There were more scaly ropes coming toward them; a snake-headed woman with four spider-legs whipped a tentacle at Geoffrey as he straightened.
"He is mine!" Quicksilver snapped, and chopped with her own sword. The tentacle went flying as its owner screamed, but another slapped around Quicksilver's ankles. Still screaming, the monster jerked, sending Quicksilver tumbling to the ground, where a spider-leg reached with a dripping talon.
Geoffrey chopped it off, then swung his sword in a figure-eight; the monster didn't stay to find out where it would strike but backed off quickly. She had distracted Geoffrey long enough, though; a feathered monster struck from above, laying open Geoffrey's forehead, then reaching for his eyes. Quicksilver sprang to her feet and skewered the bird, then swung her sword snapping out in a line; the carcass flew off to strike the next attacker in the face.
They were all around now, a solid wall of fangs, tentacles, and talons. Alea struck again and again with her staff even as she channeled her psi power into Magnus; claws laid open her arm, and her grip weakened, but she didn't even look, only swung her staff all the harder, straight between the monster's eyes. It exploded, and she knew Magnus was still fighting with his mind.
High above, on a sea-cliff, Allouette, Gregory, and Cordelia held hands, merging their power as they glared down at the beach. Halfway across it, a line of fire leaped up, and most of the monsters shied away in terror. A few jumped through, though, and charged blazing and shrieking into the melee around Magnus and Alea—and there were certainly enough horrendous shapes crowding in about them.
Twenty-Six
PUCK APPEARED WITH A POP AMONG TREES that lined the river, where the cat-headed alien watched the battle with detached amusement. "If you truly have the power you boast of, Catface, use it now! Send it to those who can use it well!"
"I did not boast," Evanescent said, "but I shall send my power to the woman."
A sudden burst of strength filled Alea, making her stagger, but she straightened and used some of that amazing new power to make the monster who swung its mace-tipped tail at her explode before she channeled the rest to Magnus.
A force far stronger than anything he had ever felt charged Magnus; he reeled, dizzy with power for a moment—just as an explosion rocked the giant human-headed ants at his left. Gregory stood there, arms around his sister and his wife. They staggered, catching their balance, then lashed out at the surrounding horde with psi power, making bodies explode and tentacles strike at their owners. Even so, they couldn't fend off all the fangs and stings and horns; they were soon bleeding in several places each, but they fought on with their minds, winnowing the horde. As soon as they felled one monster, though, another thrust through in its place.
Back-to-back, the Gallowglass siblings and their spouses fought hundreds of monsters.
Magnus recovered, looked about him, and realized that Alea and his siblings could hold off the enemy for the moment. His eyes lost focus as he concentrated on the mental world, sending a thought questing ahead through the mist, seeking the mind that had organized and supported this obscene army. It was almost as though a cable of pure malice stretched from the monsters back into the mist. Magnus followed it—but before he found its source, a bolt of mental energy rocked him. Another followed, driving him to his knees.
A giant wolf burst through the line and leaped on the wizard, jaws gaping wide to engulf his head.
Alea screamed in anger and jammed her staff into its maw, knocking the beast backward—but a huge paw flailed at her and dagger-claws shredded her gown, slashing lines of pain down her left side as the beast fell, knocking her to the ground with it. It scrambled to its feet, jaws reaching for Alea—but Quicksilver's sword pierced its heart and the beast fell again, this time for good.
Anger and sullen determination made Magnus gather and concentrate the titanic power he held, building it into a mighty weapon of true force, but knowing with sickening certainty that it would not be enough—not quite enough.
Then, suddenly, a jolt of power flowed into him—not so very much by itself, but enough and more than enough to equal and overcome the mind of malice that directed the horde of monsters about him. Magnus narrowed his eyes, reached way down deep within and found strength there that he had never known, brought that force up from the bottom of his being to strike back with every bit of power he possessed, every ounce of anger and rage and fear, directing at the unseen malignant mind all his longing for revenge, all the outrage at everything he'd suffered and not deserved.
