Royal Crush

By Dan McGirt

A wedding gone horribly wrong. A wizard's revenge. A wild adventure across the Eleven Kingdoms.

Heroic champion Jason Cosmo is sure the royal wedding between his wizard friend Mercury Boltblaster and Queen Raella will go off without a hitch. When an assassin's crossbow cuts the ceremony short, Jason and Mercury embark on a mission of bloody vengeance while the Eleven Kingdoms are plunged into war. Enemies old and new bar the way, but nothing will deter our heroes in their quest for justice. Not madmen, not monsters, not the mind-altering magic of a maniacal mastermind. Yet when the trail leads to the demonic doorstep of the Dark Magic Society, Jason and Mercury must face their worst fears brought to life. Will our heroes pay the ultimate price?

Royal Crush is Book 3 of the comical Jason Cosmo fantasy adventure series, following Noble Cause.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trove Books
• Release date: Dec 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310366246

Dan McGirt

Dan McGirt is the author of the Jason Cosmo fantasy adventure series, the Jack Scarlet action-adventure series, Sarah Palin: Vampire Hunter and assorted other tales, some sordid, most not. His most recent story is Glass Darkly & The Skull in the Box, an occult mystery short story. When not writing, Dan enjoys whitewater kayaking, long walks in the forest, and building homemade time machines.

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Table of Contents

Royal Crush

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3

Chapter 4 • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6

Chapter 7 • Chapter 8 • Chapter 9

Chapter 10 • Chapter 11 • Chapter 12

Chapter 13 • Chapter 14 • Chapter 15

Chapter 16 • Chapter 17 • Chapter 18

Chapter 19 • Chapter 20 • Chapter 21

Chapter 22 • Chapter 23• Chapter 24

Chapter 25 • Chapter 26 • Chapter 27

Chapter 28 • Chapter 29 • Chapter 30

Author’s Note

About the Author

More by Dan McGirt

Copyright

Chapter 1

It was a perfect day for a wedding. The golden disk of the sun shone against the summer sky like a medallion pinned to an azure mantle. A gentle breeze snapped and fluttered the jeweled banners along the streets of Rae City. Joyous crowds cheered, chanted, and sang while awaiting the ceremony that would at last unite Queen Raella with her beloved, the Carathan wizard Mercury Boltblaster.

Guests from across the Eleven Kingdoms had come to Raelna for this happy occasion. King Stron of Orphalia was here. The venerable Mage Timeon and other members of the High Council of the League of Benevolent Magic were on hand, grave and dignified in their formal wizard robes. Gathered with them were scores of Raelnan nobles and knights, foreign ambassadors, and private persons lacking rank or title who had earned a place among the great by deed and talent.

I, Jason Cosmo, served a dual role this day. First, it was my honor to stand as my friend Mercury’s supporter for the ceremony. Yet as the heroic Champion of Rae I had also the privilege of escorting the bride to the altar. For a Darnkish woodcutter attending my first royal wedding, this was heady stuff indeed. I prayed I would not mar the ceremony by forgetting some crucial bit of protocol.

Raelnans perform their most sacred rites beneath the open sky, weather permitting, to give Bright Rae an unobstructed view of the proceedings. The ancient Temple of the Sun was a ring of great megaliths so arranged that their shadows mark the progression of the hours, days, and seasons. Glyphs and guides inscribed upon flat stones embedded in the ground comprised a perpetual calendar. The stones confirmed this to be High Summer Day, that day most holy to divine Rae and the most propitious time for Raelna’s queen to wed.

All but a straggling few guests had found their places on the cushioned benches arranged in the temple garden, a grassy sward encircling the ring of stones. Clusters of sunflowers dotted the green. Billowing canopies of red and gold silk shaded the back rows for the benefit of non-Raelnans who might wilt under the sun's glare during the lengthy ceremony.

I stood at the Sunfire Gate which pierced the high goldenberry hedge enclosing the temple grounds. Before me, thousands of Raella’s jubilant subjects lined the Avenue of Morning, at the far end of which rose the gleaming spires of royal palace. Countless other Raelnans waved pennants and ribbons from the balconies of Rae City’s terraced towers. Mere months ago I saw this city invaded and almost destroyed by a horde of flying demons. Many reminders of that awful hour remained: ruined towers and mounds of rubble still to be cleared. Yet joy ruled this day, not fear.

