are here; I’m sure he’d like to know.”

  “They came here to laugh at me,” Taliesin said, furious. “If you must know, Ragnal killed Minerva and the twins. The god you worship is the monster. I knew before I came here your fathers are in cahoots. They plotted to kill the Raven Clan, and now they plan to kill me. Is that why you came here? To kill me?”

  “That won’t happen,” Sertorius said. “Guards, take these two rats to the dungeon. My grandfather will agree they need to be in cages.”

  Xander stepped back and shook his finger at Taliesin. She noticed Duke Andre had stopped moving, and the guards appeared frozen, as did Sertorius and Roland. A pale green light appeared at the tip of Xander’s finger, and Phelon flinched out of the way, as the dark magic immobilized every guard and knight in the crypt.

  “What have you done?” Taliesin cried out, able to feel Ringerike, eager to be drawn, quiver in its scabbard.

  “My mother was inside Eagle’s Cliff when you leveled it, you bitch! I intend to exact my revenge,” Xander shouted. “Phelon? What are you waiting for? Turn Wolfen and bite off her head!”

  “Go swim in the moat, Xander! Phelon, don’t you dare slide across that coffin or I’ll turn you into a weasel,” Taliesin shouted. “What no one else seems to realize is both of you are older than you appear—you are both several hundred years old. If your fathers live forever, you will never be lords of your clans. I am the Raven Mistress, and when I am queen, I will destroy your clans.”

  “Use your magic, Xander. Kill her and be done with it,” Phelon snarled. “Kill all of them while you’re at it. You said you’d do it. Or was it just a boast?”

  “Why can’t you do it?”

  “She’s a Wolfen; it would be an insult to my clan.”

  Xander threw his hands into the air and summoned a ball of green light, which sparked with electricity as he launched it toward Taliesin. A bright blue orb surrounded her in an instant. She tapped her hand and drew Ringerike in one smooth motion as her dragon armor appeared. Xander and Phelon ran from behind the coffin and headed to the far end of the crypt. Taliesin ran after them and ducked when another green ball was fired in her direction. It slammed into the blue orb, bounced off, and struck a nearby pillar, which cracked and crumbled to the ground. Xander fired again, and this time the green light hit the Thule knights, unable to defend themselves in their frozen states, and they vanished from sight.

  “Use magic, girl, or you’ll never defeat me,” Xander taunted.

  Taliesin swung her sword as she advanced on Xander. He fired mini green balls of magic at her, and each one was deflected and struck the walls, leaving large holes. When she was close enough to cut him, Xander turned and ran. Taliesin chased the Eagle heir through the crypt, as he used the royal tombs to hide behind and sprinted out of the way of her sword. His spells slammed into the wa
lls behind her, but never once broke through the blue orb, and Xander started to panic. She finally cornered Xander in a small chamber that contained the tomb of King Leonisius, hero of the War of the Thorns.

  An explosion of green light filled the room, and a section of roof fell to the ground. Debris struck the effigy of Leonisius, landing on his face. Xander stood up from behind the coffin, hands held out before him, and dark green flames twisted in each palm. Sparks of green light shot from his fingertips and whizzed toward her. The Raven Sword knocked the missiles aside before slicing into his shoulder. Xander screamed as the green flames engulfed him, and he fell to one knee, crying out in pain, and placed his hand over the wound. Taliesin stood before Xander and lifted the sword, prepared to chop off his head when she heard a loud snarl behind her.

  “I might as well help,” Phelon shouted as he gave Taliesin a hard push. She stumbled forward and nearly tripped over Xander, as she whirled to face the Wolf heir. “After all, I did promise the slimy fish-man.”

  Whiskers appeared on Phelon’s face as it contorted, and his tunic and pants ripped with his sudden transformation into a Wolfen. Saliva dripped from his fangs as Phelon advanced on his hind legs, arms raised and claws black and sharp.

  “Not going to turn, are you, girlie girl? This is one time you shouldn’t resist the urge.”

