Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “Come no further, dragon,” the man said. “You have not been invited into the Dark Wood. Go back to Ascalon and await an invitation from Duchess Dolabra, which may or may not arrive.”

  “You will address me as ‘Bonaparte.’ I am not here to see the Duchess. Inform Lady Madera I have brought Princess Rosamond Sanqualus Draconus Folando Mandrake. Since it is a long name, you may address her as the ‘Raven Mistress.’” He paused to lower his head and glared at the officer. “I am sure we are expected, Captain Tillion. We’ll start with an audience with the former Raven Queen and work our way to the duchess and general. Now fetch Madera before I eat a few of your men, for the long trip has left me very hungry.”

  The captain pinched his dark eyebrows together. “I like not your tone, Bonaparte, nor your threats,” Tillion snapped. “Stay here, men, and guard these two! I will return.” He turned and floated into the trees. His soldiers pointed their spears at the dragon, though it was absurd, for Taliesin assumed Bonaparte could kill them, permanently, with his fire breath.

  “The entrance to Nethalburg is nearby,” Bonaparte said as he turned his head to gaze at her. “At the first sign of trouble, draw your sword; seeing Ringerike should keep this lot in order. The Hellirins naturally fear the Raven Sword, since King Korax used it to kill quite a few of them. It is not that the Hellirins prefer war, but they are easily insulted and settle most matters with bloodshed. Stay put until I say otherwise, and we should get through this unharmed.”

  “I thought Madera would be happy to see you.”

  “Happiness is not a term normally used to describe the Hellirins, for they seldom have reason to be happy, especially when asked for their help. You are here to ask them to go to war, Taliesin. No Hellirin wants to die the final death.”

  Taliesin nodded and kept her visor closed, simply because she did not want her rosy cheeks and bright green eyes to stand out. Nethalburg had intrigued her since she first heard the name of the Hellirin city, and she wondered if it was as terrifying as Duvalen was beautiful. Others might fear entering the domain, but her armor, magic, and sword offered protection. Her cloak of raven feathers helped hide her bright-red dragon scales, and she noticed when it was closed, her appearance was that of a shadow.

  She did not find the soldiers all that disturbing—the Wolfen were far more terrifying—but the troops did make her feel sad and slightly melancholy. The faces of the soldiers were not rotten, merely overcast with shadow, but their armor and weapons were beautiful and boasted exceptional metal-work, which made them look quite regal.

  This was the first time she’d seen the Hellirins up close. Bonaparte had not told her there were requirements for entry into their city, but she assumed a person was dead when they entered and undead when they came out. It was not at all like King Korax, who had been a zombie; being a zombie and being undead were two very different things, and powerful magic had to be invoked to create the two species.

  From Zarnoc, she had learned a Lorian had to specify in their will if they wanted to be buried in Duvalen, with a proper funeral, or be turned into a Hellirin. If they chose to become a Hellirin, it meant giving up citizenship in Duvalen and applying for citizenship in Nethalburg. If a Lorian wanted to become a Hellirin, upon their death, the family submitted the application for citizenship to Nethalburg by leaving the dead relative at a specified location in the Dark Wood. Once magically turned into a Hellirin, they were restored as a darkling. The new Hellirin could not return to their family and had to remain in the city of the undead. They could keep the possessions from their former lives and write to family and friends, but could only watch them from a distance. It had to be difficult for those resurrected, since they could not be with their living friends and family. On the other hand, though, at least they weren’t stuck in a grave to rot.

  Taliesin sensed strong magic in the Dark Wood; not evil and not good, but something in between, which she supposed was neutral, though that was not quite the right term. It was more. It was a part of nature she was not familiar with, like a curtain between life and death, and the Hellirin lived in the curtain. She didn’t think the Hellirins were the evil counterparts of the Lorians, for they simply lived in a different world, but it still seemed to be a life worth living. The Hellirins had families, lived in a city ruled by a queen and her consort, and acted very much like Lorians. One race lived above, and one lived below, though in essence they were both fairies. This didn’t include the darkling creatures that came from Nethalburg. Taliesin assumed goblins and orcs were born in Nethalburg; they were not undead, simply ugly and strange. The tiny elves she’d seen in Duvalen were alive, but the ones outside of Nethalburg were undead, so it appeared fairy-folk, elves, and even dwarves were in a different classification than creatures or monsters that dwelled in this part of the forest. It was all quite interesting and seemed quite organized, with rules and laws different from those of the Lorians, but the details remained one of many mysteries concerning the Hellirins’ origin and society. She figured she would learn about those later.

