One Good Knight (33 page)

They'll kill me before I can even get close.

But even as she thought that, a huge wild-eyed brute also in the uniform of the Guard appeared at the other end of the corridor and charged them.

They turned at the last minute and saw him. Andie screamed in horror and hid her face behind the column, the sound of her cry lost in the noise as anyone else who happened to be in the corridor decided it was the wrong place to be and elected to climb over or bludgeon the others with pieces of furniture.

Then, suddenly, there was silence.

At least, in the immediate vicinity.

Andie peeked around the column, and her stomach twisted. She shoved her hand against her mouth as bile burned her throat.

Half a dozen bodies at least were lying in front of the door to the Queen's Chambers—the three Guards, and whoever else had gotten mixed up in the fight and couldn't get free before they were cut down.

No…

She wanted to sit down and howl. She wanted to weep until there were no tears left in her. Most of all she wanted to run away, run far, far away from all of this until she came to a place that had never heard of Solon, Cassiopeia or Acadia.

But she did none of those, because this might be her only chance. While the corridor was still empty, she dashed down it, tried the door, found it unlocked and hurled herself inside.

She closed it behind herself, putting her back against it. The antechamber was empty, and dark except for a single oil lamp. It looked surprisingly peaceful.

Bolt the door. No matter what's in here, what's out there is worse.

With the door bolted, she ventured carefully across the antechamber. The next room was her mother's private Audience Chamber, with the lesser throne. There was more light showing under the door, and Andie put one hand on the latch—

—only to have it jerked violently out of her hand as the door slammed open. She stood blinking in the flood of light.

Solon stood there, with her mother, disheveled and wild-eyed, beside him.

And the first thing out of her mother's mouth was a cry of outrage. “You told me she was dead! You swore to me she was dead and we would never have to think about her again! You lying fool! You wretched, useless, lying piece of scum!”

There was absolutely no doubt what Cassiopeia meant. As Andie shrank back, the Queen flung herself toward Solon, fingers crooked into talons.

Strangely, Solon did not move.

As Andie stared at both of them with the morbid fascination of someone who could not look away from hideous tragedy, Cassiopeia reached him. He twisted his torso a little to the side and caught her by the hair as she stumbled past him. Jerked off her feet, she landed heavily on her knees as he drew a knife from the belt of his robe. He pointed it at Andie, who felt something like a mental blow strike her and rock her back, and then—

Andie's sling dropped from her hands. Time slowed to a snail's pace and she tried to breathe through the choking clouds of fear, as Solon raised the knife, shouted something incomprehensible—

—and slashed the blade across the Queen's throat.

A shriek burst from Andie's mouth when Cassiopeia's blood fountained from her wound, splattering Solon with crimson gore. Most horrible of all was his expression.

Complete indifference.

And then—he burst into flame.

Andie screamed again and flung up an arm in a futile attempt to defend herself, as Cassiopeia's body crisped, and the throne and the draperies behind it caught fire—

—and something monstrous emerged from the flames.

She didn't get more than a glimpse of it—too many teeth, all dagger-sharp and dagger-long. Too many eyes. Horns and hooves and at least four arms, all ending in talons the dragons would envy. Eyes that burned with hatred. Eyes that had her death in them.

But now she could turn and run, and she did, stumbling toward the door as the thing lunged after her. She fumbled with the bolt and rammed the door open with her shoulder, and felt the thing's flames and smelled her own hair sizzle as she plunged into the corridor.

Screaming now, she raced down the hall and into the throne room with the creature howling
behind her. As she reached the center of the room, Gina appeared, charging into the throne room from the door to the courtyard.

The Champion did not hesitate for a second; she shouldered Andie aside, sending her into the wall, as she brought up shield and sword and hit the monster with both.

It didn't even move.

A heartbeat later, the creature backhanded her with one terrible blow and Gina was flying through the air. She hit the far wall about halfway up with a tremendous
crash,
followed by a dull
thud
as her body dropped to the floor.

And did not move.

Andie's heart stopped.
Gina…

The monster turned toward Andie again.

She wanted to run to Gina. She wanted to snatch up Gina's sword and avenge her.

And that—was stupid. She couldn't avenge Gina, she couldn't hit this thing. She had to run, and get it away from where Gina lay, so that if by some slim change Gina was still alive—

She whirled, and let her fear give her feet wings.

She ran for her life, tears of loss and horror streaming down her face and blinding her, and dashed out the door into the courtyard. She heard the thing in hot pursuit behind her, felt the swipe of its talons tearing her tunic just as she got ten steps into the open, and felt her entire body convulse in a scream of despair.

Then a huge dark shape interposed itself between her and the monster. She felt herself being brushed aside as if she were a moth. Tumbled to the cobblestones, she hit her forehead and saw stars, rolled over twice and—

—watched as Periapt pounced on the monster, seized it by the head and flung it like a terrier flinging a rat. The monster howled as it soared over the walls of the Palace, over the cliff, and vanished out of sight. And that was the last thing she saw for a long time.

 

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

The strange, blond-haired woman in the fancifully embroidered, amethyst-colored tunic and split riding skirt held up her hand.

“Three,” said Andie, her head hurting badly enough to make her feel as if she should be going cross-eyed. “Who
are
you?”

“Elena Klovis, and I was only holding up two. Do not move.” She looked up. “Periapt, see to it that she does not move. Sit on her if you must. I need to attend to my Champion.”

Champion…

Andie had a flash of memory. Gina running in to face the monster alone. Gina flying through the air to hit the wall…

“Gina!”
she called out trying to struggle to her feet.

“Don't start!” Periapt half cried, half scolded. “Adam is bad enough, he's beside himself with worry! It will be all right! It has to be all right!”

