Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “We must secure the area and prepare for the next attack,” Roland said, catching Taliesin’s gaze as she approached a large group of soldiers. “The Wolf Pack continues to burn villages and towns, and refugees from Bavol and Scrydon are starting to arrive. Sir Tamal is at the gate with forty men, but we must remain vigilant. Thanks to the dragon’s reconnaissance, we know a large army from Maldavia is on its way. Talas Kull is closer than King Almaric’s army, and the Skardans will arrive by morning.”

  Hawk, Tamal, Shan Octavio, and the Nova brothers listened as Roland gave orders to secure the area and prepare for another battle. More soldiers from Caladonia, who had initially hid when freed from Varg’s curse, had arrived to help. Zarnoc and Ismeina, accompanied by Bonaparte, raised protection spells, but Taliesin knew the preparations would not be enough to defeat Ragnal and Almaric.

  “Good of you to join us, Taliesin,” Hawk said. His rapiers rested in sheaths behind his back and he drank ale from a horn. “Duvalen has fallen. The dragon was at the battle, but I have not heard what happened to Nethalburg.”

  “Precisely what I want to know,” she replied. “Roland, what has happened to the Hellirin? Do Duchess Dolabra and General Folando need our help?”

  “This is something you and I need to discuss with Zarnoc,” Roland said. He waited for Taliesin to climb the stairs to stand at his side, and then he turned to the prince. “No matter what has happened to the Hellirin, it is imperative we hold Mt. Helos.”

  “We should move our headquarters into the palace, General Roland.” Sertorius paused to take a swig of wine from a skin. “However, dividing our forces is not a good idea. I have no doubt Taliesin will want to rush to the aid of the Hellirin. On your advice, we raided the armory, and most of us now have magical weapons. We know this is where my brother and the war god will strike next. The fate of the Magic Realms is now out of our hands. It is here where we make our stand.”

  “I am well aware of this, Your Grace. I suggest you get some rest and leave these matters to me,” Roland said. “Captain Hawk, see Prince Sertorius is taken to the palace, and then post guards in every tower. Khamsin, take a detachment of men and collect every weapon you can find. Simoon and Sirocco, go with him.”

  “‘Captain?’ That’s more like it,” Hawk said, smiling wide. “An official title, and one I will prove I’m worthy of, Grand Master Roland.” He turned to Sertorius. “Come with me, Your Grace, and I will make certain you have appropriate quarters. Khamsin, you know what needs to be done. Get to it.”

  The Nova brothers hurried off in one direction, while Hawk and several knights led Sertorius to the palace. Taliesin noticed the remaining soldiers had begun separating the dead humans from the monsters. Every slain demon, lizardman, and night crawler was tossed on a pile and set on fire. The odor reached Taliesin’s nose, and she turned to Roland, wanting a private moment, but he had turned to give more orders to one of the White Stags. Nearby, she saw the body of Harmattan covered with a sheet, and the bag that contained the heads of Queen Dehavilyn and King Boran sat beside the body of the gypsy. Jaelle and Tamblyn sat together on a step to commiserate. Ursus had turned into a bear cub and sat at the new Lorian King’s feet, chewing on a bone.

  Shan Octavio approached Taliesin and Roland. “You know what must be done,” he said, sounding weary. “If we aid the Hellirin, we can return with the duchess and the general. My daughter has the Moon Ring, and the Hellirin will listen to her. Also, they know how to raise the dead; better to fight beside a Hellirin than burn another corpse. General Roland, I suggest you stack the dead inside the armory; they will not spoil in one night.”

  “We’ve lost many loved ones this day. Keep your voices down, so others won’t hear you,” Taliesin said, glancing at Jaelle and Tamblyn. Both looked in need of a friend, and she walked to the pair, still cradling Crusilix under her arm. Ursus turned to bite the toe of her boot. She nudged the cub with her foot in a playful manner.

  “I am glad you were not hurt,” Jaelle said, wiping away a tear.

  “Let’s go for a walk. We all need some fresh air,” Taliesin said.

  “Go without me,” the Lorian prince said, and lifted Ursus onto his lap. “I’m far too depressed about my parents to join you. Jaelle, you need not coddle me. Go with Taliesin—I’ll be fine.”

  Jaelle sprang to her feet, eager for a walk, and produced a skin of wine.

  “Drinking will not lessen the pain,” Taliesin said.

