Last Battle of the Icemark (35 page)

Thirrin stared down at the boy, who looked incredibly small and vulnerable before the battle-trained hooves of her charger. She'd dreamed of just such a moment for so many long and bitter years that she was reluctant to let it go, and in her imagination she saw herself riding forward over the Emperor and crushing him to a bloody pulp. But in her fantasies he'd always been a man, tall and brutish with an evil, depraved expression, not a little boy with a pretty face.

“Will he let me stroke him?” the boy asked again.

“I'm sure he will,” Thirrin answered, desperately trying to retain the last dregs of her anger against everything he represented. She sighed, then, quickly dismounting, she held the charger's reins firmly and barked out a command. “Stand, Havoc!”

The huge horse snorted and laid back his ears, but stood like a rock while the boy reached up and stroked his muzzle. “He's all soft,” said the boy in delight.

The warhorse whickered, then lowered his muzzle towards the child and snuffed at him. “Blow up his nose, it's the way horses make friends,” said Thirrin quietly, still trying to maintain a proper coldness in her dealings with the head of an empire she'd detested for years.

The boy blew, and giggled when the horse snuffled back at him. “Are we friends now?”

“For life,” Thirrin answered.

The boy suddenly became serious. “Do you know, I lost my second front tooth this morning. Silvanus says that proves I'm growing up. Look!” and he grinned broadly so that Thirrin could see the gap where his two front teeth had been.

A memory engulfed her in devastating clarity, as she recalled a winter's morning long ago when Eodred and Cerdic had tumbled into her bed, squealing in delight because they'd both just lost their front teeth. They'd dropped the tiny pieces of ivory to nestle like pearls in her palm, and she'd solemnly told them that she'd give then to the tooth elf that very night and they'd each get a silver penny in return. Of course, Cerdic had argued that they should get two silver pennies each, as they were surrendering two teeth, and Thirrin had agreed to negotiate on their behalf.

For a moment she stepped back as the fullest impact of her emotions hit her, but, recovering herself, she looked down at the boy. “Where are your parents?”

“Oh, Mama died when I was born, and Papa killed himself not long afterwards. Silvanus says he really died of a broken heart because he loved Mama so much. Do you love your husband?” The child's dark eyes held her in a frank and open gaze.

“Yes,” she managed to mumble after a few moments. “Yes, very much.”

“And do you love your children?”

“Yes.”

“How many do you have?”

“I had five, but one . . . one has gone far away, and another was killed in the fighting between our peoples.”

The child nodded. “Yes, the wars. I'm sorry they happened.
Do you miss the ones you've lost?”

“I do, every day.”

“I don't remember my parents, so I don't miss them. But I'd miss Silvanus if he was taken away. The Senators told me that you could take him away if you wanted to, and that you'd burn my home. You won't, will you? I'd be very sad if you took Silvanus away from me – he's been my servant for always, and I like it when he tells me stories when I go to bed at night.”

“I won't take him away, I promise.”

“Do you promise on everything you love?”

“On everything I love.”

The child smiled brilliantly. “You're a nice lady really, aren't you? But I think you're sad. I'd like to make you laugh and be happy. How can I do that?”

Thirrin looked down at the child and felt a hope stirring. “You could do that by promising our two lands and two peoples will be friends forever.”

“Is that all? That's easy – yes, of course I will.” The boy opened his arms wide and looked at her.

For a few seconds Thirrin hesitated, then suddenly she stooped, and, seizing him in a hug, she swung the child off his feet. He giggled and then kissed her twice.

“The Senators said you're called the Barbarian Queen, but that can't be your real name?”

“No. It's Thirrin.”

“I like that. I'm Titus.”

“Hello, Titus.”

“Hello, Thirrin,” he said, and, giving her a smile of teeth and gaps, he kissed her on the cheek again.

A murmuring began on the steps of the palace, and grew and swelled until slowly it translated itself into applause. Titus smiled and waved, and cheering began to rise into the air, soon to be taken up by the Royal party and all the palace guards, who'd been standing nervously nearby. It was going to be all right; everything was going to be all right. The Hordes had been defeated, and the little Emperor had won the heart of the Barbarian Queen.

