Dream Magic (42 page)

The trouble was that she was always with a large group of soldiers. He had spotted her from time to time, but if he plunged down on the back of his
dragon, leapt from the saddle and thrust his blade into her back, he was certain he would be set upon by hundreds. He felt it unlikely he could even reach her before he was cut down.

His stomach was twisted into knots, and he felt unprepared for this moment. He supposed that all warriors felt that way the
ir first time at war. But this was the wildest mess he’d ever heard of, even when compared to the fantastic battles on the shoulders of Snowdon in history lessons.

The battle was large and confusing, and he felt out of his depth. Should he attack, or wait? The tension and indecision was making him ill. He knew that the battle might hinge on the success of his action, and he knew he would only get one try.

“You intrigue me, boy,” said a voice near at hand.

Trev looked this way and that, eyes wide. There was nothing and no one in sight. He and the
dragon were flying high in the air, out of the reach of any bowshot or spoken word from the ground.

After the initial surprise wore off, he knew who he must be dealing with. He drew his blade and held it over his head, lest an unexpected attack come from that direction.

“Hob,” said Fafna, “I’ll have you know I’m not as helpless as the youth on my back. If you strike at him, I’ll find you and burn you, invisible or not.”

Old Hob twittered. “Don’t be so dramatic,
dragon,” he said. “If I’d meant either of you harm, I would have struck without warning.”

“Hmm,” said Trev. “No, I don’t think you would have. You never place yourself in that kind of danger. You never strike anyone, I’d wager, unless they are bound
at your feet and so weak as to be helpless.”

“Insulting,” Hob sniffed. “But be that as it may, can I ask you a harmless question?”

“If it will cause you to leave or reveal yourself.”

Hob laughed. “Hardly. What I want to know is what you’re doing up
here, staring down at the battle? I’ve been doing the same, but I doubt our intentions are identical…”

“If you’re asking whether I’m planning to join whichever side I think is winning at the last possible instant, then no, we’re not doing the same thing you are.”

“Your comment suggests a low opinion of my honor.”

“I have
no
opinion of your honor, because you have very close to none.”

Old Hob made a snor
ting sound. “All right, if your intentions are so pure, you’ll not mind telling me of them.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I might want to help.”

Trev thought about it, but shook his head. “You’ll only give warning and take credit for rendering aid.”

“Ah, warning is it? So you do intend to act? Hmm, let me think a moment. A boy who can’t be touched by the magic of the others. He has no weapon other than a dagger, and he seems to have thrown his lot in with Brand and his friends… I think I have it: you’re an assassin, aren’t you?”

Trev felt uncomfortable with the conversation and Hob’s deductions.

“Leave me,” he said, “or Fafna will breathe fire in every direction until she lights your britches. I bet we’ll be able to see you well enough then.”

There was a pause in the conversation after this remark. When Hob spoke
next, it seemed that he was shouting from a greater distance away.

“
I can only think that you are on a mission to kill Morgana,” Hob shouted. “If that is the case, then I wish to help you.”

Trev rolled his eyes.

The dragon twisted her neck and the great head came around to look at Trev. She spoke in an urgent, rough whisper.

“Let’s
lure him into coming close. Then I’ll take a bite out of him. He smells, you see. The moment he’s upwind, I’ll know it.”

“That’s a worthy sacrifice
on your part,” Trev said, disgusted with the thought of taking a bite out of Old Hob. “I appreciate the offer. But I want to find out what he’s offering.”

Trev raised his voice and shouted into the winds. “What do you suggest, Hob?”

Old Hob was much closer when he spoke again. Trev startled and looked from his left to his right, where the wily goblin’s voice now emanated.

“I can make you invisible,” Hob said. “
You and the dragon both. It will not last long, but long enough to hurtle down out of the sky and plunge your blade into that witch’s heart.”

“Why would you do that?” Trev asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? Do you think I’d rather have a single Queen commanding all the Jewels, or eight fractured parties arrayed against me? If she is the clear winner, I’ll have no choice but to join her and beg to remain a helpful, neutral party. But if I have my wish, she’ll be as dead as those dry bones that necromancer of yours has been coaxing out of the ground.”

Trev thought about it, and he believed Hob. The last thing a
weasely old codger like him wanted was to be dominated by an all-powerful witch. He
would
rather see her dead.

“How can you do it?”

“If you can control your mount for a mere second, allowing me to make contact with the tip of her tail…”

“Have a care, goblin!”
Fafna growled, craning her neck around and looking behind her. Her tail began to lash like a slaver’s whip.

“Hold still please,
Fafna,” Trev said. “Wouldn’t you like to be invisible when we attack? They can’t shoot at you if they can’t see you.”

The
dragon grumbled, but at last held her tail out behind her as straight as an arrow.

A moment later, Trev heard Old Hob speak: “There, it is done.”

The dragon vanished, and Trev began to fall. His mind could not grasp what was happening for a moment, then he knew: What if Hob hadn’t made the dragon invisible, but instead had transported her to a distant locale? In that case, he’d fooled them both and Trev had killed himself by believing the oldest of goblins.

Old Hob was speaking again, but Trev was falling so rapidly, he could not make out the words. For a horrible few seconds, he shouted in alarm.

“Shut up and ready your blade!” shouted Fafna.

Trev swallowed and tightened his grip on his dagger. He realized he could still feel the saddle under him, more
so now that Fafna was slowing her plunge.

“You dove without warning,” Trev complained.