  “Nor will it hurt.”

  Jaelle lifted the wine flask and took a deep drink as Taliesin fell in beside the gypsy girl. They took a side street to avoid the bodies burning in the courtyard. Soldiers milled in a garden, killing creatures that hid among the rose bushes, and every street was filled with bodies yet to be cleared. Taliesin led Jaelle to the southern battlements. They climbed the stairs and walked along the wall, able to see a stream of people carrying torches wind along the narrow road. Horses pulled wagons and children walked beside them.

  “This is the last place refugees should come,” Jaelle said. “When Ragnal returns, the streets will run red with blood. I know Roland and Sertorius think they are doing what is best, but my father thinks we should leave.”

  “Nowhere is safe. At least we can defend this place; it is a fortress.” Taliesin took the skin from Jaelle and took a deep drink of wine. It was from Skarda, heady stuff with a bitter aftertaste. She handed it back to her friend. “I am truly sorry about Harmattan. I know how you felt about him, Jaelle. Your father wants you to marry Simoon, but I know Harmattan was the only man you considered as a husband.”

  “You were under Ragnal’s spell. I cannot blame you for what you couldn’t control. I saw what happened after Varg was killed; people were confused and frightened, and many Wolfmen died from old age. I will never have to worry about old age, not now; I am Hellirin.”

  “I am sorry about that, too. If we can reach Nethalburg, Duchess Dolabra or Lady Madera can raise Harmattan from the dead. You can be together.”

  Jaelle stared at her. “What happened to Wren and Rook?”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Hawk asked.”

  “Rook was dying,” Taliesin said. Aware the sword she held vibrated to learn this information, it dawned on her Crusilix enjoyed the pain of others. “I turned both into swans and sent them to Penkill Castle. Before you object, just know that was the only way I could save his life. I had to get them both out of Padama, and I did what I had to, Jaelle. Let me tell Hawk about his sister.”

  With a sob, Jaelle gave a nod and walked ahead of Taliesin. “I did love Harmattan,” she said. “He was not like other men—he understood me. I had not been with a man before, and I never wanted that type of relationship, but he accepted me for who I am. Harmattan understood me, and for that, I loved him.”

  “He stayed behind so his brothers could escape. He died fighting.”

  “That’s just like him,” Jaelle said with a drunken slur. “Stupid, stubborn, and brave. Harmattan thought because he was the youngest, he had to do more to prove himself. His brothers are good men, and brave, but Harmattan was gentle and kind. I blame Ragnal, not you, for his death. I just wanted you to know that, in case you think I want revenge. Taliesin, are my friend.”

  “Thank you, Jaelle. I’m sorry about everything in the past. You are my friend, too, and I want to make this right. Somehow, I will.”

  Taliesin gazed over the wall and tried to find words to make Jaelle feel better, but nothing she could say seemed appropriate. Harmattan Nova had been an exceptional man. Now he was dead. She wondered whether Harmattan would awaken if Jaelle gave him the Moon Ring, or if it meant her friend would die in his place. She did not know how the Hellirin raised their dead, nor precisely what the Moon Ring was able to do, other than secure the allegiance of their people.

  “Perhaps Zarnoc or Mira knows a way to resurrect Harmattan,” Taliesin said. “Maybe we don’t need Duchess Dolabra. I keep wondering, if I had stayed in Nethalburg with
Bonaparte, could we have defeated Ragnal and Heggen? I should have known Ragnal had another plan when Heggen came here. I hoped it meant Folando had defeated their army. Now, I have Heggen’s sword and must find a new owner for it, and I thought it might be a Hellirin.”

  “Ismeina said Mira loved Heggen and grieves his death.”

  “Mira mentioned something about it,” Taliesin said. “I thought about giving her the sword, but I was afraid it might make her feel worse.”

  “Apparently, they were lovers when they were younger,” Jaelle replied, eyeing the cloaked sword with trepidation. “Mira chose Ragnal over Heggen when they came to Mt. Helos. I guess she did not know then Navenna was already Ragnal’s lover. What a twisted world the gods made for themselves; it is hard to imagine we once prayed to these people.”

  Taliesin caught Jaelle’s arm and pointed to thousands of twinkling lights that appeared at the base of the mountain.

  “Is that Ragnal’s army?” Jaelle asked.

