Magic’s Price: Book Two of the Gilded Serpents Trilogy

By Elizabeth Gaines Johnston

Princess Kwyleeana and her entourage have just escaped the clutches of a wicked prince. Therion—who holds a dark secret and will do anything to gain power over several kingdoms—knows he needs Kwyleeana to succeed. Unfortunately, she possesses a magical pendant that allows her to elude him at every turn. After she discovers the lands teetering on the brink of another war, Kwyleeana enlists the aid of her human, animal, and magical friends to find a way to defeat the evil encroaching on her kingdom. Yet, the magic she has come to trust may betray her if she does not find the answers in time. As she battles both her conflicted heart and her vicious brother—Pfenwic—Kwyleeana is left wondering whether she has enough strength to save her people and her ailing father or if the Fates will spin their wheel against her. In this fantasy tale, a princess and all who bravely fight beside her continue their heroic quest to save Cantermere, and soon discover the true price of magic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jun 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483428253

Book preview

Magic’s Price

Book Two of the Gilded Serpents Trilogy

Elizabeth Gaines Johnston

Copyright © 2015 Elizabeth Gaines Johnston.

Cover illustrated by Kimberly Daniel.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2826-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2825-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015904237

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 6/3/2015

Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Pronunciation Glossary

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Dedication

Magic’s Price, Book Two of the Gilded Serpents trilogy, is hereby dedicated

…to my dear friends, David Daniel and Kimberly Daniel, who inspire me with their lives and their deeds every day, and whose talents are beyond measure,

…and to my four boys, Stephen, Robert, Tom and James, whose hugs, smiles and laughter are more magical than a thousand Serpent Pendants.

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Map Illustration by Marc Kugel

51081.png Chapter One

W hen she came to her senses, Kwyleeana was propped up against some pillows in a dark corner of their room at the inn. She was quite disoriented at first, unsure why she was here, and not out watching the tournament. Then, as she saw the concerned faces of her friends floating over her, all of Bartwynne’s words came rushing back; the pending arrival of Therion, the sudden debilitation of her father, everything. She tried to leap to her feet, but Fleavoor prevented her.

How is he?! she shouted. I must see him!

Fleavoor held her wrist tightly, giving her a knowing stare. Now then, Ana. Wyl is fine. He was not harmed. See? He motioned for the squire to move forward, revealing the presence of Brohx and the reeve in the room. Realizing her foolish blunder, Kwyleeana bit her lower lip thoughtfully.

Neachwyl kneeled at her side, his hair disheveled, his blue eyes glistening with a sea of emotions as he spoke, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. There, there, sweet Ana. I am here. Do not fret. It takes a lot more than one shot to the head to steal me from your side.

Only then did Kwyleeana realize how efficiently her friends had covered up her swooning as concern over her lord falling in battle. A quick glance to the innkeeper and reeve told her that they appeared to believe the story. She saw the sun was just about to set outside the window and still the arena was filled with spectators and fighters. She fluttered her eyelashes weakly and made a great show of trying to sit up.

Just then, Wylluff came crashing through the door, without so much as a knock or a look to anyone but the princess. I just heard about your spell, Ana! Are you well? Can I get you anything?

She shook her head slowly, seeming to force a small smile. Nay, many thanks, Sir Wylluff. I feel much better, now I know Wyl is all right. Just too many hours in the sun, I suppose.

Sunstroke, I wager, the knight agreed. I came also to bring you an invitation from my liege lord, King Dynifrich. I was meeting with him when the messenger brought news of your fainting spell. I had to explain about my support of two poor young fighters, and once he knew you to be the ones who felled the great behemoths this morn, he insisted he meet you all this evening in his feast hall. He claims there is no better cure for sunstroke than a cool nighttime feast in the comforts of a castle.

Brohx was the first of the shocked party to react. Well, now, what do you think of that? Bein’ invited to meet ’is Majesty in the flesh! I daresay you will not find the fare at the Trampled Dog up to your standards after ’aving dined on castle delicacies!

Neachwyl looked into the eyes of the princess. It is a tremendous opportunity for such simple folk as us, Ana. What do you say? Are you up to it?

Kwyleeana paused a few moments, testing her strength. After a bit of stretching, she nodded. Yes, I think so. But we have no finery to wear, and I dare say we would look a sight coming in our work clothes!

Not to fret, Bartwynne interjected. I am sure Sir Wylluff and I can convince some of the castle ladies to loan a few of their dresses out to you for the evening.

The knight nodded in agreement. I daresay those sick squires of mine have some handsome clothes that the men might borrow as well. Come, I will hear nothing to the contrary. Bartwynne, let us be on our way and see if we cannot dig up some finery for these castle guests! The reeve consented and led the way out of the room, Wylluff following behind.

Hold! Neachwyl called, causing the latter to pause and turn. When should we meet you for the feast?

Wylluff chortled before answering. Oh, I had forgotten you common folk are not accustomed to the ways of royalty, he began, his eyes revealing just the opposite to the squire. The king shall send an escort around when the time comes. We shall be back shortly with clothing, so I would suggest you men wash up from the fighting. As soon as it gets too dark to fight, the feast will undoubtedly begin. With a quick wave, he disappeared down the hall.

As they left, Fleavoor turned to the innkeeper, Brohx, might we prevail upon you for some water to wash with? And perhaps a few linens?