Thirrin now placed the boy securely into Havoc's high war-saddle, and, keeping a tight hold of the reins, she led him towards the gate of the palace precinct. Sensing an impromptu victory parade, the commander of the palace guard ordered his men to fall in, and soon they were emerging into the streets, where the waiting population broke into spontaneous acclamation at the sight of the little Emperor riding the Barbarian Queen's warhorse.

For more than two hours they paraded through the streets, showing themselves to the people and giving a focus for the joy and relief they felt at the defeat of the Hordes and the saving of the city.

Her Vampiric Majesty had established her headquarters deep in the Great Forest, in the same complex of caves where Oskan Witchfather had lived as a boy. She'd even made her temporary throne-room in the very cavern he'd used as his home and main shelter before he'd met and married the young woman who was destined to become the Queen of the Icemark. She almost smiled in a wicked enjoyment of the situation, but then became serious again as she thought through the battle she'd just been engaged in. Her squadrons had taken a severe beating, but even so, they'd fought with distinction
and had destroyed many of the hideous Ice Demons that made up the bulk of the invading army. Of course, technically the Vampires had lost the battle, and the invaders had taken Frostmarris and established control over the plain. But they hadn't been expecting any form of resistance, and Her Vampiric Majesty just knew they were reeling with shock.

But now it was imperative that she got a message through to Oskan Witchfather and let him know what was happening. Only he could confront Medea, and the
creature
she had with her, with any degree of equality. The werewolf relay had been knocked out, so other means of sending word had been devised. But in the meantime, she could enjoy herself attacking the lumbering Ice Demons, and doing her best to thwart their plans.

She sat back in her chair and stretched luxuriously. She hadn't felt so
alive
in years, if such a term could be applied to the Undead. Thanks to the hideous Medea, she felt that she had a purpose and a reason to exist for the first time since the Vampire King had fallen. With Queen Thirrin absent from the kingdom and completely unaware of the invasion, it was Her Vampiric Majesty's job as ally to defend the land and people and, if possible, defeat the enemy.

The evacuation of non-combatants had been chaotic, she had to admit. But once the last child and screeching matron had been flown to safety in the Great Forest, the battle for Frostmarris had truly begun. Oh, and how
glorious
that had been! Medea and the truly horrendous thing she'd brought with her couldn't understand why their psychic weaponry had so little effect against the Vampires. Her Vampiric Majesty allowed herself a small laugh. Obviously the child, Medea, didn't know that the existence of the Undead in the natural
realms was maintained by pure magic. Well, now she did! They may not actually wield magic as a weapon, but their very presence in the world depended upon an incredibly powerful form of enchantment that made every Vampire more than familiar with psychic power.

And as for the Arc-Adept . . . well, the Vampire Queen had never known such depths of depravity and evil. To be expected, she supposed, but even so, there were limits to what even her own evil would consider doing. But he . . . he would attack the Goddess herself, if he could.

She smiled to herself. It was odd, but at one time she would have found such undiluted malevolence wonderfully admirable, whereas now she found it merely irritating and even boring. How times had changed since Thirrin had become Queen of the Icemark!

A polite cough interrupted Her Vampiric Majesty's thoughts and she turned to see Lugosi, her chamberlain, waiting quietly.

“Well?” she asked imperiously.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, Your Majesty, but the volunteers are waiting.”

“Ah, yes. Send them in.”

Lugosi bowed himself out of the Presence and after a few moments he returned with three Vampire warriors, who prostrated themselves before the throne that had been transported from The-Land-of-the-Ghosts.

“Oh,
please
, do get up,” said the Vampire Queen, her voice suddenly tinged with an odd note that sounded almost like respect and sadness. “I hope you're all fully aware of what lies before you?”

One of the warriors stepped forward and bowed. “We are,
Your Majesty.”

“And yet you accept the mission, despite knowing the outcome?”

“We do, Ma'am.”

Her Vampiric Majesty gazed at her subjects in puzzlement. “Why?” she asked simply.

