Damsel Knight (38 page)

"A lot less worse than what might happen if they get caught in the middle of a battle. Or if the women try to fight."

"The women won't fight." His eyes stray to the pictures on the walls. "They are docile. They will stay safe where I put them."

From the balcony Angus clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. "Actually my King. They may fight."

King Robin looks from Angus to Boone, narrowing his bright green eyes. "I see."

"Surrendering is the only way to keep them safe." Boone catches his eyes with her own, refuses to look away. "And to keep Alice safe."

Neven leans against the railing, keeping his body as far away from Angus as he can, and close to Alice. There's something hard about the set of his eyes "Mattis is gone. The crystals are gone. Your army is a few hundred boys and old men against a dragon. The only question you need to ask yourself is, when the barbarians find you, and they will, do you want your life and Alice's to be in the hands of Boone's reasonable leader, or a mob of bloodthirsty soldiers?"

Gelert flies over, his giant form blocking out the sky a moment as he sprays flame over the palace grounds. The smooth marble walls of the palace seem unaffected, and little heat reaches the balcony. A neat trick for a palace with a history of being attacked by dragons, but she doubts its protection extends to enemy soldiers.

Below the barbarians wait in the shadows of the wall, their bronze shields glimmering with firelight. As one they move across the golden road toward the palace. Around them the blackened grass smoulders.

The King turns his attention back to the pictures, placing a hand on the painting of his mother. He sighs. "How long would it take you to contact this leader?"

"I did it once before," Neven says, something hopeful creeping into his voice. "But it took a lot of magic."

"You're sloppy." The King doesn't take his eyes from the painting. "A spell is like a fine piece of art. Get it right and you only pay the minimum. Finger paint and the price is higher."

Neven pushes himself off the railing. "Show me then, and we can send the message here and now."

King Robin huffs, finally taking his eyes off the wall. "For Alice, you understand. And the lives of the women and chil-"

The words break off. A thin line of red paints over his lips and beard. His fingers rise to his stomach with an air of confusion. Just above his navel protrudes a point of metal. It glows like heated coals.

"Boone what is it?" Alice hurries in, brow furrowed in worry. The princess follows her gaze to the King, and freezes. "Daddy?"

Boone grabs Alice and pulls her back, guessing what's likely to happen next. She's right. No sooner had she pulled the girl's reaching arms from her father than flames roar to life, eating him from the inside out. In a moment all that's left is ash and badly charred bone.

Angus takes his sword from her hand. She barely notices.

Behind where the King had stood is her sword, still glowing red. Holding it is the page boy she and Neven found dead seven days ago. His dark hair is caked in dirt, and a thin rope of scar tissue winds around his neck. A manic grin distorts his otherwise normal features.

And in his fist is clenched a handful of white blond hair, so long it drags on the floor. Her hair.

Chapter 39

The hair drifts from his hand and disappears into the marble as if it'd never been there. But it had. She had seen it. And it seems incredible that here in a place where light hair is seen as something 'other' there could be another with hair so pale who had grown it to that length.

Barbarians see light hair as part of their culture, but she'd seen none of them with hair that length. Then again, her hair hadn't been that length for a long time either.

Alice collapses in her arms, wailing. Boone holds her up as best she can. Thoughts race around in her mind, and she can't erase the impossible feeling that the hair that faded into the floor was hers.

"Bonnie."

Boone's head snaps up. The dead boy watches her with something strange in his eyes; a peculiar kind of strained joy. Though smaller than her he holds himself as if he were much taller. Something about how he holds the sword seems familiar.

She holds it the same way. Most grip it awkwardly, not used to such a large sword being so light, but he holds it as if that's the only kind of sword he's ever known.

"I watched over you." His voice has a clumsy edge to it, like someone who hadn't spoken in a very long time. "As you asked me to. It was so very dark, and it took so very long to get here, but I'm here now sweetheart. No one will ever take me away from you again."

Angus pauses at her side, sword ready in his hands. He looks from the charred bones to the dead boy with barely contained fury.

Boone settles Alice on the ground by her feet. Neven kneels beside her, wrapping his arms around the weeping girl. He pulls her away from the body, across the marble floor. Sensible. Whatever the dead boy is now, he is no page boy.

