Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “Arundel wants the city to burn, and keeps me from summoning rain,” Taliesin said, convinced she was right. “I think he did something else wicked, Wren. When the dukes laid their magical weapons on the table, I didn’t sense any magic from them. The Horn of Bran carried by Duke Andre doesn’t work; it must not, or he’d have used it by now to lay low the enemy.”

  Wren stood back. “You mean Arundel disenchanted them?”

  “I think Arundel stole the weapons and replaced them with forgeries,” Taliesin said as her friend gasped. “Ringerike tells me Arundel gave the dukes’ magic swords to Almaric.”

  “But Arundel supports Dinadan.”

  “Not at all. With Frederick’s sons out of the way, Arundel can claim the throne. It’s what he’s always wanted, and what my mother wants.”

  Wren again clung to her. “But you have Ringerike. You can do anything.”

  “Except stop a war,” Taliesin said. “Arundel has manipulated and plotted against every king and queen since the first Draconus sat on the Ebony Throne. He took his time because he is immortal, and I think he enjoys causing pain and suffering.”

  “Zarnoc mentioned Arundel and the gods of Mt. Helos work together. He said they have combined their magic to block yours.”

  “I know,” Taliesin whispered. “If Arundel were to die….”

  “Do you think the gods, fairies, and darklings have waited all this time for someone like you to challenge Arundel? Maybe this is what they want.”

  “So, the choice is not whether a Draconus prince should sit on the Ebony Throne, but whether Arundel or I will rule.”

  A muscle in Taliesin’s cheek twitched. She had never considered Arundel as the master manipulator, yet another mistake on her part. He had orchestrated the death of the Raven Master and her clan. He had killed the king, turned the sons against each other, and involved Ragnal and General Folando. The Eagle lord wasn’t just trying to kill off the Draconus line, he was attempting to destroy everyone else who held power. Though a horrific idea, it was something she had thought about in the past. The only way for peace in the realm was to remove all the ancient rulers, and it sickened to her to know Arundel had thought of the same thing.

  Wren pulled Taliesin toward the stairwell. The breeze carried the odor of smoke and death, and a look of disgust hung on her pretty face. “I know you have tried your best, Taliesin,” she said. “Every witch or wizard you ever met was trained by Zarnoc. You eliminated the guild members and accidentally killed Arundel’s wife. I think it’s what Arundel wanted all along, so he could marry Calista. He is using you to do his dirty work and does not want anyone left alive who offers a threat. I don’t want to bring my child into a world ruled by a lunatic. Arundel must be stopped before we search for our friends. He is the main threat, Taliesin. He always has been.”

  An image of Eagle’s Cliff appeared in Taliesin’s mind. She had arrived on Thalagar, and had called on Ringerike’s powers to destroy the guild and the castle. It had been a moment in time when her powers operated at the highest level. But it hadn’t been accomplished because she was a sha’tar, or because she was able to wield magic with the same strength as Zarnoc or Arundel; Arundel had arranged everything.

  “It all my fault, Wren. I left the Traveling Tower in my room, along with the map, when I arrived at this castle. Arundel had time to find both items and enchant them. He would have done the same to Ringerike, but I never let the sword out of my sight. The only time it hasn’t been with me was earlier today, when Roland held it for me during the meeting.”

  “Had Arundel tried to steal Ringerike, it would have killed him. The sword fights for you, Taliesin. You are at your strongest when you act as a warrior, not a witch, and the sword makes you strong. Rely on Ringerike, not your magic, for the sword will allow you to do great things.”

  The weapon responded to the compliment with a loud whine.

  “Forget about the dragon. Let’s just go,” Wren begged.

  Another volley of stones struck the castle. Taliesin felt the reverberations and squeezed Wren’s hand. A church bell tolled in the distance. Its forlorn soliloquy pronounced a royal death, and Wren’s face grew pale as they entered the stairwell.

  “Either Dinadan or...or your mother has died, Taliesin,” Wren said as they hurried down the stairs. “I saw three versions of what will happen these last three nights. I saw Arundel trap you in a bottle. I saw you slain by Ragnal. And I saw Ragnal imprison a red wolf in a silver cage. But in every version, Rook and I died, and so did Roland, Zarnoc, and everyone else.”