The Vampire soldier looked at the floor. “Ma'am, I . . . we . . . we've all existed for many lives of humans. In my own case I myself have been one of the Undead for almost a thousand years, and the burden has grown heavy, especially knowing that only violent destruction will bring release. But all of us are agreed that being destroyed in an attempt to save the city of Frostmarris and its people is a more . . . acceptable way to go.”

“But how will that make your passing any easier?” the Vampire Queen asked, her voice almost wistful as she tried to understand. “You know that once you're beyond the protective power of the Vampire army, you're almost guaranteed to be ripped apart by the psychic abilities of the witch Medea and the one she calls her grandfather. You even know that in reality you'll be nothing more than a decoy to distract attention away from the party of werewolves who'll be the real messengers taking news of the invasion to Oskan Witchfather. So how can such a futile mission and your certain destruction be a comfort?”

The Vampire soldiers looked almost embarrassed, and there was much whispering and nodding before their spokesman finally said to the Queen, “Ma'am . . . forgive us, but we've all heard about the visit of Prince Charlemagne and the message he brought you.”

The Vampire Queen hung her head, and remained silent
for so long the soldiers thought she hadn't heard, but then she finally looked at them. “What of it?”

“Ma'am, we know His Vampiric Majesty survives in spirit. We know that it's possible for even the Undead to acquire a soul.”

There it was again. Her people were positively
obsessed
with a desire to acquire souls. At times she was convinced Vampiric purity was being well and truly sullied, but somehow she found it difficult to be overly concerned about that.

“Ah, I see. And you think that your willing self-sacrifice for the people of Frostmarris will in some way endow you with spirits.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“And is this a general belief throughout the Vampiric host?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

The Vampire Queen almost laughed derisively at the naiveté of the warrior mind. Did they really think that hundreds of years of murder, destruction and depravity could be expunged by one single act of goodness? Her eyes glinted and she opened her mouth to pour scorn on their stupidity, but something stopped her. Every single one of her soldiers could be destroyed in this war at any time, and who was she to deny them whatever comfort they could find as they faced the depraved monsters of Medea's army? Let them keep their belief; let them have their hopes. For herself, she believed that His Vampiric Majesty was an amazing exception to an otherwise unassailable law of the Multiverse: the physically mortal had immortal souls, the physically immortal had nothing.

She sat back in her throne and smiled at her soldiers. “I'm
sure your act will be noted by . . . whatever powers there may be.”

The Vampires returned her smile and turned to embrace each other, as though the Queen's acceptance of what they'd said somehow made it more valid.

The flight of Vampires fell from the sky, their wings torn to rags by the blast of psychic energy. Three of the party of six were already destroyed, their heads torn from their shoulders and their status as Undead negated.

The remaining three fell uncontrollably. One crashed into a tree, his body impaled on the sharp stakes of broken branches, another disintegrated on impact with the ground, and the third landed in a fountaining shower of mud as he fell into the shallows of a small mountain lake. The collision smashed the winter ice and drove him deep into the silts that lined the bottom.

The psychic blast had hit the party of Vampires just as soon as they were beyond the collective protection of their army, and they died in the knowledge that they were nothing more than a distraction, a decoy that would allow the real messengers to slip through unnoticed.

The party of six werewolves moved with speedy silence across the land now, blending with the shadows of the night and making less noise than the gentle icy breeze that breathed across the route leading to the south and the border with the Polypontus. As they ran, the howling of the magically recreated werewolf relay sounded, sending the army of Allies campaigning in the empire its false message that all was well. The six creatures snarled with silent hatred as they heard the deceiving call, but ran on unflaggingly; they couldn't send a
vocal warning to Queen Thirrin and Oskan Witchfather themselves, not only because they'd attract the attention of the enemy, but also because the chain of relay stations that would be needed to send on their call had been destroyed. All they could do was keep running, and hope to deliver their message in person. Medea, and the creature that shared command of her army, were probably still scanning the skies for more Vampire squadrons, and the Wolf-folk knew that they must be far away before the evil pair even thought of turning their attention to the ground.