The rafters were packed with owls.
Around thirty brown-plumaged Parliamentarians shared perch space with an equal number of butterscotch-feathered Noctua. Below them, both Lord Behnaz and Lord Ivor were on their feet, apparently in the middle of angrily denouncing each other. The groups of remaining lords sat glowering at each other, while the knights in attendance stood with their hands dangerously close to their sword hilts.
King Fitzwilliam seemed to be the only one halfway happy to see me, though not so much for my presence, per se. Once again, at least I was bringing him something to break up the monotony.
Since the room had gone silent upon my rather dramatic entrance, I stepped between two of Commander Yervan’s men and got to the heart of the matter.
“King Fitzwilliam!” I declared loudly. “I, Dame Chrissie, have braved dangers both dark and deep to return Albess Thea to where she belongs: to lead Andeluvia’s Parliament!”
If I’d thought the room quiet before, now you could hear a pin drop. Then, there was a collective intake of breath as the King rose from his throne. The owls looked on, their impassive faces impossible to read. Xandra wasn’t among the group, but Raisah and Nox were. The latter’s eyes burned at me with raw vitriol.
“Dame Chrissie,” Fitzwilliam announced. “Never have I welcomed more the return of a newly raised knight. Female or no, you have silenced those who wished you off this royal court. Albess, I pray that you are well enough to return to your post and your people?”
Thea fluttered up to hover in midair above us. Her voice was weaker and tinnier than mine or Fitzwilliam’s, but I could make her out just fine.
“I am ready, and as my first act as the Head of Parliament, I hereby release all funds requested from Andeluvia’s owl-managed treasury.”
A raucous cheer rang out from the assembled men and women of Fitzwilliam’s court. Even most of the Parliamentarians let out joyful ‘hoos!’. But the Noctua all remained stone-faced.
What the hell had Nix said to me about the throne room?
Raisah’s voice rang out in the hall as the cheers died down. It was as cold and as implacable as ever, her words pelting down upon everyone like sleet.
“The Albess’ words are in vain. She has no power to give or approve. She has not returned to lead the Noctua, let alone speak for all the Hoohan.”
Thea remained in a hover just overhead, her feathers bristling in agitation. “The one I speak to is nothing but the leader of the Noctua, and a corrupted soul of an owl, at that! You have attempted my murder, imprisoning me where none could see. You sentenced me to die, and you murdered my successor in the nest! I declare your position null and void, Raisah!”
“And I repudiate your authority as well,” Fitzwilliam added. “You have lied repeatedly under the Oath of Fealty between men and owls! If the Albess won’t take you into custody for your crimes, then I certainly can and will!”
Raisah let out an angry clack with her beak. “One is left with no choice, then. One shall convene a new Parliament, and then dub a new set of men as nobles to deal with.”
Goose pimples began rippling along my arms.
“Galen!” I hissed. “Get ready to grab Thea and get out of here!”
“What?” he whispered, startled. “But you will require–”
“If she is slain, we’ve lost everything!”
All around and overhead, the assembled lords, knights, and Parliamentarian owls nervously gazed at one another. Raisah’s pronouncement had rattled them. Before Thea or anyone else could act, the self-proclaimed ‘Anointed’ spoke again.
“Remove the old Parliament,” Raisah stated calmly.
Nox raised his right wing. The remaining Noctua leapt from their perches with a trio of heavy wing beats, propelling their muscular bodies into the air. Each raised their right foot, tipped with razor-sharp battle talons.
“What are you doing?” Thea cried.
A sound like a side of beef being chopped by a steel hedge shear.
SNICKER-SNACK!
Fitzwilliam and the rest of the royal court watched, aghast, as each of the Noctua swiped their claws across their Parliamentary counterpart. Blood pattered down in a horrific drizzle followed by meaty thunks as parts of owls rained down. Heads. Wings. Bisected torsos.
A flurry of red-smeared feathers drifted by afterwards, almost as an afterthought.
“Galen!” I screamed.
