“It’s the Raven Mistress,” she said. “Take the weapons and wait for my return.”
After handing Sirocco three more swords, she had one left, and meant to give it to Roland. She moved upwards, past an empty cell, and continued toward the top of the tower. She found Roland seated on a cot inside the next cell. He held his face in his hands, a hopeless expression on his bearded face, but at her soft whisper, he glanced toward the window.
“It’s me, Roland. Come to the window, my love.”
Roland clanked as he stood. His white tunic hung in rags on his armor and specks of blood covered the gold stag on his chest. He grabbed the bars in his hands and pressed his face between them. Taliesin leaned forward to kiss his lips. He gasped and stepped back as she handed the last sword to him.
“How did you get here? I cannot see you. Are you alone?” he asked.
“Not anymore,” Taliesin replied. “Zarnoc must be in the next cell. I am going to release him and then come back for you. The gypsies are armed. We will kill Varg and then fight our way out of the city. With any luck, Bonaparte, my dragon friend, will arrive with the Hellirins, the Lorians, and Talas Kull to help us.”
Roland frowned as he shook the sword. “Plain steel,” he said. “Where is Moonbane? We will not get far without magic weapons, woman. Ragnal will return, and when he does, he intends to execute us. Let me out, and I will help you.”
His lack of gratitude annoyed her, but caused her to laugh; he reminded her so much of Grudge, his former self, it was almost worth the pain of listening to him gripe. She pushed the cloak through the bars, let it fall to the floor, and watched it appear at his feet, but Roland paid it no attention.
“I have a plan,” she said. “Sit tight, and I will return.”
Taliesin continued her swift climb as he swore in anger. She reached the highest window, peered inside, and found the wizard. Zarnoc appeared as an old man with a long white beard who wore a yellow robe and pink slippers that matched his conical-shaped hat, embroidered with an array of stars and planets. The symbols spun around his hat as he played with a ball of light between his hands and smiled.
“Magic cannot bend the bars or open the door to my cell,” Zarnoc said as he lifted his head. His eyes conveyed his frustration. “I know, because I tried every spell in the book; there is no escape, unless you brought a key.” He waved his hands in the air, and the ball of light vanished. “You see? My magic does not work inside this prison. Do you have a key, Taliesin? If you do, then show me, for I cannot see you.”
“Never mind that, old man—I have King Boran’s gauntlets.”
Taliesin lost her invisibility the moment she gripped the bars, and Zarnoc clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as the gauntlets began to glow bright yellow. The bars bent aside like soft butter, and she crawled into the cell, jumped to the floor, and pulled Zarnoc to his feet for a swift hug. He pushed her back, a frown on his wrinkled face.
“Those gauntlets were taken from King Boran long ago by the legendary hero Cul’Hagan,” Zarnoc said with a shrug. “Good fighter. A bit conceited.”
Taliesin gave him an incredulous look, for not one of her friends had thanked her, and now the wizard wanted to be technical about the gauntlets’ ownership.
“Cul’Hagan, I believe, is one of your favorites in the plays of Glabber the Glib. You have become quite resourceful, Taliesin. Great strength and the ability to climb are but two magical abilities. How did you come by these war gauntlets? I imagine Boran will want them back when he discovers you have them.”
“They were a parting gift from the late Captain Wolfgar,” she said. “I do not see how that matters. We have other things to worry about and….” Her voice cracked. Unable to finish her sentence, she removed the gauntlets and handed them to Zarnoc. “You will need these to bend the bars on the windows. Get everyone to the armory; Roland wants Moonbane. I will join you as soon as I kill Varg.”
“Do that, and we win this battle.”
Zarnoc placed the gauntlets on his hands. Taliesin drew her sword, closed her visor, and watched the wizard climb out the window. She turned to the door, swung the sword, and the door splintered on impact. Bathed in blue light, she entered the hallway and found Varg waiting, morphed into his Wolfen form. It hadn’t crossed her mind until then that Varg was half-human; he was able to appear as a man, though he never had. The enormous black wolf stood on its hind legs, nine feet of muscle, bone, and rage. Varg snarled as he advanced with razor-sharp claws. She took a swing that sliced open his chest, and blood splattered across the hallway, onto her armor, and into her helmet through the eye and mouth slits.