They’re running late, I remarked for the fifth time in as many minutes.

Weddings ever do, dear Jason, said Sapphrina. My companion was a gorgeous young woman with honey-blond hair, sea blue eyes, a perfect figure, and a golden tan.

It’s expected, added her sister Rubis, also a gorgeous young woman with honey-blond hair, sea blue eyes, a perfect figure, and a golden tan. No casual observer could tell the twins apart were they not color-coded. Sapphrina wore an azure Sarvacci gown and Rubis one of the same cut in fiery scarlet. Their dresses, frosted with hundreds of tiny diamonds, were as low-cut as decorum permitted. Each sister wore on her right hand a gold ring set with a sparking, thimble-sized gem, sapphire and ruby respectively.

The wait is a chance to mingle, added Sapphrina.

I tried mingling. The Duchess of Claxony fainted when I introduced myself.

That must have upset the duke, said Rubis.

He fainted too, said Sapphrina.

It wasn’t easy being the most feared man in the Eleven Kingdoms. Arden’s Archvillain, many called me, and worse. My infamy was the work of the sinister Dark Magic Society. To further a diabolical plot of theirs, the cabal of evil wizards had spread rumors that Jason Cosmo was a murderous, kitten-kicking, people-slaughtering, demon-serving monster who ate babies for breakfast, knocked over recycling bins, and drank blood for wine. This reputation was a serious burden in polite company.

Who is the late arrival? asked Rubis.

She pointed at a lone coach drawn by six black horses. It hurtled down the avenue with unceremonial haste. As it came closer, a small child chased an errant ball into its path. Heedless of the crowd’s shouts, the coachman did not slow his reckless pace. He would have overrun the little boy but for an alert soldier who snatched the tyke to safety. The people booed and jeered as the coach passed. It halted before the Sunfire Gate.

The Dark Duke, I said. The black mace emblazoned on the coach door confirmed my guess.

Thule Nethershawn, Duke of Umbra, emerged from the car. He was a tall, grim man with short-cropped silver hair and a graveyard face. He stalked into the temple garden without greeting anyone. Nethershawn led a faction of nobles who opposed Queen Raella’s efforts to create a kinder, gentler realm by ending slavery, banning torture, granting more rights to the serfs, and other reforms. Having been repeatedly rebuffed in his bid to make a match between Raella and his son Vril, Nethershawn was known to regard the queen’s union with Mercury as a personal affront.

He was invited as a formality, I said. No one expected him to show.

Before the twins could comment, a thunderous shout went up, followed by a majestic trumpet fanfare. The wedding procession came into view, making its way slowly from the palace.

Vixen Hotfur, Marshal of the Realm and Captain General of the Army of Raelna, led the way astride a great roan charger. Hotfur was lean and hard-muscled from a life spent in army camps and battlefields. Her fox-red hair was wound in tight braids for the occasion. Every soldier stood straighter as she passed. The She-Fox preferred a cavalry charge to a parade any day. But by Raelnan law the Marshal of the Realm must ride at the head of all royal processions. This had been the rule since 534 A.H., when rebellious nobles murdered King Raeford the Moose during the Partially Hydrogenated Sunflower Oil Festival.

The 86th Ceremonial Showcase Regiment of Royal Lancers followed Hotfur. The Showcasers, sporting bright red pennons on their lances and bobbing scarlet crests upon their shining silver helmets, had not seen battle in fifty years, but for processions they were unsurpassed. With flawless precision, the troopers peeled into two columns, lining the last hundred yards of the avenue. Hotfur and a trooper bearing the bejeweled state banner of Raelna – a smiling golden sunburst upon a scarlet field – rode to the Sunfire Gate and dismounted. The trooper planted the flag to the right of the gateway.

I greeted Hotfur, shouting to be heard over the crowd’s ceaseless cheers. You look sharp today, General!

I fluffing well should, decked in all this frippery! Hotfur slapped disgustedly at her scarlet dress uniform. She preferred well-worn buckskins. Pomp and ceremony is all very well, but this! My boys can scarce keep the crowds out of the street. And the din, man! I’ve fought battles less noisy!

The people love their queen.