Of course, Flav, the innkeeper beamed. Not sure ’ow many free pots I will be able to round up, seein’ as it is close to supper, but I will do what I can. After all, it is not every day one of my patrons is invited to feast with the king. He smiled and exited downstairs on his task. When they were sure he had gone and they could not be overheard, the group clustered together to discuss this latest development.

Neachwyl spoke first, taking the princess’ hand. Are you truly well, Ana? I know how much your father means to you. I am terribly sorry.

Perhaps it is only a rumor, suggested Gwyneth. I mean, we have known missives to twist the truth before, merely to incite the people to battle. Could this not too be just an expansion of the truth?

Kwyleeana smiled slightly. I suppose. Mayhaps he just is a bit under the weather. We can only hope. But what distresses me further is the approaching presence of Therion. It is sure he will recognize one of us, no matter how hard we try to remain inconspicuous.

Fleavoor thought about this last for a moment. Wylluff knows our current predicament, so we might be able to enlist his aid in avoiding the prince. Mayhaps you can get that pendant of yours to help again when he is around. At any rate, we will cross that bridge when we come to it. He cocked his head, hearing the heavy-footed approach of the innkeep from the hallway. For now, we must keep our eyes open, and see what we can learn at the feast this evening.

A loud thud sounded outside, followed by a sharp rapping on the door. Gwyneth rose, opening it to admit Brohx who carried a large basin filled with steaming water. They ’ad just filled this to do the washin’, but I convinced ’em to wait for that until the morrow, he told them, placing the basin on the center of the table. He lifted a few rags that had been draped around his neck, tossing them onto the chairs. Mind you, be a bit careful, as the water was taken off the fire just moments ago.

Fleavoor pulled something from one of their baskets and walked over to the innkeep. Great thanks, Brohx. You truly treat us as royalty!

He gave the guard a broad smile. For all I know, you might be. The group swallowed nervously before he finished his thought. After all, if one of you wins the tournament, you will be the next king ’ere, right enough! They breathed a sigh of relief at his words as Fleavoor spoke.

Too soon to tell, my friend. But here, he said, offering a bright silver brooch to the innkeeper. It is actually a scarab cloak pin, but it is the closest we have to a leech. I want you to have it, for all the kindness you have shown us since we came.

The shock in the man’s face was evident, and he reached out a tentative finger to touch the exquisitely crafted piece of jewelry. Fleavoor grabbed the other man’s hand, and placed the pin in the innkeeper’s palm.

It is magnificent, Flav, Brohx gasped, his eyes wide. But, truly, not necessary. I like you folks. There is somethin’ good about you all that I do not see very often what with all the talkin’ of war. I did not give you my ’elp in search of reward.

Fleavoor smiled. Which makes it all the more wonderful. Please, do accept this small token of our thanks, Brohx. We would greatly appreciate it. The innkeeper smiled like a child with a new toy, and bowed deeply to them in gratitude before leaving them to their bathing.

Baelwyn lounged in front of his cave, exhausted. He turned to Cormorant, who lay grooming himself in the rays of a sunbeam. You would think that with all the activity I have been in as of late I would be able to fall asleep at night, the dragon mused aloud. But, no. Instead, these accursed nightmares still haunt me, and leave me completely drained, yet unable to rest. This is ridiculous.

Well, old chap, Cormorant growled, nibbling at a tangled bunch of fur, if you ask me, these nightmares are only part of it. What really gets your goat is that girl you fawn over, eh?

Baelwyn sighed, a habit he was getting into which he did not like. Oh, Cormorant, is it that obvious? I had hoped to keep it to myself.

The tiger glared at him, shaking his head. Come now. I know we have not been friends for all that long, but I would expect you to give me a bit more credit, what? After all, even your nightmares dwell on her. What is it about the girl that bothers you so, eh?

Baelwyn thought about this question in silence for some time. What does eat away at me so much? He knew part of it was the fact that he could not captivate her heart as easily as the others, who could rely on their looks as well as their souls. Another small factor was that she did not believe him when he told her his concern was not only for the kingdom but, more importantly, for her. Even greater anguish washed over him because he would never be able to hold her in a passionate embrace, never be able to share with her what he longed to share. But still, far deeper than any of these painful reasons, was the part which he desperately kept hidden, even from himself. For the princess, and the feelings she aroused in him, scared him more than anything he had ever before faced.

He could not tell this to Cormorant though, for he was sure the tiger would not understand. Instead, he merely shrugged his shoulders and gave a short whip of his long, scaly tail. I just do not like the way she acts around that squire, he lied. He is not right for her, and I think she knows it. Sometimes I wonder if she flirts with him merely to bother me.

Cormorant stretched out lazily on the ground, licking his front paw before brushing it casually over the back of his head. I say not that I have much knowledge of these things, old man, he began, but I do know this. Men usually do not know what they want from life until it is too late for them to get it. Even if they are lucky enough to get it, they are too paranoid about losing it to truly enjoy whatever it is they got. He caught sight of the dragon’s long face and shook his head. Eh, why do you not go wandering for a while? Things are bound to be slow here, and I can send the hawks if you are needed in a hurry, what? Go exploring, terrorize a few small villages, playfully torch a couple churches, that sort of thing. Enjoy yourself, Baelwyn, get away from your troubles a bit. Might do you good, eh?

