“You are over-confident,” Navenna said. “This is Nightblood.” She lifted a magnificent gold sword that released a swirl of dark poisonous smoke, and soldiers beside her dropped to the ground; she did not care she killed her own men. “Ragnal told me your weakness—relying on your sword; you let it fight for you instead of using magic. Have you learned nothing on your travels, sha’tar? Can you not use magic?”
“Ringerike is all I need to defeat you,” Taliesin shouted.
The goddess gave a war cry in response and charged Taliesin. Their weapons met in the middle of the bridge and sparks shot into the air. They traded blows while the battle raged on around them. The monsters that came from the entrance stood behind Navenna, but were unable to cross the bridge and jammed tight, panic ensued as volleys of arrows were fired from the battlements. Bodies fell into the water as the Wolfmen, clad in black armor, turned on the goblins and ghouls. Swords dripped with blood as they fought their way to the cave entrance. Navenna, engaged with Taliesin, offered no assistance.
Enemy soldiers at the city walls abandoned their posts and attempted to gain access to the bridge. Taliesin heard zaps sizzling behind her, smelled burning flesh, and heard screams from all manner of creatures. Without turning to look, she knew the Hellirin magic users killed those who attempted to reach the bridge; they worked together to protect Taliesin’s back while she continued to battle the goddess.
“Your sword is strong, but I carry Death in my grip, girl,” Navenna snarled. “Now you shall know my full power!” She stabbed the orb with a hard thrust.
Nightblood penetrated the blue orb and filled the interior with blackness, and the blue light faded as Taliesin gasped for air. The gold sword swung toward her, and a dense blue shield appeared on her arm; Ringerike had found another way to protect her. Taliesin deflected the blow and let her sword take charge of the duel. Ringerike slid across Nightblood’s blade, leaving grooves and slicing into the goddess’s fingers. The wound failed to heal, and in alarm, Navenna changed hands. The black cloud that spewed from the tip of her sword created a shield that seemed equal in strength to Taliesin’s shield, until both slammed together.
For a moment, Taliesin stared into Navenna’s pale eyes and saw fear and hatred within their depths. Taliesin grimly smiled as Ringerike stabbed into Navenna’s chest and withdrew. The goddess stumbled back; a large hole in her breastplate dripped blood that stained Navenna’s gold armor and pooled at her feet. The goddess’ blows weakened. Taliesin increased the speed of her swings and, sliced again through the gold breastplate.
Taliesin knocked the goddess aside with her blue shield as battle horns blared. She pointed her sword at Navenna as she took a step backward, and an image came from Ringerike. She saw General Folando, Harmattan, and Jaelle, aided by the soldiers from the Traveling Tower, charge out of Nethalburg, roust the enemy, and chase them into the Shadow River, where the giant beast with the long tail waited to feed.
Part of Taliesin expected Navenna to use magic; despite the power of Nightblood, it was no match for Ringerike. However, Navenna, like Heggen, was proud, and did not think she could lose to a mere mortal. Taliesin relied on her battle prowess, because she trusted Ringerike over her own magic spells. For some reason, the goddess also chose to rely on her skill as a warrior, which was less than impressive.
“Ragnal will come before this battle is over,” the goddess shouted. “You will die as my father died, Raven Mistress. You should have sided with us. Now, it is too late.”
“Give Stroud my regards!”
Taliesin spun and struck Navenna with Ringerike, which slammed into the goddess’ black shield, breaking it in half and turning it into smoke. Eager to defeat its opponent, Ringerike jerked Taliesin’s arm as it parried Navenna’s blade with lightning-fast moves. Nightblood was no match for Ringerike, and the goddess was not as skilled with a blade as Taliesin. In a panic, Navenna ran to the far side of the bridge, but her retreat was blocked by her own soldiers, locked in battle. The Wolf Clan members, who had fought with her and died, were resurrected in a few minutes, returned as darklings, and attacked their supernatural allies. Her path to the mouth of the cave was cut off, and Ragnal was nowhere in sight.
“You shall not defeat me,” Navenna screeched.