Angus's hand shakes around his sword. "You know him? Was this your plan all along?"

"You know me too Angus." The dead boy tilts his head, his stance making him look like a puppet moving jerkily on its strings. That's more or less the truth. Seven days is a long time for an innocent child to wait around after death. Whether or not there's something of the page boy hidden, someone very different is in control of the strings. "Brutish and arrogant as ever I see. Don't try anything with that sword of yours. You never could beat me, and that won't change now."

"Drop your weapon." Angus growls out the words. "Kneel and I'll make it quick."

The way he holds the sword. The way he speaks to her. What had he said? He watched over her because she asked him to. When she'd offered her hair to the stream, she'd asked the ancestors to give her luck. Her ancestors.

It couldn't be. He should've moved on long ago.

She steps forward, acutely aware she has no sword. "Papa?"

The dead boy's smile turns into one she remembers. Soft. Warm. "That's right sweetheart. I'm back. I'm sorry it took so long, but I can fix things now."

It's as if she's dreaming, and it's not a nice dream. Only the angriest spirits refuse to move on for that long. Her father was never angry. The worst she had ever seen him do was worry after her mother pushed herself too hard to clean, or cook, or make dresses. He's supposed to be safe and happy, perhaps in another life as a little boy somewhere.

Her head thumps in time with her heart. Her mouth feels dry. "Fix what?"

"Everything." The warm smile turns back into a manic grin. He nods at the charred bones near his feet. "Him. He promised me everything if I came to work for him. Riches, a life of adventure, a wife. Dragons are protected where I lived. But I knew they still killed in the poorer regions near the border. Those people couldn't afford to pay me to protect them. After a while I would've had to go home, back to the family I'd disgraced by walking away. Then the King came with his offer. I didn't know then he planned to make me his mercenary, sending me off to kill dragons while he kept my wife and child close by."

"Gods," Angus breathes out. He doesn't lower his sword. "Cadeyrn."

"He sent me to kill a dragon. She was beautiful, but could not be deterred from terrorising a village directly by the barrier. So I killed her. Then I found the egg in the middle of the village. A group of children had taken it. She curled around the root cellar it was in when she died. It was hatching. The only place I could take it without notice was back home. One act of mercy. I followed his every order for years, and after one act of mercy he decides I must die. Well, I decide he must die. If he wants me to show no mercy, I will follow that order too."

"You did it." Boone gestures to the remains on the floor. "It's done."

The dead boy blinks at the ash in confusion before his expression clears. "Yes. I did. But there's still Julius to go. And that woman. Without that woman none of this would've happened."

The boy's gaze snaps up as Angus moves. He catches Angus's blade with his own. The red hints in the dragon steel start to glow.

Angus grunts, clearly surprised by the dead boy's strength. The giant man is working at a disadvantage, holding his sword in his left hand. He keeps his right hand close to his side, the swollen wrist clearly paining him.

Two neat blows, and Angus falls backward onto the floor, blood splattering the marble from a cut to his leg. Blinking furiously his muscles tense as if about to force himself to get up. The dead boy places a foot on the man's blade, and shoves the tip of his sword under the fallen man's throat.

"Stop it!" Boone forces herself forward. Her heart hammers frantically in her chest. Bile rises in her throat. This is her father. Only it's not her father anymore. "No more fighting. No more revenge. This is over. You understand? This is all over!"

He tilts his head in that weird jerky way. "The King needs to pay."

"He has paid." The pile of ash is smudged across the floor from the scuffle. "He's paid in full. It's over."

"Julius." His manic grin transforms into a snarl. "That woman. She told them about the dragon."

"I'll kill you before you touch a fellow knight," Angus growls up from the floor. Brave, but he's hardly in the position to be making threats with dragon steel inches from his throat.

"Julius has paid enough. Listen to that." Outside screams and the clang of metal against metal sound through the night. The barbarians finishing the job Gelert started. "The whole circle have paid enough. Whatever revenge you've been hoping for is over. The King is dead. The circle will never be the same."

The dead boy hesitates, then removes the sword from Angus's throat. "And the woman?"

"Trust me to deal with that." She keeps her eyes on his, willing herself to stand tall and exude confidence. All things she'd learnt from watching him.

