Centaur of the Crime: Book One of 'Fantasy and Forensics' (Fantasy & Forensics 1) (34 page)

I felt my heart sink with a sickening sensation of dread.

Far down on the slope below us, the Andeluvians continued their damned cheering. Then they slowly began filing into ranks. Getting ready to advance on the centaurs.

Pikemen with large oval shields made up the bulk of the front line. One whole wing of the army consisted of squadrons of heavy cavalry. Their red and black pennants snapped smartly in the breeze. On the other wing stood a huge flock of griffins, their riders, armor, and harnesses decked out in a brilliant rainbow of colors.

A small cluster of men stood a dozen yards ahead of the main line. Magnus, still exploiting his position as Duke Kajari, conferred with Lord Behnaz and a mixed score of knights and nobles. To one side, Captain Vazura sat astride a new griffin: a gigantic, platinum-furred beast with wings the color of candle flames.

I didn’t like the look of any of this.

“If we’re going down there, it’s now or not at all,” I said.

“Agreed. It is thy time to alight,” Shaw replied, in a tone that brooked absolutely no argument.

Hesitantly, I reached out and placed my palm on the griffin’s shoulder. While clotted in spots with soot and dried blood, the dark gold and gray fur still felt kitten soft. I clambered aboard Shaw’s back, leaned forward, and grasped handfuls of unmarked fur and feather as best I could.

Shaw took off with a jolt as soon as he felt me grab hold. I squeezed the griffin’s flanks between my legs, but there was no need to worry. Though he moved swiftly downslope at a lumbering pace, the movement translated into a gentle, rocking ride. Liam bounded alongside, easily keeping pace with us.

“Out of curiosity,” the Fayleene prince called to us, “Do we actually have anything resembling a plan?”

“What need have we of a plan?” Shaw said, with a gleeful voice. “We arrive, we smash the traitor’s deception. Either we triumph, or we perish by blade, bow, and talon.”

“You know something?” I pointed out, “You don’t have to sound quite so pleased about this, Shaw.”

“Thou hast fulfilled my fondest hopes, Dayna!” Shaw said, as his breath echoed in my ears like a great pair of bellows, “Do you not recall my words to thee, upon our first meeting?”

“Um…that I did you right, by allowing you to serve.”

“True. I then said, ’tis not death in battle, but it would do.” The griffin let out what sounded like a purr, of all the damned things. “Who could know that I really
would
get to die in battle whilst serving thee!”

And you know what? Of all the ridiculous things, I understood, even just a little, why Shaw felt so excited. I’d never given thought to how I would die. Odds were that it could’ve been some run-on-the-mill car accident in Los Angeles. But never, in my wildest dreams, did I think I’d meet my end atop the back of a charging griffin.

So I let out a wild laugh. What the hell, it was appropriate. The Last Charge of Dayna’s Light Brigade.

“Well, I for one am glad you two find this so amusing,” Liam said, with a wry tone. “I can see formations of archers in the rear ranks. Do you think they’ll try to get a volley off before we get too close?”

“Doubt it,” I said. “Magnus would like that, but too many people know that we’ve been on the trail of Benedict’s murderer. It would look awfully suspicious if he ordered his archers to open fire on us as we ride up.”

“Thy guess is about to be tested,” Shaw put in, as the slope leveled out beneath us. “We are now crossing their best field of fire.”

I held my breath as we continued to lope through the swards of tall, gold-tinted grass. Smells of ripening wheat and rich, loamy soil. I squinted skywards, my skin goose-pimpled at the thought of a sky darkened by a swarm of arrows.

But nothing happened. We emerged from the target zone unscathed.

Shaw’s lope shifted to a walk as we drew near. Finally, he came to a halt just a few yards from the cluster of men that stood before the ranks of the vast Andeluvian host. I dismounted and stepped forward.

Magnus stood out in front. His clothes hung loosely about his frame, wrinkled and singed, as if he’d slept too close to a campfire. By contrast, the armor of his companions gleamed with coats of fresh polish. Lord Behnaz sat on a dapple-gray horse, watching everything with beady, bloodshot eyes. Among the crowd behind Behnaz were knights and nobles I recognized from the palace.

Some were clad in mail. Others in plated armor draped with their fine palace doublets. I spotted the blue robe of the seer hidden amongst the mass of scarlet and black. And in the center of the crowd stood the page that had tended to both Duke Kajari and Shaw. The boy held aloft a T-shaped wooden standard. A banner with an ebony comet on a red field hung below the crosspiece.

“Ah, you have seen fit to join us, Lady Chrissie,” Magnus’ voice boomed. “I have already told everyone here how your return journey took you through a storm of eldritch magic. How it’s driven you and your companions insane.”

“Insane?” I sputtered, “The only one here who should be in a white coat is you, wizard.”

“You see?” Magnus made a show of laughing at my protest. His brows knitted together in a frown. “Commander Yervan of the Palace Guard will take you into custody. For your own safety.”

A well-built man wearing gold-trimmed plate armor stepped forward, followed by four other knights. With the slithery sound of steel on leather, the five drew their swords. Yervan hesitated as Shaw lowered his head with a serpentine hiss. Wounded or not, the griffin meant to fight.

Magnus watched the standoff with a mirthless smile.

“Commander,” he said firmly, “I charge you as ranking officer of the guard, to remove this madwoman and her companions from my sight. Whether alive or not.”

Yervan gripped the hilt of his sword. Jaw clenched, he prepared to give the order to advance. At that moment, Prince Liam stepped between us and Yervan’s men.

“Hold!” Liam cried. “Do you recognize what I am?”

Yervan spoke up. “You are a Fayleene, lest my eyes deceive me.”