The goddess threw a flame ball at Taliesin, but it bounced off the blue shield. Each fireball she cast ricocheted, and several struck the ceiling and dislodged a stalactite. It fell quickly and slammed through the bridge, cutting Taliesin off from the goddess. She jumped and landed in front of Navenna. Ringerike knocked Nightblood aside and slid into Navenna’s stomach, where it stayed. Navenna dropped her sword, her eyes opened wide.
“Ragnal said he would come…,” she cried. Whatever else she tried to say turned into bubbles of blood as she drew her last breath. She toppled over the side of the bridge and hit the water with a huge splash. A large, fanged mouth opened to swallow her.
All her life, Taliesin had prayed to Navenna. Now the goddess was dead, along with the old religion; no one would pray to the gods of Mt. Helos anymore. Navenna had wanted to be Ragnal’s mate and rule at his side. She never cared for Taliesin or the Raven Clan, and now she was dead. Taliesin picked up Nightblood, jumped across the gap in the bridge, and returned to the battle that was near its end. General Folando knocked aside the last goblin with his mace and approached. He was covered in black blood, his visor was open, and a strange smile played on his purple lips.
“Do not feel sorry for her, Taliesin. Navenna was evil like the rest of her kin,” he said. “No Hellirin or Lorian will ever doubt your prowess, now—you are truly the Queen of the Raven Clan. I will come with you to Mt. Helos.”
She gave a little nod.
“The battle is won!” Folando lifted his mace in the air and cheers echoed through the enormous cavern. When he lowered the mace, the cheers silenced, and he pointed to Jaelle and Harmattan, lifted onto the shoulders of two powerful knights. “They have proven themselves worthy of ruling Nethalburg, and will be crowned this night.”
Taliesin walked with Folando to the gates as her friends were carried in amid the throng of victorious soldiers. Ringerike hummed softly as they entered the city. Hellirins stood to the side of the street, weapons held high, and watched the procession make its way to the Black Palace. Harmattan and Jaelle were carried through the door, and Taliesin smelled incense as she entered behind them and felt a chill in the air. Dark purple banners hung motionless from the roof, for there was no breeze in the city. Bronze bowls on small pillars smoldered with dark embers from which rose white smoke that twisted and turned into grimacing faces. An array of obsidian statues of the gods were being draped with purple material; Heggen’s was the largest. She had no doubt they would be hidden away or destroyed; apparently, the Hellirins were done worshipping the old gods, too.
An array of weapons and shields, which showed considerable age, were mounted to the walls, along with torches in iron stands that shimmered with a haunting light. Darkling guards stood at their posts on all five levels of the palace and peered over balconies, watching the arrival of the new queen and king as they were carried into a large throne room. Shadows darted along tapestry-covered walls depicting former Hellirin kings and queens fighting Lorians mounted on unicorns and dragons. It was a place both beautiful and grim. Two large thrones cut from rubies sat upon a golden platform at the far end of the room. An immense black flag, adorned with the Hellirin emblem of two coiled serpents facing each other, hung behind the throne.
General Folando placed his hand on Taliesin’s shoulder and both halted in front of the throne as Jaelle and Harmattan were placed on their feet. An old wizard with a grey beard approached and motioned for the pair to sit on the thrones. Members of the Hellirin court, soldiers, and servants gathered behind Taliesin and Folando. Taliesin sheathed Ringerike and held Nightblood, its point to the ground, feeling its darkness and malice nibble at her palm. The dragon scale blocked its harmful emotions, but she was tempted to drop it.
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“You are the first living person to witness this ceremony,” Folando whispered. “We have not had a king in a thousand years. Now we shall have a king and a queen. As for me, I have but one duty left to perform—to accompany you to Mt. Helos.”
“Your last?”
“The wound from Ringerike will not heal. I do not have long to live, Taliesin. When I die, I shall be brought back here to lie beside my love in eternal rest. Do not look concerned. It is not your fault, and I bear you no ill will. You returned, though I did not think you would, and saved Nethalburg. And I look forward to death.”
“Akyres…hurry.”
Taliesin’s eyes shifted to the right at the sound of the ghostly voice. Behind a transparent black drape, she saw a large marble slab upon which lay the body of Duchess Dolabra. Taliesin noticed Lady Madera among the mourners, but she stayed beside the general and felt sorrow for her kin, Akyres Folando, knowing he would soon lie beside the dead duchess. Yet, she also felt a great sense of pride for her friends. Taliesin noticed the pleasure on her friend’s pale face as a purple cloak was placed around Jaelle’s shoulders. Likewise, Harmattan wore an expression of extreme satisfaction as a purple mantle was placed around his shoulders.
