by J. Kirsch
"A noble speech, Black Knight, but I think Queen Najika is on the verge of slapping you. You might want to quit while you're ahead," Queen Selene said.
"You must be Queen Selene," Drake said with a bow, taking one of Selene's not-so-dainty hands and bringing it to his lips.
The Queen's eyebrow quirked, clearly intrigued. "And you must be the charming lord of the Black Kingdom. Your manners are better than I expected. Sometimes I forget that human males, unlike our own, have at least some capacity for refinement." Selene's obviously anti-male prejudice didn't seem to faze Drake.
He merely nodded.
"Zulz be thinking refinement is overrated," the tall figure on Drake's right rumbled. The one who seemed to call himself 'Zulz' in the third person looked familiar to me. He was enshrouded with wraps, folds of fabric disappearing over each other in a cloth-based maze which looped lovingly around his muscular torso. Then it hit me. He was a troll. One of the same people who had fought alongside me and Drake against the Red Queen.
Everyone gaped, even Queen Selene, when the tall troll removed his mask to introduce himself. Two long, gaping furrows tore canyons through his face, and what passed for a nose looked more like the snout of a feral beast. To call him hideous would have been honest, and it was also why trolls usually wore their masks. On coming of age, a troll's tusks were forcibly removed, leaving them scarred for life. Leaving the tusks in meant premature death as the tusks kept growing and curled inward, piercing the skull. Not a fun way to die.
Zulz gave Selene a challenging glare. "Zulz wouldn't mind an ogre female pitting her refinement against troll mettle any day. A battle of wills, yours against mine…you name the place, and Zulz be there." The troll chief somehow made those suggestive words both a challenge and an invitation. Queen Selene's eyes sparkled in reply as if she was deciding which. I'd never seen two creatures so repelled and attracted to one another simultaneously.
Drake tried to recover and take back control of the situation. I was fast learning that the more species of creatures you threw together, the more explosive things became.
"Queen Selene, this is the Chief of the trolls, Zulz. You'll have to excuse him. He's a bit deranged, even for a troll." At those words my husband shot Zulz a warning glare.
Then he turned to his left, where a squat figure covered in reddish-brown fur had eyes as big as my palms.
"This is Sebda, clan spokesman for the Ape-men." Sebda twirled about, somersaulting as his feet made circular motions in what seemed to signify some kind of 'hello.' His toes were every bit as flexible as my fingers, and they seemed to wiggle out their own special language in the brief time between when Sebda twirled and landed back on his feet.
"I greet you, Queen of the ogres." Sebda's human-like face smiled sadly. "Maybe next time I greet you death won't be hovering so near. One can hope, yes?" The ape-man had a strange cadence to his speech. Sometimes he sounded human, but at other times his voice rumbled almost like thunder.
"Zulz, Sebda, this is my wife and Queen, the Lady Najika," Drake said. I smiled as both troll and ape-man each took one of my hands, imitating my husband's bow as they kissed the backs of them. The rough texture of their lips felt like bark on my skin.
"Now enough with the introductions," Drake finished impatiently. "Let's get to it, shall we?"
Queen Selene nodded. "Let's. We will soon be ready for the attack."
Surrounded by the sighing trees that seemed to lament what would come, we made our final preparations for war. Dawn would be just another day for the birds chirping in the trees, but for us it meant something else. I told myself that I had a Kingdom to save even though I almost didn’t believe it. Too much had happened in the last year. This would be my second real battle, and I still wasn't ready.
Chapter 22
The morning began with the twittering of birdsong nicely enough, followed by the lurch of catapults and loud echoes across the valley as huge, fiery stones whooshed through air. It was bizarre how death and harmony could mingle so closely side by side.
Drake's spearmen were in formation and advancing, his heavy cavalry of knights threatening to outflank the enemy or bolster the main line of attack. I rode beside Drake in the center of all that cavalry, my new ogre-crafted armor feeling like a second skin. Armor shouldn't feel as comfortable as satin, but somehow this suit did. I slid a look at Drake, who was watching the scene unfold dispassionately on the outside. I could sense the turmoil and fear underneath the mask he put up for his men.
