The Medievals 2 Read online

  “You think I do not know this? I spent an eternity in his starless prison. He has already tried to twist my mind, and he has failed,” Wendolyn says, remembering Waldron’s attempts at persuasion within the Memory Chamber. “I resisted.”

  “That was before he had the Sorcerer’s Staff. His powers are far greater now. And if he cannot bend your mind to his, he will kill you!” Mulan barks. But then, her words suddenly become oppressively quiet and solemn: “I cannot let that happen. I will not lose another.”

  In Mulan’s far-off voice, Wendolyn senses the same unspeakable beast that fed in the dark pit of Thorne’s gut.

  The Nameless Fear.

  Hearing Mulan speak of losing someone, Wendolyn remembers the exchange between Waldron and Mulan in the Memory Chamber, when the Rune had asked her, “Is it true that you lost a Descendant you swore to protect?”

  Mulan had deflected the question away, leaving Wendolyn to wonder about the desperate thing that had led Mulan to strip herself of her sight. But Wendolyn knows that now is not the time to ask.

  “Wendolyn,” the Lady of the Lake addresses her with a soft, maternal tone. “The choice is yours. But you must decide now.”

  Wendolyn looks out onto the Army of the Realm, her eyes moving across the phalanx of soldiers until she finds Richard, clad in armor as he sits atop a horse among the King’s Lead Guard. He is in conference with his father, as well as the Constable.

  As Wendolyn stares at Richard, conflicted about what to do, the Prince suddenly turns his head her way, as if he can feel her eyes on him. Their eyes meet, just as they had across the market so long ago. But this time, Wendolyn does not immediately glance away.

  Instead, they share a steady, intent look.

  Deep within her, Wendolyn knows that the stars have brought her and RIchard together. That they share a song only they can hear. His face has not fought to stay behind her eyelids for so long, only for her to turn away now.

  “You do not know his mind,” the Blind Shen insists, somehow sensing the object of Wendolyn’s gaze. “Nor do you know his heart. Humans cannot be trusted.”

  “He is different,” Wendolyn contends. “I trust him completely.”

  Richard’s attention is pulled from Wendolyn and back to the huddle with his father and the others. And as an urgent wind fingers through Wendolyn’s hair, she looks to Mulan. “I am sorry. I will not abandon him or his people. I will stay and fight.”

  The disappointment touches the lips of the Blind Shen.

  “Then it is settled,” the Lady of the Lake says before the Blind Shen can argue. “Mulan, you will remain here and fight alongside Wendolyn, and you will protect her.”

  “You are leaving?” Wendolyn asks with surprise.

  The Lady of the Lake nods, looking out to the dark, thickening clouds pushing toward them.

  “I must go and find reinforcements," she says. "With what those storm clouds are bringing, you will need help if you wish to save the Realm.”

  Wendolyn watches the watery woman as she shrinks back down to earth, her body sinking into the moat and then disappearing completely into the water.

  Then, Wendolyn looks to Mulan.

  “I am ready, I promise you,” Wendolyn asserts, although Wendolyn wonders if she is not trying to convince herself more than Mulan.

  The Blind Shen does not respond.

  ◆◆◆

  It begins with a roar.

  A rumbling, deep-throated roar like the one that Wendolyn heard when she and Thorne were running through the mountains of Cumbria, fleeing from Waldron for the first time. But this one is far more intense. Like a thundering earthquake. And Wendolyn can feel the bricks shudder beneath her feet.

  As Wendolyn steadies herself, she looks to the sky, where the forbidding clouds swirl. Within the darkest cloud, a ghostly visage forms.

  The face of Waldron.

  The massive cloud takes the shape of his mask, with two holes for the eyes. And in one of the holes, the hidden sun glows a deep crimson.

  The Waldron-shaped cloud roars again. And again, the earth shakes. Archers struggle to keep their footing on the battlements, and horses buck and bray down below as soldiers fight to stay in their saddles. Wendolyn can sense a wave of panic washing over the Army of the Realm, the soldiers having never witnessed anything like this monster framed by the sky.