But the dragon shook his head. Now, friend, you know I can not do that. There is far too much here commanding my attention that I can not simply go flouncing off, abandoning them all. Besides, all that flying would wear me out more than anything else. Nay, I must stay here.

The tiger shrugged and thought a bit longer. He gave the dragon a leering smile, one eyebrow slightly raised. Of course, what would really do you good is to go out and get yourself a little feminine companionship, eh? Surely, there are a few attractive dragonesses still haunting the lands. I would imagine any one of them would be honored to spend a little time with a fine male dragon such as yourself. Why not go find one and have a romp? Certainly would take your mind off your troubles, what?

Baelwyn smiled at the tiger’s lewd suggestion, but again shook his head. I give you great thanks for your help, Cormorant, but the answer is still no. I have a duty to stay nearby and watch the princess. So saying, he laid his head down atop his paws, knowing full well that even a romp with a female dragon would not ease his longing for Kwyleeana. For the girl had captured the dragon’s heart. He could have no other loyalty. . .no other love.

The girls had barely finished dressing when the messenger from the king arrived at the Belching Leech. The men had been waiting downstairs, chatting amiably with Brohx while the women had been getting ready, and could not help but be amused by the befuddled expression the escort wore as he entered the rather dubious-looking establishment. He clearly was not accustomed to escorting guests to the castle from such poor accommodations, and he nearly went through the ceiling when the innkeeper approached him with a loud greeting and a hearty backslap.

Well then! What ’ave we ’ere? Lookin’ for someone, lad?

Managing an imperious nod as he regained his composure, the man gaped wide-eyed at the figure before him. Yes, I believe so. I am here to escort two fighters and their ladies to feast with His Majesty at the castle.

Fleavoor rose from his chair and greeted the man cordially. Then you may consider your task complete, for we are the fighters of whom you speak. I am Flav and this is my man, Wyl. The escort bowed stiffly, and then cast about looking for the ladies. The women are still upstairs, preparing themselves, the guard explained. Wyl, could you bring them down? The squire bowed his head and walked up the stairs quickly, arriving at the door to their room in short time. He smiled as he heard their giddy laughter from inside.

Ladies, he called through the thick oaken door, our escort is here, and he does not seem too terribly fond of his surroundings, so I would suggest we not keeping him waiting.

Gwyneth opened the door and quickly ushered the squire inside. Could you finish this lacing for her, Wyl? the girl asked, I have to do the last touches on my hair. The squire was about to tell her he thought her hair looked fine already, but thought better of it, knowing that all his comment would earn him was an exasperated look, and possibly a snide retort about the ineptitudes of men when it came to style.

As he completed lacing the bodice of the princess, he stood back and surveyed the finished product while they waited for Gwyneth to complete her hair. Kwyleeana was dressed in a gown of purple brocade with silver embroidery, her tresses hanging loose over her shoulders, a silver comb pulling her hair back from one side of her face. She wore a simple silver chain mail belt, which hung low on her curving hips. Around her neck, she wore the Pendant, concealed behind her chemise, and a strand each of hematite and amethyst chips. Neachwyl took a deep breath and exhaled, shaking his head.

Once again, milady, you are breathtakingly beautiful.

She looked at the squire appraisingly, smiling at his muscular legs in the light gray hose, which contrasted well with his deep burgundy doublet and gray chemise. My thanks, Wyl. You are rather well attired yourself. Wylluff never ceases to amaze me. How are you coming, Gwyn?

The girl turned to them. What do you think? She wore a light gray dress of smooth silk, highlighted by strands of gold throughout. A gold and silver fabric belt encircled her waist, while a simple strand of amber and quartz chips hung around her neck. Her hair was piled atop her head underneath a snood of gold and silver woven threads which matched her belt. At the approving looks of her friends, she smiled, turning as Talyon spoke.

Now remember, folks, we are in enemy territory now, and we must remain wary at all times. Watch how much wine and mead you drink, as you must all keep your wits about you so as to not reveal anything. I wish Teasel and I could go, but I do not think a wolf and a ferret would be welcome at such an event. First and foremost, watch where you step, for you wish not to spring a trap.

As they nodded, Flyrrikha agreed to accompany them, the red-haired faery staying close to the shadows, flying as fast as possible to get help if danger arose. Having scoured the room once more, they left to meet Fleavoor and the escort, the latter waiting impatiently at the inn door. The guard was dressed in a rust-colored tunic which reached to just above his knees, under which he wore fetching white hose. He smiled at Gwyneth’s approving stare, and waving farewell to Brohx, accompanied the group filing out of the inn behind the escort.

It was not a very long walk to the castle from the inn, but to the party it seemed like an eternity. Everyone’s eyes were upon them as they passed, the people whispering about why these young merchants would be called to meet with the king. Kwyleeana and the others were well aware of the trail of gossip behind them, but held their heads high as they followed their escort in near silence. When they saw the tall gates of the castle in front of them, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief, their nerves tingling with excitement.

A guard materialized out of the shadows, but upon seeing their escort, bowed formally, signaling the gates to be opened. As they entered the town, Kwyleeana caught her breath. The castle itself was reminiscent of the tall foreboding structures of Dyllfern, but with one exception. Whereas the Dyllfernian town was dark and gray, this was bright and colorful, the gargoyles and sculptures seeming less frightening because of it. There were musicians playing in the courtyard, and tumblers and jugglers practicing their arts as the group strode past. The women watched them eagerly, eyes wide.