“Correct.” Liam turned to scowl at his former captor. Magnus’ earlobe hung red and swollen where the princeling had bitten him. “We Fayleene are beings of fey magic. Few know that we are immune to eldritch sorcery. Lady Chrissie is no more insane than I."

Yervan hesitated. His sword point dipped.

A good time to put the last cards on the table.

“Hear me, good nobles!” I cried. “You’ve been deceived!”

Magnus shouted back, trying to drown me out. “Behnaz, Vazura! Shut this woman up! Upon pain of death!”

“Oh, please,” Behnaz sighed, with an air of disdain. Vazura remained silent, motionless atop his mount, and simply crossed his arms.

The wizard let out a roar of frustration. He threw back his tattered cloak. Brought his hand up. His words cut through the air as he stabbed a finger at me.

I didn’t freeze, thank God. My feet did move.

But Magnus was quick. So damned quick.

I didn’t even kid myself into thinking he was going to miss.

“
Hóski, seydir!
”

Cyan lightning ran down his arm. It leapt from the tip of his finger and towards my chest.

The thud of a pair of hooves. Liam’s form flashed before me.

The bolt struck Liam squarely. I couldn’t see the Fayleene’s eyes, but his one complete antler lit up with the neon blue glow of a Las Vegas billboard. Sapphire sparks sputtered from the stub of the broken antler.

He shook his head and the remnants of Magnus’ bolt vanished with a
pop
.

Shaw gasped. I breathed Liam’s name, but the little Fayleene didn’t hear. He bunched his haunches and shot forward as if launched by catapult.

Liam butted Magnus squarely in the chest. The wizard barely had time to cry out as the Fayleene bowled him over. Magnus landed on his back.

The princeling jammed one razor-sharp forehoof under Magnus’ chin.

“Few know,” Liam said, in a voice that was chilling to hear from a deer’s muzzle, “That we Fayleene are also immune to the energies of a firebolt.”

Magnus’ face contorted with anger. “Behnaz! Vazura! I am your ruler! You will obey me and–”

“Quiet.” Liam leaned his weight on the edge of his hoof. Pressed it up against Magnus’ throat. The wizard went silent, though his face turned purple with rage. “Continue, Dayna. Finish it.”

“This man,” I proclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at where Magnus lay prone, “This man is not Duke Kajari! Kajari lies dead on a table in my world. King Benedict lies dead on one here. And this man—this centaur—is responsible for their deaths!”

I took a huge gulp of air to finish. My voice rang across the hillock, out to where I could see the soldiers in the front line leaning on their shields, listening intently.

“Centaur wizard Magnus Killshevan! I charge you with the murder of the Good King Benedict!”

Silence. For a moment, I’d have sworn that I could hear a cricket chirp in the stillness. A breeze tousled the nearby grass with a restless rustle. Yervan’s jaw, which had been firmly clenched a moment earlier, hung slack.

Then I heard something that I didn’t expect.

Laughter.

Captain Vazura and Lord Behnaz openly laughed at my announcement. Great gusts of laughter, the kind reserved for punchline that they’d kept in for the final curtain call. Behnaz stifled his laughter by loudly clearing his throat.

“So, ‘Lady’ Chrissie. You claim that Duke Kajari…is in reality the centaur wizard, Magnus Killshevan.”

“That’s right,” I said.

“Really,” Behnaz said, in his dark, oily voice. “Next time, tell us something that we didn’t already know.”

Chapter Forty-Two

It figures.

I’d finally revealed Benedict’s murderer to the world. Case closed, right? Not for Dayna Chrissie. Just when I thought I finally had a handle on the situation, everything went straight to hell.

Lord Behnaz looked at me with an air of disdain and pity. Perched on his mount above us all, Vazura smirked like an unrepentant street punk caught breaking into a church. I steadied myself as best I could.

At least Magnus also looked surprised.

“You…already know?” I said, barely keeping my voice below a feminine squeak. “But how? And when you knew, why didn’t you–”

“Come, now. Did it ever cross that little mind of yours that Captain Vazura and I would find the circumstances of Benedict’s murder…odd?” Behnaz rolled his eyes in Magnus’ direction. “And this one…let’s just say his acting skills aren’t up to par. Not when you’re familiar with every single mannerism of our damned king’s favorite lackey.”

One of the palace guards let out a gasp. Behnaz jutted his jaw out insolently and kept on speaking. He didn’t speak as loudly as I had, but his voice carried at least as far as the group of nobles on the rise.

“Yes, you heard me right. I’m glad King Benedict is gone. We all are! Which is why I will be the one to lead us into Andeluvia’s glorious future!”

Most of the nobles in the crowd let out a cheer. A few scowled, but did not speak out. The royal page’s face went ash white. The T-shaped standard wavered as he looked around, unbelieving.

Yervan and the palace guards looked aghast. “My Lord…you cannot just assume command of this host!”

“Oh, but I can. Under Andeluvian law, in the absence of the royal family, a senior Lord may lead the realm’s army into battle.”

Commander Yervan glared for a moment, but then shook his head in shame.

“You have the law of the land behind you, if not the right, Lord Behnaz.”

“That will suffice for now,” Behnaz gloated. “And your insolence has been noted, Commander.”

Behnaz addressed the audience of nobles surrounding him.

“For too long, we’ve been living a sham, a lie. That we must…consort with those half-animal things when we should be ruling them!” He raised one gauntleted hand. With a metallic creak, he folded his fingers into a fist. “We shall conquer the Centaur Kingdom, take their riches for our own!”

A roar of approval came back in answer.

“First line infantry, prepare to advance!” Behnaz bellowed. “Archers, stand ready!”