Damsel Knight (29 page)

A few of the layers of symbols are smeared and cracked, like pottery left to dry too long. But the rest are perfect, glowing with love.

Then they’re gone. And with them, Timon is too.

A small patch of mist stands where he was, before it drifts through the wall, fading as it goes.

The witch - Claudia - falls to her knees and weeps. The head druid’s illusion shatters, leaving a broken old woman. She doesn’t seem to notice the knife still in her back. The pain inside her looks like it hurts a lot more.

“How could you!” Alice screams at her father. Her face is red and tear streaked, but her eyes are steel. “He was just a boy! Couldn’t you have shown some mercy?”

The King’s voice is calm. “Mercy is a weakness I can’t afford. Not if I’m to keep you safe.”

Chapter 30

They lead the witch out to the courtyard where they’d tried to burn her and Neven.

The head druid - the real one - heals her leg as she watches. It’s quick, but it uses up most of the rest of the red crystal Neven had used to drill into the wall. By the time he’s finished it gleams a pale pink.

They’d found the druid down in the cellars, wrapped in vines. He’s a little fuzzy on when he went down there, or who did it, but he thinks it was shortly after the battle. That would make sense. A lot of wounded had been brought in, as well as women and children. It would’ve been simple work to slip in amongst them.

Harder to explain is what he was doing down in the cellars in the first place. Or where the plants came from. The plants that exist nowhere else but Alice’s chambers.

Alice stands stiffly next to Julius, who from his watchful eye seems to be on some kind of guard duty. Neven joins not long after, standing the other side of her.

With the barbarians dispersed, the soldiers make up a big crowd. They form a circle a respectful distance from the King and few others in the inner circle. They jeer insults as the witch is secured to the prepared fire, but fall quickly into silence as the King walks forward and speaks softly with the woman.

Boone can’t make out the words, but from the way Claudia spits in the man’s face, they aren’t well received.

Cries of outrage start up as the King walks away, wiping his cheek. So it’s only with luck that she makes out his words as he passes her. “She wishes to speak with you.”

“Me?” Boone spins around, the leg supporting her with ease. But he’s gone, walking to the palace with the pig farmer trotting beside him.

“Last words are important,” the head druid says, not looking in her eyes. A bandage covers half his head. It’s curious that he heals her with such ease, and doesn’t tend to himself. With difficulty he lowers himself to the bench. “Be kind to her.”

It’s a strange thing to say about someone who had conspired to drug you for days. Shaking off her unease, she walks across the cobbled courtyard, past the stacks where practice swords are placed. It’s odd standing below the mound of wood, looking up at the witch. It makes her feel small.

Claudia leans forward, straining against her bonds. “You hate me, don’t you?”

“I don’t know you enough to hate you.” She keeps her voice low, just loud enough for the woman to hear. The crowd is a distance away and talking amongst themselves, but Alice, Neven, and Julius aren’t as far. She’s not sure why it’s important no one else hear, except she feels she owes this woman some kind of privacy in her last moments.

If these are her last moments. She is a witch. Boone wouldn’t put it past her to escape.

“That’s never stopped anyone before,” Claudia says. “It didn’t stop me trying to hurt Alice. And it didn’t stop me hurting you.”

Her shoulder. The arm is already starting to lose some of its function. The energy from the plant is almost gone. “My arm. How do I fix it?”

She looks down at her sadly, like a mother to a child. “You don’t child. Or if you do, I don’t know how. It was an action of hate. One I’m sorry for now. Hate is such a horrible thing. It damages so easily. Just like any other part of life, the consequences of a hateful action are easier made than reversed. Magic has limits. No, I’m afraid that arm is a part of you now.”

Boone shakes her head. “I don’t want it. It’s evil - nothing but a weapon.”

“I thought boys such as yourself liked weapons?”

“Not this kind.” Boone turns her thoughts over in her head. Gelert may be useful, but after this war he’d be considered monstrous. Sooner if the spell on him breaks. It’s the same with her arm. “A sword can be used to kill or protect. This arm does nothing but take. There’s nothing good in it.”