The escort gave them a small smile, which disproved the theory about him that the men were concocting. You like entertainers then, ladies? he asked. At their nods, he continued. True that you will be seeing many this night at the feast. Our king is quite fond of them as well. Little wonder he would offer to hold the tournament here. That way he is assured to see the best entertainers in the lands. The women smiled in response, as the group walked under an archway into a smaller courtyard, Kwyleeana wondering to herself why she had never seen very many entertainers at home in Cantermere.

They crossed the courtyard quickly, climbing a flight of stone stairs to stop in front of a massive oak doorway. The escort slammed the golden gargoyle knocker against the door three times, stepping back as he heard the bolt slide away on the other side, the door creaking open to admit them. As they entered, Kwyleeana noticed that the interior of the castle was also bright and ablaze with color, but she did not have time to take it all in, for their escort bustled them down the main hallway to a tall set of double doors, which stood partially open, a hanging tapestry blocking the view to the inside.

The escort entered the room, motioning them to stay behind him as he informed the nearby herald of their arrival, who announced at the top of his voice, My Lords and Ladies, I bring you Lord Flav, the fighter, and his lady, Gwyn, accompanied by their servants, Wyl and Ana. The two Stonington men stepped aside, motioning the foursome past the curtain. As they entered, they saw many eyes upon them, some friendly, some not-so-friendly, and some indifferent. So much for remaining inconspicuous, Kwyleeana thought with dismay.

They proceeded into the room, which was lined with tables along the walls. Having no idea where to move next, they stood awkwardly off to one side of the entrance, admiring the colorful banners which hung from the rafters, Fleavoor pointing out those which bore the devices of the various kingdoms that had fighters competing in the tournament. They presumed the other banners represented individual arms of members within the kingdom, and were trying to match the devices to the fighters when Bartwynne approached.

Well met, good folk! He kissed each lady’s hand in turn, moving back to survey their attire. I do think we did a rather tremendous job of finding you those clothes. You are truly a sight to see! Have you encountered Sir Wylluff yet?

Fleavoor shook his head. Nay, we have barely arrived ourselves. We know not even where we are supposed to sit, let alone who all is here!

The reeve chuckled. I did not think anyone could miss spotting Wylluff this evening, so outlandish is his outfit! Do you not see him? Over yonder, speaking with the princess and her ladies? He gestured off to the far end of the room, where a large cluster of exquisitely dressed women stood, giggling and batting their eyelashes furiously. In the center of the circle, dressed head to toe in a bright green velvet doublet, trimmed in ermine, and wearing stark white hose and a floppy velvet cap, was the knight. Around his neck he wore several chains, the largest of which was made of huge solid gold links, reaching almost to his belly. He spotted them immediately and made his way over to greet them.

We are indeed well met, he said, bowing with a flourish. The clothes look tremendous, friends. I am so glad you could come. His Majesty is looking forward to meeting you. He glanced around the room, searching for the king. He should be arriving shortly.

Oh, Sir Wylluff, you look absolutely splendid! gasped Gwyneth, as the knight spun in a circle for them to survey his lavish attire. No wonder you had so many ladies hanging on your every word. He and the reeve laughed aloud at some private jest, and were about to explain when a booming voice rang from the tapestry entrance.

Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! All rise for their Royal Majesties of Stonington, King Dynifrich and Queen Melgina! The crowd grew silent as the couple strode purposefully into the room, nodding to the bowing populace. They both were dressed in matching tunics of pure white velvet, trimmed in fox fur and embroidered with gold and silver threads. The king’s tunic barely brushed the tops of his white calveskin boots, while the queen’s gown fully touched the floor, a long train of fabric following behind her. Crowns of gold encrusted with large jewels of all colors rested atop their heads, and simple gold jewelry adorned their necks and hands. Kwyleeana found herself staring at the couple with a mixture of awe and jealousy, for not only did they look like a matching set, they appeared still very much in love.

The Princess Ampersaunde waited until they had passed her before following dutifully behind to her place at the head of the table. She was dressed in a tight form-fitting dress of red silk, which moved like restless flames when she walked. A dark black leather belt encircled her waist, its length flapping in front of her like a trail of cooling embers. A thin veil of red silk covered her fair hair, held in place by the small golden circlet of her rank. The women were not surprised to see Bartwynne’s eyes follow her swaying hips up to the head table, but were rather shocked to see their lords watching as well. When the royal family had arrived at their places and been seated, the booming voice of the herald rang again throughout the hall.

Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! Good gentles, pray attend! Their Majesties request the following presences at their high table: Sir Wylluff of Stonington. . . the herald continued to read off a list of six more names as Wylluff went to take his place beside the princess.

Not to worry, Bartwynne, he called as he took leave of them, I will keep her away from any greedy fighters! Until we again meet, he finished, bowing as he spun to head to his seat. The reeve waited until the herald had completed his announcement before directing the others to their places one table down from where Wylluff was sitting.

What do you think of her? Bartwynne asked the other men as they passed bread and honey butter across the table. Is she not truly a vision?