Something shrieked in anguish, some long trailing, dying, cry as the force opposing Magnus lessened. The shriek faded and was silent, and the cable of force uniting the monsters, dissolved.
A keening cry of despair rose all about the Gallowglasses, piercing their heads with pain, immobilizing them for a moment. When they looked up, though, the monsters were backing away.
Magnus lifted his head, eyes terrible with more power than he had ever known. He reached, lifted, and threw. The monsters exploded outward in a wave. Those farthest away turned to flee toward the mist, saw the line of fire and shied back screeching.
Allouette lifted her head, and the fire died.
The monsters raced for the mist, but their movements had slowed strangely, as though they fought their way through molasses.
Still on his knees, Magnus whirled to Alea to find her struggling back to her knees. He stared at the blood flowing down her side, reached to staunch it, but she pushed his hand away. "Only a scratch, Gar, though a long one. Finish what needs to be done."
Magnus stared at her a moment, then nodded and turned back to the fleeing remnants of the horde.
"We could slay them all." Quicksilver lifted her sword, mayhem in her eyes.
"Why slaughter even such abominations as these if we need not?" Gregory asked. "Send them home."
Geoffrey nodded reluctantly. "That is the chivalrous course."
Fire erupted from the beach again, right behind the last of the monsters. It trumpeted in panic and fled.
Rocks shot from the ground nearby, striking at monsters on the other flank.
Courses of rocks, sheets of flames, barrages of invisible stings—steadily they herded the monsters back into the mists.
Magnus realized he could leave the mopping-up to his siblings and their spouses for the moment, and turned to scan the cliffs and trees, wondering where that titanic force had come from, that and the extra last jolt that had that saved himself and his sibs and given them victory. He saw no one standing under the trees, no one in the long grass— but when he lifted his gaze to the cliff-tops, he saw a solitary rider looking down at him. For a moment, their eyes met, and he knew his father.
Then Rod gave a single nod and turned away. He disappeared from sight, and Magnus gazed after him, stunned that the man who begot him, the stranger to Gramarye, should have gained so much power in his old age.
THE PARTY WAS in full swing, and it looked as though the peasants were going to make a night of it. Catharine and Tuan left their generals to watch over the field with ranks of soldiers encircling the celebrants and most of the off-duty troopers mingling with the peasants, helping keep the party merry. The king and queen went back into the castle, chatting as they went, marvelling over how well the day had ended and the wisdom their son had gained.
As they came through their own huge portal, Catharine said, "How amazing to have seen your brother and his son! But where did they go?"
"Here, Mother."
Startled, Catharine turned from her husband—and saw her younger son standing with his uncle and cousin, and before them, the strange knight who stood with his hands bound.
Catharine stopped, staring in surprise, but Tuan went past her, arms wide, a smile lighting his face. "Well met, brother! How wonderful, after so many years, to have you visit my home!"
Taken aback, Anselm stared, then managed a small smile. "I could wish it were for a happier occasion, Majesty."
"I too—but you did not attend my
son's wedding, and I missed you sorely."
"I am an attainted traitor, Your Majesty!"
"Here at home, I am your brother Tuan and nothing else! Except, perhaps, your nephew's uncle." Tuan turned to Geordie and took his hand. "Welcome, George."
Geordie winced. "Please, Uncle! I am called Geordie now, a name I heartily prefer."
Tuan laughed. "Then well met, Geordie." He turned to the stranger knight with a frown. "But what is this gift you have brought me?"
"I am maligned!" Sir Orgon cried. "I am hauled here against my will, for no greater crime than …"
"Incitement to treason," Anselm finished grimly. "This man requested sanctuary at my home, Maj… brother, then sought to persuade me to lead another rebellion against you—and if the High Warlock had not spoken for my son, and your Diarmid not pardoned his poaching, I would have led the lords against you indeed!"
Catharine turned on him indignantly, but before she could speak, Tuan said, "Instead, you have brought the traitor to me—but what is this about poaching?" He turned to Geordie with a frown.