  “No,” Taliesin said. “I imagine when Ragnal is done with Nethalburg, he will simply open a portal to bring them here. I think it is Talas Kull and the Skardans. Do you think it’s possible they could climb a mountain pass so quickly? Kull doesn’t use magic, and the passes are thick with snow.”

  “There’s only one way to be sure—we can go look.”

  “If Thalagar were here, that’s what I’d do. But it’s two miles to the bottom, and we’ll pass a lot of people,” Taliesin said. “Let’s find Zarnoc; he’ll know, and I can leave Heggen’s sword with him.”

  As they walked along the battlements and approached the center of the city, Jaelle paused again to drink some more wine. Taliesin caught her around the waist, laughed, and guided her down a flight of stairs.

  “Talas Kull is not who you think he is, Jaelle. He is actually Prince Galinn, Sertorius’ older brother, and my cousin,” Taliesin said. “If those lights are Almaric and not Kull, I wonder what happened at Wolf’s Den? Kull and I have more men there. Captain Ramla of the Red Cobras is in command.”

  “Why don’t you look at that stupid map of yours, then?”

  Taliesin paused at the bottom of the stairs where a group of soldiers from Bavol stood guard. Their troops were spread thin throughout the city. She felt safer with Jaelle, drunk as she was, than with the Bavol soldiers. Not all the night crawlers had died during the battle, and the creatures’ screeches filled the night, along with the shouts of soldiers, but Roland and Hawk seemed to have the matter under control. Taliesin paused under the light from torches, aware the men watched, and withdrew the scarf from her pouch. She crouched, placed the sword aside, and spread the map out on the flagstones. It turned into a wooden panel for her to better observe in the breeze. Ringerike gave a thump against her back and produced a blue light to add to the torches’ glow.

  Taliesin slid her finger along the map as it outlined the dukedoms of Scrydon, Bavol, and Mt. Helos, nestled within the mountains. The people coming up the mountain road were refugees.

  “Show me Captain Ramla,” Taliesin said and glanced at Jaelle as the girl sat on the ground beside her. Wolf’s Den appeared; Captain Ramla was alive and in command of the fortress. Chief Lykus’ men were camped outside the wall surrounding Wolf’s Den, but were not strong in number. Why Lykus still lived was a mystery, for he was one thousand years old and should have died shortly after Varg died. Yet, the Wolf chief still lived, and accompanied King Almaric’s troops on the march across Scrydon. Talas Kull headed toward Mt. Helos through a valley, not far to the east, and would arrive on the morrow. She thought about General Folando, and the map showed him barricaded inside the castle at Nethalburg, fighting Navenna’s troops.

  “Well? What do you see?” Jaelle asked.

  “Duchess Dolabra is dead,” Taliesin said with a gasp. “A tiny ‘x’ appears by her name. Folando is alive and fights Navenna.”

  “What about Duvalen?”

  “Broa sits on the throne, and her army is camped outside Duvalen. No doubt she has forced the Lorians to accept her as their new queen.” Taliesin thought about Zarnoc, and found him with Ismeina and Mira at the Traveling Tower. She put away the map, picked up Crusilix and stood. “We need to talk to Zarnoc. He will know what to do.”

  But what Taliesin really longed for was a soft bed, something hot to eat, and Roland’s company.

  With Jaelle at her side, they wound their way through the streets, finding guards at every intersection. Tamal had let the refugees inside, and a large group from Bavol camped in the street. The shops were closed, but doors were open, and lights glowed in windows. Simoon had found an old lute, and the gypsy squire sang to the people while Ismeina tended to their injuries. Khamsin stood nearby, but when he noticed Taliesin and Jaelle, he approached them with long, quick strides.

  “Zarnoc wants you at the Traveling Tower. Now,” Khamsin said, falling into step beside the pair. “The wizard and the moon goddess released the court of King Korax. The old Lorians are a bit confused. If the wizard decides to send a patrol to Nethalburg, I’d like to go; I want to make certain Harmattan arrives there safe and sound.”

  “I will do it,” Jaelle snapped. “You are not Hellirin, Khamsin. You have no business going to Nethalburg, not if you want to stay alive. The city is under attack by Navenna, and in any case, you are needed here.”

  “The Lorian court contains wizards and sorcerers,” Khamsin said. “If you two are going to see General Folando and convince him to bring the Hellirin here, then I am going with you.”