Indeed, agreed Neachwyl readily, she is all you said and more. I can truly see why you would desire no other woman, and why all the men are fighting so mightily for her. The squire did not catch the indignant look Kwyleeana gave him as she handed him a plate of cut cheeses and vegetables. He merely took the platter from her with a nod and began to serve himself, while Fleavoor echoed his friend’s sentiments about the Stonington princess.

Exasperated at the conversation, she began to talk with Gwyneth, who was seated across from her. They had only begun to discuss the various fashions they had seen when the gentleman next to Kwyleeana offered to pour her some sweet water. She smiled politely, taking only half a glass as she recalled the warning Talyon had given them and the overpowering effects the water had had on her at her father’s royal celebration.

The man had bright red hair, carefully combed in a wave over one of his amber colored eyes. He bore a shortly-cropped mustache and beard of equal redness. He was exceptionally well-groomed, and had a very carefree attitude about him as he offered her back her half-filled goblet. His clothes were impeccably tailored, from his black and red slashed doublet down to his polished black boots.

In contrast, the man seated across from him was extremely fair-haired, almost to the point of being white, and the women would have thought him an albino or an elder guest had his eyes not been such a clear shade of green and his age so obviously young. He was dressed in a long white tunic over which he wore a shorter, sleeveless one in bright yellow. His hair was a bit tousled, and he was showing a few days growth of fine hair along his chin. He smiled pleasantly as he handed a platter of fresh fruit to Gwyneth.

Do not fret, fine ladies. As soon as your men meet the princess face to face, no doubt their interest in her will lag. Besides, you ladies are more fetching by far than she.

Gwyneth exchanged a sly look with the princess before speaking. But she is truly beautiful beyond words. I fear we can not compare, even in our best finery! And she is, after all, royalty.

The red-haired man chuckled. As if that makes a difference, what? I would think ladies such as yourselves would know better.

Kwyleeana wrinkled her brow, trying to recall a lost memory. Forgive me, good sirs, but have we met before? There is something oddly familiar about you both that I can not place.

Indeed, alluring Ana, we have met before, the fair man began. And we bring you messages from two of your steadfast admirers. The princess looked at them both, puzzled. Allow me first introductions. I am Lord Osgar of Biwyrfell and this is my comrade from Penstemmon, Lord Cormorant.

Kwyleeana gasped as recognition lit in her eyes, quickly followed by another string of questions. "But how did you. . .was it the Pendant? And you said two admirers. . .who besides Baelwyn knows of you? Did he send you to spy on me? How did you get into this private feast? And. . ."

Hold a moment, Ana, eh? Cormorant laughed. We will answer all in good time. But you must not act so alarmed. We wish not to draw any unwarranted attention to our presence. Go on, eat a bit while we talk. Gwyneth checked to see that the men were still engrossed with the reeve, discussing battle techniques for field combat, before nodding her agreement.

You see, Osgar began, before we were the animals you know us as, we too were human. Fighters in the Wars, if you can believe that. He took a bite of his wheat bread before continuing. Anyway, Cormorant and I met during one of the fiercest battles I had ever seen along the border between my homeland and Stonington. We joined forces then, and gave it all we had. He sighed. Unfortunately, it was not enough, and we were overrun. A soldier with a mace smashed me square in the chest and I fell, my ribs cracked beyond repair. Lying on the ground, I saw old Cormorant take a longsword in the kidneys from the side. He crawled to lie beside me, and we watched, helpless, as the armies rolled past us, leaving a wake of desolation behind them.

Cormorant nodded. There we were, two bachelor soldiers, dying in pools of our own blood. And then, when the armies had been long gone, and we were slowly drifting into oblivion, Mabyr came. The man shook his head in awe. I still do not understand it fully myself, but somehow the old mage transferred our souls to the bodies of nearby animals, in order to save our lives. I became a tiger, and Osgar here, a fox.

His companion smiled. Then the mage gave us each a small waterskin, he lifted his to show them, and told us each skin contained a dozen swallows of a liquid. Each swallow would allow us to maintain our human form for a day. We could do whatever we wanted, as long as we did not attempt to resume our lives or seek revenge on our killers, for if they killed us again, there would be no cure. Once all the swallows were gone, we would remain in our animal forms for the rest of our lives. It was by no means an easy adjustment, but it was better than death, he conceded. So when Baelwyn asked us to come here on his behalf this evening, we knew they would not easily admit a fox and a tiger, so we agreed to use one of our swallows and join you.

Besides, it has been a long time since we have been to such a festive occasion, Cormorant added, munching on his second slice of bread.

Kwyleeana nodded, feeling casually for the Pendant. It was cool to the touch, and she glanced down quickly to see its clean surface sparkling back at her, without even the faintest glow. So, she began, if indeed you speak the truth, and I have no reason to doubt that, Baelwyn did send you here to spy on me. But why use one of your precious days of human life on this?

Well, for one, Osgar smiled, We did fancy the idea of going to a feast. Secondly, we knew we wanted to be close to your side, what with Therion on his way at any moment.

And lastly, Cormorant finished with a growl, the old chap would flame us both if we let our personal preference inadvertently cause any harm to you. He waited for a smile from her, which was briefer than he had hoped. At any rate, Baelwyn wishes you to know he is sorry for any grief he caused you during your talk the other day. It has him terribly distraught, what? Osgar raised his eyebrow at this comment, but Cormorant stared him into silence.