Wordlessly he hands over the sword. She slips it into the scabbard fixed on her back.

All forms of smiles drop off his face. "You really don't need me anymore, do you?"

She shakes her head, trying to stop her hands from trembling.

He raises a hand to her cheek. Warmth lights up his eyes. "My little knight."

He collapses backward as suddenly as if he'd been shot by one of those bronze shields. He falls bonelessly to the floor beside Angus, expression blank. A thin line of drool makes its way past his lips and to his chin. A puppet with no one left to work the strings.

"Boone?"

She ignores Neven, makes her way to one of the shelves. A bronze dragon egg in a velvet lined box, and beside it a large decorative horn. Picking up the horn she makes her way to the balcony.

The circle has no signal for surrender. There is one to fall back, she'd heard it while watching some soldiers do drills by the barracks. She uses it now, the long note echoing far and wide. Far below in the darkness the little heads rise up, obviously wondering where to fall back to. Some begin to move toward the palace.

Something wet trails down her cheek, followed by another. The fire around her blurs.

"Boone?"

She keeps her good hand gripped around the decorative horn. The raised patterns dig into her palm. "I lied Neven. I do need him. I've never stopped needing him."

Hesitant arms encircle her shoulders, and for the first time in what seems like forever, she lets herself cry.

Chapter 40

The next morning after seeing the relative simplicity of the throne room, the barbarians choose to negotiate in the grander feasting hall. They spend too much time sorting out the tables, seeming put out that every table is curved. Eventually they settle for making them into a smaller circle, but don't look happy about it.

Boone, Alice, Neven, Ness, Julius, Angus, and Timon take up one 'side' with the three rich men, Boone's mother, and Jack on the other. In the middle on Alice's small round table sits a large bowl of water.

"And so we didn't even need to wait for the dragon." The older of the three barbarian men says, finishing the summary Boone's mother asked him to give.

"Loss of life?" The large booming voice fills the room, seeming to come from nowhere. Boone jumps.

"I'd hate to see how these primitives react to a telephone," Airell scoffs to the slim man, Blaine.

Neven leans across Alice to poke her, then points at the bowl of water. There are ripples on its previously still surface, and in the middle is a man. To call him handsome is an understatement. He's as artistically sculptured as King Robin was, but with slightly more feminine features. His hair is as light as King Robin's was dark, stopping a shade or two short of white. His face is clean shaven, and his eyes a deeper blue than any she's seen.

Barbarians have a different idea of what is handsome, but they seem to hold onto that idea tighter than even the circle. The circle and the barbarians are not as different as they seem to think.

“The loss was profound.” Her mother addresses the bowl directly. “Over three quarters of the men you sent.”

“Sad but necessary if it gets us what we want. Any noblemen?”

“Everyone but Captains Airell and Blaine, and Lieutenant Fynbar. There was fire, and the druids were caught in it as well.”

A heavy sigh comes from the bowl. “Druids are not made as they used to be. Too much learning, not enough practice. Those of the motherland have it right. The best place to learn magic is on the battlefield.”

“Prime minister Ceana, the king was killed during the attack.” Her mother glances across the table at them, her eyes settling on Boone the longest. “Some mishap with magic I believe. We need to appoint a leader. There have been some rebellions with the citizens, and we need to decide what is the next step.”

“You have proven yourself exemplary in these trying times. Are they inclined to accept a woman leader?”

Her mother grimaces. “It’s doubtful.”

“Perhaps Airell or myself could help with this burden?” The slim man sits a little straighter in his chair, his heavy friend doing the same on the seat the other side of her mother. “Not that your wife wouldn’t make a fearsome leader, but we can hardly help the primitive notions of these people. Gods forbid any harm come to her from these savages.”

Her mother gives Captain Blaine a cold look. “I am quite capable of handling myself. You forget, I’ve lived here most of my life.”

“And a fine accomplishment it is too.” The slim man gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I couldn’t stand it myself. No flushing toilets. No typewriters.”

“No ice cream, or electricity, or railways.” The heavy man shudders.

“I don’t care how you do it.” The voice comes out of the bowl, the man in the water shuffling through papers very different to the parchment Boone knows. “Appoint a leader. Leave behind enough soldiers to maintain order. The Irish have promised to send men to help with the re-education of nobles. You did say that you had nobles, right?”