  “We heard a wolf howl in the Dark Wood,” Taliesin said to the soldier left in charge, though he did not seem impressed by this announcement. “I only mention it because Almaric Draconus has defeated his brothers and taken the Ebony Throne. That wolf was probably a scout from the Wolf Pack. They are on their way to the Dark Wood, as they mean to turn every Hellirin and Lorian into a Wolfen.”

  The soldier did not respond to Taliesin, but he did turn to whisper to the rest of the troops. Every pale soldier gazed at her with expressionless eyes. Emotion lay deep within those strange eyes, and she suspected they silently accused her of bringing death to their door. In truth, though, Folando had done so the moment he turned around to come home. Still, with Taliesin’s presence in the Dark Wood, the Wolf Clan would come for them; it was inevitable.

  A small troupe of darkling elves on harnessed, gray-eyed sparrows fluttered around Taliesin and laughed and grinned at her. In contrast to their decayed wings, the tiny elves retained pale, cherubic faces and wore tiny suits cut from leaves and carried pint-sized spears. After a moment in their company, Taliesin found the darkling elves a nuisance; their high-pitched laughter was loud, and she waved them off with her hand. A tiny spear hit her visor and dropped, and the elves flew off.

  A horn blast announced the arrival of someone important. Taliesin spotted purple and white banners, and the glint of silver armor amongst the green trees.

  “Lady Madera is coming,” the captain said, returning. “We no longer call her the Raven Queen. There is only one queen here, though Duchess Dolabra dislikes that title; never use it or you may end up in the dungeon. I suggest you change your appearance, Bonaparte, unless this is not a social visit.”

  “Of course it’s a social visit,” the dragon grumbled.

  “May I know your name?” Taliesin asked, scrutinizing the captain. Although she had heard Bonaparte call the captain “Tillion,” she thought it was rather rude not to be properly introduced.

  “Don’t ask questions, Taliesin, or this one may give you the wrong answer simply out of spite,” Bonaparte said. “Now get ready—I’m about to turn.”

  Bonaparte shook his body, and Taliesin cried out in alarm as she tumbled toward the ground. With a twinkle of gold, Bonaparte turned into his humanoid form and gave a toss of his long, lustrous black hair. A gold crown set with a large emerald sat on his brow. If he wore the crown to appear more regal, Taliesin thought, it worked. The dragon-man placed her on her feet and opened her visor with a long fingernail.

  “Keep your chin high and don’t let them know they make you nervous,” Bonaparte whispered. “The Hellirins like to look into the eyes of all visitors, but it won’t be a pleasant experience if you do the same. Don’t ask questions and don’t smile; smiling is a sign of aggression.”

  “I understand,” Taliesin said. Her sword whacked her backside, excited and eager to see Madera again. She kept her arms at her sides and lifted her head.

  A
fanfare of trumpets announced the arrival of Lady Madera, who arrived with a dozen maidens and a full regiment of soldiers dressed in silver plate mail and purple cloaks. They carried silver spears and lit torches, holding the flames high as the last rays of sunlight faded behind the trees.

  “Greetings,” Madera said, handing Bonaparte a black rose. “Welcome to Nethalburg, Bonaparte and Mistress Taliesin. It’s been a long time since I last saw you, child. You have grown into a beautiful, young woman. I see Korax in you, for you have the same red hair and lovely green eyes.”

  “Thank you,” Taliesin said.

  Every soldier and creature bowed low to Madera. Bonaparte also offered a courtly bow, with one scaled arm thrown out in front of him, and the other tucked against his waist. He gave Taliesin a quick glance, and she lowered her head, for she was not one to curtsy, and she was not about to bow like Bonaparte. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the trees behind the soldiers moving and shivering from their tips to their roots. As the trees moved, she saw the mouth of a large, dark cave. In the entrance stood ghostly forms and ghoulish things that kept to the shadows, fearful of the light.

