The Princess Knight

by Aiken G. A.

  The ink-black snakes, poison dripping from their fangs, appeared before her so fast, Beatrix didn’t have time to move. But the long-haired man next to her cut off their heads so quickly Gemma wasn’t even sure what weapon he used. He pushed Beatrix back into the guards who stood behind the king and queen and put himself protectively in front of her.

  Quinn shifted to centaur and used his hind legs to batter the guards behind him, his spear tearing open the ones in front. Gemma buried her knife into the man closest to her and yanked out her sword to gut a guard that came within range.

  She shoved Agathon over to Quinn. “Get on!” she ordered.

  “What?”

  “Get on!” She didn’t wait for Agathon to understand; she simply shoved him onto Quinn’s back. She would not leave him behind to face Beatrix’s wrath.

  She turned and saw the Abbess was tearing a guard’s chest open with her split spear. The truce vicar was battering his way through the panicked royals using mostly his brawn. And the assassins were slaughtering the guards any way they could to protect the Abbess and get her outside with the vicar.

  “Protect him, Quinn!” Gemma yelled before she charged across the main hall toward her sister.

  She grabbed a shield and used it to block spears and swords, while using her own sword to cut a swath through the castle guards.

  Her sister watched her, a small group of guards surrounding her and that man with the long hair. The king had already fought his way outside, probably to summon more guards or even his hardened soldiers, meaning Gemma was running out of time.

  She slashed at a throat and jumped onto the table where her sister had been sitting. The long-haired man raised his hands and began to chant. Gemma flicked her hand and sent him reeling across the room. She flicked her hand the other way and the guards surrounding her sister flew, leaving Beatrix standing there alone.

  Beatrix didn’t even flinch, which somehow made this easier for Gemma.

  She secured her sword and was charging across the table when she sensed something behind her. Gemma turned and raised her shield at the same time, blocking the soldier’s sword just before it could meet with her head.

  She fought back as Marius’s soldiers advanced on her, then jumped off the table and landed on the ground. But when she glanced over her shoulder, her sister was gone.

  More blows came, the shield providing cover until it was finally torn from her hand. She still had her sword, but she had a wall at her back and about twenty soldiers in front—

  A black spear was thrust up from the ground, ramming into a soldier’s groin. She hadn’t seen the grate until it was pushed away and the two war priests emerged from the tunnel underneath. They rammed their spears into the closest enemies and pushed back, allowing Gemma to place her hands on several bodies. She chanted and unleashed her god’s power. The dead soldiers jerked back to life and Gemma moved to a few more bodies, raised them too. She then picked up her sword, motioned to the priests and the Abbess, and together they ran for the front doors.

  The soldiers outside tried to stop them but they were tackled by their dead cohorts, who chewed their flesh and ripped them open.

  Soldiers on horseback charged after them through the streets, ignoring the commoners going about their daily lives. They ran those people down simply because they’d been ordered to stop Gemma and the others.

  Thankfully, powerful streaks of lightning rammed into the riders, knocking them off their horses, and damaging parts of buildings so that rubble fell on them.

  Gemma and her team reached the town gates but more riders were already closing in. That’s when the ground began to shake, spooking their horses. The horses went up on their hind legs, tossing off their riders or, even worse, landing on their riders.

  Then there were screams and the people began to run. A swirling mass of air and dust drew near and Gemma only had time to yell, “Hold on!” before their entire group was lifted up and carried away, then unceremoniously dropped near their mounts.

  * * *

  Coughing and spitting out the dirt and debris that filled his mouth, Quinn was just grateful to feel ground beneath his ass. Because it was official . . . he did not like to fly.

  “Sorry about that!” he heard Balla call out. “Never have managed to get that spinning air spell quite right.”

  He was the first to get to his hooves. He made sure Agathon had survived and then checked on all the others. To his surprise, they’d all made it out alive.

  Even . . .

  “You idiot!” he yelled at Gemma.

  She didn’t even bother to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about.

  “Beatrix was right there. I had to try.”

