Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Red dragon-scale armor glinted like fire in the rising sun. Taliesin stood in the center of the western courtyard as the gate crashed inwards, and enemy soldiers from Maldavia, Aldagar, Garridan, and Scrydon spilled into the city. Ringerike in hand, she watched storm clouds appear above the mountain fortress and smelled rain and death in the air. Sir Roland, Talas Kull, and General Folando had joined the knights’ attempt to stop the soldiers from entering the city. The clash of swords and the screams of the dying filled her ears, and she spotted Roland in the thick of battle, swinging his powerful axe, knocking aside five men at a time.

  The brilliant flame of Calaburn shone in the midst of the battle and let her know the position of Sertorius, who fought beside Shan Octavio, Tamal, Sirocco, Simoon, and Khamsin on the battlements. A stream of the enemy came over the wall on ladders, led by King Almaric, Doomsayer in his grip. Sertorius fought his way toward Almaric, but Taliesin looked away as she smelled wolf and held out her sword as a familiar figure in black armor appeared in a swirl of smoke.

  “So much for magic spells,” Taliesin muttered. Blue light streamed from the Raven Sword to form its protective orb around her and turned the feathers of her cape to dark purple. She held the longsword in both hands as Ragnal walked toward her, accompanied by a shaggy brown wolf, smaller than his dead supernatural wolves. Her sword told her the wolf was Chief Lykus.

  Hellirin soldiers fought their way toward Taliesin in a show of loyalty she had not expected, to form a defensive line in front of her. The brown wolf snarled and immediately attacked, tearing the Hellirins apart. Ragnal lifted Bone into the air and every undead soldier dropped to its knees as he continued to advance on Taliesin. He swung his sword and cleaved off heads, laughing when the Hellirins, unable to move, were dispatched with such ease.

  “You’re not quite so confident without Zarnoc,” Ragnal snarled. “After I deal with you, I’ll start killing those dragons.”

  “I don’t think so,” Taliesin replied. “You die…today.”

  Ragnal smiled, closed his visor, and waved his left hand. Everything started to move faster around them, and the sound of bees buzzed in her ears. She smelled the rot that came from the dark magic he used. When he stood before her, Ringerike quivered in her hand, and the images of Ragnal and Stroud appeared in her mind. While the old god slept in his bed, Ragnal stood over him with a dagger in his hand. As soon as he plunged the dagger into Stroud’s chest, the All Father’s magic flowed into Ragnal, and Bone changed its allegiance. Taliesin felt evil ooze from every pore of the war god’s massive body; magic shielded her opponent, just as it did her, and she knew he was not going to make the same mistakes he had in their prior meetings.

  “Zarnoc’s protective spells were easy to disperse after his departure. Oh, I know there are more than a hundred Lorian and Hellirin magic users on the loose, but they’re old and out of touch with their powers. Do you think we could have caught them in the past and turned them into statues if they were all that impressive? No. Not at all.”

  “The way you boast makes my head spin.”

  “Oh, it will spin, as soon as I cut it from your shoulders,” he said. “I have reserved this moment especially for you, Raven Mistress. This will be a final test of your magic skills and fighting abilities. Will you fight like Korax or Tarquin on this day? I wonder. I can tell your magic has grown, but your weakness is you care too much for your friends. They are dying all around you, girl; you can’t save them all.”

  “Your weakness is your conceit, Ragnal. There are no Wolfen to help you now. I hope you fight better than you have in the past, for you fight like…a child.”

  Ragnal pulled aside a wolf pelt draped over one shoulder, to reveal a second sword strapped to his side. “This is Venom. Navenna took it from Dolabra and sent it to me,” he said. “Dolabra was not much of a warrior. I’m sure you know this sword kills what it touches, so don’t let it touch you, or the fight will be over before it ever starts.”

  Taliesin and Ragnal circled each other. She heard Lykus howling and spotted him running across the courtyard, chasing after Hellirin soldiers. Trading barbs with Ragnal made her feel slightly guilty, for while they talked, men and women died around them. She assumed that was why the war god delayed engaging her in battle. She wanted to enrage him, to make him fight, and tried to find a sore spot.

  “Navenna is dead. I killed her. How does it feel, Ragnal, to lose your beloved?”

  “I prefer Mira.”

  “Pity she doesn’t love you. Not anymore,” Taliesin said.