  Madera reminded Taliesin of a widow in mourning, for she wore a black gown, and dark circles hung beneath her eyes, as if she’d been crying at length. Bonaparte bowed before Madera, took her hand, and held it to his lips for a kiss.

  “Delighted to see you again,” Bonaparte said.

  “You as well. Fortunately, General Folando and Duchess Dolabra are not at Nethalburg, or I would be forced to send you away,” Madera said. “My brother and his army were met by King Boran near the Stavehorn Mountains and have turned back. I am not privy to what transpired between them, nor am I surprised you did not see either army on your way here; it is not our way to be seen, even by a dragon.” She turned her gray eyes toward Taliesin. “This is official business, I assume. It will grow quite chilly in the forest, now the sun has set, and we should keep you both in the light to prevent anything less than friendly from taking a nip out of your skin.”

  “It is nice to see you again, Lady Madera,” Taliesin said. “I mean no disrespect by entering your lands. Duchess Dolabra did send an invitation, and she should have received a written response accepting it, so I am here.” She noticed the slightest downward turn of the woman’s stained lips.

  “You are not here for dinner, child. Why have you come?”

  “King Almaric now sits on the Ebony Throne and wears Korax’s crown. He and the Wolf Clan are coming, Lady Madera. Ragnal has had his way, and the Age of the Wolf is upon us. He has forced the other gods of Mt. Helos to join him, and he has killed Stroud. I fear for Caladonia and the Magic Realms if we do not join forces to fight King Almaric and Ragnal. In truth, I did not know who else to turn to.”

  “So, war has come to our doorstep, and King Frederick is dead. I always thought it in poor taste the Draconuses sit on Korax’s throne and wear his crown, after building their own monstrous castle on top of my former home. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, I do,” Taliesin said. “Ragnal has captured Zarnoc, Ismeina the White Witch, and many of my closest friends.” Madera was unaffected by this information, and glanced rather dismissively at Bonaparte. “The good news is Lord Arundel Aladorius, Master Xander, and…Captain Wolfgar are dead.” Taliesin paused as she found it painful to mention the last name. “I asked Bonaparte and Talas Kull and his Skardans to help me take Mt. Helos and free my friends. It’s my intention to kill Ragnal and Varg. If I must, I am prepared to kill all the Maeceni, Lady Madera, which is something King Korax wanted to do long ago.”

  “So, events have come full circle,” Madera said. “For ages, the Maeceni have threatened this realm as well as Caladonia. Korax always knew this day would come, but he thought it would happen in his lifetime. My brother, Akyres, has always wanted to fight them. He and Korax once planned to scale the mountain with elite troops and kill the gods in their sleep. I sympathize with your plight. You did right by coming here.”

  Madera gathered Taliesin in her embrace and kissed Taliesin’s cheeks, her lips as cool as a stream fed by winter snow. Yet, there was warmth in her strange, pale eyes, as if she held Taliesin in tender regard. At Madera’s hand gesture, the captain, guards, and soldiers lowered their weapons. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at Taliesin’s gauntlets and she glanced at Bonaparte again; this time, as if she did not believe what she saw and needed confirmation.

  “Yes, they belonged to King Boran,” the dragon said.

  “That’s not what I’m concerned about, dearest. Where is the Moon Ring? Remove the gauntlets at once, girl,” Madera said. Her manner altered as Taliesin removed only the gauntlet from her left hand. The woman grabbed Taliesin’s wrist, and her touch was cold. “You were to bring the Moon Ring to Nethalburg, if and when you had need of the Hellirin army. It was my gift to you, Taliesin; a bond between us. Without it, my brother will to be difficult to handle, and Dolabra is not known for her charitable disposition.” She released Taliesin and crossed her arms, a pensive look on her pale face. “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do for you.”

  Taliesin put the gauntlet back on. “I am sorry,” she said.

