Queen of Thorns

by Dave Gross

  The unicorn stepped back, a bloody streamer trailing its horn. The monster it struck fell dead as a stone, a dark red hole in its skull.

  Realizing I'd stopped to stare, I jumped back, expecting an attack. Instead, the beast nearest me gaped at the unicorn the way I had. The monster saw me coming a second too late. I vaulted onto its back and gave it a big hug, drawing a nice red ribbon around its neck with the big knife.

  The monster reared, and I let myself drop away, rolling as I hit the ground. It turned as it bucked, wheeling around to smash me with its hooves. I kept rolling away. When I came up to one knee, I looked up to see Oparal's blinding sword cutting through the beast's hind legs. The monster went down screaming obscenities in the paladin's voice.

  Oparal turned to the third beast, raising her sword. The monster took one look at its pack-mate's blood sizzling on the blade and ran off.

  I heard the unicorn running at me before I turned to look. Head and horn lowered, it charged straight toward my heart. The nearest tree was too far away. I gripped my knife and showed my teeth.

  "Down, you fool!" Oparal kicked me in the shoulder, throwing me flat to the ground. She stood where I had been, shield up, blade out.

  The unicorn planted its hooves, tearing up roots and brush as it skidded to a halt. It shook its head and neighed in protest. It danced left to get around Oparal and crush my head, but she stepped in its way.

  "Go back," she said. "This one is not for you."

  The unicorn reared and screamed. I could have sworn it was trying to speak, but some old wound had damaged its voice beyond the paladin's power to heal.

  I made a show of putting away my knife, but I stayed behind Oparal and her shield. "We have to find the others," I said. "Those monsters lured us away on purpose."

  "Go!" Oparal said. I couldn't tell whether she meant me or the unicorn. It didn't matter. I turned and ran, praying to Desna that I got back in time.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Invisible City

  Varian

  So this is how it ends, I thought. Not among the last brothers of Dragon Temple nor facing the flayed-face masks of the Anaphexis. Not upon the deck of a Chelish warship, nor in the deserts of Katapesh. A dozen times I might have succumbed to privation or sickness in the jungles of the Mwangi Expanse.

  In nightmares I had imagined myself dying in a fall from the rooftops of Egorian, grappling to the last with a criminal nemesis. In fearful hours, I dreaded a final agony upon the tines on Judgment Day, when the minions of House Thrune at last decided the son was as disloyal as the mother. Never had I considered that I, Count Varian Jeggare, late of Egorian, would suffer his final moments torn to pieces by a pack of savage beasts.

  The leucrottas dragged me along the forest floor by a leg and an arm. My free limbs hung limp and numb, my sinews crushed by their inexorable jaws. The Shadowless Sword, still hanging from its scabbard, struck rocks and roots with a dull clatter. I could summon no breath to shout, so I prayed that the others might discover a sufficient trail to recover my corpse for interment in the family crypt.

  That was assuming, of course, that any of them survived.

  Arnisant barked in the distance. That he lived was small solace, for I knew the hound could not long survive the pack of eight beasts that ambushed us. As soon as the leucrottas attacked, he strove to put himself between me and the monsters. With their superior numbers and massive size, they soon divided us. Before I could discharge a single scroll, two of them buffeted me to the ground. As I sought to draw my sword, I felt their jaws clamp around my arms, obliterating my strength before dragging me off through the forest.

  Perhaps if Arnisant's barking could summon Caladrel and Fimbulthicket ...but no, I realized they could never arrive soon enough to rescue me. Even a brief delay would be enough to ensure my demise, and doubtless my own voice called for help far from my true location. The monsters were perfect voice mimics.

  At any moment, I feared the leucrottas would begin feasting on my body. They slowed a few times, listening for the sound of pursuit. From my supine position, I saw their badger-like heads turn in the direction of a distant clamor, which my battered brain could no longer translate into comprehensible sounds.

  My eyes fluttered. I could no longer direct them where I willed. I saw the inverted islands of the forest canopy, streams of blue sky running between them. My agony receded as I felt myself slip free of the world's gravity. For achingly long moments, I felt as though I were flying to an unknown destination.