  “Horseshit! You knew when you attacked that even if you killed her, you wouldn’t make it out alive. You knew! But you went anyway. If it hadn’t been for the priests, you’d be dead right now.”

  “You’re welcome,” Aubin said, walking by them.

  “She was right there!” Gemma argued. “All smug. How could I just walk away?”

  Quinn simply glared down at her. It was all he could do, really. He knew no words would penetrate that thick Smythe skull of hers.

  “He wants to hit you,” Balla told her.

  “Of course he wants to hit her,” Ima chimed in. “I’d want to hit her.”

  “But he’s too good a centaur to do such a thing. To knock some sense into you.”

  “Sadly for you,” Wassa added, “not everyone else can say that.”

  Quinn never expected it to be Kriegszorn to kick Gemma in the face with her back hoof and send the monk head over ass down the hill they’d just been dumped on. But she was very loyal to her rider, and if anything had happened to Gemma after everything the half-dead horse had done to get back to her side . . . well, it wasn’t exactly shocking that she’d been the one to make the point.

  The truce vicar clapped his hands together and joyfully said, “All right, let’s get all our things packed up and be on our way! I’m assuming we know where we’re going—is that right, dear sir?”

  “It’s Agathon. My name is Agathon.”

  “Yes. Agathon. It’s lovely that you’ve joined us. Why don’t I introduce you to everyone?”

  “No,” everyone else said together.

  “No one has time for that,” Balla complained.

  “Fine. We’ll do it on the way.”

  “Do we know where we’re going?” Quinn asked Agathon as he watched Gemma pick herself up off the ground below and start back up the hill.

  “I think we do.”

  “What did you lot find anyway?” the Abbess asked.

  Quinn let out a breath. “If what I saw was accurate, nothing good.”

  Gemma ran up onto the hill. “Run!” she said as she charged by. “Everybody go! Run!”

  “What?”

  “She knows.” Gemma mounted Kriegszorn. “She knows where we’re going. She’s sent out a battalion for us.”

  “You sure she’s just not pissed you tried to kill her?”

  “I saw her face when I was charging at her, Quinn. She doesn’t care that I tried to kill her. What she doesn’t want is me destroying what she’s built, which means we need to find it and destroy it. Now.”

  Quinn grabbed Agathon’s hand and hauled him onto his back again. “Hold on tight and be ready to give directions.”

  With the Follower secure on his back, Quinn took off seconds before the first arrow shot past him.

  CHAPTER 27

  Ainsley kept low and moved carefully through the bushes. She could see that Cyrus’s wizards had created at least five totems and each totem had several artifacts melded to it. They were spaced around Cyrus’s camp, and from what she was guessing, each of them would have to be destroyed before anything truly magickal could get near Cyrus. That meant only Keeley, Ainsley, and Keeley’s human troops would be able to attack him.

  That would not be easy. Cyrus had more soldiers than Keeley did. Ainsley wished now that the
y had brought the war monks with them. She understood why they hadn’t, but Keeley could certainly use their skills even if the war monks couldn’t get near Cyrus.

  Maybe if they could . . .

  Ainsley froze, attempting to blend into the world around her. But it was too late for any of her hunting tricks now. Because someone was standing right next to her.

  A hand reached down and grabbed her by the back of the neck lifting her off her feet. She dangled there, like a fool, unable to reach her bow, while he ripped her quiver off her belt, tossing it aside.

  She expected the man holding her to say something but he spoke no words. He simply carried her back to his camp and to Cyrus.

  * * *

  The arrows kept coming and so did the battalion.

  Gemma was right. These soldiers weren’t trying to protect their queen. They were trying to stop the outsiders from escaping. And the harder their team rode, the harder the battalion came after them.

  “They’re not going to stop!” Aubin called out.

  “They’re part of Her Majesty’s guard!” Agathon yelled over the pounding hooves. “Her hand-chosen men! They’re loyal only to her!”

