Queen of Thorns

by Dave Gross

  Finally, there was nothing else between me and the giant crab-spider that was still trying to squeeze its way into the trench. I grabbed a fork with a severed demon hand still attached and climbed the thing's shell. It tried to shake me off while I stabbed at its joints, looking for a soft spot. Before it could, I found an opening in the pit of one arm and shoved the fork in deep, twisting it until the demon shuddered and lay still.

  Another shadow fell over me. I turned around to see the six spires rising up, two of them darker than the other four. They'd been the ones left underground for centuries—maybe millennia. The word "millennia" gave me a grin as I jerked the fork out of the crab demon and skewered a brimorak with it. The boss had done whatever he'd needed down below. The question now was whether it was going to do us any good up here.

  Lightning in six different colors licked over the spires. They made for a spectacle, but I couldn't see that they did anything except attract attention. Demons all across the city turned toward the plaza. The nearest ones retreated, but those farther away came up for a better look. The fliers began circling the plaza, ready to react to whatever happened next. The ground shifted beneath my feet as Zuldanavox leaped up to join them.

  A big circle of stone turned inside the ring of spires. The way it moved, I realized it was another vault, only a hundred times bigger than the ones under the spires. It opened up six wedge-shaped gaps before sinking below street level.

  The sound of scraping stone overwhelmed the screams of fiends. A cloud of dust rose out of the gap, and the lightning dipped its fingers in. The colored lights flashed, at first in no particular pattern, but then in time with my pounding heart.

  Hearts, I realized. I felt four throbbing beats in my chest, reminding me that in this battle I was just another fiend.

  The stony groan grew louder as the plaza rose up again. In each flash of lightning, I saw six silhouettes. There was no mistaking Arnisant or Fimbulthicket, and I could tell the women from the men. What I couldn't tell was which of those men stood in the middle, shouting words I couldn't make out and swinging his arms in ritual gestures.

  I realized I was staring. So were a couple of little demons who'd run up to fight me, only to get distracted by the sight. I grabbed one by the horns, tucked his goaty head under my arm, and snapped his neck. That felt so good I turned to grab the other one, but he heard what I'd done and ran away. I let him go and turned back to the plaza.

  In the next flash of lightning, I saw that it was Caladrel doing the ritual. He would have been my last guess, since the boss and his old man were the magicians. Whatever spell he was doing, the next flash of lightning showed me it'd worked.

  Hundreds of figures crowded the plaza stone. With each flash of light, I saw they were moving outward, into position. After the fourth flash, the lightning leaped back onto the spires and clung there crackling, each in its own color.

  In six separate groups, hundreds of elves stood around the plaza with bows raised. Standing in the stirrups atop a gigantic horse, their stag-helmed leader called out a command. Their first volley of arrows darkened the sky as they came down on all the nearby fiends, including me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Host

  Varian

  I scanned the battlefield for any sign of Radovan. His towering figure stood less than a hundred yards away, surrounded by heaps of dismembered demons. Terrible as his previous Abyssal incarnation had been, this one made it seem puny by comparison.

  As I watched, another cloud of arrows flew toward him.

  "Wait!" I cried, too late to stop the archers but just in time to divert the spellcasters to other targets.

  Amarandlon had come prepared. When Caladrel opened the aiudara, the prince rode through. Behind him came a legion of rangers supported by wizards and Calistrian priests. Kemeili exchanged a nod with one of the latter. Fleetingly, I wondered what that meant, but there was no time to ponder further.

  Radovan leaped, his elongated arms and legs pinwheeling in a motion I had previously seen demonstrated only by the masters of Dragon Temple. Even before his tutelage from the renegade war-sorcerer known as Burning Cloud Devil, Radovan had taught himself how to catch a thrown knife or deflect a handful of darts. Now he faced not a few small projectiles but the clothyard shafts of Kyonin's most elite archers. The shadows of their arrows cast him in darkness.

  "Not that one! That's no demon. It's my man Radovan!" Ignoring me, the rangers prepared another volley. "Caladrel, tell them!"