His agitated words only made her more alarmed. “What do you mean?” she wailed, blindly putting a hand out to try to lever herself up, and getting nowhere because Peri had planted a forefoot gently but firmly over her torso.

“The Champion got rather well smashed up when she hit the wall,” said the fox on the other side of her, his head cocked. “The chirurgeon wasn't very helpful. But now that the Godmother is here, I don't think anyone needs to worry.”

Godmother?
“What Godmother?” she asked, feeling as if someone had handed her a book with half its pages missing.

But the fox was now peering over the top of her, past Peri, in the same direction as the sound of someone chanting.

“…strong as steel and right as rain, Champion, be thyself again!”

There was a bright flash of light, and a groan, and then Gina's voice saying clearly, “Remind me never to do anything like taking on a Demon Lord single-handedly again.”

“I would,” said the calm voice of the strange woman. “But you'd never listen to me. Now lie there and rest, or I will tell this other dragon to sit on
you.
I might have healed you, but you're still going to need recovery time.”

A moment later, the woman was back at Andie's side. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Why are you asking me this? Two,” Andie
replied, feeling greatly relieved to have heard Gina's voice, but still horribly confused.

“It is the standard thing to ask someone who has had a blow to the head. And while I am not a healer, I have picked up a few tricks.” The woman sat back on her haunches. “You would be Andromeda, I take it? Queen Andromeda now, I suppose, given what we found in the lesser throne—”

At that moment, memory came rushing back and Andie rolled over away from the woman to retch out the entire contents of her stomach. Somewhat to her shock, the stranger held her to steady her, wiped her face when she was done, then snapped her fingers. A servant in a smudged tunic and ash-streaked skirt came running.

“We're going to get this child into a bed in a moment. See that one is ready for her.” Then she glanced at Periapt. “Amend that. Have a bed brought here.”

The servant bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, Godmother,” she said.

“Now. In a moment, I am going to work a healing magic on you. It will put you to sleep for a while. The magics that heal cracks on the head tend to do that—I don't know why, so don't bother to ask.”

“But—” said Andie.

“No ‘buts' and no objections, thank you very much,” said the stranger. “Now, look right here—”

And once again, the world went away.

 

The courtyard was very crowded, but there was nowhere else they could all go where the dragons would fit. Andie was just as pleased. She didn't want to be in the throne room; didn't want to be reminded that she was Queen, in name if not yet crowned. She just wanted to be Andie for a little longer.

All of the introductions had been made, so now Andie knew that that handsome man in fine plate-armor was Champion Alexander, the Grand Master of the Glass Mountain Chapter-House. She knew that the strange woman was Godmother Elena, and that both of them had been waiting for days, waiting for the nasty magic that Solon had put on the Border to come down.

“You would think,” the Godmother had said in disgust, “that a nasty little insect like this Solon would never be powerful enough to prevent a Godmother from crossing his barrier. But unfortunately, you would be wrong. He had so much Traditional force behind his curse that I don't think even one of the Fair Folk could have broken the barrier.”

“It would have been interesting to see one try, though,” Alexander had replied. “And you have to admit that they, too, would have satisfied the ‘no man' part of the binding.”

The Godmother had just shaken her head.

It was a good thing that they had been waiting on the spot and had arrived when they did, because Gina had had a narrow escape. No one was actually
telling Andie anything, but she'd overheard murmurs of “broke every bone in her body,” and it was very difficult not to relive that moment when she'd seen her friend hit that wall.

There was no sign of Solon. There was, however, something that might have been a terribly burned human body at the bottom of a pit about where the Demon Lord would have landed when Peri threw him.

Most of the old members of the Guard were back on duty. The new replacements had, for the most part, vanished. A fair number of valuables had vanished with them, but at this point, Andie was counting the cost as minimal.

Most of the Sworn Sisterhood had been reunited with their families. Those that had not—who, in fact, had decided that they wanted as little to do with their families as possible—were planning on joining the Guard.

“Well,” said the Godmother, surveying the courtyard, with its contingent of two dragons, one Princess, a handful of Champions, and as many members of the Court as could crowd in there. “It looks to me as if we are all set for a happy—”

But she never got a chance to finish that sentence, because Andie burst into tears.

“It's not a happy ending!” she wept, as Elena stared at her, dumbfounded. “It will never be a happy ending! How can I possibly have a happy ending when I am going to have to spend the rest of my life without the creature I love?”

Elena blinked at her, as did virtually everyone else in the courtyard.

“You did say ‘creature,' am I correct?” Elena asked cautiously. “And you do mean—”

But she had already run across the courtyard and flung herself at Peri's neck, wrapping both arms around it. “I mean I am in love with Periapt,” she cried, sobbing. “And I don't care who knows it! He's clever, he's wise, he's kind and gentle, he's noble—”

And to her shock and amazement, Peri let out a bellow that sounded positively heartbroken.

“I will never love anyone but you!” he cried. “I swear, I will never take a mate if it can't be you, and I don't care if they exile me from the clan forever for that. Let them exile me!” He shook his head violently as he looked down at her. “If only you could be a dragon, or make me human!” he cried, curving his neck around her and holding her close.

Andie wept on, consumed with despair. “I will never, ever, ever find someone I love as much as you.”

“Well, isn't this a pretty puzzle,” Elena said. “Now under normal circumstances, I would have said you were asking the impossible. But this isn't normal. For one thing, the line of the Bookwyrms does lend itself to transformative magic. For another, there's enough Traditional power around you two star-crossed lovers to do it. But someone else would have to become a dragon. There has to be balance in these things. And who would want to become a dragon?”

There was silence again, but this time it was broken by an entirely unexpected source.

“Oh?” said Gina, with a significant look at Adamant. “I can think of one person.”