  In full Wolfen form, Phelon leapt into the air. Taliesin waved her sword, and he flew backwards, slammed into a pillar, and with a yelp, dropped to the floor. Quick to rise and snarling with rage, the Wolf heir rushed her on his hind legs. She pointed Ringerike at Phelon, and was startled to see green blood on the blade, before it jerked her forward and stabbed a furry thigh. Xander’s merman blood added to Ringerike’s sting caused Phelon to let out a louder yelp, and he tried to jump clear. Another wave of her sword produced a blue beam that lifted the Wolf heir off his feet and tossed him like a toy against the far wall. This time he stuck to the wall, unable to move, and snarled until spittle flew from his jaws.

  “Stay, doggy,” Taliesin said, in a stern tone.

  She returned to check on Xander. The Eagle heir was alive, yet for some reason was unable to heal his wound with magic; although a minor injury, it continued to yield green blood. Xander attempted to hide the color of his blood beneath the folds of his cloak as the knights and guards started to move. His spell had been broken, and he was close to panic as voices started to shout, and a large number of armored men rushed down the tunnel toward them.

  “It’s a wonder no one noticed your blood is green,” Taliesin hissed. “Or is this the first time you’ve been wounded? Oh, I know what you are, Xander. Ringerike is magical, and its magic keeps you from healing. Shall I get you a tub of water?”

  “You see too much. Speak of this to no one or you’ll be sorry,” Xander groaned.

  “Sorry of what? Your daddy will be upset? Don’t threaten me, eaglet; you and the puppy tried, and failed, to kill me. I’m sure Lord Ungus will want to know about that. Neither of you seems to realize your powers remain the same, while my magic constantly grows stronger, as does Ringerike.”

  “As a matter-of-fact, I do intend to tell my father,” Xander replied as he stood. He glanced toward Phelon. “Very impressive. What manner of spell is this?”

  “It just comes naturally; no spells are required.”

  “Help,” Phelon whimpered as he wiggled on the wall, still stuck.

  Roland and his knights arrived leading the guards. He took one look at the situation, and sent the guards to peel Phelon like a hotcake off the stones. Taken into custody by the White Stag, Phelon continued to whimper as they fastened silver cuffs linked with a silver chain on his wrists. Xander lifted his head high as Bedwyn and Landrake pointed their swords at him.

  “That was a close call,” Taliesin said as she approached Roland, who put his arm around her and held her close. “I’m not eager to join the dead.”

  “Nor would I be parted from you,” Roland replied.

  Prince Sertorius and several Knights of Chaos arrived. Morgrave, Gallus, and Barstow took one look at Taliesin and moved behind their prince. She remembered Duroc had died in the battle at the border of Erindor and Maldavia.

  “What is going on?” Sertorius asked. “Fighting isn’t allowed inside the crypt!”

  “Xander and Phelon tried to kill the princess.” Roland thundered. “Both will be far more comfortable in the dungeon. I am sure you agree, Prince Sertorius; we cannot allow them to walk free, not when they came here to kill your cousin.”

  “My men will take them into custody. See it to, Sir Barstow. Make certain they do not escape like your last prisoner. Hmm?” Sertorius glared at his men as they grabbed Xander by the arms. “I will personally tell Lord Arundel what transpired here, and I will send word to Chief Lykus. Wolfmen must give their names to the guards at the gate before they enter, Master Phelon, and you broke the terms of the truce by not doing so.”

  Roland motioned toward Sir Bedwyn. “Notify Lord Ungus as to what happened,” he said. “The High Council can determine their fate.”

  “But that bitch attacked me,” Phelon snarled. “She stabbed both of us and used her magic to pin me to the wall.”

  “She is King Frederick’s niece, you damn mutt! Tell your story to Lord Ungus from your cell,” Roland said, in a fine temper.

  The heirs protested as the Knights of Chaos and royal guards escorted them from the crypt. Roland put his hand on Taliesin’s sword arm, lowering it, and turned to Sertorius, who stared at the dragon armor and shiny blue sword with admiration.