  Caladrel looked to Amarandlon, whose antlered helm dipped in assent. Caladrel barked, "Birch Team, avoid the scorpion-tailed fiend."

  The archers hesitated, unsure which fiend Caladrel indicated.

  "Mark him, Fim." Variel completed his own spell. His skin puckered and hardened to form a sheath of living armor.

  As Fimbulthicket hurled a spell at Radovan, red lightning leaped from its spire to envelop his demonic form. For an instant I feared he had been destroyed, but the energy did not seem to harm him. Rather, it surrounded his huge man-scorpion body in a blinding green halo.

  A winged seducer pointed down at Radovan and screamed, "A devil in our midst! Slay it, my wretches!"

  Dozens of fiends swarmed toward the beacon. Radovan snarled through his weird combination of mandibles and jaws. His insectile eyes locked on Fimbulthicket, and his fingers rose to his throat in that most vulgar of Chelish gestures.

  "Oh, I knew he'd hate that, but I didn't think it would be that bright!" Fimbulthicket looked to Variel, who had already begun casting another spell. "If he asks, I'm saying you did it."

  Caladrel directed Birch Team to cover Radovan. The demons fell in droves to the rangers' arrows. The archers came as well armed as Caladrel. Some fired entangling bulbs at the demons' feet, while others feathered them with bleeding shafts. Here and there a demonbane arrow struck home and flung the ruins of a fiend across the field.

  The red spire blazed again, its lightning leaping into the air above Radovan. With a blast of thunder, Variel's spell cracked the sky. Stunning forks of lightning blinded our eyes and seared the earth, but they had no apparent effect on the demons.

  "Lightning is no good," cried Caladrel. "Nor poison. Try frost or fire or acid if you must, but it's best to cut them down."

  Variel marveled at the effect of his magic. "My spells have never been so strong before."

  "The spires," I said. "They amplify our spells."

  Ill prepared for all-out war, I still had some spells to bolster our allies. I ran to the center of the plaza. "Caladrel, prepare your men to shoot on my signal."

  Once more, the ranger looked to Amarandlon. The prince removed his helmet and studied my face for an instant before nodding to his lieutenant. Caladrel nodded. "All teams, await my mark."

  Riffling a scroll on which I had inscribed a transfiguring spell, I looked to the green spire. Its viridian lightning erupted to fill the entire plaza around me. The elves flinched, but we felt not the slightest jolt of electricity. The spell infused our bodies with swiftness.

  "Now!"

  At a word from Caladrel, the archers unleashed their arrows and continued to shoot in an almost unending stream. Seeing the effect of my spell, Caladrel raised his own bow. Far faster than even the elite archers under his command, the ranger lord became a blur of motion. In moments, he depleted his quiver except for that one curious arrow clinging to its side. He dropped his bow and drew the long elven curveblade from his back.

  Nearby, Oparal leaped onto the unicorn's back and unsheathed her holy sword. Her steed pranced, eager to join the fray but awaiting the command of his mistress. The paladin did not so much as clutch the animal's mane, but through some silent communication she held it in check until the time was right.

  At my back, Variel and Fimbulthicket brought more and more trees and plants to life. As they completed each spell, the green spire cast lightning fingers out into the city. From creeping vines to proud oaks, every living plant the light touched pulled up its roots and
marched into the scattered horde. Instead of appearing alone or in small groups, they stepped out of the loam in whole companies. Soon two armies opposed the demons, one of flesh and bone, another of leaves and bark.

  Beside me, Kemeili conjured a ball of acid. None of the spires reacted, but yellow lightning surged up from the stones beneath us. The plaza served as both the city's aiudara and its seventh spire.

  With Arnisant at my heel, I tested this bastion of magical power. Under the power of the red spire, a meager spray of frost became a deadly beam of utter cold, freezing solid two of a four-armed demon's limbs. I hurled arcane missiles at the demons who survived the archers' assault. Each bolt of force felled another demon before the fiend could close with Radovan. Those were merciful killings compared to the fate of those who reached him.

  With open claws and prehensile tail, Radovan welcomed those who survived. His scorpion barb dipped down again and again, trailing blood and venom as it rose up out of yet another horrendous wound. He opened wide his mandible-jaws and bit off a demon's equine face, shaking it away as a dog savages its prey.