  “Allow me to explain, Lady Madera,” Bonaparte said. “Taliesin used the Moon Ring to save the life of the daughter of Shan Octavio. The gypsy girl was mortally injured and the ring saved her from death. Anything less on Taliesin’s part would have been callous, my Lady. Jaelle Octavio is her friend and did not deserve to die, any more than she deserved to return as a zombie, which she did. This was an act of kindness and love on Taliesin’s part, not a personal insult to you or the Hellirins. You exhibited the same loving qualities at the Raven Court. Even now, I still recall how you cared for the less fortunate, always offering a basket of food or coins from your own funds. The people loved you far more than Korax. Bards sang songs about your kindness as well as your beauty, which has lasted all these centuries. You remain perfection itself.”

  “That was a long time ago, Bonaparte. Your flattery is overly sweet, and I will be forgiving. Come. Sit,” Madera said. Her curious gray eyes with their violet centers held Taliesin’s as she guided Taliesin and the dragon-man to a bench carved from the trunk of a fallen cedar.

  “Allow me, my Lady.” Captain Tillion brushed the snow away from the bench before the women sat. “We shouldn’t stay outside too long,” he said. “It will snow tonight, and snow entices predators to hunt.”

  Taliesin remained calm, though the captain’s comment troubled her. Captain Tillion, who appeared to be Madera’s personal guardian, ordered the guards and soldiers to form a circle with their torches. Bonaparte sat in the snow in front of the bench, and Madera leaned over and kissed the top of his head.

  “Your love for Jaelle is strong. I cannot fault you for listening to your heart, Taliesin,” the woman said. “However, you could bring the girl to Nethalburg. I will take care of her. I promise. Once you have the ring back, you can control Folando and take the army with you; Dolabra cannot refuse because the ring binds her, as well. The ring was made long ago by one of our sorcerers and was given to the first Hellirin king. He, in turn, handed it down until it passed to me.”

  “There must be another way for Taliesin to take command of the Hellirin army, my Lady,” Bonaparte said. “Sadly, Jaelle is also Ragnal’s prisoner.” He placed his head on Madera’s lap, like a devoted servant, and a sigh escaped his lips as she stroked his long, black hair. “I intend to help the Raven Mistress. She is the only one who can prevent Varguld from spreading into the Magic Realms. As it is above, so will it be below. If Ragnal and Varg are not killed, none will escape the curse of the Wolfen. We must not let Ragnal succeed, Madera. Korax knew this. It has fallen to Taliesin to put an end to the Maeceni, and, with or without the ring, you and your brother must help her.”

  “Akyres and Dolabra will arrive soon,” Madera said, concern in her voice. “I will speak to them, but it was rash of this girl to come without the ring, Bonaparte. Death, like magic, is
drawn to her because of her mixed bloodlines. She is the last Raven heir, and I can tell she has not yet reached her full potential as a sha’tar. If she does not, she cannot hope to defeat the Maeceni. I know Lord Arundel prevented you from using your magic effectively, Taliesin. I also know Ragnal, Broa, Navenna, and Heggen helped Arundel negate your powers. Yet, Mira and Stroud chose to help you, and now the All Father is dead, and Mira is a prisoner. And, since Zarnoc, the most powerful of all magic users, is a prisoner, it will not be easy for you to accomplish your goals.”

  “Ragnal will come for her, Madera. She can’t hide,” Bonaparte rumbled. “Taliesin either takes the battle to Ragnal, or the Wolf Clan will come for the Hellirins and the Lorians. Almaric is not the forgiving type. Boran may have convinced Folando to return home, but the Children of Varg will not stop until they turn everyone. Even darklings can be turned into Wolfen.”

  “Almaric and Sertorius are Wolfen, like me,” Taliesin said. “Are there any other Hellirins who are Wolfen?”

  “No. Only you. But, only a small part of you is Hellirin, and that part is what attracts death,” Madera said. “I know it is difficult for the Wolf Clan to control the urge to transform into monsters; for a Hellirin, it would be impossible. It is because you are a sha’tar you can control the wildness inside you, Taliesin. I sense you wear Broa’s necklace, but you must realize it is not a talisman you should wear—Broa is your enemy. Give me the necklace, for it will turn on you once you reach Mt. Helos, and you will become a Wolfen, unable and unwilling to help your friends.”