  “That is not going to happen, Wren. I am getting us out of here.”

  Taliesin drew Ringerike as they descended the winding stairs. They continued to the ground level to reach the small library. Royal guards lay dead in the corridor, and the smell of smoke lay thick in the air. They entered the Sun Hall to find it in flames. The Ebony Throne glowed as the fire lapped at the long banners which hung from the rafters. Every tapestry and painting burned, and red flames crackled across the long tables and climbed the legs of the wooden chairs. As they ran through the throne room, Taliesin counted twenty servants, slaughtered like lambs, on the floor. She shielded the girl from a blast of heat with her armored body. They reached the main doors and Taliesin pushed with her shoulder to open them, but someone stood on the opposite side. She concentrated and visualized soldiers who tossed off their black cloaks and morphed into Wolfen.

  “We won’t make it out of here without you being harmed. Let me give you something that will protect you, Wren; dragon scales just might save your life.”

  Taliesin removed a scale from her arm and placed it on Wren’s cheek. Red scale armor spread across the girl’s slender body, and a helmet protected her head. Blazing timbers crashed to the floor, and Ringerike surrounded the pair with a blue orb as they turned and ran to a nearby door used by the servants. The door collapsed at Taliesin’s touch, and a ball of flame struck the blue orb, but Ringerike protected them as they entered a narrow corridor to find more dead servants, ripped apart by the Wolfen.

  “The High Council and their families may share the same fate,” Taliesin said as she pulled Wren behind her. “The library isn’t far, and we’ll leave with Rook and his father just as soon as we get there, Wren. I can turn us all into ravens and we can fly away.”

  “I’d like that, Taliesin. Oh, I’d like that very much.”

  They walked through a labyrinth of chambers to the west end of the castle, and they passed dead bodies within each chamber. None of the kitchen staff, pages, nobles, or royal guards had been spared. Taliesin shut out Wren’s sobs—she needed to remain focused. They reached the small library ahead of the fire. The wooden door with a golden handle, engraved with the images of birds, remained unscathed. Taliesin released Wren’s hand as she turned the handle. Taliesin led the way into the library, her sword held straight before her, while the girl shut the door behind them.

  Stars twinkled outside the tall, slender windows at the far side of the chamber; a single candle provided light. Shelves of books lined the walls, and comfortable furniture formed a square in the center of the room. At a table on the far side of the room, the Erindor duke and his son sat beside a darkened fireplace. Neither seemed aware of what happened outside the library. Duke Dhul Fakar sat with his back to the door, and slumped at an odd angle. His left arm was broken at the shoulder and hung over the back of the chair. Wren screamed and ran to Rook. The young man’s eyes were closed, and his handsome faced looked serene. One hand rested on his father’s arm, but the other pressed to his stomach, where blood seeped through his fingers. A dagger on the table was covered in blood, and more blood pooled beneath both men.

  Taliesin stared at an open window. The image of a Wolfman assassin appeared as he slid through the window, his ascent silent, for he was aided by a pair of magical gauntlets with a red gemstone on the back. The gauntlets had allowed him to scale the wall with ease and enter through the window, unseen and unheard, while the two men sat i
n conversation. A knife in his hand, the Wolfman sliced Fakar’s throat and then stabbed Rook, before he ran back to the window, crawled onto the ledge, jumped into the bushes, and ran off into the night.

  “We’re too late,” Wren said as she threw her arms around Rook. She jarred the table as she pulled Rook into her arms, and the duke’s body crumpled and fell to the floor. “Open your eyes, Rook! We have to leave! It is not safe here. Taliesin is going to send us to Penkill Castle. Wake up. Wake up!”

  Taliesin placed her fingers on Rook’s throat and felt a faint pulse. “He’s still alive,” she said. “I can heal him.” She sheathed her sword, and focused on Rook as she placed both hands on his back, and tried to summon her magic to heal his injuries, but nothing happened.

  “Please wake up, Rook. Our son wants to meet you,” Wren cried.

  A barrage of stones and fireballs continued to slam into the inner courtyard beyond the windows. Almaric had exacted his bloody thirst for revenge, and the howls of wolves filled the night. Wren stepped back from Rook.