"The crops failed," Diarmid explained.
"My tenants would have starved in the winter!" Geordie protested. "I could not wait until their faces turned gaunt before I sought remedy—and why see them hungry when there was a forest full of game?"
"Then you should have asked your duke for permission to hunt," Tuan said. "I am sure he would have given it."
"Still, he broke the law," Anselm said, "but it was the Lord Warlock who convinced your son Diarmid that that law did not intend people's starvation."
"Of course it did not!" Catharine said indignantly. "It meant only that there should be deer for the lords to hunt."
"An unjust law," Sir Orgon cried, "but no reason to rebel."
"That is not how he spoke when my son stood in chains," Anselm said grimly.
Tuan turned to the man impatiently. "We shall hear your case on the morrow. For now, I wish to talk with my brother. Guards! See this man accommodated in our finest dungeon!"
"I am a knight!" Sir Orgon protested.
"We shall discuss the truth of that statement tomorrow, too." Tuan nodded to the guards, and they hauled Sir Orgon away, protesting every inch of the way.
"So you pardoned your cousin," Tuan said.
"I was overwhelmingly relieved that the Lord Warlock gave me good reason," Diarmid said, "for I was caught between the evil of favoring a kinsman, and the greater evil of hanging him."
"So instead of hanging," Catharine said to Geordie, "you came to join us for battle—and played the peacemaker!"
"I could not see my own peasant folk slain only for asking justice, Your Majesty," Geordie answered, "but I would never have fought against you."
"Instead, you stood by your cousin and helped him turn a bloody battle into a celebration." Catharine nodded and turned to her younger son. "It is well you were able to mete out justice instead of blind adherence to the law."
"Thank you, Mother." Diarmid smiled. "I, though, must thank the Lord Warlock."
"So I shall, when next I see him." Catharine turned back to Geordie with a frown. "You hold your lands enfeoffed from your father?"
"I do," Geordie said, "though I think myself only his steward."
"Far more, surely!" Anselm protested.
"Well, I think I do the job well enough," Geordie said with a smile for his father, then to the Queen again, "My tenants, at least, call me 'squire.'"
"I am sure your father has given you the warlike training that title requires," Tuan said.
"Of course," Anselm said impatiently. "He can fight as well as any knight—or any peasant, as our father taught us, Tuan." He forced a smile. "Perhaps I should not have taught him skill with the bow."
"Then he would have slain his deer with a sling," Tuan said. "He has certainly proved himself worthy of the title."
"He has proved his courage in battle this day," Catharine said with a smile, and caught Tuan's hand.
"Aye," Tuan agreed. "Running into the midst of the fray to defend your own was indeed a brave act."
"But all there were my own!"
"Well spoken," the Queen said, and gave her husband a meaningful glance. Tuan nodded and turned back to his nephew, drawing his sword.
"How now, brother!" Anselm cried, his hand on his own hilt.
"You stand as his sponsor, do you not?" Tuan asked.
"His sponsor? What… ?"
"I am sure he does," Diarmid said, "and so do I."
"Then kneel, Squire George."
Geordie winced but had the good sense not to protest the use of his full name as he knelt.
Tuan touched his left shoulder with the flat of the blade, then arced it over his head to touch the right as he said, "I hereby dub thee knight." Then he lifted the sword and stepped in to give his nephew a clout that rocked his head.
Through the ringing in his ears, Geordie heard his king say, "Rise, Sir George, and be as loyal as you have been, loyal to both man and master forever more."
Geordie stood, dazed, and Anselm stammered, "Brother … my Queen … I had not thought…"
"Do so," Catharine advised. "We shall repeat this ceremony with greater pomp, but it shall not change his nobility." To Geordie, she said, "You shall bring your wife to meet us as soon as you may."
"Majesty," Geordie said with a gulp, "I will."
"There is another matter to consider, Mother," Diarmid said.
"Yes, my son?" Catharine frowned.
"He has proven his courage but also his concern for his people," Diarmid said. "Might I suggest he should have a title greater than knight?"