  A sharp report interrupted my reverie. Voices cried out for help, but I could not know whether those who uttered the words were friends or foes.

  The leucrottas released their grip. Their fetid breath warmed my face. Had an ounce of strength remained in my body, I would have tensed against the final violation of my flesh.

  A rainless storm broke above me. Lightning dazzled my vision as loose foliage blew across me, driven by a wind I could not feel. All the sensations merged as they faded, until I smelled the last flashes, tasted the distant tattoo of thunder, and heard a warm tongue upon my neck.

  "Get back, dog," said a woman's voice. "Let me help him."

  A cold jolt galvanized my body. My wounds screamed for an instant before quieting. I jerked away from the grip on my arms.

  "Lie still," said the voice. The indistinct face of my mother gazed down at me. I tried to speak, but my lips moved in silence. Blinking away the vision, I saw Oparal's gray eyes watching me. Upon her brow and lips I saw the blaze of Iomedae. She cupped my face, and I felt the warmth of the sun sink into my body, then deeper still, into my soul.

  As the divine power restored my shattered senses, I heard voices beyond the paladin.

  "Will he live?" asked Kemeili.

  Oparal rose and stepped away from me.

  "Let me take over," said Fimbulthicket. I felt his small hands upon my shoulder. My skin tingled where he touched me, and I felt the sensation of a hundred blades of grass growing down into my flesh. The feeling passed, and I could move my arm once more.

  "The others?" I asked.

  "See for yourself." The gnome lifted my head. I felt my strength returning. I sat up.

  Radovan crouched over the body of a leucrotta. In his hand, the big knife dripped with the blood of a killing stroke. He held his other arm like a broken wing.

  Oparal went to him. He gasped when she grasped his arm in both hands. The golden light of Iomedae spilled from her palms. A moment later, Radovan tested his healed arm. The paladin turned away, but he grabbed her arm. She stiffened at his touch.

  "Thanks," he said. "For this, and for the other thing."

  She matched his stare for a moment before pulling away. Surely they had not ...Now was not the time for such speculation. I scrawled a note in my memory library to ask Radovan what had transpired between them later.

  Kemeili took Oparal's place beside Radovan, whispering to him as her eyes remained on the retreating paladin.

  Unsteadily, I rose to my knees. The Shadowless Sword hung halfway out of its scabbard. As I grasped the hilt to replace it, an immense wall of brambles appeared sixty yards away. Standing, I removed my hand from the sword and saw only the tangle of forest through which the leucrottas had dragged me.

  "Radovan." I beckoned him over and offered him the sword pommel-first.

  "What?" he said, accepting it. "You know I'm no good with ...Tines! Would you look at that!"

  One by one, the others took a turn holding the Shadowless Sword, until I retrieved it and gazed once more upon the invisible wall.

  At first glance it appeared different only in scale from a garden hedge. The growth was far larger and denser than domestic flora, with vines as thick as tree trunks. I could see nothing of the other side. The barrier extended as far as I could see through the forest to either side. It rose at least as high as the tallest trees, leaving us unable to judge its full size from our present vantage.

  "What is it?" asked Radovan.

  I looked to
Caladrel for an answer. Comprehension warred with amazement in his face.

  "This region has always proved difficult to map," he said. "My best scouts have lost hours, even days traversing the forest between the Wandering Spheres and the Endless Cairn. We have always assumed some ancient magic lingered in the area, disorienting travelers. I think you have uncovered the source."

  "Only by the unorthodox method of allowing myself to be dragged half to death through the forest," I demurred. "And by the incredible good fortune of bearing a sword capable of piercing illusions."

  "Desna smiles," said Radovan.

  "That she does." While my prayers seldom addressed the goddess in her aspect of Lady Luck, my continued existence was proof of the good fortune she bestowed on me. "But we still do not know what this wall conceals.

  "We must go around," said Caladrel.

  "I have a quicker solution." I took a scroll from my scuffed bandolier and triggered it. "Wait here. I will return soon."

  "You only just got on your feet, boss," said Radovan. "Maybe I should go with you."