The women missed this secret glance, Gwyneth eager to have an answer to one of her own questions. Does this mean all of the animals we have been with are like you? That they were once human, too?

Osgar shook his head. Oh no, dear Gwyn. Far from it. Most of the rest of the animals are just that, animals, nothing more. In fact, the only other animal I know for certain was once human is that accursed ferret. But I digress. You recall we said we have another missive for you.

Kwyleeana nodded, though making a mental note of this news about Teasel. Yes, what of that? Surely there is not another out there who knows of your previous. . .um. . .existence?

Nay, this is a man I have never met before, Cormorant said, casually preening his beard. But when we approached the castle gates, he stopped and pulled us aside. He said a young serving girl named Ana, who would be dressed in purple would be attending the feast, and would we be kind enough to give her this. He produced a roll of parchment from his pouch. Of course, we agreed, but before we could ask him his name, he had gone.

Kwyleeana paused before breaking the plain wax seal on the scroll. Barely able to breathe, she silently read the words before her.

My dearest Kwyleeana, I only hope I am able to deliver this missive to you personally, for I so long to see your shining smile and twinkling eyes. If not, I must satisfy myself with dreams until it is safe for us to meet. I have so much to tell you. So much I would have you know, sweet princess. Know that you are in my every thought and deed. Nay, you are the very air which I breathe, for without you, I feel I would surely die. Stay safe, sweet Kwyl, and I will send word when we can meet again. M.

The princess slowly rolled up the parchment and tucked it into her pouch, her cheeks flushed and her face warm. She had not dared to think that he was still watching her, let alone that he thought of her as often as she thought of him. Desperately trying to regain her composure, she sipped slowly at her sweet water as the first remove was served.

Passing a plate of stuffed quail to the princess, Neachwyl looked at her curiously. Are you well, Ana? At her nod, he touched her shoulder lightly, suspiciously eyeing the red-haired man next to her. I beg your forgiveness, milady. I fear with all our male talk we have been ignoring you. Have these gentlemen been bothering you?

Regaining her voice, she laughed. Oh heavens, no! Wyl, this is Lord Cormorant and Lord Osgar, she introduced lightly, repeating the names for Fleavoor and Bartwynne. As the reeve asked the server for some lemoned water, she whispered quickly, I will explain later. I promise. Just act normally. The men shrugged and began serving themselves and their ladies great helpings of the sugared peas and herbed barley. They conversed gaily about the tournament thus far, pondering who the mysterious man was in the black armor.

They had just been served their first dessert of peach and raspberry tarts when Wylluff approached, announcing that King Dynifrich and Queen Melgina requested their presence at the head table as soon as they had finished eating. The group exchanged rather puzzled glances, but Wylluff would tell them nothing. As the knight returned to his place, they looked to Bartwynne for more assistance. He shrugged and gave them a weak smile.

I know not what Their Majesties expect of you, he told them, though I would imagine they will inquire as to the health of Ana and perhaps where the men had trained and fought before this. He thought for a moment. Other than that, just relax. Royalty are normal folk, just like you or me. He gave the men a sly wink. At any rate, you lads will get to see the beauteous woman who has captured my heart so completely. I daresay, ladies, you had best watch your men carefully, for she may steal their hearts away as well. Cormorant let out a bemused chuckle, which earned him an elbow in the ribs from the princess. The reeve did not seem to notice this, his eyes fixed upon Princess Ampersaunde’s form.

Well, Fleavoor exhaled, we might as well get up there before the next remove is served. So saying, he helped Gwyneth out of her chair, Wyl repeating the gesture for Kwyleeana. A band of musicians had begun to play a lilting tune, as acrobats tumbled to the great pleasure of the guests. Bartwynne led them to the high table, each of them bowing in turn as they approached, while Wylluff went through the introductions. The Lady Ampersaunde was truly a vision, which Kwyleeana and Gwyneth noted with slight unease as their men gazed upon her adoringly. Only when she was introduced to them did the women’s fears rapidly abate.

Lord Flav, Wyl, may I bring you Princess Ampersaunde of Stonington, the knight said with a flourishing bow. Each of the men in turn took the lady’s hand and kissed it gently, Bartwynne looking on with poorly concealed jealousy. She looked up at them with a small smile.

Oh, truly you men are brave fighters to confront those terrible giants on the list fields this morning. Her voice cracked the air in front of them, its harsh fluctuating whine sending unpleasant chills through the group. Only Bartwynne did not seem abraded by the grating tones, gazing at her with loving eyes. The king saw the quickly concealed shock on the faces of the men, and took his cue to interrupt their thoughts.

Indeed, Lord Flav, and Wyl, my lady queen and I were quite impressed with your talents on the field. I do not believe I have seen you battle before. What kingdom do you originally hail from, good folk?

Fleavoor thought fast and gave a small bow. If it please, Your Majesty, we are from a poor village in Cullogh, which only a few years ago was burned to the ground by raiders. We decided to take to the road as merchants. So the fighting skills we have are what we managed to glean from the various kingdoms we have visited in our travels. Kwyleeana smiled, reminding herself to pat the guard on the back that night for his remarkable fabrication.

I see, Dynifrich said. Then perhaps you might give some serious thought to what I am about to say. . .I am impressed with what I saw, and I would like to invite you to join my forces. Neachwyl and Fleavoor exchanged quick glances. Nay, do not answer me this night. Two days from now is our first war Council, and I would like you both to be there if indeed you decide to accept. So I hope you will give it some consideration.

