Her Majesty's Wizard #1 (50 page)

   Then a chorus of screeches came down from the sky. Matt looked up in alarm and saw a horde of harpies plummeting down toward the battle; in front of them came twelve-foot flying snakes, bat-winged and breathing fire.

   "Firedrakes!" someone screamed nearby. "Lord defend us!"

   Hell-spawn had joined the battle. Apparently the stasis on spells was wearing thin. The enemy roared with relief and waded in.

   "To me!" Stegoman bellowed, lifting his head above the crowd.

   Matt caught a blast of fire from a drake upon his shield and swore as the armor conducted heat to his skin. He rose in his stirrups to chop out full-length, slashing a firedrake in half. Liquid spattered as the two halves went flying, still writhing and snapping. A drop hit Matt's shield; in a few seconds he was staring through a hole the ichor had eaten.

   "To me!" Stegoman bellowed again, and a chorus of roaring answered from the skies. Matt risked a quick glance up, and saw a hundred dragons diving down from the heights, a shoal of fire before them-Glogorogh and the volunteers.

   The harpies shrieked and flapped frantically upward, sheering off.

   "Captains!" Alisande's voice came clearly above the lull in the battle the aerial combat had created. "Regroup your forces!"

   They had time, because the dragons plowed into the firedrakes with bellows of fury and billows of flame. A score of younger dragons scoured the skies for harpies, sailing into a cluster of monsters and lashing fire about them, slashing out with claws and teeth. The harpies shrieked, ganging up on the dragons by dozens and scores; but the dragons were in full rage and in no mood to argue numbers. Charred harpies crashed down in the midst of the armies; manic women's heads went flying.

   Lower, just above the soldiers' helmets, older dragons chewed up the fire-snakes.

   The armies cowered under their shields as fire and acid rained about them. The allied commanders bawled commands at their troops, cajoling and bullying them into order again.

   The rain of fire began to slacken. Matt risked a peek around the edge of his shield and saw only a few harpies, trying to flutter away toward the east, with the dragons in hot pursuit. There were no firedrakes, though snake bodies writhed upon the ground, splattering acid blood about them.

   "Now," Alisande called, somewhere ahead, "hew a road for me to the usurper! Ladies, to me!"

   The nuns howled, and the Greeks bellowed behind them, hammering into the churning enemy battle line.

   Far away across the ranks, the moonlight revealed Astaulf, laying about him with the flat of his sword, knocking his own men aside to clear a path to the princess. Behind him rode a robed figure with a tall, pointed cap-Malingo, preoccupied with sword and shield.

   The commanders surged toward each other, while dragons danced over the enemy, roaring blasts wherever they could make the most confusion.

   Sister Victrix and her nuns formed up around Alisande-now only half their original number, but still laying about them with their swords, catching blows upon their shields, and chopping a way through the ranks for their princess, like a black arrowhead driving toward Astaulf.

   Then a surge of the enemy broke through. A long knight's lance caught Alisande in the midriff, knocking her off her horse. She disappeared in the crush of fighting.

   Matt screamed, "Forward, Stegoman! Torch them away! Plow through to the princess!"

   The dragon roared, blasting fire straight ahead. His own men saw the dragon coming and leaped aside. A tiny spark sprang into Stegoman's flame, and it roared out an additional ten feet.

   "Thanks, Max!" Matt laid about him like a maniac, chopping through any enemy in his way.

   But the troops still loyal to Astaulf, greedy for goods and careless of their souls, saw their chance to gain great kudoes by downing the enemy wizard and pressed in, howling for blood.

   Matt chopped them away, noticing them only as obstacles. The monofilament-edged blade sheered through armor and bone. Soldiers died, yet more pressed in to delay him. But knight and dragon plowed through to the knot of nuns who were formed into a hollow circle, fighting valiantly against a crush of enemy. They battled bravely, but they were heavily outnumbered and went down, one by one, killing three men for each of them. They died, until only a score of them remained to guard their princess.