  After depleting their ammunition, the elves exchanged their bows for curveblades. At a word from Caladrel, they sprinted out of the plaza, swords cutting down demons right and left. Caladrel mounted the steed Amarandlon had brought through the gate for him. With the prince's guard and the paladin at their side, they rode out to engage the thickest mob of demons.

  Radovan bounded after them. He paused suddenly, realizing he was running on all fours. He stood up and looked around to see whether anyone had witnessed the indignity. Before he saw me staring at him, a pestilent condor-fiend flew down to grapple with him. I peppered the demon with the last of my arcane missiles. Radovan waved away the resulting cloud of feathers and ichor, looking down at his own fiendish claws in astonishment. I could almost read his mind by his astonished expression: Sometimes I don't know my own strength! He resumed his chase of the dispersing horde, once again falling into a four-legged lope.

  As the elven host rode forth, I remained with the other spellcasters. The other wizards marveled at the effect of the spires. The clerics remained just long enough to ensure that we were warded against the demons before following the rangers into battle, by turns smiting demons and healing their wounded fellows.

  Fimbulthicket summoned more elementals. Rather than the small whirlwinds and living stones he conjured earlier, great winds screamed down from the sky and hulking avalanches erupted from the earth.

  Variel raised a battery of living catapults around the plaza. What had only moments earlier been trees became autonomous siege engines. Their branches scooped up huge clods of earth and bricks and flung their makeshift ammunition hundreds of yards to pulverize unsuspecting demons.

  The sunlight brightened all around us as another section of the dome fell away in flames. Enraged at the sight of more damage to her home, Zuldanavox beat her wings in a circuit of the dome. Everywhere she flew, she liquefied demons with her acid breath or tore them to pieces in her claws. Those foolish enough to grapple with her soon vanished into her enormous jaws.

  As I depleted the last of my battle spells, I saw no more behemoths tearing through the dome at ground level. Whatever fell presence frightened Zuldanavox earlier had withdrawn.

  Scattered bands of lesser demons fled out through the rents in the barrier. Those who escaped the elves or Zuldanavox or Radovan or the hundreds of monsters native to the city occasionally ran into their wrathful superiors. The greater demons slew the cowards, surveyed the field, and expeditiously beat their own retreats.

  The victors pursued the demons until a fracas broke out between the rangers and a band of leucrottas. The latter sought to win past and escape the city, but one trumpeting blast from Zuldanavox sent them galloping back to their shelters deep within the city.

  The dragon descended to land near Amarandlon. The prince leaped nimbly from his rearing stallion. He stepped forward and bowed. Caladrel caught the reins of his lord's frightened horse and led it and his own animal beyond the dragon's awful presence.

  I wished for a spell to overhear Amarandlon's words. Turning to Variel, I saw my concern mirrored in his furrowed brow.

  "What is he doing?" said Fimbulthicket. "Did Telandia send him?"

  "I doubt it," said Variel. "I doubt it very much."

  The lightning crackling around the spires began to subside. Unless some unseen agent had deactivated them from below, we had expended their energies. I favored the latter explanation, but the thought reminded me that someone had intentionally deactivated the spires earlier. That act of sabotage had allowed the demons to enter the city, not only betraying Zuldanavox's hospitality but endangering us all.

  While Amarandlon's wizards pored over the markings on the spires, we hastened across the ravaged city to join the audience between the elven prince and Zuldanavox.

  We paused twice for Variel to conjure an elemental from a pool to douse a growing fire. On the second occasion, he and Fimbulthicket expended the last of their strength to send a number of elementals across the city in search of blazes to quench.

  As we approached Zuldanavox and Amarandlon, I saw that the rangers had assembled in a group some sixty or seventy yards distant. Sentries watched for stragglers among the demons or the monstrous occupants of the City of Thorns, while the Calistrians tended to the more grievous wounds. A few dead lay surrounded by an honor guard in the center of the camp.