A messenger whispered into the ear of the queen, who nodded and turned to the women. I am told you are residing at the. . . Melgina paused, the words unpleasant to her taste, well, at a less than reputable establishment. We have a few extra rooms here in the castle, if you would like to stay here instead.

Gwyneth smiled, but shook her head. Most gracious of you, Your Majesty, but until the men are sure. . . she drifted off, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

Understood, the queen responded. But let us know if you change your mind, Lady Gwyn. We would find your company most pleasurable. A herald’s voice rang through the hall, announcing the arrival of the second remove. The group took their leave of the royalty, thanking them graciously for the invitation to the feast, and the offer of hospitality. They began to move back to their own table, as the king caught Kwyleeana by the arm.

My lady, he said in a gentle voice. Forgive my rudeness, but I had not asked if you had recovered from your spell earlier today. By your presence here, I can assume your health has improved? She nodded with embarrassment. Good. Take care you do not wear yourself too thin whilst you are here. I would not have such a good fighter as your Wyl distracted by the ill health of his lady. With a wink, he added, Though I am sure he often finds such a striking creature as yourself a natural distraction in any case. He brushed his lips against her hand briefly, and she gave him a small smile as he released it.

I thank you, Your Majesty. You are too kind. She gave a quick curtsy and returned to the table where the others were waiting. She explained what he had said to her to ease their fears that they had been discovered, though Bartwynne did not seem to notice their unease, probably thinking it attributed to the overwhelming beauty of his lady love. They then apprised Cormorant and Osgar on their conversation with the king and queen, while serving themselves the pork-and-apple pie, seasoned cauliflower and sugared beets.

Jugglers and tumblers wandered across the room, entertaining the guests in exchange for samples of the feast. The group conversed lightly about the upcoming battles and merchanting, and pondered over what the War Council would be discussing when they met. Meanwhile, just outside the gates of the town, Therion had paused to catch his breath and compose himself.

He had been riding hard and fast for four days, stopping only when he encountered his searching party in Selinsgrove, to update them and get himself a fresh horse before continuing on the road. He had not slept at all, and it had taken its toll. But he knew it was worth it, for here he was, having missed only the beginning of the tournament and still with a full day to recover before the War Council was to start. He smiled and gave himself a mental pat on the back.

As soon as he had discovered Vrallye’s true allegiances, he had started on his journey, sending the missive and instructions to Manorweile immediately. He spat on the ground in front of him, cursing Vrallye to the four winds. Ah, but I need no longer worry about you. . .or Harthgow for that matter, he mused cheerfully to himself as he moved toward the castle. You are both far from this world by now, if everything went as planned. With one less worry to torment his thoughts, he could now concentrate on finding the princess and gaining control of the kingdoms. He straightened himself as he approached the guard at the castle gates, wanting to look his best for the meeting with King Dynifrich.

Kwyleeana had barely been able to finish the fourth and final remove, and was ecstatic when Wyl asked if she would like to dance to work off some of the meal. They joined in a rowdy galliard in the center of the room, and she found herself face to face with nearly every man at the feast at some point during the dance. In fact, she was busy laughing and twirling with Dynifrich himself when she heard the herald’s voice.

Prince Therion of Moraine. The words pierced her spirit clean through, sharper than any fighter’s sword, and she gasped for breath, as the king spun her mercilessly. She caught glimpses of fear in the eyes of her comrades, and closed her eyes as she saw Therion walking straight toward her. Then it happened.

She felt a great heat spread all throughout her body, starting in her chest, and moving outward like a great golden glow. The dance was ending and the king set her on the floor, crossing to shake hands with Therion, who looked at her briefly without recognition. Not pausing to wonder why, she grabbed the others and, spotting the side door which led to the kitchens, made a hasty exit.

The kitchens were empty, and soon she found herself following Cormorant and Osgar through various passageways in the castle, Wyl and the others behind her. After what seemed like an eternity, they made a sharp turn and found themselves outside in front of the castle in the small courtyard they had crossed earlier that evening. The glow Kwyleeana had felt was beginning to fade, while Cormorant and Osgar were nowhere to be found. The foursome did not bother to wait to be discovered, hurrying silently back to the inn, unsure what the Fates next had in store for them.

51081.png Chapter Two

P rince Therion, terribly good of you to join us. King Dynifrich said, offering a tankard of ale. How goes your quest of late?

Therion took a long sip of the draught and smiled. Well, Your Majesty. Slow, but well. I am sorry I could not be here sooner.

No matter, lad. You are here now. Let me introduce you to the fine folk I have recently met. He turned to find Kwyleeana and her group gone from the hall, Wylluff standing where they had been. Sir Wylluff! Seen you the fighters and their ladies? I would have them meet the prince.

Begging your pardon, My Lord, Wylluff said as he bowed to the king, but the lass was still feeling a bit under the weather, and they thought it best to go back to the inn and catch some sleep before the morrow. They asked that I give you their great thanks for the evening and apologize for their hasty exit.

Dynifrich furrowed his brow, his lips puckered in thought. Ah, well. I suppose the health of the girl comes first. Pity, she was a charming dancer. Quite striking as well, I might add. You would have liked her, Therion.