“They will be crowned now?” Taliesin whispered.
“You will be a part of it,” Folando said. “Jaelle wears the Moon Ring and will command the Hellirins, but Harmattan has Brightstar. This day, the sword I fought against many times in battle with Boran, fought for the Hellirins. The sword will unite our two realms, Taliesin, just as soon as you kill Broa and Ragnal.”
Lady Madera drifted into the throne room and joined Taliesin and Folando. All three knelt, along with every Hellirin. Jaelle and Harmattan joined hands and the royal court wizard performed a simple wedding ceremony. It was not what Taliesin expected, but she realized the Hellirins required no lavish ceremonies, unlike the Lorians. Silver crowns appeared on Jaelle’s and Harmattan’s heads when the wizard stepped back and bowed his head; Jaelle’s was covered with diamonds, while Harmattan wore a crown with deer antlers.
“We thank you for this great honor,” Queen Jaelle said. “Navenna and her army were defeated, thanks to our friend Taliesin. King Harmattan and I will do our best to rule Hellirin with grace and dignity. But there are two Maeceni left who must be dealt with before peace will be known in the Magic Realms.”
“Our first command is to send General Folando to Mt. Helos,” King Harmattan added. “It will be his last service to this court, and he will leave at once with our best fighters to join the Raven Mistress at Mt. Helos. The Hellirins will fight beside Prince Sertorius, Prince Tamblyn, and Talas Kull. Together, we will defeat our enemy and, in so doing, welcome a new age of peace.”
“They speak differently,” Taliesin muttered.
Madera turned her head to smile. “Crowned royalty always does.”
The general and his sister stood and bowed to the royal couple as the members of the court began to applaud. All manner of creatures appeared from the shadows and approached the royal pair. Ghouls, goblins, wraiths, and a darkling centaur Taliesin had once seen outside Duvalen, bowed low. Darkling fairies, as well as tiny elves riding dragonflies, ghosts, and skeleton guards paid homage to their new queen and king. Taliesin stepped forward and offered Nightblood to Queen Jaelle.
“I took this in battle from Navenna. Its dark power should not be allowed outside this realm,” Taliesin said in a soft voice. “I present it to you, Queen Jaelle.” She handed it to Jaelle by the hilt, and backed away from the thrones.
“Collect your Traveling Tower,” Jaelle said. “Fill it with our soldiers and return to Mt. Helos. General Folando, we will see you again. Your place waits beside Duchess Dolabra. We thank you for your service to Nethalburg.”
“Now go,” Harmattan replied with a twitch of a smile.
“Come,” General Folando said. He turned and walked with a slight limp as he led Taliesin and Madera into the chamber where the duchess lay.
Two large pimpled giants stood beside a black marble coffin Taliesin had mistaken for a slab. The body of Duchess Dolabra rested on top, covered by a light gray cloth, and cloaked maidens had placed a blanket of white moonflowers over her.
“I want to gaze upon her face one last time. It will not take long.” Folando placed his arm over the stiff body and pressed his head against Dolabra’s to speak in a hushed voice. “I miss you already and long to rejoin you, my love.”
“Give him a moment.” Madera placed her hand on Taliesin’s shoulder. “You gave our new queen a powerful sword, as Zarnoc did for our new king,” she said. “The wound your sword gave my brother is fatal. The court sorcerer says he does not have long to live. But I do bear good news. I am pleased to inform you Wren gave birth to a beautiful baby girl this morning. She and her new husband, Rook, named the child ‘Rosamond,’ in your honor.”
“Who cares for Rosamond?”
“Wren and Rook remain in their swan forms, as you know, which means Rosamond came out as an egg. The cygnet turned into a babe within seconds of being hatched, and is now cared for by Mrs. Caldwell. They are all safe. Neither Broa nor Ragnal will go to Penkill Castle, for it remains defended by the Black Wings. Your family and clan are quite safe from this ugly war. Let me show you, so you can put your mind at ease.”