  Something happened in that instant, something she had not counted on, and she smelled burnt feathers. Bodies rushed past her, out of sequence; either moving too fast or far too slow, until they died, hit the ground, and did not move at all. Overhead, the dragons flew past in slow motion, distinguished in the swirl of clouds by the flames they spewed, and a gust of heat rolled across the courtyard and bounced off the blue orb. Ragnal drew the curved blade from its scabbard, tapped Venom against Bone, and laughed as he came to a halt.

  “My magic is stronger than yours,” he said. “I can speed up or slow down what happens here. I alone determine the outcome of this battle, girl.”

  “You murdered your father,” Taliesin said. “The magic you stole from him and every other dead Maeceni is befouled, and it stinks like you do. Rotten magic for a rotten god. I suppose you will smell the same when you are dead.”

  “The Wolfen curse lives on through Lykus, for he is the carrier of the disease. He infects the soldiers with one bite or scratch, and they will turn into wolves, permanently, with an insatiable desire to eat the flesh of man, woman, and child.”

  “Don’t be too sure about that. I don’t see any wolves; I’d say the magic users in this palace are dealing with your pet.”

  “No more talk, girl!”

  Ringerike yanked Taliesin toward Ragnal, not waiting for further words. Venom rose to block the blow, while Bone jabbed at the blue orb with a loud scratching sound.

  Ringerike let out a piercing, shrill screech, and all manner of images burst inside Taliesin’s head. She saw Ragnal as a child as he ran through a palace, chasing after a white wolf pup. An older version of the god kissed one twin girl, and then her sister. She saw Ragnal, his shirt off, in a sword fight with a friend, another Maeceni, stabbing the man through the heart. Then she caught a glimpse of him riding at the head of an army, with a white and a black wolf running beside his warhorse. Finally, in the aftermath of a battle won, he walked among the dead with a smile on his face.

  As the images faded, the blue orb grew in intensity, and Taliesin was able to focus on the battle. Ringerike fought against the two swords, and struck through the orb to slam into them, back and forth, displaying more determination than ever. She clung to the hilt, letting the sword do the work as Ringerike blocked Bone, and swung back to knock aside Venom.

  “Yes, let the Raven Sword fight me. Use your magic,” Ragnal urged. “Let us see if you can defeat me by using your imagination, girl.”

  His voice lulled her to obey, and Taliesin imagined Ragnal dropping his swords and falling at her feet. Instead, the blue light faded, and Bone slid across her leg. It penetrated the dragon scales, and sunk into her flesh. The wound burned, but she did not have time to heal the injury, for Ragnal’s swords kept hers busy, and forced her to hold tight with both hands to keep the Raven Sword from flying out of her grip to fight on its own.

  “First blood,” Ragnal said with a laugh. “Does it hurt?”

  Taliesin hissed. “Do you care?”

  “You are in my way!”

  Ragnal lifted Venom over his head with a cry of rage, held Bone before him as he spun, and penetrated the orb in a flurry of motions mimicked by the soldiers around her. One blow sent scales from her helmet dropping to the ground like raindrops and left her with a screaming headache. She staggered backwards, only to be drawn forward by an eager Ringerike. The Raven Sword’
s speed kept her dancing, but the injury to her thigh burned and slowed her. Weary, she merely reacted to Ragnal’s blows, knowing as a Wolfen she’d have been stronger. Now, as a human, she was less impressive, and Ragnal fought with increased zeal. Perhaps he had been toying with her in the past, she thought, amazed at the weight of his blows. Bone wanted to kill her, but Venom had no cause to hate her, not after she helped save Nethalburg, and she sensed through Ringerike the Duchess’ weapon was willing to be coaxed into helping her.

  “Tell Venom to lower its guard,” Taliesin thought to the Raven Sword. “We are not enemies. The sword has no reason to fight for Ragnal; quite the contrary.”

  Another strike from Bone made it past Ringerike, caught unprepared as it spoke to Venom. The blade slid along her breastplate, broke through dragon scales, and sliced deeply enough to leave a stripe across her flesh. Taliesin let out a sharp cry of pain, and fought the dark magic, for Bone had the ability to turn its opponents to ash on contact. She willed her body to heal, and commanded Ringerike to raise its blue shield. She felt charged with confidence when both things happened and sensed the battle turning in her favor.