   Matt, twenty-five feet away and high on Stegoman's shoulders, could see Alisande in their center, trying to struggle back to her feet with the aid of a spear, but with one leg badly twisted beneath her. Matt's heart seemed to lurch; he hewed about him frantically. He was fifteen feet from her, then ten. But now the nuns all lay dead or senseless, and only two black-clad figures stood between the princess and the enemy, Father Brunel, with a shield on his arm and a steel cap on his head, roaring like a wounded bull and laying about him with the strength of a gorilla; and Sayeesa, with two slender swords in her hands, stabbing at chinks in enemy armor.

   Knights loomed up over them, with battle-axes raised high ...

   Stegoman bulldozed through the last few pikemen and leaped up to Alisande with a roaring blast of fire, white-hot to melt armor, turning his head in a long, slow arc to sweep the field clean. Max was still adding to the blast. Knights screamed and beat their way backward. Brunel and Sayeesa dropped to huddle low against the dragon's forelegs while white fire roared out over their heads.

   Matt leaped down next to Alisande and fell to one knee, catching her up in his left arm, crushing her against his armor, his shield covering her back. She went rigid, staring up. He flipped up his visor. She recognized him and threw her arms around his neck in a hug that slammed the jaw of his helmet down onto her shoulder. "My wizard! You've come! I thought you had left me to perish!"

   "No way, Lady." He braced himself and straightened, pulling her up, with him. "Come on, now. Get your leg under you. Back on your feet!"

   "I cannot. The leg is broken," she gasped, her eyes closing as the pain of the leg shot through her. "Do not leave me, Matthew!"

   "Not until you're healed and back on your feet again. I'll make it fast-very fast!"

   "Nay, do not leave me! Never leave me!" She hung on his neck, weighing him down. "Swear you'll not leave me-ever!"

   "You're the princess-the heart and head of this battle." Matt pulled back against her weight, studying the leg. "I've got to try healing you-right now!"

   "Swear!" she cried.

   "Quickly, Wizard!" Stegoman rumbled. "They mass upon us, now-a hundred knights to encircle us. By their numbers, they'll wear me down." He loosed another blast, sending the knights back again-but not far enough.

   By now, Matt hoped, the two counteracting spells should have mostly dispersed-enough for at least magic on a personal level. He risked a glance again at the threatening knights, then decided to make his verse short and direct:

   "By the love that is intended, Let this damsel's leg be mended."

   Alisande gasped, her eyes startled. She leaned her weight on the leg tentatively, then stepped away, to stand straight and proud again. But her face was frozen, and she avoided looking at Matt.

   "Aye, Lady! 'Tis even so!"

   Matt turned to see Sayeesa toss her sword aside. There was a bitterness on her face that chilled him to the bone. She nodded grimly. "Aye, that did I seek, not knowing it-the fullness of love, not that of the body alone or the mere glamour of the forbidden. Thus I sought; thus was it denied." Her eyes sought Matt's for a moment; then she lifted her chin, her face resolute. "Yet even without it, I'll lend meaning to this life of mine. Spirit!"

   "Aye, mistress!" A dot of light danced beside her.

   "Come, then! Enter, and draw within me the power that is yours to sway!"

   Her full lips parted, and the Demon darted into her mouth. She closed her lips and stood a moment, seeming to swell with power. Then she ripped off her postulant's habit and chain-mail shirt and cast them aside, revealing a sheer, short shift. Her body seemed to glow.

   The knights froze, staring at her. So did Matt. She'd planned for this, somehow sensing it in her future!

   Father Brunel shuddered, turning his eyes away. Sayeesa spared him a contemptuous glance, then moved toward the armored knights, her allure building with every step. Slowly, lazily, hips shifting in a magnetic rhythm, she strolled toward the wall of living steel, her eyes an open invitation to an army. She seemed to burn with desire. Matt felt an urge build in him and forced his eyes away.

   A groan started somewhere in the ranks of the knights. One ripped off his helmet and tore at the fastenings of his armor, to be followed by another and another, until the air was filled with armor parts. They started toward her.