She blinked her eyes at the same time she licked her lips. His blood tasted like dirt in her mouth, but she felt a tremor course through her body the moment she swallowed. A sudden burst of pain in her skull made her cry in agony, and her thoughts altered and grew confused as her inner-wildness consumed her human nature. The sword yanked free from her grip and hovered overhead as Taliesin crashed to her knees. The intense agony of the transformation into a Wolfen made her scream, and the noise changed into a howl as her body altered. Her armor modified to fit her freakishly large body, and the helmet elongated to match the size and shape of her wolf-face. She saw a dozen guards behind Varg and growled behind the visor.
“Kill them,” Taliesin snarled.
Her sword flew toward the Wolfmen and attacked. A burst of bright light and the ringing of swords elicited a hefty chuckle from Varg. The first Wolfen towered more than three feet over Taliesin. Every inch of his body was muscle, and he snarled with a flash of his yellow fangs.
“I will have revenge for my father. Time to die, Raven Mistress,” Varg snarled in a voice filled with hatred. He charged Taliesin on his hind legs, and she launched herself toward him with one thought on her mind—kill or be killed.
Their bodies slammed together with a powerful impact that shook the floor of the tower. They traded blows, but to her surprise, the dragon armor made her his superior, not his equal; she would not have lasted more than a few seconds without it, and its accommodation to the shape of her muzzle allowed her to bite her opponent. While his fangs made dents in the surface of her armor, her sharp teeth sunk deeply into his shoulder, and more blood filled her mouth. She bit harder as Varg clawed at her breastplate like a maddened beast. Dragon scales dropped to the ground each time his black claws scraped across her armor; meanwhile, Taliesin tore chunks of flesh from his massive body. Blood flowed bright red as she sank her teeth into his thick neck, but her opponent did not give up, continuing to claw at her chest until the scales faded and left an inch of skin uncovered. A single claw slid through the gap to lacerate Taliesin’s flesh. With a hard swat, she sent the black beast flying. He slammed into a wall and dropped to the ground. In no condition to continue the fight, Varg remained where he lay.
Taliesin lost interest, lifted her head, and turned at the sound of swordplay; Ringerike fought on its own at the end of the corridor. Wolfmen gathered in the stairwell and tried to get past the sword to help Varg, but Ringerike cut them to ribbons and showed no sign of hesitation as it drenched the walls with blood. The sword was not her concern, for she had her mind fixated on winning Ragnal’s favor. He expected Varg to keep the prisoners safe. Varg had failed. She had defeated the first Wolfen in combat, and thus earned the right to lead Ragnal’s Wolfen troops to victory. She approached a closed door, smelled a flowery fragrance through the barred window, and snarled.
“Mira!”
Driven by a desire to taste the goddess’s flesh, Taliesin lowered her head, slammed into the door, crashed through the wood, and stumbled in to find the cell empty. Enraged, she charged into the hallway, ignoring the Raven Sword as it struck down another guard, and sought out Ismeina’s cell. With a hard push, she splintered the door and rushed inside to find it empty, as well. The sly wizard had freed the goddess and the witch; next, Zarnoc would free Sir Roland, and that she could not allow. She raced across the hall and kicked ope
n the cell door, but the knight was not inside. With a howl of fury, she charged out the door and through a line of furred bodies. The damnable Raven Sword slaughtered her troops, but she knew better than to fight the weapon; besides, she needed to work quickly if she hoped to kill the rest of the prisoners before Zarnoc freed them. Taliesin reached the next door, burst through the wood, and found only the scent of Captain Hawk. She retreated from the room and slammed into the guards as they attempted to flee Ringerike. Another door across the hall caught her attention, and she hastened toward it, pushed aside an injured guard, and knocked it down. Harmattan, the last Nova brother left in the room, raised his sword.
“Taliesin, stop and think,” Harmattan shouted.
“Ragnal sends his regards.”