Hotfur nodded. That they do, lad, and The Gods save her! Yet I’ll be glad when this is over. The city defenses are far from restored. Those gutter-sucking demons raised merry hell last spring!

I recall it well.

Hotfur laughed. Aye, you would! And the campaigning season is far from over, she continued. We’ve had skirmishing all along the Brythalian frontier since we blunted their Annual Invasion in the spring. Orphalia is on eggshells. And Ganth makes noises I mislike. This army needs a good shakedown. By Death and spittle, we'll have it once the fun and games are over!

You’ve a one track mind for war, General.

Hotfur winked. That’s my job, lad.

Behind the lancers came the 67th Processional Pike Regiment –the Festive Pikes. After were the Royal Pipes and Drums, the Marching Trumpets, and the Queen’s Own Strolling Harps.

Then came the bridegroom’s open coach. Mercury Boltblaster rode alone. No retinue, no footmen, no attendants.

He wears a sour face for a man set to wed a queen, said Hotfur.

That’s his happy face, I said.

The coach halted and Mercury alighted. The soon-to-be Prince Consort of Raelna was a small-framed man with olive skin and dark green eyes. His bushy eyebrows, long hair, and neatly trimmed beard were black as coal. He wore a scarlet cape over a cloth-of-gold tunic trimmed with ermine and velvet and sewn with bright emeralds.

I owed Mercury my life a dozen times over. Together we had faced the full dread might of the Dark Magic Society, stared down Demon Lords, dared the dire depths of the Incredibly Dark Forest, and more. We were like brothers — in spirit, if not in looks. No one was happier for Merc than I.

We’re running late, he said.

I’m told weddings always do, I said, with a sidelong glance at Sapphrina.

Merc shook his head. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

I think that’s normal.

This isn’t pre-wedding jitters. Something feels off.

Merc, all is planned to the last detail. What could possibly go wrong?

He gave me a pained look. "Never ask that question. Raella’s last wedding was a complete debacle."

Wasn’t that your fault?

Mercury frowned. She was marrying the wrong man. Many years ago, Raella’s late father, King Raegon, arranged her marriage to Prince Halogen, obnoxious heir to the throne of neighboring Orphalia, despite her love for Mercury. The wizard shrugged. What was I to do?

Steal the bride, blast your way out of the city, and ride hard for Caratha with the Raelnan army in hot pursuit? I had heard the story more than once.

Merc flashed what was almost a grin. See what I mean? You never know what might happen. Raella has many enemies. I have even more. What better time for them to strike?

I slapped his shoulder. Merc, brighten up! You’re to marry the love of your life and that’s that!

I hope so. He passed through the Sunfire Gate.

Sour to a fault, I said.

He’s naught to worry of, lad, said Hotfur. She clapped me on the back. I’ve twelve companies posted about the temple and the Gryphon Corps in the air. We’ll have no trouble.

The queen! said Sapphrina. She and Rubis clutched each other with excitement.

The crowd redoubled its cheers as Queen Raella’s coach, drawn by ten golden horses, came into view. Trumpeters in full livery and lancers of the Royal Regiment preceded her. A trooper bearing the queen’s personal standard rode forward and planted it to the left of the Sunfire Gate. It resembled the state banner, but with inverted coloring and the addition of a crown and wreath of roses.

The twins curtsied, Hotfur saluted, and I bowed low. I lent Her Majesty my hand as she exited the coach. Raella Shurbenholt looked like a young goddess. This was only natural, she being a direct lineal descendant of Goddess Rae, whose mortal son Blaze Shurben founded Raelna almost one thousand years ago.

Raella wore a glittering gown of gold brocade embellished with sunstones, rubies, topaz, and diamonds. A dozen ladies-in-waiting helped unfurl her lengthy train. The queen’s delicate figure might have been lost amid so much cloth, but for her regal aura. Raella’s fine, pale, elfin face was contrasted by reddish-blond hair piled high on her head and apparently held there by magic. I saw no pins, only her royal diadem of chased gold. Most striking, however, were her haunting blue eyes. They were like ancient and timeless doorways to a hidden realm of wisdom. When Raella looked at me I felt she was peering into my very soul.

She may well have been, for the queen was also a wizard, and a specialist in reading auras.

