Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “Let’s get going, boy.”

  With the rays of dawn on the horizon, Taliesin climbed into the saddle. She waved to the Hellirins as the horse leaped into the air, and he flew across the clearing and swept across the Dark Wood, while creatures ran beneath them, cheering, “Raven Mistress,” until she could no longer hear them. The horse swept across the forest and lifted higher into the clouds. With her visor closed, the wind whistled in her ears, but she didn’t feel the chill as her raven cloak remained wrapped around her, and its warmth protected her from the frigid altitude. As they flew over the mountains, her sword, nestled beneath the cloak, offered a frightful glimpse of what lay ahead.

  Thick smoke filled the morning sky over Mt. Helos, and enemy troops lined the road to the palace. A line of catapults placed on an adjacent mountain flung boulders at the walls, a large battering ram hammered at the gates, and soldiers attempted to use ladders to scale the battlements.

  The image faded as an enormous swath of sparkling gold appeared in the sky, which quickly took on the shape of a dragon as Bonaparte flew out of the clouds to join them. He ripped a spear embedded in his front leg out with his teeth.

  “You come, and not a moment too soon,” Bonaparte rumbled. His giant head was larger than her horse, and he flashed his smile. The body of an Aldagar knight was lodged in his back teeth. He bit down hard and crushed through armor, but lost half of the knight, and it tumbled down and dropped out of sight. He swallowed the rest with a belch that blew fire from his nostrils.

  “Navenna is dead! Folando is with me!”

  The dragon spread his wings wide to glide. “Yes,” he said, “and Ragnal wants revenge! Speed your horse, Taliesin! We have Wolfmen to kill, and a god to lay to rest. Do try to keep up, if you can, puny horse.”

  Thalagar gave a loud whinny and moved his feet as if he ran on the ground. As the dragon flew ahead, Taliesin pressed her heels to her horse. She imagined Thalagar flying ahead of the dragon, and screamed as he burst forward. She nearly toppled from the saddle, but managed to hold onto the horse, bent low over his neck. The wind blew across her back, and she smelled smoke before she noticed the darkness in the sky.

  With a roar, Bonaparte dropped down as they neared Mt. Helos. He flapped his wings hard, and spewed flames at the soldiers at the gate. Men scattered across the rocky ledge, engulfed in flames. Taliesin wondered why Ragnal had failed to open a portal to allow his men direct entrance into Mt. Helos, and took a moment to marvel at the skill of Zarnoc, Ismeina, Mira, and the Lorian magic users, who had probably blocked him. She hoped she could pass through the protection spells unharmed.

  Certain the spells would open for her, she again tapped Thalagar’s flanks and flew over the enemy troops and the walls. The dragon circled overhead, the perfect distraction, as she glided above a barrage of arrows. She waited until the arrows fell before landing behind the allies’ troops at the far side of the western courtyard. As she dismounted, Khamsin ran toward her and caught the reins of her horse. The smell of death lay thick in her nose, and she noticed a pile of bodies pushed to the side of the courtyard.

  “My brother? Is Harmattan all right?”

  “Crowned king of Hellirin and married to Queen Jaelle,” Taliesin said as she watched the man stroke her horse’s nose. He was obviously excited by the news.

  “Sirocco will be upset when he hears this; he had hoped to wed her.”

  “I know, Khamsin. But Jaelle is a darkling. I killed Navenna and took Nightblood from her. It is now Jaelle’s sword; a wedding gift.” Taliesin noticed Khamsin looked surprised to hear Jaelle had received such a present. “Will you take Thalagar to someplace safe? I may have need of him later, but right now I must see Roland and tell him what has happened.”

  “I’ll see to Thalagar’s comfort. Zarnoc gave us a room in the palace for the horses. There are more horses than just Thalagar and Ramla’s; most who came from Bavol and Scrydon came on horseback.”

  Taliesin caught a flask of water thrown to her and took a long drink. When the water hit her stomach, she realized she was hungry, exhausted, and close to collapse. The gypsy handed her a bag. Inside was bark from the Banyok Tree, which the gypsies had ground into a fine powder. Rolled inside a leaf from the same tree, the gypsies sucked on it when they traveled in the desert to keep their body temperatures low and to avoid headaches. It also provided energy, though the grumbles in her stomach continued as she sucked on it.