The heavy man turns to the pudgy one beside him. “Now the Irish want to get involved. After the hard work is done.”

“The nobles are not as many or as prominent as in the north,” her mother says. “They are more watered down here, and are often only a few generations old. Descended from those who won the King’s favour.”

“Odd society.” Captain Airell screws up his face in distaste. “All that mixed blood. No wonder they are so animalistic.”

Angus slams a fist down on the table, making everyone but Julius startle. “We will never follow one of your leaders, male or female. You are barbarians. You’d take our women and slaughter our children given half a chance.”

Julius leans back in his chair in that deceivingly relaxed way of his; on the surface effortlessly draped over the chair in a too perfect replication of nonchalance, while underneath a gracefulness to the pose betrays how quickly those muscles could spring to action. A dark smile teases at the corner of his lips. Boone wonders if he’s thinking about the irony of Angus’s words. Whether he knew about the lives used to fuel the barriers. The circle does a good enough job of slaughtering its own children without anyone else’s help.

The heavy man’s blue eyes widen. “Barbarians. Is this what they call us?”

Neven shifts uncomfortably in his chair. On the end - if there can be such a place on a round table - Ness places a hand on his shoulder. The taller boy’s words come out as a casual drawl. “Savages. Is that what you call us?”

Captain Airell man turns a curious shade of red, lips drawing back into a snarl.

“At any rate, the knight has a point.” Jack speaks for the first time, looking uncomfortable about it. He may be tall - only a foot short of Angus if he didn’t slouch - but his hair is dark brown. And while she admires his fierce features he’s not what anyone would consider handsome. His sloped brow, caterpillar eyebrows, and oddly shaped nose see to that. His blood may be of the north, but he is not of the same rich species that the other three men belong. Speaking must take courage, even for the often brusque man. “The circle distrusts outsiders. They’d take better to one of their own kind.”

“Yes, yes.” The voice from the bowl sounds hurried. “By all means cater to their culture. We want things to go as smoothly as possible. I don’t need to remind you how beneficial this trade route will be to them and us. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a call with the Roman. You remember how he is. The least hint of something amiss and he plans ANOTHER invasion. We still haven’t cleared up the mess from the last time. Entire beaches turned to glass! Not that I’m not grateful the dragons are so diligent in protecting the land, but I’d like at least some of my coastline free of scorch marks.”

“May the gods protect you,” Boone’s mother says, and while her voice is not as emotional as one might expect from a wife bidding a husband goodbye, it’s not emotionless either.

The man in the bowl blinks, looking up from his papers as if startled. “Yes Porcia, and you.” The last ripples of his words spread over the water, and the image of the prime minister fades.

“Your husband?” Boone asks flatly, not sure what else to say. The thought of that man with his piles of paper and ‘necessary losses’ taking the place of her father makes her feel sick. She doubts he’d ever held a sword in his life.

“A great man,” her mother says. “A great leader. Your father’s older brother.”

Strange. She hadn’t even considered the idea that her father might have family out there other than her and her mother. Her father was not just a father. He was a brother, a son, and maybe a host of other things as well. The discovery has an unreal quality to it, like finding out sweet obedient Alice betrayed her father, or Neven had been friends with Ness before meeting her, or Gelert being both a murderer and gentle as a puppy.

“All respect to our prime minister,” Captain Airell says, with no trace of respect in his voice. “We can hardly count on one of these… people to be reasonable. I say we appoint one of ours."

Julius swings his sharp gaze to the man, olive eyes piercing. That facade of relaxation takes on a tense edge. Without the cloak he looks more unpredictable. More dangerous. "Angus would say we can't count on your people to be humane, let alone reasonable."

Angus grunts in agreement.

"You're the ones who sent armies to kill those near the barrier." The heavy man points an accusing finger at them.

"You're the ones who were attacking the barrier stones," Ness shouts across the table.

"And sending dragons to slaughter innocent people," Neven finishes at a lower volume.

"We saved you," Captain Blaine says with what seems like an exaggerated amount of hurt. "Your king was a tyrant."

Angus gets to his feet, supporting most of his weight on one leg. "King Robin was a fair King!"