The eight-foot tall centaur reached up and grabbed the Albess with one hand. She squawked in outrage, whether from Galen’s handling or the slaughter above, I wasn’t sure. The wizard tucked Thea in the crook of his arm like a feathery football, pivoted on his hooves, and charged back out the doors. No sooner than he had left than Fitzwilliam found his voice, even while those around him still gaped at the carnage.
“Commander, close and guard the doors!” he ordered.
Yervan signaled to his men. Two quickly moved to shut the doors and stood ready. The sound of steel on leather echoed in the room as every knight drew his weapon. I looked around nervously. Yervan and his palace guards had both sword and shield. Most of the other knights present had only swords. Neither the King nor several of the Lords had any weapons at all.
“Come on!” Yervan urged me, and his remaining knight. “We stand with the King!”
I stayed between the two men as we drew closer to the foot of the throne. I didn’t take my eyes off the Noctua. Each of the remaining owls had returned to their perches, though their talons now dripped with blood and gore from their fellow Hoohan. Nox still fixed his hateful glare upon me. Raisah had folded her wings together and appeared to be speaking quietly to herself.
“Sir Quinton,” Yervan ordered, “I must guard our liege. I charge you with protecting Dame Chrissie with your life.”
Quinton simply nodded. The big knight moved to stand before me in a half-crouch. He held his sword out and his shield just high enough for him to see over.
“Traitor! Oath breaker! Slaughterer of your own kin!” Fitzwilliam shouted, the cords of his neck standing out red with rage. “Your lives are forfeit!”
Raisah shifted her wings back to their normal position. Her voice continued as reasonable as if she and Fitzwilliam were discussing the weather.
“You must reach us first.”
“That can be arranged.” Fitzwilliam snapped his finger, and another of the palace guardsmen stepped to his side. “Bring a battalion of men with pikes and crossbows back here immediately.”
“It matters not,” Raisah said, with an avian shrug. “You and your court shall soon be dead. And since we Noctua control access to all your realm’s gold, we shall select a new set of men who shall listen and obey our wishes. As it has always been, in the time of your forefathers, and the forefathers before them.”
Fitzwilliam scowled at that. The knight he had given orders to jogged across the expanse of the throne room, his sword held point up, eyes scanning all about. He almost got as far as the doors to the antechamber.
Just as he turned to leave, one of the Noctua dove at him from the closest rafter. The assembled court called out in horror. But it was far too late.
It took just the blink of an eye. A blur of yellow swooped down upon him.
Snicker-snack!
The Noctua’s strike took the knight’s head off as cleanly as a guillotine. Blood fountained from the neck stump, and the body fell with a thud before the doors. The two knights that Yervan had posted by the doors went into a crouch, their eyes wide and staring in horror.
The severed head rolled across the floor and ended up facing Fitzwilliam’s throne. A startled look remained upon the decapitated man’s face. Several of the lords recoiled with a curse or a gasp.
I considered. I alone in the throne room could reach the owls with my weapon. Each of my two magazines held fifteen rounds. In theory, I had enough to handle the Noctua.
But theory crumbled in the face of my experience. I’d taken my time to line up each shot when I’d killed Nix. That owl ha
d been panicked and completely blind, and I’d still needed three rounds just to bring him down. I wasn’t about to bet my life on that theory holding up. But at least I could take out Raisah and Nox. I raised my gun towards the rafters and lined up my shot as best as I was able.
Nox let out a squawk of warning as I squeezed the trigger three times.
The three bullets buzzed through empty air as the owls took off. I did my best to track them, but the rest of the Noctua went into motion as a butterscotch-colored swarm, hiding my initial target. I squeezed twice more, both bullets whining into the darkness with no effect.
Sir Quinton winced as the gun’s report went off close to his head, but he didn’t leave his spot between me and the owls. The other lords and several of the knights stared at me in amazement, though the King simply looked annoyed. I’d forgotten that most of the men at court hadn’t participated in the attack on the Old Man of the Mountain so hadn’t seen me use my weapon before.
From inside the orbiting mass of owls, Raisah or Nox let out a series of squawks. A half-dozen of the Noctua peeled away from the flock and dove at me. To his credit, Sir Quinton stood his ground and more. With a flick of his sword, he slashed the lead bird out of the air.
