A snarl that was answered by a deep, throaty laugh as a huge man, eight feet tall and three feet wide, hideously ugly and entirely naked, strode toward it, a huge club swinging high in his ham of a hand.
The bear roared and struck—but the ogre swung the club in a blur, both hands and all his weight behind it. There was a sickening crunch, and the bear lay dead, its head caved in.
Then, drooling, the ogre reached for Cordelia with a gloating laugh.
Cordelia shrank back with a scream.
Alain heard her and leaped between herself and the ogre, but she knew he believed it to be real, that he could not stand against it.
The guardsmen whooped victory and leaped in where Alain had been.
Fess screamed and struck them down with his hooves, curving between Cordelia and the murderous agents. Cordelia's scream echoed inside her own mind, now as much for Alain as for herself. In her heart, she reached out for the protection that had always been there in her childhood—her parents and her big brother. But her parents were miles away, and Magnus was light-years away ... Not his image, though. It came striding forth from behind her to do battle, as much bigger than she as he had seemed when she was five and he eight—which made him nine feet tall now, smiling in wicked anticipation of a fight, shouting, "Thou wouldst, wouldst thou? Then have at thee!"
Delilah screamed—and screamed, and screamed. "No! It cannot be you! I have banished you, I have maimed you, I have sent you fleeing to the farthest..."
And, for the moment, her mind was open, she was that terrified—open and unguarded, and her memories of Magnus clear for Cordelia to read. She stared, horrified—this was the woman who had trapped Magnus's heart, toyed with him, played with him, dashed his hopes and his dreams of love to flinders, burned the belief in feminine goodness out of him ...
Then Delilah saw the huge Magnus grappling with the ogre, swinging the howling monster high and dashing it to the floor, and she threw back her head and laughed, mocking again, vindictive. "Of course! It was not he! You would call for your big brother, would you?"
"Witch!" Cordelia screamed, in full rage. "Have at thee!" Her face twisted with fury and hatred, and a bolt of pure energy sparked in the air between them. Then it was gone, but a huge explosion rocked the room, and Delilah doubled over in agony, hands pressed to her abdomen.
Cordelia strode through the smoke of that bolt of pure emotion, eyes burning, and snatched the woman's hair, hauling her head up. " 'Tis you who have murdered my brother's heart! Why, then, be sure that I shall murder you!"
And there were snakes, toads, salamanders, scorpions, and spiders, all crawling over Delilah. She screamed, swatting at them, tearing at them—then remembered them for what they were, and stilled, glaring at the vermin ...
The bolt cracked from Cordelia's head to Delilah's, pure energy, overloading Delilah's system with Cordelia's rage—for when last came to last, it was Cordelia who could feel more intensely, far more intensely, even in hatred and anger.
Delilah staggered, and suddenly, her own hands were slapping her face and tearing her hair.
She went crazy.
She screamed and twisted in the grip of a primal fear, turning to tear at Cordelia with hands crooked into claws, lashing out with a bolt of panic that startled Cordelia; it was far more than she had expected. She leaped back, the first taste of horror touching her as she realized that Delilah was completely out of control.
The woman thrashed about, tearing at invisible enemies—and a jumble of images began to appear on the floor of the Great Hall, flickering into being, then transforming into something else, then flickering out as new ones appeared. Snakes and worms and maggots crawling from rotten meat; bulbous vases breaking open, spilling rancid oil; huge nails hammering down into boards made of flesh that screamed and writhed, and more, more, on and on and on.
Cordelia stared, aghast, revulsed as much by what she was seeing as by what she had done.
But Delilah recovered, slowing, stilling, the jumble of images fading, lifting her eyes to Cordelia again—eyes that now bore not only hatred and rage, but also madness, stark madness.
For the first time, the cold fingers of Death seemed to touch Cordelia, and she realized that she really could die in this fight.
Panic surged, and she threw one more bolt of mental force at Delilah, with all her own fear and anger in it. The explosion rocked the hall, and Delilah slammed back against the panelling with a scream.
The guards had stilled their fight to watch; even Geoffrey and Alain had been caught in the spell of the beautiful witch's madness. Now, though, one of Delilah's men came back to himself with a shout, slashing past Geoffrey's guard at Cordelia.