  The King, who somehow remains calm and measured in the face of doom, raises his hand out into the air, gesturing for his men to stand ready, shouting, “Not until you can see the eyes of the saurians!”

  At the King’s side, Richard steels himself, and Wendolyn sees him grip his spear and shield tighter. Wendolyn’s hands react in kind, her fingers squeezing around her double-edged scimitar.

  It is the same scimitar that Thorne held as he tried to fight off Waldron within the prison of tree limbs, the one he flung at the Rune, only to have it returned to his own belly. Master Cheng had found it among Thorne’s things, and he presented Wendolyn with the weapon as they prepared for battle.

  Suddenly, the dark cloud speaks, its gravelly voice booming over the throng of soldiers: “May the heart of the earth beat with your blood!”

  Lightning rips through the clouds as Waldron’s words of vengeance ride an unnatural wind to the ears of the soldiers, and they are forced to hold tightly to their lances to keep them from being ripped from their white-knuckled hands.

  “Whatever happens, stay close to me,” the Blind Shen instructs, still standing at Wendolyn’s side, now wielding her two curved blades.

  Then, a hole opens in the dark cloud, and a swarm of saurians fly from it like locusts, as if Waldron is spitting them out of the sky. She has never seen anything so terrifying, so relentlessly dark and threatening. Even after all she has endured at the hands of Waldron, none of it can match this apocalyptic vision.

  “Hold your mud, men!” the Constable yells as he angles his lance and then moves his shield to protect himself.

  The soldiers raise their spears and shields as well, the entire Army of the Realm bracing for the impending onslaught. There are hundreds of saurians raining down from the sky. Their wings are tight against their sides as they dive through the air with speed, their snouts aimed at the Army of the Realm.

  “Fire!” the King orders as the saurians grow ever near, and the line of archers on the battlement let fly their arrows. Below, the infantrymen spring loose the catapults, sending boulders into the air.

  The arrows and boulders find a few of their intended targets, but the saurians seem mostly untroubled by the assault. And just as the storm of saurians is upon the army, the beasts open their wings wide, setting their massive bodies sailing above the soldiers.

  The saurians skim over the army. And as they do, the saurians unleash a fury of fire. Flames flash from their mouths, heating the steel of the soldier’s shields, and scorching the earth below their feet.

  Then, the saurians angle up toward the battlements without slowing.

  “Duck your head!” Mulan orders, and Wendolyn responds immediately, dipping beneath the low wall in front of her.

  The winged beasts soar over Wendolyn and Mulan, their fiery attack reaching the archers on the battlements. Mulan uses her extraordinary breath to protect Wendolyn, blowing the flames back at the saurians. Meanwhile, several of the archers that have caught fire leap from the walls and drop into the moat far below, hoping to douse their burning clothes.

  As the last of the saurians fly over them, Mulan flings her two sabers after them. Wendolyn watches as the Blind Shen wills the curved steel through the air until they reach two of the saurians, slicing off a wing from each and sending the two saurians crashing into the ocean. The blades fly back through the air, returning to the hands of Mulan.

  “That was amazing!” Wendolyn exclaims, unable to contain her awe.

  “That was two. There are hundreds,” Mulan soberly reports. “And they are coming back this way.”

  Wendolyn turns her eyes to the ocean, where the asse
mbly of saurians circles in the air and then aims for the Army of the Realm once again.

  “What do we do?” Wendolyn asks, the saurians coming directly for them, with no wall for Wendolyn to duck behind this time.

  Mulan considers their options, eyeing the archers that are reloading arrows into their bows. Then she looks over the low wall behind them.

  “We jump,” Mulan says.

  “What?!” Wendolyn questions with disbelief.

  “Jump!”

  And just as the saurians are upon them, Mulan’s order seems to find Wendolyn’s legs, and Wendolyn leaps over the parapet. Her body drops through the air, her feet guiding her, until she splashes into the moat at the base of the castle wall.

  Under the surface of the moat, the din of battle travels through the water to Wendolyn’s ears. The faraway howls of men and neighs of horses vibrate around her. She opens her eyes, and through the murkiness, she can see a dead archer, scorched from the saurian’s flames.