  “Zarnoc will decide who goes,” Taliesin said, meeting the man’s gaze. “See if Ismeina needs anything else. We will send for you. I promise.” At his nod, she pulled on Jaelle’s arm and hurried her down the street. “I do not want any of the Nova brothers going to Nethalburg. I do not even want to return.”

  “I have wanted to visit the Hellirin city since I was a little girl. The elders spoke around the campfires about the darklings,” Jaelle said, stumbling beside Taliesin. “One thing I know, Taliesin; it takes dark magic to resurrect the dead, and the ring I wear contains dark magic. I can restore Harmattan’s life, and I intend to.”

  “That’s one thing, but going to Nethalburg is another.”

  “Taliesin, if my father was not able to put his foot down and force me to do his bidding, then I hardly think the Raven Mistress can change my mind. I am going to Nethalburg, and that is final.”

  The Traveling Tower remained where Taliesin had first seen it, now guarded by soldiers under Sirocco’s command, and the gypsy squire came to attention as Taliesin and Jaelle approached. The soldiers from Erindor reminded Taliesin she needed to do something about Captain Ramla. The door to the tower was open, and she heard Zarnoc’s voice before she entered and saw him standing at a long table. Logs crackled in the fireplace and a corpse, covered by a sheet, lay on a couch at the far side of the room. The royal court of King Korax, thirty men and women, sat at the table, but Mira was not present. The interior had grown to accommodate the needs of its guests. As Taliesin and Jaelle entered, the Lorians turned toward them. Taliesin placed Heggen’s sword on a chest, and though she did not say what it was, the whispers among the Lorians made it clear they knew it was Crusilix, and were leery of having something so dreadful inside the tower.

  Zarnoc clapped his hands to silence the crowd. “This is Taliesin, King Korax’s descendent,” he said, “otherwise called the ‘Raven Mistress.’ I told you she looked just like Korax, minus the beard, of course. I had wanted you to meet at Tantalon Castle, but Ragnal had other ideas. Everyone, this is Jaelle Alvarez, daughter of Shan Octavio, and the gentleman on the couch is her…friend.”

  “I brought Heggen’s sword. I thought you would know what to do with it, Zarnoc,” Taliesin replied. She smiled at the Lorians. “Hello. I was told the enchantment was broken. I am honored to finally meet all of you. Please, just call me Taliesin.”

  “The gypsy girl is Hellirin,” a man with a silver beard said. He wore jeweled rings on every finger, and his p
urple eyes narrowed as he gazed at Jaelle with disapproval. “Now Duvalen is in the hands of Broa, I suppose all our old friends will end up Hellirin.”

  “Let us hope that isn’t the case,” Zarnoc said in a huff. “What has happened to my nephew and his wife is deplorable. And now Dolabra is dead, the state of affairs in the Magic Realms needs our attention. Drink and eat your fill. We will discuss who goes where after I see to Harmattan.”

  Wine and food, served by the wizard, kept the Lorian court occupied as the wizard excused himself and walked to Taliesin and Jaelle. He led them to the couch where Harmattan rested, and they saw Tamblyn had found his way to the tower with Ursus. The prince sat in a chair and played a mournful song on Eevhass, while Ursus slept in a large basket and snored blissfully. His white fur was clean and his tummy looked swollen from having eaten far too large a supper. Tamblyn was too young to know the members of Korax and Madera’s royal court; he was born two hundred years after Korax died and the royal court enchanted by Lord Arundel; though he probably had a few relatives among them, including Zarnoc.

  “I should have gone for a walk instead,” Tamblyn said with a heavy sigh. “Meeting everyone like this is so upsetting. I had so hoped for my parents to welcome back our magic guild, but now….”

  “I’m so sorry, Tamblyn,” Taliesin said. She noticed the bag of heads in a second basket, and wondered if the king and queen might be resurrected. She did not ask since it seemed rude, and Jaelle was staring toward Harmattan.

  “I want to try to write the words to a ballad to commemorate my parents. It is difficult to do,” he said. “Whenever I think about them, I start to cry. When this war is over, I intend to rejoin their heads with their bodies and give them a proper funeral. Both made it expressly clear they did not desire to become Hellirin. My intention is to sing during the funeral service. I think my mother would have liked that, though my father did not like my singing voice.”

  “You have improved with practice,” Taliesin said, and went to hug the prince; he was family, after all.