  "You're welcome to join me, if you can." I leaped up and flew toward the forest canopy.

  His surprised exclamation was every bit as rewarding as I had hoped. What whim had compelled me to show off in such a manner? Perhaps my latest scrape with death had revived the reckless élan of my youth. Maybe I wished to demonstrate to the others that I was more than a vulnerable visitor in need of their protection. Whatever the cause, all thoughts of my companions dimmed as I rose above the Fierani Forest, Shadowless Sword in hand.

  The thorny barrier was not simply a wall. It was but a tiny fraction of a vast dome spanning an area at least the size of the Century Root. The weave of its gargantuan vines grew broader as I ascended. The vines remained thick as tree trunks, their thorns as long and sharp as scimitars. Impaled on one of them lay a tangle of desiccated skin and bones. It took me a moment to recognize the remains as the corpse of a leucrotta. Only a creature the size of a giant owl could have dropped it from such a height.

  Beneath the dome lay an elven city. Its slender spires resembled those of Iadara, except that many had crumbled to ruin. Those that remained had yellowed over time, resembling old ivory rather than the alabaster of the capital city. Creeping vines, clustered weeds, and even rogue trees sprouted from the collapsed foundations. In some cases the overgrowth appeared to support rather than undermine the buildings. Thick vines wound like bandages around the forking spires of a great tower.

  As in Iadara, the avenues of this hidden city were filled with lush trees and blossoms of a hundred hues. Far to the east I spied a temple district and a hilly region filled with grand manors and an amphitheater.

  In the center of the thorny dome, beneath a gap some hundred yards or more in diameter, lay a circular plaza. Around its perimeter rose six hexagonal plinths, four of which supported tapering obelisks. A maze of whorls and arcs covered the yellow stone between them, its elusive lines converging near the center in a symbol of such complexity that my fingers yearned for a pencil to sketch it into my journal.

  As I sheathed my sword and released the pommel, the dome and city vanished, their presence once more obscured by the illusion of dense forest. My imagination thrilled at how powerful the spell must be to have endured since the return of the elves—or perhaps for far longer, for all I knew. And to think that it had deceived the keen perceptions of the Kyonin rangers for so long, only to reveal itself to me. I recalled a line from a comic opera: "Chance is the fool's name for fate." At the risk of hubris, I wondered whether some divine providence had led me to discover this long-hidden mystery.

  Abruptly I knew—not believed or surmised or hoped or expected, but knew—that I would find my father inside this hidden city. And not his corpse, but the living man. I would find Variel Morgethai, and he would answer all the questions my mother had made me vow never to ask her.

  Flush with resolve, I drew the sword again and flew toward the vines in search of a gap large enough to admit me. My body veered to one side, despite my concerted effort to will myself toward the dome's surface. I halted and tried again. Once more some enchantment subverted my will, deflecting me from my intended destination.

  Small wonder that even the Kyonin rangers became lost in this region.

  I flew down to rejoin my companions.

  "You nearly died because we allowed those monsters to divide us," said Oparal. "With respect, I suggest you do again not stray from our protection."

  Her formal tone amused me, but I saw her stern expression reflected on the faces of the others. Even Radovan shook his head in disappointment, while Arnisant sat at his heel and gazed at me in stoic silence.

  "You are quite correct," I said, suppressing the disappointment that no one had commented on my flying. How adolescent I felt. The true magic of the elves was to make me feel at once very old and entirely callow. I wished to blame my recent brush with death, but I remembered my rash behavior at the Walking Man all too keenly.

  Caladrel relaxed, perhaps grateful that Oparal had relieved him of the obligation to admonish me. "What did you see?"

  I described the dome, its city, and the compulsion that prevented me from approaching. Together we approached the base of the dome. As I had experienced above, no amount of willpower could resist the enchantment.

  Wary of losing the site we had discovered, Fimbulthicket, Kemeili, Oparal, and Arnisant remained with me while Radovan, Caladrel, and Oparal retrieved our abandoned packs. We remained alert for any sound of alarm. When the others returned and set to work repacking their gear, Caladrel produced Radovan's elven cloak.

  "You left this behind."