  Wendolyn follows Mulan to the surface, where the dense echoey sounds immediately sharpen, the tumult of battle now stabbing at her ears. She pulls herself out of the moat, and all around her there is chaos. Saurians are now dropping from the air and fighting the soldiers from the ground.

  Just as Wendolyn gets to her feet, a saurian swoops down in front of her, its massive hind legs thumping the ground as it lands. The beast snarls, bearing its keen yellow teeth as its eyes lock onto Wendolyn.

  Horror clenches its fist around Wendolyn’s heart.

  Then, as the saurian’s jaws snap in her direction, it suddenly lurches backward and unleashes a cry of pain. The screaming beast topples to the ground, revealing El Cid behind it, his flaming sword sunk deep into the spine of the saurian. The giant Spaniard yanks his blade free, and then immediately brings it down on the saurian’s neck, separating its head from its body.

  But before Wendolyn can thank El Cid, he raises his fiery sword into the air and shouts “Viva, El Cid!” as he races off toward his next conquest.

  Mulan grabs Wendolyn, pulling her off in the opposite direction. “This way,” she instructs.

  “Where are we going?!” Wendolyn asks as Mulan guides her through the melee of soldiers and saurians.

  “We have to find the Rune,” Mulan replies without stopping. “We have to get the staff. It is the only way we can defeat him.”

  The whipped tongue of a flame nearly licks Mulan ahead of Wendolyn, but Mulan spins out of its path with hardly a thought.

  Wendolyn searches her surroundings, but she is unable to see above the heads of soldiers, like tall grass unwittingly hiding a predator.

  How will they find Waldron?

  “We must get to higher ground, somewhere we can see but not be seen,” the Blind Shen explains, responding to the question that Wendolyn has not yet voiced.

  Wendolyn searches the heights above the battle and spots a belfry atop a church on the far side of the square.

  “There is a belfry to our east,” Wendolyn notes.

  As Mulan redirects them toward the steepled church, she says, “Follow close,” and Wendolyn does as she is told, keeping within an arm’s length of Mulan as they run straight through the gauntlet of the battle.

  As her body negotiates through the throng of soldiers and saurians, Wendolyn is reminded of Thorne’s lessons, how he would force her to slalom in and out of trees, ducking and dodging branches as she raced through the Cumbrian forest. Thorne’s training is serving her now, and she manages to keep up with Mulan’s demanding pace.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Wendolyn spots a saurian launch itself into their path, its claws out. Without slowing, and with hardly a glance in the direction of the saurian, Mulan gestures with her hand toward an abandoned cart, which flies through the air and smashes into the saurian, the wood splintering into a thousand pieces. The saurian is thrown off its course, and Mulan and Wendolyn’s path is cleared.

  “How do you do that?” Wendolyn demands to know.

  “You already know how,” the Blind Shen says without stopping. “I saw you do it with the Truscan King when you broke his vines. If you imagine it, Wendolyn, it can be so.”

  If you imagine it, it can be so.

  Wendolyn considers these words as she and Mulan fight their way through the chaos. As the distance shrinks between them and the church, the air begins to fill with smoke, and Wendolyn sees that many of the city’s rooftops have been set ablaze.

  Saurians are dropping down into the stone and mortar canyons of the city streets, torching buildings with their fiery breath. In the streets, terrified citizens scramble to find cover.

  Suddenly, out of the wooly smoke, a saurian flies at them. And then another, coming from the other direction.

  Mulan leaps into the air to an impossible height, sailing above the two saurians just before they can sink their teeth into her. The Blind Shen is climbing the air just as Thorne had done, and on her way back down to earth, Mulan slices into one of the saurians with her sabers. But the second saurian swipes at Mulan as her feet touch the ground, sinking one of its talons deep into her side.

  “Ahhh!” Mulan cries out in pain.

  As the Blind Shen falls to the ground, Wendolyn drives her double-edged scimitar into an eye of the offending beast, and it recoils. This gives Mulan the second she needs to regain her footing and send one of her blades into the neck of the saurian. Then, with a flick of Mulan’s wrist, the saber slices the beast’s neck off entirely.