"It should be interesting to see how the enemy responds to the ogre surprise," Drake said wryly. I looked up, watching as the enormous boulders rained from the sky, landing like colossal hailstones among the enemy knights. Soon the banners of each color—Gold, Green, Silver, Purple, and many others, all tried to reform and lead a two-pronged assault, one into the woods to strike at the source of those hurling boulders and another to charge the Black Knight's army.
But as the enemy knights formed up in good order, and despite watching some of their fellows smashed into pulp by the falling stones, a solid wall of ogres appeared at the tree line and began to descend along the northern slope.
There were many intimidating things about an ogre's size, and being a few heads taller than any human was definitely a big part of it. But what made it far worse was their strength, and the solid plated armor which made them look twice as massive as they really were. I imagined the looks on all the enemy knights' faces as this solid formation began to advance on them. I imagined the fear creeping into the enemy knights as that wall drew closer and the ogre figures became larger and more distinct.
The first charge of the enemy cavalry came from the ranks where the fluttering banners proclaimed the colors of the Yellow Knight and the Brown Knight. Drake and I watched as the warhorses churned their way up the slope. The knights looked formidable, especially with their lances leveled and ready to skewer anything in their way. Yet the ogres were not easy prey, and they had a nasty surprise—war hammers the height of a man's torso, each hidden and strapped behind the back. A solid swing with a war hammer could not only unhorse a knight, it could also cripple the horse.
And this is what we saw on a frightening scale. In a well-timed burst of violence the front line of the ogres released their war hammers and swung. Knights and warhorses crashed to the earth, but the knights were too disciplined to be so easily beaten. Many managed to get through the first rank of ogres, their lances finding a vulnerable spot in an ogre's helmet or piercing a rare weak point in the armor.
With mounting concern I saw the knights punch gaps in the ogre wall before drawing their swords and maces. More columns of knights crashed through, tunneling deeper into the ogres like antlered earthworms as they hacked and butchered their way forward. In close combat with the knights who'd already breached the front lines, the ogres didn't have the maneuvering space to swing their hammers. Still, the war hammers were more than just weapons of brute force. The head of each hammer had a long spike perfect for precise thrusts. The ogres began to systematically impale any knights who had managed to push beyond the first line of defense.
Soon it dawned on me what I was really seeing—the overconfident wave of attacking knights being incrementally shredded into ever finer pieces as their formations splintered and dug horns into the more resilient ogre forces. The losses on both sides were still sickening. I watched as one knight managed to cleave his way through an ogre's defenses, blood spurting to block both combatants from view. When the blood splattering was over the knight raised a sword no longer shining but now covered in gore.
"Shield up!" Drake shouted. I put up my shield just in time as arrows veered for my face. I felt barbed arrowheads beat harmlessly against my armor, but my heart lurched at the idea that my horse might not have been as lucky.
"They have archers in the trees. Stay sharp!" Drake said to me. I'd become so caught up in the main fighting that I'd forgotten that this entire area was still a battlefield. Death was never far. I sensed a tur
ning of the tide, though, and as I peeked my head over the lip of my shield I saw the ogre horde beginning to grind away at the horns of each knight formation.
Meanwhile the ogre catapults continued to launch their deadly rain. Men and horses screamed in the most awful mix of sound. Of all the parts of battle I hated, the sounds of battle were high up on my list. My eyes began to search for the banner of the White Kingdom among the multitudes of enemy troops. Father, are you out there? Had an ogre boulder crushed him already? As if it hadn't been gripping me already, dread now swirled around me like a snake around the neck.