I aimed a little higher to make sure I didn’t hit my armored defender, then squeezed the trigger twice more. Another of the Noctua fell, rolling across the floor cradling a broken wing. Sir Ivor stepped forward and skewered it with his own weapon, ending the thing’s cries.
The remaining four raptors changed their target from me to Sir Quinton. Two slashed at his raised sword arm. Their talons clanged off his plate armor, scoring and denting the metal. The other two went for his head, a snack! ringing out as a pair of slashes hit home. Quinton was driven back a step by the impact. He dropped his sword and shield as he fell to one side. A mass of liquid red and wrinkled gray tissue tumbled from his head as his skullcap came loose and skidded across the flagstones.
Fitzwilliam darted in front of me, snatching up the fallen knight’s sword and shield. Yervan cried out in alarm. I squeezed the trigger several more times as I spotted owls preparing to swoop down onto the King. I was rewarded with a cry of pain from one of the owls, but none fell from the air.
Under my cover, Fitzwilliam slipped an arm into the shield’s straps and stepped back towards the relative shelter of the throne. Yervan moved forward, trying to guard both me and his monarch, calling to his remaining men. The two knights by the door kept their backs to the walls and began slide-walking their way towards us the exact same way I’d explored the Noctua’s sepulcher.
“It seems we are caught in a stalemate,” Fitzwilliam said. “The owls do not seem to be able to overwhelm us, or they would have attacked by now in force. Yet I gather that your weapon is not enough to turn the tide on its own.”
“I think not, your Majesty,” I acknowledged.
“Perhaps it is enough. The noise this battle has made shall surely summon more of the Palace Guard. Once they ascertain the situation, they shall bring distance weapons to bear.”
“Agreed,” Yervan said. “We only need hold out another couple of minutes, Sire.”
“Then we shall do so.” Fitzwilliam shook his fist at the owls angrily. “For Andeluvia’s sake, we shall!”
In that moment, the man looked undeniably kingly. Fitzwilliam’s blond hair shone like a halo as the morning sun came out, pouring sunshine through the window above his throne.
Suddenly, Nix’s words popped into my head, crystal clear.
Why did you use a dragon? I had asked.
His reply: One does not indulge prey. Especially when the answer lies directly over one’s head every day at court.
I risked a glance up at the window. There was the same stained glass depiction of a roaring dragon that I’d seen before, when Vazura had unleashed them on me and Galen the first time I’d come to Andeluvia. That bit of treachery resulted in Fitzwilliam pulling all the dragons back to the Eastern Reach.
All?
No, not all of the dragons. Galen had said that Fitzwilliam kept a lance of dragons at the palace’s Southern Keep.
Suddenly, my brain made the connections, and with a click I figured out what the owls had done. What Raisah was waiting for.
The Noctua must have control over at least one of the royal dragons. When they’d unleashed the reptile on Thea, the owls had to cover up the traces and blame a wyvern attack. Wyverns were wild, so no one would be able to pin the blame on any single creature. If the Noctua had left evidence of a dragon attack it might have pointed a finger back at the few creatures left in this part of Andeluvia.
And that meant…
A shadow blotted out the sunshine from above. A big shadow.
“Sire!” I called out.
Fitzwilliam stared at me, uncomprehending.
The window above shattered into a million pieces as a scaly, horned head smashed its way through into the throne room with a roar.
I leapt at the King, tackling the monarch I’d sworn an oath to protect.
If we survived this, I hoped that he wouldn’t hold a grudge.
Chapter Forty-Two
King Fitzwilliam outweighed me, but I had momentum on my side. More importantly, I had desperation on my side. He folded with a grunt as I hit him in the stomach. We rolled together, coming to rest against the table to the left of the throne.
A pane of glass fell from overhead and slammed into the top of that same throne. It wedged itself fast as it nearly bisected the piece of furniture. Then the dragon swept both glass and throne away as the creature bulled its way through the roof and hauled its bulk into the room.