  Ringerike spoke to Venom and she watched, pleased, as the curved blade jerked Ragnal’s arm back. In that second, her sword stabbed through his armor to penetrate his shoulder. Venom dropped from his hand, struck the ground with a loud clank, and then slid across the cobblestones toward her.

  “Go stab Chief Lykus! Kill him!”

  Venom flew into the air and disappeared. The soldiers around her suddenly started to move, clearly no longer controlled by the war god, who was distracted and stared in disbelief as the Hellirin sword departed. It was a mistake, and Ringerike viciously stabbed him in the thigh. Ragnal cried in pain, his temper unleashed, and he stabbed Bone into a passing man, who fell between them and turned to ash.

  “Show him what you can do, Raven Sword!” Taliesin shouted. As the sword attacked Bone, she threw up a hand and willed Ragnal to stumble.

  An invisible wall of energy slammed into Ragnal, and he tumbled head over heels, and hit the ground with a crash. She stepped forward, but as she swung down, Ragnal vanished; his loud footsteps caused her to turn in time to knock aside Bone.

  “Two can play this game, little girl!”

  The war god pointed his sword at the storm clouds, and a bolt of lightning slammed into the blue orb that protected her. It caught the full brunt of the electricity and sizzled as it faded from sight. Another bolt sent Taliesin flying across the courtyard into the door of a building, which splintered under her impact. She hit the ground, Ringerike still in her hand. Every muscle ached. She tasted blood and again used magic to heal her injuries.

  “This has to end,” Taliesin muttered as she stood.

  Ragnal appeared in the street. She imagined him as a statue, and half his face turned to marble. With a twitch of his lips, his skin returned to normal. He strode to her, sword at his side, and backhanded her. Taliesin stumbled backwards, her cheek stinging from the blow.

  “Learn some manners,” Ragnal snarled.

  “Drop dead!”

  The two spoken words turned his flesh bright green, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped to his knees. Ringerike struck, but Bone rose to block the blow, its swift reaction giving Ragnal the time he needed to stand. They fought in the street, and he grunted each time the swords met; his sounds annoyed her and his hard blows made her arm ache. She was tempted to release Ringerike to use magic, but noticed Ragnal’s fingers twitch as another spell came toward her. She imagined a shield on her left arm. The blue light appeared, shaped like a triangle, and sent the spell back to Ragnal. His helmet popped off, and his mouth dropped open. She sent him stumbling backwards with a quick kick to his chest.

  “You have a nasty temper,” Ragnal said with a gasp.

  “You have bad breath, war god!”

  Taliesin regretted the mocking comment, for Ragnal started to grow. When he reached sixty feet, a monstrous hand reached for her. She jumped over it and continued to fly upwards, pulled by Ringerike onto his shoulder. The sword drove into his ear and blood spurted and hit her in the face. He flicked her from his shoulder with a roar of pain. Ringerike lifted Taliesin upward, and then they spiraled into the ground. She landed on the street, and as Ragnal shouted in rage and stomped toward her, she waved her hand, and he shrank to normal size. He failed to realize the strength of her magic and kept marching toward her with sword raised high.

  “Bone, don’t you want to avenge Stroud’s death?” Taliesin cried. “Venom has killed Lykus—I sense his death. Kill Ragnal! Kill him for Stroud!”“

  Bone trembled in Ragnal’s hand and slowly turned Ragnal’s arm, forcing it to bend, until sword’s tip pointed at his chest. The triumphant gloat on Ragnal’s face vanished, and a scream escaped his lips as Bone drove into his chest. Ringerike slashed his left arm to the tendons, which dropped useless to his side. Bone continued until it came out Ragnal’s back. A scream caught in his throat, and he opened his eyes wide in surprise and pain. Ringerike sliced into his left knee and the war god dropped to the ground and fell onto his side. Taliesin watched, amazed, as Ragnal’s face and hands turned an ashen color, and, choking, he raised his hands to his throat.

  “You bit off more than you can chew, war god!”

  Taliesin swung her sword, and in one smooth motion, lopped off his head. The wind howled, and thunder rumbled as Ragnal’s body and Stroud’s sword turned into piles of ashes that scattered in the wind. Taliesin sensed the arrival of Mira, and a sparkle of silver on her left side turned into the goddess’s solid form. Mira gasped as Ragnal’s head rolled toward her and stopped, facing her.