  “We must hurry,” Mulan says through gritted teeth, her pain felt in each word.

  Mulan clutches her side, blood leaking through her fingers, and she presses on toward the church with an unsteady gait.

  “Here, let me help,” Wendolyn offers, slipping her arm under Mulan’s and helping her along.

  Together, they reach the arched doors of the church, and the Blind Shen stops.

  “You go inside, find your way to the top of the belfry. I will remain here and fend off any saurians that come this way,” Mulan instructs.

  “But your wound,” Wendolyn says.

  “I will be fine,” she assures her. “Now go.”

  Wendolyn nods and pushes into the stone building, quickly closing the door behind her, a thud echoing throughout the vast sanctuary. She looks up to see story-filled stained glass windows, with colored light eerily fingering its way through a thin haze of smoke that gathers in the vaulted ceiling. Several of the windows are broken.

  She scans the room, finding an antechamber at the other end. She moves up the center aisle of pews, lined by stone columns. But as she goes, Wendolyn hears a sound from beneath the pews.

  It is the sound of whimpering.

  She bends to her knee and searches the underside of the pews, finding a family hiding there: a mother and her three young children.

  “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Wendolyn solicits.

  But the mother does not respond. She only puts her finger to her mouth: a plea for silence. In the mother’s eyes, Wendolyn sees a flash of caged horror.

  And then Wendolyn hears it: a snarl from behind her.

  Wendolyn whips her head around. And there, peering out from behind one of the massive stone columns, is a saurian. But not just any saurian. Wendolyn recognizes him by his missing ears. He is one of Waldron’s sentinels.

  Another low growl from the beast.

  “Mulan!” Wendolyn shouts, hoping to alert her protector waiting just outside.

  But there is no response, which is unlike her.

  Realizing that she has the scimitar still in her hands, Wendolyn launches the weapon through the air. As it flies, Wendolyn wills it toward its target, attempting to steer it with her mind. But just as Wendolyn thinks the blade will meet the belly of the beast, the earless saurian moves, and the scimitar plants itself into the wood of a pew.

  Wendolyn sinks.

  The saurian seems to smile at the errant throw, and then gloats by whipping its tail, cutting through the column and sending an explosion of
stones through the sanctuary.

  One of the children screams as the saurian approaches, pews splintering beneath its feet. Wendolyn could run if she so wished. Her legs would gladly carry her off to safety. But she cannot knowingly abandon the family behind her that is paralyzed with fear.

  So she stands there, without a weapon or a plan.

  And without Mulan to save her.

  Suddenly, the saurian releases a spray of fire from its maw, the flames speeding toward her. Wendolyn takes a centering breath, and then, instinctively, she holds her palm out, and her mind releases an elemental cry.

  “Stop!”

  The fire does exactly as it is ordered. It waits there just before Wendolyn’s hand, the flames trapped and swirling in a fiery ball like a diminutive sun.

  Wendolyn is shocked by the potency of her powers, and mesmerized by the glowing yellow orb. And so is the saurian. Before the saurian can shake off its astonishment, Wendolyn uses both of her hands to magically return the ball of fire back to the beast.

  The flames consume the saurian, and it twists and writhes in pain as its leathery skin burns. Its tail swings wildly, sending pews flying. The putrid smell of the burning flesh hits Wendolyn’s nose almost instantly.

  And between the flames, she can see the saurian transforming into human form, then back into a saurian; then human again. The creature is in conflict with itself. And all the while, the ever-changing beast is unleashing agonizing yowls of death.

  Behind the saurian, Wendolyn spies her scimitar still stuck in the pew. She imagines the blade pulling free of the wood, and it does. Then she imagines the scimitar flying into the heart of the beast, and it does.

  The saurian falls to the ground, the flames eating the last bit of life within it. A final paroxysm, and then the beast goes still.

  Wendolyn looks low to the family, the children burying their eyes in the chest of their mother.

  “Are you okay?” Wendolyn asks.

  The mother swallows, finding her voice.

  “How did you--? Who are you?” the woman asks shakily.

  Without an easy way to answer that question, she simply responds, “My name is Wendolyn.”