"Indeed!" Catharine said. "And whose estates should he hold—yours?"
"Exactly," Diarmid said.
Catharine stared, stunned.
Tuan smiled. "You really do wish to spend your days among your books, do you not?"
"Administering a duchy takes so much time," Diarmid complained.
"Be sure, sir, that I shall not let you fritter your time away!" Catharine said indignantly.
"Still," Tuan said, "there are other positions than duke that our Diarmid could fulfill, but that few others can."
"Majesties—I did not come here seeking preferment," Geordie protested.
"No, you came to serve your Queen," Catharine said, "and so you shall." She turned to Anselm with a frown. "I cannot restore an attainted traitor, even one who has proven his loyalty—but I can restore the son to the rank that should have been his by birth." She turned to Geordie. "Kneel again, sir."
Stunned, Geordie knelt.
Catharine stepped forward to lay her hand on her nephew's head. "Henceforth be as true and loyal to both Crown and people as you have proven yourself this day— but next time you think the law unjust, appeal to your Queen!" She lifted her hand. "Rise, Duke of Loguire."
As Geordie stood, wide-eyed and amazed, Anselm stammered, "Majesty … I assure you, I had never expected …"
"A simple 'thank you' would suffice, Anselm," Tuan said, with a grin.
Anselm swallowed any other words he had been about to say. "Majesties, from the depths of my heart, I thank you!"
"But I cannot steal my kinsman's title, nor his lands!" Geordie turned to Diarmid. "How would you feel if I did, cousin?"
"Relieved," the former duke told him. "Vastly relieved."
EVERGREENS CLOSED AROUND Rod as he rode into the forest, closing off sight of the sun—but since it was midday, enough light filtered through to let him see quite well. It was eerie and lonely; Rod shivered and hoped he and Fess could plough through to oak and ash again. He frowned as he looked around.
Then he saw a white speck drifting down. He blinked his eyes, not believing what they showed him—but sure enough, there was another and another. "Fess, I have to be mistaken—but I could swear I'm seeing snowflakes."
"You are not mistaken, Rod."
"But how can that be? It's barely October!"
"An early snowfall, perhaps? I know that the land slopes
upward as we come to the western duchies; we are already at four thousand feet."
Rod shivered and told himself it was because of the cold. He blew on his hands and reached for his gloves—but stopped; had he seen movement? "Fess? Did you see something move?"
"Only the snowflakes, Rod."
"I could have sworn I saw something larger." He looked down to pull on his left glove—and froze; there it was, at the corner of his eye, and if he kept his gaze on his hands, he could see it. It was tricky, focusing his gaze on his hands while he focused his attention on the moving thing, but he managed it. It might have been only a cloud of flakes that he saw, sinuous and wavering on the wind—but there was a face atop them, indistinct as though made of drifting particles, a face with snow-white hair, eyebrows, and beard, a ghostly white, translucent face atop long flowing robes, but an arm separated from the blowing curtain of snow, a long and bony hand reached out toward Rod. He cried out and ducked, but the hand followed him and the forefinger touched his forehead.
Rod shivered, wiping at the spot of chill. "Serves me right for going out without a hat!" He frowned. "I do have a hat, don't I?"
"At home, Rod. Not here."
"Home? Where's that?" Rod's face cleared. "Oh yes, Maxima! But that must be an awfully long way away, Fess."
"Very far indeed, Rod—but Castle Gallowglass is only a few days' ride."
"Castle Gallowglass? What's that?"
"The castle where you lived with Gwendylon and your children, Rod."
"Children?" Rod frowned at the mantle of evergreen in front of him, then shook his head. "Don't remember any chil…" He broke off as a vague picture flitted though his mind, an image of a golden-haired laughing toddler shooting through the air while a red-headed woman held up her arms to catch him—but the vision faded and he shook his head. "I'm not old enough to many."
"You were forty-nine when Catharine and Tuan insisted you occupy the castle for them."
"Who are Catharine and Tuan?"
Warlock's Last Ride wisoh-13 Page 28