  “Fuck!” Gemma roared, pulling on the reins of her horse and turning the beast around.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Go ahead, Quinn. You know what to do!”

  “Gemma!”

  “Go!”

  The Abbess turned her horse and Ima did the same. They followed Gemma while Quinn, ignoring what he wanted to do, kept going forward.

  * * *

  “Queen Keeley!”

  Keeley came out of her tent and looked in the direction Ragna was pointing. One of Cyrus’s soldiers held her younger sister by the neck from the top of an extremely tall trebuchet.

  “What the fuck?” She looked around at the others. “What the fuck is Ainsley doing over there?”

  “She was scouting the area,” Laila explained.

  “Why the fuck was she doing that?”

  Laila faced her. “You told her to.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes. You looked right at her and said, ‘Ainsley, go scout the area. See if we can find a way into Cyrus’s territory.’ ”

  Keeley gritted her teeth, scrunched up her face, and finally growled, “Shit! Shit, shit, shit!”

  She really did have to start paying more attention to her sister.

  “What do you want to do?” Laila asked.

  “Ragna.”

  Smirking, the war monk held out her hand and her squire placed her long bow in her palm. She nocked her arrow and aimed.

  “Keeley, don’t do this,” Laila practically begged. “This isn’t Ainsley’s fault.”

  “I know that. Don’t you think I know that? Ragna, fire.”

  Ragna released the arrow and it flew out of their camp, across the valley, over Cyrus’s camp, and into the throat of the man holding Ainsley. He took a step back, a step forward, and then, before he died and his body fell, he lost his grip on Ainsley and she dropped from that great height.

  They briefly lost sight of her as she disappeared among the trees. But Keeley wasn’t surprised when she climbed back to the top of the trebuchet a minute or two later and gestured at her with two fingers.

  “You heinous bitch!” Ainsley screamed at her, the distance insignificant when she was this angry.

  Keeley laughed until she realized that Laila was gawking at her.

  “What?” she asked the female centaur. “She used to fall from treetops all the time when she was little, but she taught herself to catch a branch on the way down. Then she’d climb back up.”

  “There is something really wrong with all you Smythes.”

  “Keeley!” Caid bellowed, galloping toward her. “Cyrus’s troops are attacking our rear flank!”

  “Laila, send in your troops to protect our flank and push back Cyrus’s men.”

  “Centaurs! With me!”

  “Generals! Follow me!” Keeley reached one hand behind her back and pulled out her hammer. “And on my orders, charge!”

  * * *

  Gemma rode Kriegszorn straight into the battalion sent out to stop her. She knew her sister was attempting to keep her from discovering something specific. Not just that she was building some tunnel. She could only hide the tunnel for so long. It was something else. Something Gemma hadn’t had a chance to read about in all those scrolls.

  If making sure Keeley found out about what Beatrix was up to meant sacrificing herself, Gemma was more than ready to do it.

  She pushed Kriegszorn hard, and the horse seemed more than happy to be pushed. As she neared the men, Gemma took her feet out of the stirrups, and brought one leg over the saddle. She grabbed the pommel with one hand. When the riders were just a few feet away, Gemma let go of the pommel and curled into a ball so she rolled with the fall.

  When she finished rolling, she came out of it in a crouch, yanked her gladius from its sheath, and swung her sword into the horse legs going by, cutting the animals’ tendons so their big bodies went down fast and very hard. As their riders hit the ground with them, she stabbed them in the spine or chest, whichever was available.

  A horse reared up behind her and Gemma turned, ready to strike, but Kriegszorn rammed her body into the animal, taking it and its rider to the ground.

  The Abbess used her battle staff to break backs and necks, occasionally splitting it into two pieces so she could bury the spear tips into faces, thighs, and groins.

  Ima didn’t have time for chants and spells; instead, she used a long dagger in each hand to stab and cut any soldier that got too close to her.

  A soldier came at Gemma from behind, slamming her face-first onto the ground. She still held her sword but a foot slammed down on her hand, pinning it to the ground, and another soldier came at her with a spear.