  “I only ever loved you, Mira. Come with me,” Ragnal said, before the skull crumbled into ash and blew away on the wind.

  “My love,” Mira cried out. “Wait for me!” The goddess lifted her hands into the air. Three bolts of lightning struck Mira’s chest, and she evaporated in a sparkle of silver, until nothing was left but the odor of dark magic. Yet, Mira’s voice lingered, a ghostly whisper on the wind. “It is finally over, and the netherworld is set free; you have done well. Farewell, Taliesin.” Her voice faded along with the storm, and the sounds of battle grew dim as sunlight streamed into the street.

  It was truly over, Taliesin thought.

  She held Ringerike tightly as she returned to the western courtyard, to find the Traveling Tower still standing where she’d left it, and the Skardans and Caladonians standing back to watch as Prince Sertorius fought King Almaric. At some point, the two sides had stopped fighting to witness the combat. Sertorius first knocked the crown from Almaric’s head with a swift swipe of Calaburn, then he lifted the blade high, and flames glowed bright and hungry. He brought the sword down on Doomsayer with all his might. The gold sword broke in half as Calaburn drove straight down and cleaved Almaric’s torso from neck to crotch. He toppled over in a splatter of blood and guts, and Taliesin found the crown at her feet. She picked it up and willed Almaric’s head and body to burst into flames. Sertorius stared at her, flame-sword in hand, uncertain of what she meant to do with the crown.

  While she let Sertorius wonder, Taliesin saw Roland, Talas Kull, and Shan Octavio approach. Four dragons landed on the battlements, and Ismeina, her hair wild and an excited look in her eyes, floated to the ground and ran to Zarnoc, who had appeared nearby. He put his arm around her to calm the witch to watch their riders dismount, and the dragons turn into men. Hawk staggered forward, laughing, and spun around.

  “What a thrill,” Hawk shouted. “What’s wrong? Why is everyone staring at me?”

  “I believe Taliesin is about to decide who will rule Caladonia,” Bonaparte said. “Take the crown, Taliesin. Be the queen you were meant to be.”

  Sertorius lowered his sword, and the flames vanished. His dark blue eyes met Taliesin’s gaze, and his lips parted, as if to speak. She approached him and lifted the crown while everyone watched.

  “Take it,” someone in the cro
wd shouted.

  “Queen Rosamond,” Shan Octavio said, bowing his head.

  Taliesin held the crown in her left hand and sheathed Ringerike. Audible gasps came from the crowd as she lifted the crown with both hands, and it seemed the world stopped and waited for her to decide. Sertorius watched, a look of anxiousness on his features, but he smiled when she placed the crown on his head, stepped back, and bowed her head.

  “King Sertorius,” she said. “Rule well, sire, for many depend upon you now.”

  “I am king!” Sertorius shouted. He turned and held his arms wide. “I am King of Caladonia!”

  As the soldiers cheered and moved toward Sertorius, Taliesin hurried toward Roland and slid her arms around his waist. She sensed Ringerike’s approval of her decision, which was shared by Roland, who laughed before he kissed her. She had what she wanted; she had Roland’s love, and it meant everything to her—more than riches, magic, or a throne.

  “We have won, my love,” Roland said as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Thanks to you, Taliesin, this day is ours, and Caladonia has its king. Are you sure this is what you want? You gave away a kingdom and would have made a wise and kind queen.”

  “I have so much more, my love, so much more.”

  Zarnoc walked up to them in a twinkle of lights. “This is precisely what I expected you to do,” he said, with a chuckle. “King Tamblyn sits on the Duvalen throne, Broa is now worm fodder, and I return to find you victorious. It seems you, and not Calaburn, have chosen the next king. Let us hope the impetuous boy who used to pull your pigtails will be a wise, tolerant, and kind king.”

  Taliesin glanced at Sertorius. “He’ll do just fine,” she said. “I am the Raven Mistress, my clan is strong, and magic and peace are restored to the realm.”

  “Quite so,” the wizard replied.

  “It’s good to see you, Zarnoc,” Roland said with a smile. “So you knew Taliesin wouldn’t keep the crown? You seem to know what everyone will do before they do, and you always have—nothing catches you by surprise. I have no doubt this is precisely what you had planned from the start.”