Madera removed a small mirror from a pocket in her cloak and turned it around to show Taliesin the image of Mrs. Caldwell holding a baby girl wrapped in a blanket in her arms. The child had bright violet eyes like Wren, and a dark complexion like Rook. Hillary, her husband, stood at the woman’s side, and Taliesin was pleased to see the child was in loving care.
The image changed to show a small pond in the courtyard of the castle where a pair of swans, one white and one black, floated. Lieutenant Hornbill, a man named for his preposterously large nose, watched over them.
“As you can see, your dear friends are well taken care of, Taliesin,” Madera said. “Hornbill takes his duties quite seriously. The Raven Clan has grown in your absence as more and more people arrive at Penkill Castle every day to find sanctuary behind its walls. The Black Wings have tripled in size. Since the Snake River has subsided to a mere stream, the Ghajaran have moved back into the Gorge of Galamus. Chief Toman, assisted by Charon, watch over Penkill Castle and the combined tribes while Shan Octavio is at Mt. Helos. I have always been fond of the gypsies. They are a misunderstood people, and want only to do what they want to do and not have to follow rules; very much like the Raven Clan.”
Taliesin thought of Master Osprey and her clan, dead and gone, but still in her heart. She wondered if Minerva and the twins wandered along the Shadow River, crying in pain and suffering; Osprey had been eaten by something in the river. The boatman had said his soul was free, and she hoped it was the case. Not knowing the rules of the underworld or the netherworld, she didn’t know where Osprey’s soul had gone. Until the Maeceni were destroyed, she thought, none of the dead would know peace.
“I know what you think, Taliesin,” Madera said. “You blame yourself for the deaths of your adopted parents. When this war is over, I will ask Queen Jaelle to send for them. She can use the Moon Ring to turn them into wraiths and they may reside here in Nethalburg. Would that please you?”
“Yes,” Taliesin said.
“Then I will make the request on your behalf. So it shall be. The day, so many years ago, you came to Korax’s castle through the wiles of Zarnoc’s magic, you alone greeted me as a friend; I have never forgotten it. This is why I gave you the Moon Ring, for I hoped one day you would be queen, but I think Jaelle Alvarez and her husband, Harmattan Nova, are better suited for this task. I do not know if we will meet again, but I am glad to have met you, Taliesin. I will not forget you.”
“Nor I you, Your Grace. Take care of my friends.”
“I shall,” Madera said. “See my brother dies well.”
The general stood and returned to Taliesin. “It is time,” he said.
“Farwell, Akyres.” M
adera embraced her brother and kissed his cheek.
The sad look exchanged between brother and sister told Taliesin how much they cared for one another. It would be lonely for Madera without her brother, she thought, but the young now ruled Hellirin. She wondered if Madera was long for this world as she fell into step beside Folando, ready to return to Mt. Helos.
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Taliesin left the cave with the tiny chess piece containing General Folando and his best warriors in her pouch. As a parting gift, Queen Jaelle had given her a cloak of raven feathers that flowed over her red-scale armor. Taliesin did not think she would see Jaelle or Harmattan again, at least not without a formal invitation. Her farewells to Queen Jaelle and King Harmattan had been as brief as their wedding ceremony; she had merely waved before leaving the palace with her Hellirin army secured in the tower. The Hellirin soldiers and captain formed an aisle with their swords raised high in salute.
Her beautiful black-winged horse, Thalagar, waited at the end of the aisle, and he snorted and stomped the frost-covered ground with his front hoof. She ran to the stallion, threw her arms around his silky neck, and pressed her face against his warm neck. She smelled his earthy scent and imagined he’d not suffered in the last few weeks, kept company by Shan Octavio’s finest brood mares.
“You came back for me, my friend,” she whispered to Thalagar, a lump in her throat.
The horse snorted again and nudged her with his nose. Everything felt less dismal, and the hardship ahead of her less difficult, now they were reunited. She had shared many adventures with Thalagar, and he would take her to Mt. Helos with the speed and surety of a dragon. Ragnal, King Almaric, and their army lay on the other side of the mountains. With the Hellirins on watch, she did not fear the Lorians, if led by Broa from Duvalen, would cause problems. The Lorians needed to be liberated like the Hellirins, but they would have to wait; she was bound for Mt. Helos.
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