“I don’t know.” Claudia turns her weathered face to one side. “There’s a little good in most things. Very rarely do you come across something that’s all good or all bad.”

“Is that what this is?” Boone frowns up at the woman. “You trying to convince me you aren’t all bad?”

“I’m saying maybe you should look closer at this King you’re protecting.”

The idea is a strange one. King Robin had protected the circle for hundreds of years before she’d been born. Everyone says he’s kind and fair. To even think otherwise feels like going against the Gods, or saying the ancestors don’t provide luck and protection. But he had sent those soldiers to her house. Soldiers who attacked her father.

Boone makes her voice go cold. “Are those your last words?”

“My last words are these: I’m sorry I blamed that girl for the sins of her father. If I hadn’t been so blinded by revenge, Timon wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I wouldn’t have used up so much magic. And maybe he wouldn’t have…” She bows her head, wispy white hair blows over her face. Pain makes her look older than all her thousand years.

Boone steps back, meaning to walk away. Something stops her. One last question. “When will the spell on Gelert break?”

“Gelert?”

“My dragon.” Boone tries not to let her tension show. This is the thing that will determine everything. If the spell breaks soon then she might have no other choice than to kill him. Even if the thought of putting a sword through his throat makes her feel as if someone has put a sword through her own.

Claudia shakes her head not comprehending. “I placed no spells on any dragons. Look to the barbarians for that.”

Boone covers up her disappointment with a curt nod. She doesn’t sense that the woman is lying. So it’s likely she had nothing to do with the golden dragon either. She turns to walk away.

“But if you want to know about spells to do with dragons, ask the King,” the woman calls after her. “Or rather, ask the King about his dear mother.”

Boone halts, about to walk back and ask what she meant. Before she can, Angus steps in front of her with a torch. He lights the bottom of the pile of wood to the crowd’s cheers. His face stays grim.

Boone returns to her bench to find the head druid gone. She chooses to stand, waiting grimly as the flames lick their way up the wood pile, growing bigger with each gathered inch. She’s seen what magic this woman can do. There’s no way she won’t think of a way to escape. She has another eye to trade if need be. Something as simple as fire and a few ropes won’t best her.

A hand on the hilt of her sword, Boone waits for Claudia to escape.

And waits. And waits. And waits…

***

“My King. The cost.” The words are spoken low, to not be overheard by the gathered crowds of men, women, and children.

Boone hears it only because she’s close. Too close really to be polite, but being a knight in training she should get away with it. She’s not standing close to protect the King. She’s standing close to find out why every last living body is gathered in the courtyard.

Is he going to admit what Alice did, and burn her in front of them?

The few hours since Claudia burned have done nothing to erase the horrible stench left behind. Claudia stayed quiet to the end, but she can’t imagine Alice doing the same. Alice would scream. She’s not sure what she’d do if Alice screamed.

“Will be worth it,” the King squeezes the head druid’s withered shoulder. “I’m afraid I can’t follow your judgement this time my friend.”

The head druid bows his head. His one remaining boy helps him sit himself down into the chair set beside the King’s own.

The King stays standing, facing the crowd. “My people! We have had a traitor among us. A witch disguised as a friend. That witch has been burned, but I fear she might not be the only one. To protect the circle, and all our people in it, we will make sure we are not deceived again. Every man, woman, and child with five or more years will present themselves to our head druid for examination. Together we will protect the circle.”

“Together we protect the circle.” The crowd chants out. Practised words Boone finds herself whispering along with. She remembers many a time, clinging to her mother’s hand while they spoke those words. She’d asked her mother once how she could be expected to protect when she wasn’t allowed a sword. Her mother had told her not every battle is a fight. That a woman has different weapons to protect the circle, like raising strong sons, or tending to a husband’s needs.

Boone hadn’t liked her mother’s answer then. She still doesn’t now, but she’s right about one thing. Not every battle is a fight. She’s starting to believe that. A sword here in the middle of the large circle of the crowd would do nothing. She wouldn’t even reach that far. The soldiers stand almost as close as her, Julius, Angus, and Alice. They’d stop her.