With a loud cry, Harmattan swung his sword, but Taliesin easily knocked it out of his grasp. He took the cot and slammed it over her furred head; the cot broke into pieces. Taliesin caught the young man by the neck, lifted him off the ground, and snapped his neck with a quick twist. She tossed his body aside and turned to the window; Roland, the Ghajaran, Hawk, the White Witch, and Mira stood on the ground, looking up at her. Zarnoc was nowhere in sight, nor was Prince Sertorius. Whirling, she raced out the door and climbed the stairs. Wolfmen ran past her, followed by the glowing, blue sword. Her nose picked up the strong scent of lavender, and she peered through the window of a cell door. The prince stood at the window, and his shouts for help ended in a shriek as she bashed down the door. She entered the room and lifted her red dragon-scaled hands, the fingers tipped with black claws.
“Taliesin, you must not do this,” Sertorius whimpered. “Get control of yourself! Fight the wildness! Ragnal is your enemy, not me!”
“You will never rule Caladonia. I will marry the Wolf King and the realm will be ours.”
As Taliesin advanced on Sertorius, Zarnoc appeared outside the window and moved aside as a flaming sword flew into the cell. Sertorius caught Calaburn and pointed it at Taliesin. She reached for the prince, and he knocked her arm aside with the sword; searing heat penetrated the dragon scales. With a snarl, she ducked under the next blow and slammed her fist into his stomach. Sertorius flew across the room and slammed into the wall beneath the window. He stood and lifted Calaburn. The wizard shouted as Taliesin charged. The Draconus sword cut through her dragon scales and seared her shoulder as it stabbed deeply. She pulled back with a roar. The wizard pulled the bars out of the window, and Sertorius turned and jumped through the window into the wizard’s arms. They vanished from sight.
Mad with blood lust, Taliesin stormed out of the cell. Three Wolfmen fought Ringerike in the stairwell. Enraged by their incompetence, she ripped the trio apart and left their limbs to reattach to their torsos. She avoided Ringerike and sped down the stairs. Outside the tower, Taliesin found Midus with a full company of guards.
“Zarnoc took the prisoners to the armory,” Taliesin snarled. “We need more men if we are to stop them, Midus. Summon everyone!”
The four-headed dog gave her a curious look, lifted its head, and bayed with four voices. The noise attracted more guards. With Taliesin in the lead, they headed toward the armory. Those in human form ripped off their armor and transformed into giant wolves as they raced across the vast courtyard. Taliesin slowed her step as they approached the armory and saw the door was wide open. A sudden, vicious pain caused her to fall to her knees, and then forward onto her chest. Furred bodies leaped over her and continued toward the armory. The pain vanished, and her thoughts cleared. A bright blue shadow fell over her, and her eyes focused on Ringerike. The sword floated above her, but did not strike. Her vision cleared, her thoughts calmed, and her intense hatred faded.
There was only one explanation for what happened—Varg was dead, and that meant the Wolfen curse and Varguld had both ended.
“Ringerike?”
Taliesin pushed open her visor, aware the guards had moved on and left her alone. She stood on human legs, lifted her right arm into the air, and the sword came to her. As the hilt nestled into her palm, an image of Varg, stabbed a dozen times by Ringerike, entered her thoughts; the Raven Sword had killed him. Confused and unable to remember what happened after she found Zarnoc, another image entered her mind; she had killed Harmattan. Her grief caused her eyes to fill with tears. The sword tugged on her arm. As it pulled her toward the armory, several people, equally confused, entered the courtyard, dropped their weapons, and huddled together.
“Varg is dead,” Taliesin shouted. “All of you are free from the curse. Leave this place. Find your way home. Go while you can, or stay and help us fight Ragnal and Almaric, for they are on the way!”
She closed her visor and headed to the armory.
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Four
The allegiances of the occupying forces shifted upon the death of Varg. Taliesin had not tallied the inhabitants of the city. She had seen human, Wolfen, and supernatural creatures within Mt. Helos, but had no idea how many had arrived in the last few weeks. Those freed from the curse turned on the members of the Wolf Clan, and fights broke out in every street and along the battlements.
An influx of armored bodies headed toward the armory, the gathering place for the major conflict Taliesin knew would occur. Ringerike, lit with a brilliant blue light, pulled her along, and soldiers from every dukedom joined her. Attracted by the warrior in red dragon armor who carried a gleaming blue sword, many rallied behind her. She fought her way through the Wolfmen. Giant cobras, lizardmen with spiked maces, and shadowy forms with tentacles attempted to prevent her from reaching the armory. She killed anything that moved into her path, as well as many of Lykus’ soldiers, until her sword and armor were drenched in blood.