  “You will last a while longer,” Khamsin said. “I will find you something to eat. General Roland is at the front with the troops, and Talas Kull is with him; he refuses to stay at the back with Sertorius and Tamblyn. Zarnoc and the magic users are stationed all over the city; they expect Ragnal to find a secret way in. I will see you soon.”

  Taliesin placed the Traveling Tower on the ground as soldiers ran past and paid her no attention. She clapped her hands three times. The tower grew as big as the guard towers in the city, and the door opened. General Folando walked out and his soldiers, in silver armor and purple cloaks, followed. The general saluted Taliesin as he approached. She wondered if she should give Crusilix to the general, or give it to Captain Tillion who she spotted with the men, but decided since Zarnoc had given away Brightstar, and he might have need of one.

  “You made good time, Raven Mistress. Take me to your commander.”

  “It’s Grand Master Roland,” she said. “You will like him—he is brave and strong, like you.”

  “I appreciate the compliment,” Folando said as he lifted his spiked mace. “I will do my best to keep Roland safe. You are a good woman, Taliesin. No one else bothered to help save Nethalburg, but you did, and for that, I will watch over you.”

  With a knot in her throat, Taliesin led the general and his troops toward the front. She found Sir Roland with Shan Octavio, Sirocco, Simoon, and Talas Kull preparing to climb the stairs to the battlements. Prince Sertorius and Prince Tamblyn were nowhere in sight. As she approached with the darklings, a hush fell over the combined Caladonian and Skardan warriors, and they watched as Taliesin and Folando caught Roland and his officers at the stairs.

  “It does my heart good to see you back safely, Taliesin. It means Navenna was put to rest,” Roland said. He did not attempt to embrace or kiss her, though she yearned for it. His face was covered in soot from the fires that raged throughout the city, fought by civilians who were hard-pressed to contain them. Even his white tunic was filthy and splattered with blood; she hoped it was not his own. He gazed at General Folando, a man almost equal in size, and lowered Moonbane to his side.

  “Grand Master Roland Brisbane, this is General Akyres Folando,” Taliesin said. As the two shook hands, she introduced Shan Octavio and then faced Talas Kull, who glared with open hostility at the Hellirin. “I know you have met, but I assure you, Kull, the Hellirins aren’t here to claim Skarda.”

  “Not at all,” Folando said as he thrust out his hand. “Go on, Skardan. Let the past be behind us. Gypsies now rule my realm. That should put a grin on your face and ease that look of murder in your barbarian eyes.”

  “Dead men talk?” Kull shook Folando’s hand. “I did not think the day would come when we would join sides, Hellirin. You smell a lot worse than I thought; good thing the wind is strong on this mountain.”

  “Yes, the fleas won’t reach me.” Folando smiled, a rather frightening thing to watch, for it transformed his pale face into something less attractive than his frown. Yet, there was something different, Taliesin noted. It was not the sorrow of Dolabra’s death he wore, but a type of new-found freedom. Perhaps it was the knowledge he would die before the day was out that lessened the burden of commanding the Hellirin troops; he knew his fate, whether they won or lost.

  “Not much of an improvement over Bonaparte’s ill manner,” Kull said with a wink at Taliesin. “My warriors will fight beside the Hellirin. Fear not. And they’ll fight twice as hard to avoid death.” The old adversaries climbed the stairs, side by side, and joined the soldiers on the battle
ments.

  “My daughter is well?” Shan Octavio asked. He held Retaliator in his hand, a fresh cut on his cheek. As a stone was lobbed over the wall, he turned to watch it slam into a building.

  “Jaelle is queen and Harmattan her king,” Taliesin replied. Octavio nodded, and then dashed up the stairs with Simoon and Sirocco. Sir Tamal, commanding the archers, shouted for another volley to be released.

  Roland caught Taliesin, and pulled her beneath a ledge to scrutinize her appearance. “You look exhausted,” he said. “When was the last time you slept?”

  “Honestly, I don’t remember. Please don’t make a fuss.”

  “You still look alive. Perhaps I should check.” The big knight jerked her against his armored chest with a clank, and his lips mashed against her mouth; his beard tickled her face. “Confirmed. Warm and soft. Not at all a corpse,” he said in a husky voice.

  “Time for that later, my love. What’s the status here?”