  Amarandlon and his guard stood beneath the dragon's massive head. Her gaze was locked on the prince, but somehow I knew she remained aware of every nearby creature, including Caladrel, Kemeili, and Oparal. The battered unicorn stood beside the paladin, its head raised proudly as the paladin rested her palm upon its shoulder.

  Radovan approached them from the side opposite the unicorn. He swung his long devil arms in a carefree gesture, but with every step his stature shrank. As he approached Caladrel, the rangers' horses reared and shied from him.

  "Right, right, sorry." He raised his hands in mute apology and backed away. Only then did he notice that he no longer towered over the animals. His hands moved by reflex to cover his genitals, but with a visible effort he thrust a fist against his hips and demanded, "Which of you jerks has my pants?"

  "I know where you left them," said Kemeili. She strove for a tone of seductive nonchalance, but it sounded forced.

  I tried to ignore them both in favor of overhearing Amarandlon's conversation with Zuldanavox. A breeze rustled the remaining trees, and my half-elven hearing was not keen enough to pick up Amarandlon's words, but I heard Zuldanavox demand in a deep growl, "Which of them?"

  Amarandlon said something to her before turning toward us. His dark elven irises made it difficult for me to see the object of his gaze, but Zuldanavox lowered her head and hissed. The unicorn reared.

  Oparal shouted, "No! On my honor, by Iomedae, and in the name of Queen Telandia, I did no such thing."

  "Seize her," cried Amarandlon. His deep voice carried as easily as the dragon's roar. Except for her utterance, Zuldanavox remained seated, observing.

  Oparal leaped upon the back of the unicorn. Without so much as a kick to the flanks, the animal wheeled and galloped toward the center of the City of Thorns.

  Caladrel mounted his horse.

  "There has been a mistake," I shouted. "She is a paladin and envoy of the queen. Her word—"

  "Her actions speak for themselves. The innocent have no need to flee." He kicked his horse's flanks and called out for a team of his rangers to follow.

  The stupidity of his statement aside, I could not fault Caladrel's obedience to his lord.

  Radovan ran a few steps after them before realizing the futility of the chase. "This is bullshit."

  As much as Caladrel's loyalty, I admired Radovan's pith.

  Regretting that I had prepared no more flying spells, I could only watch as the rangers ran to cut off Oparal while Caladrel pursued. Fleeter and more sure-footed than his pursuer, the unicorn soon o
utdistanced Caladrel and began to skirt the intercepting rangers.

  "Cut them down!" cried Caladrel.

  "No!" shouted Fimbulthicket. "Don't hurt them!"

  Variel scowled and raised a hand, murmuring one of his forest songs. A ranger fell, and then another. The others tugged at their feet, entangled by the grass beneath them.

  "Do not interfere," boomed Zuldanavox.

  "This is not right, Zuldana!"

  "This is my home," she thundered. "Even you are only a guest here."

  Variel's hand clenched. He gripped his staff in both hands and planted it firmly before him.

  Kemeili had not spoken. With a troubled expression, she watched the retreating figure of Oparal. She had demonstrated no affection for the paladin, but Amarandlon's accusation had surprised the inquisitor. She started when Radovan pulled the elven cloak from her shoulders and tied it around his waist as a skirt.

  "What?" he said as she turned. "There's a breeze."

  I went to Amarandlon. The others joined us.

  "Your Highness, you must call them off. They'll kill her."

  Amarandlon raised an eyebrow at my impertinent tone. "Count Jeggare, this Forlorn exposed our land to the horde. She must face justice."

  "Oparal came here at the queen's behest. There must be—"

  "The queen would sit idle while the demons overrun our country. It was not the queen who came to the aid of the mighty Zuldanavox. It was I alone who extended the hand of friendship."

  "What evidence do you have against Oparal? She is the last person who would aid the demons."

  "Sometimes the seemingly righteous stoop to base means to achieve their ends."

  "That is true of many," I said. "But not of a true paladin. You saw for yourself that a unicorn chose her. Would that be possible if she harbored some secret treachery in her heart?"

  Amarandlon drew in a heavy breath, turning toward Zuldanavox as if for support. The dragon peered down, awaiting his answer.