Then I heard what might as well have been the most beautiful music. I heard the call of a horn to signal retreat, and then I saw the forces of the other Kingdoms withdraw in good order. They kept withdrawing until they were well out of range of the ogre siege engines. A stillness settled over the battlefield of broken men and horses. Butchered ogres also littered the edge of the field. Other than the groans of the wounded and dying there was little to hear. The spearmen of Drake's army had been ordered to stop their advance, each man standing restless, probably wondering if he had a chance at cheating fate.
Then I saw him, a man on a horse with a white flag that the wind seemed to enjoy thrashing back and forth.
A herald, his boyish face confessing him to be hardly a man, trotted nearer. He was as skittish as a colt. The pale shade of his face admitted his fear. I would have laid bets on him wetting himself, but I wasn't the gambling type.
Drake and I exchanged looks, and together we rode out to meet him. Several of our knights covered our flanks, making sure this wasn't a trap.
When at last the herald reined in his horse, his beast pawed nervously at the ground and snorted.
"I come with tidings from the Knights of Arkor. They judge that perhaps this senseless bloodshed could be averted," the young man said carefully. "They request time to draw up a proposal for peace."
My husband snorted, but I was the one who replied. We'd already agreed what would happen if the enemy showed any openness to negotiating.
"Tell your leaders that we attack at midday unless they commit to a pact of non-aggression. It is too early to hope for a lasting peace," I warned, my voice as severe as it felt. "But we also do not desire bloodshed. No more need die today, or on any day after, in senseless violence. We will parley with your leaders tomorrow if they withdraw their forces from the valley and give us their oaths."
My flowery speech was typical of the custom of Arkor and even the Black Kingdom. Knights and their envoys were supposed to speak in noble terms, as if it could somehow sanitize the butchery of war. Yet I was disgusted by it, disgusted by the wasted humanity laid bare on a field that had been beautiful until this morning. I saw clusters of the dead clumped here and there on the plain like stands of weeds.
Vultures already circled in the cloudy sky.
After a long pause the young man nodded. "I will pass on your words to my Masters. You will have an answer before midday."
As the young man whirled about his mount and cantered back with a speed that comes only from fear, I reached out to squeeze my husband's hand.
"Do you think they'll see reason?" I asked.
Drake leaned over, his hands cupping my face as his lips gently caressed mine. "Let us hope, sweet Naji. Let us hope."
I was a little surprised at this public display of affection, but when I pointed it out Drake just cracked a gigantic smile.
"The enemy saw what I wanted them to see, Naji. A ruler so unconcerned with the outcome of the battle, so assured in victory, that he would lovingly kiss his Queen in the middle of a battlefield. Give me some credit. I do things for a reason."
I shot him a suspicious look back. "If you say so…but I think you just wanted an excuse to kiss me." I tried to joke with him because it got my mind off of the nervous energy creating mayhem everywhere I could feel. Would the Knights accept our offer? Or would more blood be spilled?
Chapter 23
It had been four days since my agreement with Queen Selene. Four days since Lady Vaela found, to her amazement, that a lasting alliance with the ogres was reality.
It had been only a day since the bloody battle in the fields in front of Drake's castle, with frightening losses suffered on both sides. It was a battle which I thought could have gone on all day if the ogre siege engines hadn't brought the Knights of the other Kingdoms to their senses. I had done my part, and the part of me that wasn't knotted by nerves was actually swelling with a touch of a pride.
Today was more important than any day yet, and for good reason. It wasn't every day that you could avert a war.
On one side of the negotiating table on the greenway in front of the castle stood the Black Knight and his Queen—that's me, by the way—joined by the ogre Queen Selene and the leaders of the trolls and ape-men.
On the other side of the table stood the Knights from the Kingdoms of all the colors with the most clout—the Gold Knight, the Green Knight, the Silver Knight, and the Purple Knight, not to mention the Red Queen who now served as regent for her youngest son. But what made every nerve in my skin painfully alert was the sight of the White Knight, my father, standing at the head of the opposing delegation.