  “Do whatever it takes. Save him for me, Taliesin.”

  Taliesin sensed Ringerike’s thoughts as it showed her how to save Rook. She could not heal his injuries with her magic, but she could turn him Wolfen. The sword offered a second suggestion, showing a scene from Black Castle when Ysemay had turned a wounded knight she was unable to heal into a swan. The knight had remained at the castle and lived in a pool in the garden, and when the castle fell to Prince Tarquin, he had flown away, never to be seen again. She removed the dragon scale from Wren’s cheek, added it to her armor, and returned her hand to her friend’s shoulder.

  “The only way to save Rook is to turn him into something else, Wren,” Taliesin said. “I can’t heal his wounds, but I can turn you both into swans. You can fly from here and return to the Raven Clan…or go wherever you want to go.”

  “Yes, do it! Just do it!”

  Taliesin imagined both Wren and Rook as swans, relying on her sword to help her, and felt a strange tingling course down her arms and through her fingers.

  “Be swans! Be free!”

  Silver light spread across Wren’s face as she trembled, let out a soft cry of surprise, and instantly turned into a white swan. She landed on the ground and flapped her wings. A high-pitched, quivering honk came from Rook as he turned into a black swan. He landed on the table with a flap of his wings. Taliesin moved aside, laughing, relieved the magic had worked, and she watched as the pair flew out the open window into the smoke-filled sky.

  “Return to Penkill Castle!” Taliesin shouted. “Return home!”

  Smoke poured into the library from the crack beneath the door, and flames followed and spread across the rug. The fire crept slowly and steadily toward the table, then spread to the books, and the entire room exploded into red. The duke’s body vanished in the flame. Taliesin drew her sword, placed a foot on the window ledge, prepared to jump to the ground, and paused when she heard a pitiful cry in the courtyard.

  “Stroud, help me! They have killed me!”

  Dinadan, dressed in a red cloak, the royal crown still on his head, stumbled past the open window. In the pale moonlight, Taliesin saw a sword point protruding from his back. His lover dropped from the floor above her and slammed into the ground. Dinadan whimpered as he fell beside the dead knight, and the crown rolled off his head. Taliesin closed her visor as the flames reached her, and the blue light faded as she jumped out the window. She landed in the bushes below with a loud crash, spat out a leaf, and crawled on her hands and knees to take a closer look at the loud voices she heard approaching.

  A large group of nobles, escorted by Lord Arundel, Xander, and Phelon, circled the crown. For a moment, the men hesitated to touch it, then Phelon snatched it off the ground, lifted it high in the air, and slammed it onto his head, shouting, “The crown! I have the crown! All bow, if you please!”

  “You think this is a game, boy?” Lord Arundel yelled. “The crown is mine. It’s always been mine. Get rid of this whelp, for I have no need of him…not anymore.”

  The alliance between the Eagle and Wolf Clans ended as Eagle legionaries swept forward, spears lowered at Phelon, who threw back his head and released a lusty wolf call. Dozens of Wolfen raced across the lawn toward the heir of their clan. Things escalated quickly, and on Arundel’s command, the Eagles turned and pointed their spears, tipped with silver, at the snarling Wolf Pack. Arundel held out his hand for the crown as Xander drew his sword and pointed it at Phelon. His former friend lowered his hands as his face altered, turning wolfish, and he growled.

  “Give me the crown,” Arundel shouted. “It is not meant for you. We have an agreement, and as of yet, you have failed to kill Almaric and Rosemond.”

  Phelon howled. “You have an agreement with my father, not with me,” he replied as his eyes turned bright yellow. “I am tired of doing what fathers expect. It’s time for a new Wolf chief and a new Eagle lord. Don’t you agree, Xander?”

  The sword in Xander’s hand turned as the Eagle heir pointed it at his father. “Oh, I most certainly agree with you, Phelon,” he said with a laugh. “We have both waited too long for this night. I’m sorry, father, but it seems you are no longer needed.”