  “I appreciate you help, Your Grace. I will escort Princess Rosamond to her room. It would be safer for you to accompany us. Bring Prince Dinadan with you; I can see him cowering behind a coffin. Duke Andre will have to proceed with his investigation without the use of Doomsayer and your cousin. Agreed?”

  “Yes, certainly, Grand Master Roland. I knew it was a mistake to come here,” Sertorius replied. “Young Rigelus means well, but the duke does not understand the depth of hatred between the three clans. They will try again, Roland, of that I have no doubt.” He turned to Taliesin. “The dragon armor suits you, and your sword is as magnificent as the legends say. But do put both away. You are a princess, but at the moment you resemble a warrior. It might give the wrong impression if you are seen walking around in public like this. You are supposed to appear helpless and fragile, like a woman is supposed to be.”

  “I but defended myself, Sertorius,” Taliesin stated.

  “I know, and that is precisely what I will tell my grandfather.” Sertorius headed down the corridor. He passed Duke Andre and Dinadan with the Thule knights. “Come with me. We are leaving.”

  Taliesin glanced at the floor. A pool of green blood where Xander lay caught the attention of the men still in the crypt. She watched the blood slide into a crack and vanish.

  “Is that green liquid the blood of Master Xander?” Sir Bedwyn asked. “It is not human blood. What manner of creature is he, Grand Master?” He accompanied Roland and Taliesin toward the entrance, sword in hand. “Are the rumors true? Is he really a monster with a fish tail?”

  “I can only say the Aladorius lords are not mortal men. Nor are Phelon or his clan, for that matter, but you know that already,” Roland said. He placed his hand on the small of Taliesin’s back, though she needed no comforting; she was furious. “I want this kept quiet. There is to be a feast tonight in honor of the late king, and I do not want any further trouble with the Eagle Clan or the Wolf Clan. Taliesin, make your armor vanish, please, and sheath the Raven Sword.”

  Roland retrieved her cloak, which she had lost in the battle, while she sheathed the sword and turned Tarquin’s ring to make the dragon armor disappear. He placed the cloak around her shoulders and positioned it to hide her broadsword. Duke Andre hurried toward him.

  “I came as soon as I could,” Duke Andre said, out of breath. “Forgive me, Princess Rosamond, for what has transpired here today. I did not realize the Eagle Clan was worki
ng with the Wolf Clan until now. Lord Ungus must be told before tomorrow’s meeting. I will gladly carry the message to him, but should I first send for a physician? Are you injured?”

  “Do not fret; I am fine,” Taliesin said. “The Grand Master of the White Stags and Prince Sertorius arrived in time to protect me. You say the meeting is postponed until tomorrow, Duke Andre? I may not live through the night at this rate. What bird brain decided to wait until morning to pick a ruler?”

  “Lord Ungus,” Duke Andre said, blushing. He glanced at King Frederick’s coffin; four soldiers stood beside it, and other guards stood at each of the royal tombs. “I fear there will be more bloodshed when Prince Almaric arrives. Do not let the princess out of your sight, Grand Master Roland. The Fregian soldiers are right outside; Duke Hercule insists they help protect the princess. Thule also stands ready.”

  “We must proceed with caution, my Lord—you may be the next target,” Roland said as they walked to the glow of sunlight at the open door. “Your father did not meet with an accident while hunting boar, Andre. I am told Arundel had your father killed; Duke Fakar has always wanted a little more of the Thule lands to add to Erindor. I see Sir Justin is among your knights—he’s a good man. I will also assign Sir Jordan of the White Stags to guard you. Don’t go anywhere without them or a full detachment of soldiers. The same goes for Dukes Hercule and Elric. As much as I dislike Fakar, he should be guarded as well, and so should Lord Ungus. If the chancellor is killed, the Old Laws will be ignored, and there will be total chaos.”

  “I understand,” Duke Andre said, a hand pressed over his heart. “My father warned me long ago to be wary of the Eagle and Wolf clans. Now that I know how he died, I will not underestimate Arundel or Lykus, or their heirs, again.”