His stoic gaze roamed over my ornate battle-armor while studiously avoiding my face. The armor fitted snugly around my arms, chest, and legs, making me look beautiful and deadly. It was amazing what ogre armorers could smash together and custom-fit on short notice. The war axe I'd used to crack Agtha's head open like an egg was strapped firmly to my back for good luck, its wickedly sharp head peeking over my shoulder like a murderous wink. Okay, so I had to admit, it was mainly there as intimidating eye candy.
My father Kovinus put his quill to parchment and signed his name. Each of the other Knights at the table followed his lead, and finally Queen Agwen affixed her red seal, which was another acceptable symbol of agreement. She looked up at me as she drew away, and I knew that being foiled a second time would not stop her scheming mind from finding new and creative ways to plot my death.
After Drake, me, and our allies had also all signed the non-aggression pact, there was a strained shaking of hands. A very strained shaking of my hand with Queen Agwen's. The red-haired woman's fingernails scraped like claws, and I was glad for the gauntlets serving as a barrier between my skin and hers. Each second her cold eyes paid me attention was like another whisper saying No, I haven't forgotten that you killed my son, and one day I'll mount your head over my fireplace.
But I wasn't about to give Agwen the satisfaction of unchallenged intimidation, even if she did do a mean stink eye.
"I hope that next time we meet under different circumstances," I said to her as our hands parted. "I wonder what things your son never got the chance to show me." Her lips curled as she bit back a snarling reply and then offered me the most pleasant smile.
"You would be most welcome to visit any time, Queen Najika."
"Oh, I have no doubt. But I can't promise that, when I do, I will be a very well-behaved guest," I replied, stroking the row of throwing knives at my waist. She took the hint. I saw a flicker of fear in her eyes as she turned away and fled.
Last of all I gripped my father's hand, but he shocked everyone there by firmly shaking my hand in return rather than moving briskly away.
"May I speak with you alone, Najika?" I nodded, automatically walking a good distance ahead of him, waiting until a cluster of trees obscured us from sight. I turned and prepared for things to get ugly. To be told that I was demon spawn leading an alliance of evil creatures, of ogres and trolls and things which hated humanity.
Instead I saw Kovinus take off his gauntlets, throw them to the ground. He reached one hand to my slender face, stroking my cheek.
I looked at him, confused. "This was one of the scariest days of my life," he whispered. "This could have been a day of bloodshed, the day I faced my daughter on the battlefield."
I finally saw a shred of emotion leak through his aging mask. I s
huddered, my body going from hot to freezing, then back to scorching, emotion whiplashing across my heart. I bent my head down, tears stinging my face…but he just wiped them away. Wiped them away and said nothing else. I leaned into him, my head resting on the ivory cloth which curved over his shoulder. His arms gently enfolded me, holding me like I was a fragile thing instead of a woman bristling in combat armor.
Maybe he was worried he'd prick a finger on my axe, but I doubted it. His lips brushed my brow before he drew away. I wanted to call out to him. I wanted to tell him everything, how somehow things had turned out all right. How this was nothing like the life I would have had with the Red Knight. I wanted to tell him that I'd found happiness, crazy as it seemed.
But then I understood that this was as far as he would come. At least for now. And for him it was a mighty canyon leap just to show affection for his daughter and for once leave the question of duty aside. He had always been about duty, duty above everything. Even above those he loved. Especially then, as if to prove his moral worth. Yet as he walked away from me over the green field, I saw him glance back.
Maybe one day he would be ready for something more. Maybe it had taken actually losing me to realize what I meant to him.
I stood there watching him, so long lost in my own thoughts that I didn't notice Drake sneak up behind me. I jerked when he wrapped his armored arms around my waist. His head nuzzled my neck before he kissed the top of my head.
"A gold coin for your thoughts?" he asked.
"My thoughts aren't worth a copper bit," I replied, the bittersweet aftereffects of the encounter with my father still clinging to me.
"Now I doubt that," Drake whispered in my ear. "I seem to remember someone fitting your exact description coming out of the mountains at the head of an ogre army larger than anyone expected. Someone who did that must have some pretty useful thoughts," he argued.