She screamed and fell back, seizing his sword with a mental grip that froze it and held it immobile, afraid that Delilah would recover and seize her chance. Alain came out of his reverie with a howl and turned to cut the man down, but all Delilah's men shouted and attacked again ...
Swords lifted above them, and fell; for each man, a knight towered over him, striking.
"Have at them!" bellowed a huge voice from the doorway, and a stream of men thundered into the room, halberd blades flailing. Behind them rode the King himself, sword slashing down from horseback, with the High Warlock beside him, parrying and cutting. Lady Gwendylon stood fiery with anger, a basket of stones in her hands, stones that sped with unerring accuracy to enemy swordsmen, while on a ledge above them, a grizzled, barrel-bodied dwarf bellowed, "Hold! Surrender yourselves, or die! Seize the false lady, seize the poisoner of hearts!"
But it was too late. Delilah was already gone. Psionics or trickery, she had vanished from their midst.
Just in time, too—so heavily outnumbered, the guardsmen threw up their hands and weapons with cries for mercy. In a few minutes, the King's soldiers had all the walking enemies herded into a corner, and a doctor and his assistants were tending to the moaning wounded, thinlipped with disgust.
But Alain had no eyes for any of it. He leaped up beside Cordelia, crying, "My lady! Are you hurt? Upon my honor, if any have touched you, I shall have their heads!"
But Cordelia could only stare in amazement at this huge, bare-chested, golden-haired Adonis whose muscles played beneath a sheen of sweat like a statue of a young Greek god, sword in hand, eyes wide in concern. Rooted to the spot, she could only nod as his arm went about her waist, hugging her protectively against the huge, hardened muscles of his chest. She gazed up at him in mute astonishment, eyes wide, lips parted—and for a moment, he stared down at her in equal wonder.
Then his head bowed, his lips touched hers, and she knew only the wonder of his kiss, and the wrenching anguish and soaring ecstasy of a heart finally given, completely, in love.
Some while later, some immeasurable time that surely must have been only a few minutes, though it had seemed eternal bliss, Alain lifted his head and stood staring down into her eyes. She knew he was going to kiss her again, and willed it with her whole being—but someone coughed, and she herd King Tuan's voice saying, "I rejoice that the lady is well."
Alain turned to his father in surprise, and Cordelia saw before them her brother, grinning from ear to ear, and her mother, arms half-raised, with her father behind her, eyes glowing. She gave a little mew of protest and sank back against Alain's chest; his arm came up about her automatically even as he said, "My liege and father! How came you here?"
"Why, in caution and apprehension, my son," Tuan said, smiling, "and with the guidance of elves, alarmed at thy peril. Have you proved yourself in the ways of battle, then? And have you kept the lady safe?"
Alain looked down, and there was reverence in his eyes. "You are safe, are you not, my love?"
My love! Cordelia nestled against him, eyes brimming, and nodded, with a misty smile. Reassured, Alain answered with a secret smile of his own that stopped time for a few minutes, almost kissed her again, then remembered the proprieties and turned back to his father. "She is well, my liege—and she has kept me safe far more
than I her!"
"Or as much, at least," Rod Gallowglass murmured, and his wife added, "So should it ever be."
Alain turned to him, becoming grave and formal even as he moved. He inclined his head and said, "My lord. My lady. Have I your leave to court your daughter?"
Lord and Lady Gallowglass exchanged a brief and tender smile, then turned back to nod. "You may."
"The courtship is done," Cordelia murmured. "The lady is won."
Alain looked down at her, glowing with pride, then turned back to her mother and father. "May I also have your leave to ask her hand in marriage?"
Again, the secret smile. "You may."
King Tuan only beamed down. After all, he had given his permission before all this began.
But Alain had ceased to see them all. Sinking down on one knee, he gazed up at Cordelia, she his whole world, nothing else existing for the moment. "My lady," he breathed, "will you honor me, ennoble me, do me the greatest honor I can know—by giving me your hand?"
"Oh, yes, my love!" she cried and, as he leaped up and took her in his arms, she breathed, so softly that no one else could hear, "And all the rest of me, too."
Then there was no chance to say anything more, for her lips were sealed with his, and time had stopped again.
THE END
M'Lady Witch Page 25