  She began to spit out the spell that would knock over one of the men, which might give her a chance to fight back. But then she heard Ima scream, and suddenly flames were exploding all around Gemma. They didn’t cover her, but were close enough that they were burning her sword arm. She could feel the skin on her forearm bubbling. The men that had surrounded her were screaming as their bodies burned.

  When it stopped and Gemma could move again, she rolled onto her back and quickly realized she was looking up at Kriegszorn.

  Her horse leaned down and licked her burned arm. She hoped the move would heal the wound. It did not. If anything, it seemed to make it worse.

  Gemma screamed out and Kriegszorn backed away from her.

  “It’s all right,” Gemma soothed, reaching up to pet her. “It’s all right.”

  One of the soldiers shoved a spear into Kriegszorn’s side. Gemma screamed again, but this time in horror as her horse stumbled to the side and fell over.

  “No! Kriegszorn!”

  Gemma crawled to her side, pressed her head against her horse’s snout. “My sweet girl. Not again.”

  “Gemma,” she heard Hurik call. “Gemma, please. Move back.”

  “No. I won’t leave her again.”

  “Gemma, you don’t understand. Move back.”

  “No!”

  Gemma’s fingers twitched and she realized she no longer felt horse’s hair under her fingers but bone.

  She lifted her head. The remaining soldiers still surrounded her but none had attacked. Although this would be the perfect time to do so. What were they waiting for then?

  Gemma looked down at Kriegszorn. Her hide was mostly gone, leaving bone and flesh . . . and rage.

  So much rage.

  Now Gemma moved away and her horse slowly got to her feet. A moment later she was gone.

  They all looked around but no one seemed to see Kriegszorn until Hurik pointed behind the soldiers.

  Although it would be more accurate to say she pointed behind . . . and up.

  Kriegszorn’s roar shook the ground they stood on. The flame that came from her nostrils set the nearby trees and bushes on fire. And
she’d grown so tall. Bigger than any centaur. Too big to ride. She went up on her hind legs and Hurik grabbed Gemma’s burned arm, ignoring her scream of blinding pain, and yanked her toward her own horse, Scandal. They ran and mounted him, setting off at a gallop, with Ima and her horse close behind.

  Gemma looked over her shoulder to see Kriegszorn’s front legs come down hard, landing on some of the soldiers that didn’t move out of her way fast enough and instantly crushing them under her hooves. She picked others up in her giant maw and gulped them down in one or two bites.

  The last thing Gemma felt without even looking back was fire sweeping through the forest behind them.

  “Did you do that?” Gemma had to ask Ima as they rode on.

  And the look the witch gave her. It almost made Gemma ashamed.

  “Are you joking?” the witch demanded in a voice so high, birds took off from the trees and nearby wolves howled although it was the middle of the day.

  * * *

  For hours Keeley attempted to get past Cyrus’s army to reach the man himself. She needed him dead. Not simply because he was such a bastard—although he was—but because without him, his fanatics would have no true leader. She needed to stop him here and now, but she couldn’t get close to him.

  Even worse, Ragna, the centaurs, and anyone else with even a sliver of magick about them were unable to cross some invisible barrier that protected him. All because of those damn totems.

  She needed to destroy them so the others could wipe out Cyrus’s protective soldiers and she could take on Cyrus directly. But the power emanating from the totems made them impossible to approach, even for Keeley, who found herself dizzy and confused when she got too close. Even Ainsley’s well-aimed arrows couldn’t touch the stupid things. Her aim was true but each time she shot an arrow, it skittered off to the side, frustrating poor Ainsley, who still hadn’t forgiven Keeley for letting her fall from that trebuchet.

  Screaming that she was an abomination, one of Cyrus’s soldiers ran toward Keeley. She swung her hammer and knocked him several feet forward. Even with his chest caved in, he was still moving, and Keeley didn’t want to leave him there suffering. She walked up to him and swung her hammer overhead. But he managed to roll over and her hammer hit the ground instead of his head.