The damned thing wasn’t locomotive-sized, like Sirrahon. But it was a heck of a lot bigger than the Piper Cub-sized pair that Galen and I had fought before. This creature was stockier, as if it had decided to go bulk up before crashing the royal party, and its scales were the shiny black of a licorice wheel.
The dragon let out an ear-splitting roar and thrashed its tail. In its fury, it flipped over the heavy wooden table seating the lords of the Western Reach. Men went flying through the air to land in crumpled heaps. An ebony-colored head swung in my direction as Fitzwilliam and I struggled to get up. Jet-black teeth jutted from a scaly mouth as the beast oriented on us.
Yervan’s two knights finally rejoined their commander. With a cry, they leaped into battle, hacking and slashing at the dragon’s flank. Their swords bounced off harmlessly. Yervan barked out more orders. Together the three men drove the points of their swords home like spears.
Blood the color of rancid pomegranate juice gushed out as if under pressure from the wounds. The dragon raised its head in a snarl. Half-turning, it swept its forepaw like a steel-tipped scythe. One of Yervan’s men screamed as he was cut to pieces by the giant claws.
The Noctua chose that moment to swoop down from the rafters. Nox led a squadron of raptors as they dove. With a snick, his talons closed on the upraised arm of Yervan’s remaining knight. The blow found a chink in the man’s armor. Human blood mixed with dragon fluids as Nox cleaved the man’s arm away at the elbow. The knight stared at the scarlet liquid that fountained from the stump, then fell over in shock. The smells of sulfur and iron mixed in the air, creating a soul-crushing stench.
Other talons tore at Yervan. Two of the owls grabbed hold of his sword with their armored talons and tried to yank it free. Others dove at his head. Still more slashed at his arms. Yervan felt to his knees, doing his best to beat back the attackers. He swung his shield arm down, pinning and crushing one of the Noctua against the floor.
A cry finally went up from the assembled lords and knights scattered around the room.
Lord Ivor and his son charged across the room and into the fray. They were followed by the remaining men from the Eastern Reach. Lord Behnaz only hesitated a second before shouting ‘Have at them!’ and threw his men into the fight as well.
Four more of the Noctua went down as knights and lords lopped off wings or hacked at the
raptors’ legs. Then two more knights and lords fell headless or armless as the owls rallied, striking whenever the knights let their guards down or tried to fight the dragon. The rest of the owls swooped in, slashing open unprotected flesh or rending armor. They pressed the men into a defensive position back against the upended table.
For his part, the dragon ignored his wounds and the battle raging beside it. The creature oriented relentlessly on the King. Fitzwilliam got to his feet and stood his ground before the thing, clanging his sword against the rim of his shield. Me, I got my legs untangled and scrambled out of the way as quickly as I could.
The dragon’s neck shot forward in a convulsive snap. Fitzwilliam held up his shield and the dragon’s jaws closed around it. A squeal came from bending metal as the reptile began to compress his jaws.
One of the Noctua broke off from the larger of the two fights. It banked around to come at Fitzwilliam’s blind side. I squeezed the trigger until my weapon ran dry. The owl let out a keening scream and then cartwheeled into the fire smoldering in the room’s hearth. The gag-worthy smell of burnt feathers joined that of blood and sulfur.
The King tried to tug his arm free from the shield’s leather straps, but he was held fast. The dragon tossed his head back and forth, shaking Fitzwilliam the way a dog would worry at a particularly meaty bone. Fitzwilliam hacked at the beast’s snout, but his blows had no effect.
Time slowed to a crawl as I ejected the spent magazine, pulled out my last remaining one, and slammed it home. Now the other Noctua saw that the King was in trouble. Raisah and Nox rose from where they had been trading blows with Fitzwilliam’s knights. They rallied several of their remaining warriors and beat their wings furiously to gain the altitude they needed to strike.
At that moment, the dragon stopped shaking his head. He made an ungracious sound. A sound like a belch. My insides contracted in fear as I realized what was going to happen next.
“Sire!” I screamed. “Hack at your straps, not the dragon!”
A Perjury of Owls Page 23