The volume of the shouting increases, various insults and accusations tossing back and forth. In the seat beside her, Timon does his best to hide underneath the table. On Boone's other side Alice turns pale, but doesn't move from her rigid position.

After it'd gone on long enough, Boone gets to her feet and slams both palms down on the table. The broken finger in her dead hand starts a new drumbeat of throbbing, but it doesn't hurt. "You're all idiots!"

They turn to look at her. Predictably Captain Airell and Angus appear furious, and for all his smarmy charm, Captain Blaine looks like he's heading there himself.

"We already have a leader." She points a finger at the girl sitting beside her. "Alice."

In his seat Neven nods energetically. The rest of the room seems unconvinced. Alice glances up at her, then around the room, startled.

Her mother frowns across the table at the girl. "How do we know she won't take up her father's cause?"

"She's been fighting it for longer than we have." Neven sweeps a hand, encompassing the room. "All of us."

Alice had been sent to the tower when she was twelve, for finding out about the sacrifices, she'd said. The question is, what had a quiet little twelve year old girl done in response to her discovery to earn such a harsh punishment?

"Aye that's right." Jack raises his head a little, not looking at his comrades. "I used to give her puppet shows. One day she told me a story I couldn't believe was true. My next trip to the city and she was gone, and I got a new assignment to deliver some of my wares to that place they called dragon island. Since then I've been taking my puppet shows everywhere listening to the children. They tell you some interesting things if you take the time. Then this Moore fella confirmed it, and he asked me to get the information to the north.”

Neven leans half way across the table. “My father asked you to contact the north?”

Boone understands how he feels. It seems incredulous that ‘keep your head down’ and ‘always follow the rules’ Mr Moore could conspire to overthrow the King. Unless that was part of why he had killed himself to stop Neven being taken. Maybe he thought they’d found out and were going to use his son to keep him in line. Or maybe it’s just that he knew what happened to boys like Neven who didn’t fit the soldier mould.

There are too many maybes and not enough answers.

“Aye. Good man. I helped him with a favour a while back. I’d meet and keep him informed about what was happening in the kingdom.” He shakes his head. “He didn’t turn up to meet me that night. The one you snuck on my boat on. After Porthdon, I go to the palace to drop off my wares, then up to the north to start a new collection. I didn’t know about the dragon or the attack. If I had I would’ve warned your father. I’m sorry lad.”

Neven doesn’t say anything, just drops his head.

“You can trust her.” Boone doesn’t say we. She may share blood with the woman opposite, but in every other way she’s a stranger. “She’ll make a good leader.”

“I say it’s a fine idea,” Captain Blaine says with a smile she doesn’t trust. “But what of her…” He waves a hand vaguely in her direction.

Julius sits up in his chair, the movement as smooth as silk. “It’s been a thousand years. A change is overdue.”

“The King is dead,” Ness says bluntly. “The people are going to complain no matter who replaces him.”

Neven shrugs beside him. “May as well use the opportunity for some social change.”

Boone glances tentatively at Angus, and finds everyone on her side of the table doing the same. He’s the most likely to explode over this.

He crosses his arms over his large chest like he’s not happy about it, but says: “No one will listen to a woman leader, but it’s a damn sight better than one of you barbarians in charge.”

“Keep Sir Julius and Sir Angus by her side,” Neven adds. “The people won’t protest if they think they’re the ones controlling her.”

“Alice?” Her mother asks kindly “What do you think.”

The princess shifts uneasily in her chair, looking with her jet black ringlets and pale face more like a little girl than ever. Then she straightens. “I want to make the kingdom a better place.”

“It’s settled then,” her mother says. Early morning sunlight glints off her golden armour - once the battle was over she’d changed from her tan uniform - from the balcony as her posture stiffens. “Now we need to talk about trade.”

“Was that why you attacked when you did?” Neven’s words are sharp. “Trade?” From where she sits she can see him: straight backed and still. His brown eyes are hard. On the table beside him Ness’s hands twitch as if wanting to cover Neven’s paler hand with his darker one. Instead they curl into fists.

“No.” Her mother shakes her head, dismissing the statement with the coldness of their prime minister. A sad glint of her eyes betrays her true feelings. “Dragons are hard to corral. We had an opportunity. We took it.”