I bowed again while the noble ladies arranged themselves.

We thank you, dear Jason, said Raella. Her voice was sweet and silvery as a harp. But Champion of Rae, hero chosen of The Gods, truest friend of my beloved, to me you do not bow. We have discussed this.

We have, Your Majesty, I said. On this occasion I bow to your happiness. Pray indulge me.

Raella’s laughter was like the bubbling of a pure mountain spring and her smile like the sun breaking through a bank of clouds. Well spoken, sir! Let it be so. But only this once. Her lips formed a thin moue at a sudden thought. Does Mercury yet fret?

Ere I could reply, a bluebird lit on Raella’s outstretched finger and chirped happily. Field mice, a few squirrels, several chipmunks, and a couple of rabbits peered at her adoringly from the cover of the hedge. I expected them to enact a choreographed musical number at any moment.

He does, I said. Needlessly so.

She sighed. It is too much his custom. The queen glanced skyward. Noon is nigh. Then we will wed at last. At long last.

Rae make it so, I said.

Hotfur and the twins took their places among the guests. I stood at the threshold of the Sunfire Gate and awaited the signal for me to enter the temple. Raella, as Rae’s high priestess, might have presided over her own wedding — which would have been awkward, though not unprecedented — but had delegated the Church of Rae’s second-ranking priest to officiate. Deputy Supreme Prelate Ambor Tresk was well-fed, deeply tanned, and resplendent in red and gold vestments. He stood before the altar, facing me down an aisle formed by the guests’ benches.

The Deputy Supreme Prelate raised his arms.

All gathered in the Sun Temple fell silent. The throngs outside sensed the time was near. A reverent hush descended upon Rae City. The ceremony would commence at noon, the sun’s most potent hour, when shadows were banished and Rae’s light lit the world.

Noon came, marked by two beats on a great bass drum.

The Deputy Supreme Prelate lowered his arms.

The trumpets sounded.

The guests rose as one.

Musicians struck up an overture.

I stepped through the Sunfire Gate, with my hand on the hilt of my sword. I too wore the queen’s colors today, an ensemble of red and gold with a high-collared, close-fitting jacket, an excess of piping and buttons, and a short cape. I looked to the left, right and center. Satisfied that all was well, I proclaimed my well-practiced line: Behold! She comes: the Daughter of Rae! This unsubtle bit of theater was to impress upon all present, as if they did not know, that a queen of Rae’s own blood walked among them, with the Sword of Rae – that was me – at her call.

My line unflubbed, I stepped aside so that the queen might enter the temple. All the assembly bowed. With her ladies following behind to carry the train, Raella made a stately march down the aisle. I kept pace, two steps behind and to her right.

When we reached the altar, the ladies lined up to the left. I stepped right to stand beside Mercury, now switching to my role as his supporter, or best man.

The queen and Mercury joined hands. The Deputy Supreme Prelate offered a prayer of thanksgiving to all-wise, all-knowing, all-seeing Goddess Rae. Having met the goddess, I considered his praise only one-third accurate. Rae seemed a bit scatterbrained to me. But she was also my self-appointed patron goddess, so I kept such blasphemous observations to myself.

Next came a lengthy hymn of praise from the Holy Sunlight Chorus. Tresk then delivered a sermon on love, devotion, marriage, and the benefits of fresh air and sunshine. This was followed by another hymn. I stifled a yawn. Hotfur was visibly restless. Merc was annoyed. The twins were pictures of composure.

The priest prayed again, begging the Sun Goddess to shower favor upon the royal couple and their realm, including its principal towns and various duchies, counties, and other fiefs, which he listed by name for Rae’s convenience. The chorus sang a third hymn. Then, at last, the priest began the marriage rite. Or at least circled closer to it:

So let us before The Gods and this company perform the most sacred and holy rite for which we have gathered here in this place on this day together. Let us seal with Rae’s blessed perfection this favored couple in holy matrimony. Let us rejoice as they begin a new life together. Let us —

Let us get on with it, growled Merc.

The Deputy Supreme Prelate blanched. "Ahem. Do you, Raella of the Shurbenholts, Daughter of Rae and by Her Divine Grace rightful Queen of Raelna, Princess of the Silver Sands, et cetera, take this man Mercury to be your husband, to share with him your fortunes high or low; to love, comfort, honor and keep him, in sickness and in weal; and to cleave unto him to the exclusion of all others as commanded by the Rites of Uxora and the Holy Book of Rae, Revised Edition?"