   But her gaze strayed past them, seeking out a face toward the back of the press, pale and bearded, with a tall cap rising above the helmets. Malingo's eyes were riveted to her body; staring and sweating, he swallowed convulsively.

   "Come!" she cried.

   The sorcerer hung back a moment, torn between dread and desire. But he had kept himself from women too long to withstand Sayeesa, even in the midst of battle. He moaned and whipped out his sword, cutting at his own knights, slamming at them, roaring, "Fools! Churls! Garbage under my feet! Away! Let me to the woman!"

   Startled, they pulled back, and Malingo surged toward Sayeesa.

   She turned to Brunel. "Come, dog! We're alike enough for me to know. Your life, like mine, is fit only for atonement!"

   The priest lifted his head, and Matt stared at him, shocked. The head that Brunei raised was only half human; ripples seemed to move through it as he fought the moonlight and the urge of his body. Then he saw Malingo hewing a way toward Sayeesa and understanding flooded his changing face.

   With a howl, he flung off his cassock. His body shrank, and he fell to all fours, sprouting fur. Nose and mouth ran together, swelling out to a muzzle; his ears slid upward, growing points. A bush of a tail sprouted from his spine as his body contracted, writhing. Then it stilled, and a wolf leaped forward, snarling.

   The enemy knights in the front rank gathered themselves suddenly, realizing it was a race between Malingo and them. They jumped toward Sayeesa, unarmored, hands reaching ...

   The werewolf smashed into them, snarling in fury, leaping, whirling, and slashing at throats, crazed and berserk. Hardened knights screamed and drew back, arms over their faces. The wolf churned through their ranks, a tornado with teeth, clearing a lane to Malingo.

   Sayeesa ran down that channel to the sorcerer, arms wide. She passed the wolf. It leaped to keep up with her.

   Malingo reached for her hungrily. She slammed into him, and his arms closed around her, hands tearing at her shift. Her lips locked on his for a very deep, long kiss. Then she thrust him away, stepping back with a wild, mocking laugh.

   Malingo stared, dumfounded. Then he went for her again.

   The wolf howled and leaped for his throat.

   Malingo drew out a curved knife that seemed to writhe in his hand, its blade glinting silver. But his movements were curiously slowed.

   The wolf shocked into his chest, bowling him over, snarling and reaching for his throat. With obvious effort, Malingo drove the flickering knife into its chest. It leaped back with a groan, falling huddled to the ground, blood welling from its side, struggling to rise.

   Malingo snarled and fumbled in his sleeve, pulling out a flaming sphere. He heaved it toward Sayeesa, crying, "Die, traitoress! What enchantment have you flung on me?"

   Sayeesa stood, laughing in mockery. The fireball struck and exploded. Flames leaped high about her writhing figure as she fell.

   Malingo labored to heave himself to his feet, then tottered and collapsed again. The werewolf began crawling toward him, moaning deep in its throat with each labored effort.

   Malingo hefted the knife as though it weighed a ton. "My deathcurse upon him who stole my power! Yet I still have the power of hate, and I heap it upon him! May his flesh rot with pox, and his soul burn in Hell!"

   Then the wolf struggled forward the last few inches and fell upon his chest. Malingo cried out, holding the knife so that the wolf landed upon its point. But the great jaws closed on his throat, tearing and -ripping. The sorcerer's cry turned to a gurgle as his blood fountained out. Then the gurgle ceased, and the blood slackened to a trickle.

   The wolf lay on his chest, slowly changing back into the figure of Father Brunel.

   The field was quiet. Knights and footmen stared, horrified,

   The Demon had done it, Matt realized. When Sayeesa had passed it into the sorcerer with her kiss, it had drained Malingo's power-drained every bit of his energy. And the wolf had killed him. .

   Then far away, but swelling close in an instant, came a wild, exultant screaming. The sky was suddenly filled with leather wings, glinting red scales, and wild, manic laughter. A horde of demons plunged down toward the sorcerer's body, screaming: "He is ours!" ... "He is carrion now for Hell!" ... "Claim his soul!" ... "Carry it to white fire, never dying..."