  In a rage, Arundel drew a wand from his robe and blasted Phelon with a piercing green light that sent him flying across the lawn. As the Wolfen attacked the Eagle legionaries, Xander morphed into a gigantic golden-scaled serpent. He did not turn on his father, but instead gobbled one of the Cavell family. Arundel fired green bolts of lightning as he backed toward the bushes where Taliesin hid. The Wolfen slaughtered the Eagle soldiers and converged on Arundel. The Eagle lord did not miss, and stood close to Taliesin as he killed the Wolfen. The nobles in Arundel’s party closed, and Taliesin shivered as another Cavell pulled out a dagger and stabbed Arundel in the back. Every nobleman in the group attacked the Eagle lord, stabbing him countless times in the chest and back, and Arundel fell to his knees in front of Taliesin. His wand was seized by the same Cavell who had stabbed him first. The young man pointed it at Xander as he devoured Eagle soldiers, unaware he had been betrayed, and gave it a hard shake.

  “I can’t make it work,” the Cavell shouted. He snapped the wand in two and tossed the pieces into the bushes. He turned quickly and ran off with the nobles.

  Both pieces of the wand fell close to where Taliesin crouched. Arundel fell backwards into the bushes and landed beside her. He looked at her, and his lips moved. A finger twitched.

  “To think the gods thought you worthy to rule,” she whispered.

  “You…” Arundel hissed as he breathed his last breath.

  Taliesin jerked, and her eyes widened as a rush of energy blasted her body. She threw her arms upwards, sword held high as Arundel’s magic flowed from his body into Ringerike; and from the sword, it coursed into her. Her heart stopped for a moment, the world seemed to slow, and she gasped for air. After another spasm, she dropped her arms, and the sword landed across the body of the dead lord. She stared in shock as he lost his human form and turned into a dried turquoise merman. His scales quickly turned white and flaked off, leaving the putrid odor of dead fish.

  “You should burn, old man,” she said, picking up the sword.

  Embers flew from the windows with a crackle, spiraled downwards, and landed on his robe. Tiny flames erupted, and Taliesin stood and backed away as his body burst into flames. In the fire she saw her mother, Lord Ungus, and Sirs Bedwyn and Landrake trying to escape from the west wing. Her eyes stayed on the body until nothing but ashes remained. A gust of wind blew the ashes away.

  “Farewell, enemy mine,” she said.

  The main gate crashed open. Garridan, Scrydon, and Aldagar troops spilled into the inner courtyard. None had expected to encounter a dragon and couldn’t move aside before Xander breathed fire on the front line of soldiers. He did not fight alone; Eagle legionaries fought beside the large golden serpent, but they were caught from behind by the Knights of the White Stag and the
Blue Star. The two armies joined forces against Xander and the Eagle Clan. A circle was formed, and a temporary alliance forced, as they concentrated their efforts on killing the dragon.

  “Friendships forged in blood can only end in death,” Taliesin said with a new-found confidence. “Ringerike, protect me.”

  The blue orb surrounded her. She did not intend to join the fight at that moment; she needed to find her mother and Lord Ungus. They might not be loyal to her, but she was different. Family meant something to her, and she meant to protect them. She ran along the western side of the castle; fire had spread to every wing, and she considered dousing it with water. She could do it, with Arundel’s magic added to her own, but she held back; Tantalon Castle needed to be purged of its evil. Her only concern was the west wing, and she ran toward it, chose a doorway, and entered a lobby choked with black smoke.

  “Rosamond!” Lord Ungus shouted. “The castle is under attack!”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” Taliesin muttered.

  The old man helped Princess Calista across the room. As they approached Taliesin, a group of Wolfmen came from the opposite direction, surrounded Ungus and Calista, and dragged them down a hallway. As Taliesin lifted her sword and prepared to follow, Wolfmen blocked her path. The loyal knights, Bedwyn and Landrake, and several squires were trapped on the stairs. Flames flickered behind them and pressed them forward to where a dozen armored Wolfmen waited at the bottom. She could either go after her mother or help Roland’s friends; it was not a hard decision to make. She extinguished the flames with a wave of her hand and snapped her fingers, tossing five Wolfmen into the air. Confident she had control of the situation, she let out a surprised shout when the fire belched and grew stronger, and the stench of dark magic remained in the air. This was not a common fire; it had been summoned. Had it been Arundel’s spell, it would have ended with his death. This was something else, something powerful, and her tampering had only made it worse.