  “Back to business, as usual.” Roland sighed as he set her back, his attention distracted as a soldier fell from the battlements, struck through the face with an arrow. “Magic doesn’t keep them from pounding the hell out of us. What it does do is keep that bastard, Ragnal, from getting inside. He keeps trying. Zarnoc is truly a remarkable wizard; I do not think he needs the help of the others. Maybe I am a crazy, but I have this feeling he is Stroud. How else can he be that powerful?”

  “Stroud? Ragnal killed his father.”

  “So he said.”

  “Roland, what Zarnoc is, is the rightful king of Duvalen. He did not want the job, and turned it down ages ago. Brightstar was his to keep, a king’s sword, but he wanted Harmattan to have it. Not Tamblyn. What he’s done is unite the two magic realms, but the Lorians remain Broa’s slaves.”

  Roland nodded. “Forget about going there. I want you at the front line with Ringerike. Keep those Wolfmen off the walls. Now give me one more kiss.” He grinned widely. “Meanwhile, I will imagine you out of those dragon scales and soaking in a bath.” He brushed his lips across hers, and his eyebrow lifted as Zarnoc appeared beside them.

  “Stop dillydallying you two,” Zarnoc said with a leer. “Sir Roland, no hanky-panky. Kindly release Taliesin.” He seemed satisfied when the knight let go, and chuckled under his breath. “So far, you have shown a remarkable knack for tactics, Roland, and I am impressed. But Ragnal knows best how to assault this palace. Thanks to you, girl, his reinforcements are not coming. Mira knows her twin sister is dead, but I can’t say she is choked up over the loss. However, she is worried about what Ragnal will do when he arrives. I assure you, that old war dog has a few tricks up his sleeve, for desperate men do desperate things, and for the moment, Ragnal has been outmaneuvered. Things should start to get very interesting.”

  “In that case, I must see to our defenses,” Roland grumbled. He lifted his axe and took long strides toward the stairs. He shouted at men to put out a fire and ran up the stairs, his voice audible over the shouts and cries of the soldiers.

  “Just how desperate? What will Ragnal do next?”

  “Worm his way in. Wiggle, wiggle.”

  Taliesin could not imagine Ragnal relying on Almaric, or human troops, to lay siege to the city. Broa remained absent, but Taliesin wondered if the goddess might yet make an appearance and force the Lorians to fight for her.

  “I will not allow Broa to summon the Lorians,” Zarnoc said, reading her thoughts. “No, I mean to take care of Broa, soon enough.”

  “Jaelle commands those who live in Nethalburg. Does that mean all the supernatural creatures now obey her? Does that include Heggen’s demons and those slithering things that came out of the mountain? And where are the flocks of flying reptiles? Have they joined Ragnal, or have they gone to the Dark Wood?”

  “Oh, pish posh. You worry about everything, when you should not. I know what I’m doing, Taliesin, and I know how to handle a couple of angry Maeceni. You have the finest instrument of war ever created. Bonaparte is the fiercest of all dragons ever born, and while he is quite humble about it, I am quite certain he can take care of whatever Ragnal summons to attack this palace.”

  “Zarnoc, what are you planning? I need to know the details, if I am to fight Ragnal. I don’t like waiting until the last second.”

  “Listen to those war horns; the Skardan warriors always blow horns when the enemy charges the gate. Isn’t it exciting?”

  Taliesin frowned. “This is just a game to you, old man. You are as bad as the Maeceni when it comes to intrigue and manipulation,” she said. “Can you see the future or not? Is that why you’re in such a good mood? You know, I never saw you use Brightstar even once in battle. Can you use a sword?”

  Zarnoc snorted. “I fight as well as you, when provoked,” he said, “and you are provoking me right now. I am nothing at all like the Maeceni. What you need is a spell to cheer you up and to make you think positive thoughts; you act as if a dirge plays in the background when all is in its place and as it should be.”

  Taliesin heard the loud roar of a dragon, and expected to see Bonaparte, with his gold scales and black talons, sweep past. Instead, she saw a red dragon, not quite as large as Bonaparte, lumber from a nearby street. Its tail smacked into a temple, knocking down a few pillars, as it continued to the western courtyard. Zarnoc looked quite impressed with himself, for seated on the back of the dragon was Ismeina wearing white armor and holding Crusilix. The mild-mannered witch seemed like the last person to become a dragon-rider or carry Heggen’s sword into battle. Taliesin feared the clumsy dragon would knock down the Traveling Tower, but it stopped to look in her direction; its eyes belonged to Captain Hawk.