No doubt, Wylluff muttered to himself. He bowed once more to the men and took his leave of them, heading to where Bartwynne sat with Lady Ampersaunde. Meanwhile, the queen approached her husband and his guest.

Excuse me, dearest love, she began, planting a kiss on his cheek, but I do believe you owe me a dance this evening. Do you intend to make good on your debt, or will I have to have my guards drag you to my feet, submissive?

The two men laughed good-naturedly as Dynifrich gave Melgina’s rump a light swat. I know not, my dear. Both options sound so enticing. If I disobey, will I be severely punished? He leered at her lustfully.

Perhaps, she said, the corners of her mouth slowly twisting into a smile. But if you are obedient, I shall see you get a reward of royal proportions for your steadfast loyalty. As she spoke, she inhaled deeply, her curved chest accentuated by the movement. The king cleared his throat as he took her arm.

Royal Proportions, indeed, my dear, he noted, nodding to the prince. If you will excuse us, Therion. . .the work of a monarch is never done! He laughed heartily as he picked up his wife, whirling her across the floor in a sweeping pavane.

Therion smiled to himself as he watched them. Someday, I too will have a devoted wife such as Melgina, he thought triumphantly. The wait will not be much longer. Soon you will be mine, Princess. All of a sudden, he felt his weariness collapse on his shoulders like a lead gambeson. He fetched one of the servers, asking to give his apologies to the king, as well as a message that he would be at the tournament the next day, after he had gotten some much needed rest. Having seen to this, Therion left the hall, retiring to the room upstairs where the servants had taken his things when he had arrived. He slid the bolt across the door and had just collapsed on the feather bed when a voice in the darkness made him sit up, alert.

It is about time you arrived, the voice from the shadows called. Therion turned to the movement in the far corner, as a cloaked figure emerged from the darkness. Surprised to see me, Prince Therion?

How. . .how did you get in here? the prince demanded. What do you want of me, coward? As the figure approached, Therion felt a chill breeze rush past him, shivering in response.

You have something which belongs to me. Several things, actually. But what I am most interested in, I think you know. Hand it over. The cloaked man held out a muscular hand as he spoke.

I do not have it. It must have been lost during one of my recent scuffles. You should know better than to approach me like this. So saying, Therion lashed out at the man with a dagger he had concealed behind his back. But the figure was too quick, and managed to avoid the blow. He flew to the window, and prepared to climb out, turning one last time to face the scowling prince.

I will return, Therion. Make no mistake on that. And, with a twist of movement, he turned out the window and was gone into the night.

When he was sure the man had left, he sprinted to the window, calling after him, Next time, friend, you will not be so lucky! Having said that, the prince felt less unnerved, and began to take off his road worn clothes. True, he had not expected to see his visitor ever again, and he thought perhaps, he might just have imagined him, an image conjured up by his travel-weary mind. At any rate, this unexpected guest, if he was not a figment of my imagination, shall put a kink into my well-hammered plan if I am not careful. Slipping out of his hose, he was about to remove his chemise when yet another voice made him stop mid-motion, his hand reaching absently for his dagger, fumbling when he discovered he no longer wore it.

Really, Therion, I would have thought you more cautious than to ready yourself for bed before you gave your accommodations a safety check. The voice soon materialized from a shadow opposite that where the previous figure had appeared, taking a much more familiar form.

Pfenwic! Therion snapped quietly. Great Fates, man. You nearly sent me to my grave. Do you never knock or enter a room normally? Must you always be so theatrical in your entrances?

The late Prince of Cantermere lowered the hood on his cloak, taking a seat on a nearby stool. Oh, dear Therion! Do you mean to take my only remaining fun away from me? he responded with a chuckle. Besides, I could not let your previous visitor upstage me. I was here when he arrived. Who is he? And how do you know him?

Therion shrugged. He is no one of consequence. I. . .stole some gold from him once, and he pesters me about it every so often. Nothing to worry about, Pfenwic. I can handle him.

Like you ‘handled’ Rembert? the other asked, his words woven with sinister thoughts. I had to kill the good friar a bit ago. He was becoming increasingly disobedient, and there was no other choice left me. Pity, I suppose.

Therion swallowed reflexively at this, uneasy with the casual way Pfenwic talked about death and murder. He knew for the moment that he needed this cold, heartless man for his plan to work. That did not mean he had to like it, however. He had decided long ago that he would have to shake Pfenwic as soon as he no longer needed him, for even he was uncomfortable with such a cruel, calculating ally watching his back. He often wondered if Pfenwic watched him so closely out of concern, or whether merely waiting for the blow to strike, wanting to be there to watch it hit.

This friend of yours who just left, Pfenwic said, seems it must have been a terrible amount of money for him to travel this far to get it from you. Are you quite sure there is not something you are keeping from me? I would be most distraught if I found out you lied to me. Therion merely stared at him in response, so Pfenwic continued. I see. In any case, good friend, we need to have a little chat. You see, the plan has changed.

Therion rubbed his pulsing temples. What sort of change, Pfenwic? I thought everything was taken care of until after I meet with the War Council. Has something gone wrong? he asked with some concern.

Pfenwic interlaced his fingers, bending them back. "I suppose you could say that, though I would prefer to say something went right instead. You see, Prince, the princess and her entourage are here in town for the