With all my heart, I do, said Raella, gazing into the wizard’s eyes.

Do you, Mercury Boltblaster, take this woman Raella to be your wife; to share with her your fortunes high or low; to love, comfort, honor, keep and uphold her, in —

All this I do, said Mercury.

The prelate was startled by the interruption, but nodded. Mercury flashed a trace of a smile. I suppressed a chuckle. Raella, ignoring Mercury’s breach of decorum, beamed up at him, her face aglow with love and happiness. Despite Merc’s fears, it looked like we were going to get through the wedding without incident.

The priest cleared his throat. "Then by the power of Holy Rae, before The Gods and this company, I do pronounce and proclaim thee to be, from this moment forward, forever and eternally, hus-urracht!"

A crossbow bolt appeared in the Deputy Supreme Prelate’s chest. He clutched at the shaft, staggered backward, and fell dead across the altar.

Chapter 2

By order of Zaran Zimzabar, Supreme Commander of the People’s Army of the New Glorious Order, you are sentenced to death!

Mercury and Raella turned to face the murderous wedding crasher. Horrified guests cried out in shock and dismay. I drew my sword, Overwhelm. Vixen Hotfur raised her own blade and took position beside me to defend the queen. From the corner of my eye I saw Sapphrina and Rubis drop to the ground, just as they had learned in their safety courses at the Fair Damsel Empowerment Center.

Zaran stood by the Sunfire Gate, crossbow at ready. He had dark olive skin and a long white scar down his left cheek. He wore bright orange pantaloons, a wide green sash, a loose purple shirt open at the chest, and a red turban.

Death to all royalist scum! proclaimed Zaran. Death to the mercantile oppressors, protectionist hegemons and free market running dogs! Long live the new glorious order! Long live PANGO!

I told you so, muttered Merc.

You were right, I agreed. Now let me handle this. You shouldn’t have to work at your own wedding.

Zaran loosed a shot at Raella. With astonishing reflexes, Merc snatched the steel-tipped bolt from the air just before it struck the queen.

He’s mine, Merc said. He dropped the bolt. Blue sparks of arcane fire crackled around his fingers. Zaran, you’re dead!

So you say, said Zaran.

Jets of azure flame erupted from Mercury’s hands and shot down the aisle toward Zaran. But some invisible force deflected the streams of fire to the left and right, setting the silk canopies alight while Zaran stood unharmed.

The terror commander sneered. Ignorant monarchist tool! Your magic is nothing before the tide of history! PANGO will remake the world! Zaran made a hand signal.

Dozens of garishly garbed terrorists seemed to appear from thin air, surrounding the wedding guests. They carried sleek black CA-90 self-winding crossbows, the latest model. A lethal storm of whirring steel-tipped bolts cut down the Holy Sunlight Chorus, Raella’s ladies-in-waiting, musicians, priests, and dozens of guests. Zaran laughed madly at the carnage.

Rubis and Sapphrina crawled toward me. Victims fell wounded or dying all around them.

Raella, herself a wizard of some might, raised a shimmering Bubble of Protection that enclosed her, Mercury, me, Hotfur, and the twins. The barrage of bolts bounced harmlessly off the defensive sphere of force.

How come these knaves? demanded Queen Raella.

I don’t know, Your Majesty! said Hotfur. This area is sealed tighter than a drum!

Why do your men stand idly by? demanded Merc.

The scores of Raelnan troopers posted outside the temple made no move to aid us. I spied them through the Sunfire Gate, standing at attention as if naught were amiss. Above, the Gryphon Corps circled on their monstrous mounts. The flying squadron had a clear view into the open air temple, yet gave no alarm and offered no assistance.

I don’t know! said Hotfur.

I looked askance at the general. Had Hotfur turned traitor? Was she in league with Zaran? It seemed unlikely. Yet here she was inside the queen’s mystic defense. By chance or by design?

Hotfur’s amber eyes met mine. She knew what I was thinking. And she knew that I knew that she knew.

While their comrades mowed down the crowd, other PANGO raiders