  “Of all the things to do to Hawk. You made him a dragon?”

  “Dragons breathe fire; Hawk liked the idea and volunteered. While you have been absent, I brought Duke Andre, the Knights of the White Stag and of the Blue Star, and every one of the surviving King’s Men to Mt. Helos. Sir Jordan and his twin brother, Justin, are here. But more importantly, Landrake and Gavin should be showing their faces, right about… now.”

  Two more dragons, one blue and one white, appeared behind Hawk. Mira sat on the blue dragon Taliesin assumed to be Sir Gavin. On Sir Landrake’s back sat his friend Sir Bedwyn, looking quite pleased to be riding a fire-breathing dragon. Taliesin wondered if knights had ridden dragons in the past. The whole concept was marvelous, and she remembered how much she had enjoyed riding Captain Ramla into battle against Sertorius; she thought the knights and White Witch probably felt the same way.

  The dragons launched into the air.

  Zarnoc had a distinct look of pride on his face as he scratched his nose and watched the dragons fly in an attack formation. He leaned on his staff and whistled a little song when Bonaparte, a streak of gold, joined the other dragons and led them in the attack.

  “Are you more powerful than everyone, Zarnoc?” Taliesin asked. “You never cease to amaze me, and no one seems to be able to match you; if you hadn’t been a Lorian, you could have been a god. I think you are more powerful than all the Maeceni combined, and merely hold back so you don’t appear to be a big show-off, which you are, by the way.”

  “Is that a compliment or an insult?” Zarnoc asked. “As if I would ever pretend to be anyone other than whom I am; a wizard of extraordinary means. Don’t ever compare me to one of these ancient gods. As for the true Supreme Power in this world, it is far greater than I could ever be, and I borrow magic from Nature. Haven’t you learned a thing about why things are the way they are, child? All magic comes from Nature, and Nature is the Supreme Power. Trust me, it does have a mind of its own. Remind me later to sit you down and tell you a thing or two about the ultimate power in the universe; you might learn something, if you don’t let it go in one ear and out the other.”

  “I’m not that stupid, and I do pay attention, Zarnoc,” she said. Shan Octavio had explained their religion, about praying to Nature, and it was a god, in a way, unlike any other. She didn’t need the wizard to
chastise her, or to make fun of her, especially during the heat of battle.

  “Ragnal is at the gate!” shouted a knight. White Stags and Blue Stars advanced toward the gate, carrying large shields and spears. Quite a few carried Mandrake or magical swords forged by Rivalen, Gregor, or Falstaff; a few even had weapons made by Maltese, the newest swordsmith from Bavol. Maltese was a woman, and it pleased Taliesin to know she possessed the skill of the former great swordsmiths. She suspected everyone would want one of her weapons in the future, for they were beautiful.

  “Oh, goodie,” Zarnoc said as he swept forward. “We have company.”

  “Why so pleased?” Taliesin asked. “You’re not going to let Ragnal in?”

  “You and your silly questions, girl. Go do something impressive.”

  Tamblyn, riding his polar bear, came from another direction with his younger brother, Theodor, who sat on a giant stag, a magical spear in his hand. The two princes led Korax’s royal court, most dressed in gold armor, into the courtyard. A dozen or more magic users stood in the center of the group and looked ready to depart. As a large stone came whizzing over the wall, the Lorian wizards deflected it with their staffs, and it returned to strike Ragnal’s troops.

  “Where are you going with the Lorians?” Taliesin asked.

  “To Duvalen,” Zarnoc replied.

  Taliesin placed her hand on the wizard’s shoulder. Another war horn blared as a thunderous blow struck the gates. “You’re needed here,” she said. “So are the Lorians—you can’t leave now, especially not with all those magic users.”

  “Duvalen is my destination—I have a goddess to kill, and a king to crown. Either bend a knee or take Ragnal’s head, child; it is your decision, not mine. After all, you are a sha’tar and do not need help, so act like it and take charge.” With a snap of his fingers, the wizard and the Lorians vanished. But Zarnoc’s voice echoed in her head. “They have broken through, Raven Mistress. Ragnal comes for you.”