  "Thanks a bunch." With a sour expression, Radovan accepted the cloak.

  Our bad luck abated long enough for me to mend my torn clothes while Radovan inspected yet another hole in his red jacket. The others tended lesser hurts, while Fimbulthicket prepared his universal balm: a pot of nettle tea. We rested only long enough to drink a cup before returning to the matter at hand. Hours of daylight yet remained, but we remained conscious of the surviving leucrotta.

  Despite my caution that he might hurt himself, Radovan sprinted toward the wall after touching the Shadowless Sword. Within twenty yards, he veered away and continued running another thirty yards before throwing up his hands, bracing for an imagined impact that never came. He looked back, seeing that the rest of us stood in an unexpected location, before rubbing the back of his neck and shaking his head in bafflement.

  Kemeili beseeched Calistria's guidance to no avail. Oparal likewise called upon the wisdom of Iomedae with no better result. Fimbulthicket chanted spells but shrugged at the results. "I see nothing."

  Caladrel seemed to solve the problem when he looped a ball of string around an arrow planted in the ground. Tying the string to another arrow, and touching the Shadowless Sword to find his mark, he launched a tangleshot arrow. Holding the sword, I saw its bulbous head burst and release gooey adhesive on the wall of vines. Caladrel took the string in hand and followed it toward the dome. Placing a hand upon his shoulder, I followed him. Radovan took my arm, Kemeili his, Fimbulthicket her hand, and Oparal his.

  "Wait," I said. "Oparal, call Arnisant to you."

  She called his name, but the hound looked to me instead. I pointed to the paladin. "Go."

  When he reached her, she placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. When he accepted her touch without growling, she led him along with us.

  Caladrel resumed our approach. Soon I felt an intangible resistance to moving forward. The ranger slowed as well, gritting his teeth with the effort to take another step.

  "Focus," I said. "Try closing your eyes, but be careful not to snap the string."

  Each step felt like pushing through a briar patch rather than simply approaching one.

  "Wait," said Oparal. "Just relax a moment. Brace your arm against the person in front of you."

  "What for?" said Radovan.

  "Do it," I said. "I think I know wh
at she intends."

  The paladin proved my guess correct when she, still outside the effect of the aversion spell, pushed us forward. My hand slipped from Caladrel's shoulder. I sheathed the Shadowless Sword and placed both hands upon his back. When Oparal pushed again, we staggered forward. Caladrel stumbled ahead two steps before turning.

  "I'm through!" He grasped my hand and pulled. One by one, halting, pushing, and pulling, we won past the ward that had for ages protected the hidden city. All of us but Arnisant.

  At the sound of his yelp, I looked back to see Oparal lose her grip on his coat as she stepped through the unseen zone of avoidance.

  "I will go back for him," she offered.

  "No," I said. "I will take care of it."

  "Come here, Arni," said Radovan. He reached into his pocket for one of the morsels with which he spoiled the dog throughout the day.

  Arnisant bounded to him, unhindered by the magic that repelled us.

  "Interesting," I said. "The ward does not deter animals, only intelligent beings."

  "Don't listen to him," said Radovan, feeding the dog a sausage. "You're smarter than you look, too."

  "You're right," said Caladrel. "Listen."

  A symphony of birdsong emanated from the other side of the bramble wall. So too did a sweet aroma of pollen, blossoms, and green grass. I heard the burble of an unseen brook and could almost feel the cool of its stream. Still, so dense was the lower wall of the dome that I could see nothing of the interior I had glimpsed from above.

  "It smells like paradise in there," said Kemeili, taking a deep breath. I glanced at Fimbulthicket. Before I could voice my question, he muttered a few phrases and shook his head. "If there's anything funny about the smell, it's not poison."

  I expended a scroll to discern what magic suffused the wall. My cantrip revealed auras of blinding potency, stronger and more complex than any I had ever seen. Layer upon layer of spells stood before us, in and around the fabric of the dome. Ancient magics of several orders had been sustained indefinitely by wizards of unimaginable power. Even the most venerable of my teachers at the Acadamae had surely never witnessed such an awesome display.