“The old bastard said it would not last long,” Fafna explained. “What if it lasts just long enough for us to drop into the midst of the enemy and then appear like fools? I wanted to get there as quickly as possible.”

Trev saw the logic of this, and he tried to get his mind
back to the task at hand. He realized with a shock that he could see his own hand and the dagger in it, but not the dragon.

“My silver hair,” he said, “the magic didn’t work on me. I’m not invisible, only you are!”

“Of course,” huffed the dragon. “What did you expect? Now, jump off when we land and kill that witch. I’m hungry and I’m tired of battles.”

Whether it was due to impatience or to the
dragon’s belief in the need for urgency, Trev realized they’d reached the ground.

They landed directly in front of the
Witch of the Wood. Trev took two steps forward and placed his blade against her fine, white throat.

The woman stiffened in shock. Her eyes shot at him with hate, but then quickly softened. She fabricated a smile that was as false as any Trev had yet to witness.

“Trev, my darling!” she said. “I’m startled to meet you, and I must ask that you let go of my hair. Otherwise, my troops will slay you. I won’t be able to stop them.”

Trev’s eyes slid past her, looking at the Kindred troops that had circled around. They were not snarling in rage, but rather grinning at him, as if they were all privy to some joke at his expense. Their expressions gave him a chill, despite the situation.

“Step back, or you mistress dies now!” Trev shouted at them.

They retreated a single step, but no farther. Trev looked at Morgana. She met his gaze.

“You’ve slain many of my people,” Trev said.

“
Your people?” she asked. “And who might those be? The humans or the elves? It seems to me they are busy slaying one another and have been long before I got here.”

“Both,” he said.
“I claim them both, and you are killing all my kin.”

She shook her head slightly, causing the point of his dagger to cut a tiny line in the throat.

“No Trev,” she said sadly. “You have no people. Both sides agree on one thing: they universally reject your kind. None of them love you.”

He opened his mouth to angrily shout that his mother certainly
did
love him—but then he calmed himself. She was delaying.

“Order your
men three more steps back, or I’ll drive this dagger home this instant.”

She licked her lips, and her expression changed back to hate.

“You heard him,” she shouted, “step back, damn you all!”

They did so, shuffling silently. None had yet to shout a challenge or even make a rude gesture toward him. Trev found the situation surreal.

“Now what, my lovely boy?” she asked.

Trev knew this was the moment. H
e had to drive the dagger home now. Perhaps, the thrust would not be enough. Perhaps, the circling Kindred would have time before the spell was broken to tear him apart. But even if that was true, if he could kill this witch, he could yet save the Haven.

But it was harder to do than it sounded. He was a young boy, and in all his short life, he’d only lain with one woman—the one he was supposed to murder now.

He could smell her, despite the smoke and blood that hung in air. She had a soft, fragrant scent. No doubt, she’d doused herself in lilac water or crushed rose petals and rubbed them on herself when she bathed. Whichever was the case, it brought back memories of their single bout of passion, and it caused him to hold back. He knew what had to be done, but he could not bring himself to do it.

“I knew it, my love,” Morgana said. “I knew you could not slay me. I’m grateful, and after this business is over with, I’ll lie with you again tonight in my tent. You’d like that, wouldn’t you Trev?”

Trev was close to tears, but he nodded. He steeled himself. Perhaps he
could
do this evil deed, if he just closed his eyes and didn’t think about what he was really doing. Just a single, simple motion—

His arm jerked forward and the dagger thrust home. He
stared in shock. Blood bubbled from Morgana’s pierced throat. It ran down the blade and over his fingers. Trev shook his head.

Around him, for the first time, the assembled Kindred Warriors made a sound. It was a single, howling
roar. It was the cry of a wounded wolf who’s lost its mate, and it rang up from not one throat, but from a thousand throats around the battlefield.

Trev’s arm moved again,
seemingly of its own volition, thrusting deeper still. The blade was in to the hilt, and the dagger was longer than most. It had to be all the way up into her head, scraping against the inside of her skull.

Trev dropped
Morgana and the dagger with her in horror.

“I didn’t do it!” he shouted. “I didn’t do it, I swear!”

The Kindred around him fell to their knees as one, as if he’d stabbed them, not their mistress. They writhed and kicked. Some bit their own tongues and blood ran from the corners of their mouths and into their beards.

Trev felt and
then saw a tall shadow looming behind him. He whirled, tearing his eyes from Morgana’s, which were already glazing over in death.

There stood Old Hob, visible at last. He smile
d at Trev, and showed his yellowed, pointed teeth.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just thought you might be needing a little…
help.”

Hob made
a motion, indicating he’d pushed upon Trev’s elbow and driven the dagger home for him.

“You killed her,” Trev said, “with
my
hand. Such a wicked act.”

Old Hob frowned at him and put his bony green fists on his hips.

“Oh come now, I’ll not hear that kind of talk, boy!” he said angrily. He lifted one hand and waved it around the place, turning in a full circle as he did so. “Can you be such a love-struck mooncalf that you don’t see the devastation around you? This woman was a witch, the most vile of such beings, and she wielded a power so great it caused thousands of creatures to die. How can you mourn such an evil?”

Trev frowned at him. He was stunned by the situation. He
still wanted to help Morgana, but he could see she was well and truly dead. Perhaps Oberon’s blood magic…

“Are you listening, boy?” Old Hob was saying.
He’d never stopped speaking, but Trev had stopped listening.

“What is it?”
Trev asked, still staring down at Morgana.