More accurately, they’d stop Neven. If the head druid examines him, he’ll see the use of magic. They’ll burn him.

Boone glances to her right, where Neven lines up with the other soldiers. He doesn’t look at her. He stands, posture stiff and sun-browned skin pale. Ness, at his right elbow looks pained.

“Woman and children first so they can go back down into the safety of below.” The King nods his head. “Then our knights and soldiers.”

The sun is high in the sky when the first mother and child step forward. By the time the last kneels before the druid, the heat of the day has softened to mid-afternoon.

Boone shifts uncomfortably. None of her inner party has moved from their places, so she can’t move either. If she could grab Neven, get him to hide somewhere until all this is over. She doubts anyone would realise. There are so many soldiers.

But how to move without anyone noticing?

A cry breaks her thoughts. Angus and Julius drag away the woman from the head druid. She’s sobbing.

“It was just a locating spell. It didn’t even work!” She pulls at the hands holding her arms, trying to get back down to her knees. To beg for her life. “Please. Oh please. Nothing but a locating spell to find my poor lost child. My little girl.”

She’s lifted almost gently by the two knights. They lead her to the line of soldiers, where two break ranks to take her and lead her away.

Now. It has to be now.

A tug at her sleeve as she starts to rise from the bench. Alice sits to her right, having scooted closer when Julius moved. She’s bent toward Boone, body cringing like she’s scared. But her expression shows a desperate focus. She shakes her head minutely.

Boone sits back down.

She wants to ask questions. Does Alice know what’s about to happen? Does she have a plan? Does she care? Getting up right now isn’t the best plan, but it is a plan. A day ago she would shake off Alice’s grip and go to get Neven, but now…she’s not so sure. Alice may be on the side of the enemy, but the fact that she’s choosing sides means there’s more to her than the weak girl she’d thought she was. And the way she’d walked on those raw feet without a single complaint. That’s not something anyone weak would do.

Boone takes a breath, trying to bury her panic. It doesn’t go quietly, digging deep holes in her insides.

Angus and Julius go next, kneeling and back to their feet in seconds without comment from the druid. Then Boone is kneeling before the druid, that familiar searching warmth floating through her. She keeps her eyes fixed on the druid’s chest. There are several of the little red crystals hanging from his neck. Some are drained clear. Others are dark red.

She stares at them, trying to calculate how many of the wounded they could heal instead of this searching. How many of the loyal dead the King could have brought back. How many can he still bring back with those hundred red crystals on his crown?

She rises without a word, and Alice takes her place. There’s something stiff in the princess’s posture that makes Boone hesitate instead of going back to her place. The plants maybe? Does owning magical plants leave traces?

Alice gets to her feet, brushing down her dress. Her face is downcast, but her eyes flick up quickly toward the soldiers. Then she resumes looking at the floor.

Neven separates from the rest of the soldiers, hurrying to be the first one. He kneels in front of the druid, closes his eyes. He’s shaking.

Ness halts beside her, the next in the neat queue of soldiers. Pressure on her dead arm tells her he’s squeezing it tight through the fabric. Her fingers of her good arm fight amongst each-other not to reach over and squeeze his hand back. At least if it comes down to a fight for Neven’s life it’ll be two facing many, not one.

Alice steps forward to stand at Neven’s side.

Boone feels the atmosphere in the courtyard change. Conversations stop. The air burns from so many people looking in their direction. Their gazes aren’t warm and respectable as with the King. They’re curious, tense. Princess or not, they’re making up their minds whether this woman is doing something not of her place.

Alice raises her eyes, levels them at the head druid’s own. It’s not a friendly look. Seeing it on a woman directed at a man is strange.

A split second and the tension in the courtyard shoots up almost to boiling. Angus, seated back on his bench is watching. He opens his mouth as if to yell.

Then Alice drops her eyes, drops herself to the floor beside Neven. She crouches with her arms around her legs in the manner of a child badly scared. She leans a little toward Neven as if hoping for protection. Her voice murmurs words Boone can’t make out.