“We fight for Caladonia against the tyrant war god, Ragnal, and the Wolf King,” Taliesin shouted. She raised her sword high as a giant cobra blocked her path. Swathed in blue light, she charged the monster and pierced its heart. Its body whipped about and crashed into a temple. She climbed onto the head and drove the blade between its eyes. As she pulled the blade free, she gazed at the crowd of soldiers. “I am the Raven Mistress! I fight for our freedom! We will not be servants of evil gods or of a king who wants to enslave us! If you love your country, help save it from these evil masters!”
“We fight with the Raven Mistress,” the soldiers shouted. “For Caladonia!”
Taliesin led her army across the wide expanse of the easternmost courtyard as enemy soldiers streamed from side streets into the fray. Flocks of winged serpents arrived ahead of men with crocodile heads. Taliesin had seen such creatures once before, in the Cave of the Snake God, far away in the Salayen Desert. The supernatural creatures had guarded the tomb of King Korax; these beasts served Heggen, the god of the underworld. Many blocked her path, snapped their jaws, and swallowed men, whole or bitten in half. She stabbed a large, black-scaled creature through the middle, spun, and sliced off its head.
“All things die! Do not be afraid!” Taliesin shouted. She lifted her hand and scattered reptiles to create a path to the armory. She seized the momentum and ran through the center of the enemy, her soldiers accompanying her. Two hundred reached the armory steps with Taliesin before the lizardmen filled the hole in their ranks.
“Taliesin,” Roland called, holding Moonbane. “Taliesin has joined us!”
“It’s about time,” Hawk said as drove his twin rapiers, Fang and Sting, into the body of a large reptile. He gave Taliesin a sharp look. “Where have you been? We are in the middle of the battle, while you were sightseeing.”
“Hardly. I brought help.”
“You men form a line! Let no Wolfman or beast pass,” Roland bellowed. “This is where we stand! And this is where we die!” The Grand Master of the White Stags took command of the new recruits, lined them up on the stairs, shouting orders, and quickly mustered a solid defense.
Taliesin fought beside Hawk, and admired Roland in the forefront of the battle as he swung his silver axe at Wolfmen in black armor. No lo
nger able to morph into wolf or beast, the Wolfmen fought with shields and swords. Prince Sertorius fought with Calaburn, for it had chosen him over her. She knew, deep down, it would have done so at Tantalon Castle, given the chance. The sword had chosen its king, and flames ran its length; each strike set his opponents on fire. His bravery offered renewed hope for the Caladonian soldiers. If they lived through the day, Taliesin thought, she had no doubt Sertorius would be the next king. Calaburn had come to Sertorius when he had need of its help.
“Good of you to join us, cousin,” Sertorius shouted. “I see you have come to your senses. For a moment, I thought I would have to kill you.”
“Varg is dead, killed by Ringerike!” Taliesin stabbed a Wolfman in the chest, who fell down the stairs, only to be replaced by another. “Did you hear me? The curse is lifted!”
“I heard, but you say nothing I did not already know,” Sertorius shouted. “Calaburn came to me when needed. You know what that means, cousin.”
“Crow about your crown later,” Taliesin snapped. She lifted her sword to block an ax wielded by a warrior with a jagged scar along his neck. Moonbane crashed into the man’s skull with a flash of silver, and she glanced at Roland as he and Sertorius shouldered in front of her to block an influx of lizardmen who attempted to reach her. “I do not need protection, gentlemen. I am here to protect you.”
“You can show me your gratitude later,” Roland said with a swipe of his axe. The head of a crocodile flew through the air and showered blood on Taliesin.
An angry retort stuck in her mouth as she gazed to her left at the fierce barks from Midus and the intermittent roars from Ursus. The four-headed dog and giant polar bear, both bloody, rolled into view, locked in battle, tooth and nail. They fought at the bottom of the steps, and the enemy moved back to give the fierce creatures room. Ursus tore a dog head from its neck with a savage bite. As the bear swallowed the head and grabbed another, the soldiers advanced and jabbed spears at the bear.
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