Lord Maldrake stood and addressed the baroness, “Permission to attend my wife, Your Ladyship?”
The baroness said icily, “Permission granted.” The blond knight walked over to his wife and put his hands on her shoulders. Yvaughan momentarily cringed away, then leaned against Maldrake. The young lord gestured for the man who had brought Yvaughan into the council area to leave. The gesture awoke in Flinn a memory: sometime before Flinn’s fall, Lord Maldrake and Yvaughan had stood in the same stance, and Maldrake had made the same dismissing gesture toward Flinn. How could I have been so blind? Flinn thought.
“You may state your case, Fain Flinn, and none may gainsay you until you are through. Speak you now, or the former judgment on you shall stand!” Arteris cried in a voice that carried to the rafters. The people in the great hall rumbled in return, and Flinn fancied he heard some shouts of support.
“I charge you, Sir Brisbois, with falsely accusing me, intending to stain my honor and discredit my reputation as a knight!” Flinn’s voice rang out sternly. He turned to his former wife and his voice trembled. “And I charge you, Lady Yvaughan, with falsely accusing me, intending to divorce me and claim a new husband!” Flinn didn’t want to believe that Yvaughan had been a willing partner in his scene of shame, but the indications seemed irrefutable.
“How say you, Sir Brisbois?” the baroness cried, and all eyes in the hall turned on the knight. “How say you? Are you innocent of this deed—or are you guilty?”
Sir Brisbois took a step toward the people, addressing them instead of Flinn or the council. “I am—” he said solidly, then paused. Flinn clenched his jaw, resenting the man’s dramatic pause. Brisbois repeated, “I am—” The words broke off and doubt edged the man’s voice. Flinn looked at the knight closely and saw that he was staring at Maldrake. Brisbois’ face worked, and he clenched and unclenched his hands.
The knight tore his gaze from Maldrake and hurried toward the edge of the blue cordon. “I am—guilty!” he shouted to the great hall. The people erupted into a frenzy of emotion. They stomped their feet where they stood, slapped fists into palms, and shouted. The roar was almost unbearable. Brisbois held up his hands and shouted again, though the words were barely audible, “I am guilty—and he is responsible for that!” Brisbois whirled and pointed at Maldrake.
The lord hissed, “Fool!” Maldrake ripped the white bird from his wife’s arms and threw it at Flinn’s feet. The bird dissolved into a viscous white substance that slowly began to reshape. Jo’s words echoed in Flinn’s mind, “…if the baroness unknowingly invited a magical beast into the cordon…” Flinn drew Wyrmblight and rushed Maldrake.
“Draw your sword, Maldrake! I will avenge my honor!” Flinn shouted.
“I think not, Fool!” Maldrake cried. His hand jerked once, and Yvaughan whimpered in pain. Her eyes glazed over and Maldrake pulled a knife out of her back. The young lord pushed Yvaughan toward Flinn, who caught her. Maldrake backed slowly away, brandishing the dagger as Flinn cradled his one-time wife.
“Yvaughan,” he murmured. For an instant, her pallid form seemed to transform again into the lively and vibrant woman he had once fallen in love with.
“Fain—” she gasped and then grew still. Her eyes rolled back and her eyelids closed. Flinn smoothed the silken hair on her brow once, then laid Yvaughan on the floor. He advanced on her murderer. Maldrake was slowly backing toward the mass of people in the great hall. He swung his bloody knife at a guard who came near.
“Stand still, Maldrake!” Flinn called out, rage pulsing through him. “Your game is up!” He stepped forward.
Maldrake leaped the blue cordons, and as he did a transformation took place. His neck, arms, and legs sprouted horribly, growing to the size of trees. A great tearing noise filled the hall as his torso lengthened and broadened, stretching into a scaly, reptilian body. Gossamer wings unfurled along his back, then solidified into thin membranes of leather. His head warped horribly, bulging and reshaping into a vast skull lined with spearlike teeth. All this transpired in a heartbeat, and then the wyrm’s scream erupted through the hall.
“Verdilith!” Flinn shouted, a thin film of red filling his eyes.
The crowd beneath the dragon broke into shrieks of panic, and the people fell back. Those near the door flooded out in terror, while those trapped within pushed mercilessly to escape.
“Verdilith!” bellowed Flinn again, leaping forward with Wyrmblight overhead. “Turn and face me, wyrm!”
“Another day, Flinn! Face me alone, not with a score of knights at your back!” The dragon shimmered suddenly and then winked out of the air.
“I’ll hunt you to your death!” Flinn roared, shaking his clenched fist at the vaulted ceiling. He charged to the spot where the dragon had been. “Come back! Murderer!”
“Flinn!” Jo shouted. “Behind y—”
A snarl interrupted her voice. Flinn wheeled. A humanlike creature with scaly brown skin and wiry hair towered above him. It swung its foot-long claws toward Flinn. He dropped, hearing the claws whirl above his head. Jo leaped behind the beast, wedging her sword into its bony back. It wheeled, smashing her with the back of its hand. Jo fell, sprawling across the floor, but retaining her sword. Flinn swung Wyrmblight in a whistling arc toward the creature’s overlong muzzle. The monster spun, deflecting the stroke with its scaly shoulder. It hissed at Flinn, baring eight glistening fangs. The monster swung its huge, spidery arm, catching the edge of Flinn’s breastplate with its claws. The blow spun Flinn about, knocking him to the ground. He rolled over quickly, expecting the beast to follow with a killing slash.
But the beast paused, sniffing the air. Council members, their weapons drawn, formed a broad circle to surround the monster. Slowly, awkwardly, it turned and knelt beside Yvaughan’s crumpled form. It sniffed again. Then, tentatively, it reached out to touch the woman who had been Flinn’s wife. A little croon escaped the creature’s lips, but the sound was lost to the shouts in the hall.
“Now!” shouted Flinn to the council members. In accord, the knights of Penhaligon rushed in to attack. Half the knights slashed first at the monster, then fell back to allow the others to strike. The second wave of knights hit just after the first wave. Their onslaught was fierce and mercifully swift. The creature fell almost immediately.
Flinn stepped back, his heart thundering. He felt saddened to witness such a slaughter, but the baroness and all the folk in the chamber had been in danger. Pushing his way through the crowd of knights, he carefully rolled the creature’s bloodied body off Yvaughan and picked her up. Flinn carried her limp form to the council table and laid her to rest there. “She’d been deceived by the dragon all along,” he murmured with sudden belief. “She didn’t willingly betray me.” He stroked her flaxen hair once, then turned to the baroness.
“My heart goes out to you in your sorrow,” Arteris said formally. She clasped her pale hands together, her eyes avoiding the body of her cousin.
“And mine goes out to you,” Flinn replied equally formally. He looked at Yvaughan once and said a silent goodbye as her soul slipped away. The woman who had died in his arms was not the girl he had loved in his youth. Her death he had mourned seven years before. Shaken, he turned around to face the council members. They were all standing near him quietly, as was Jo. Her wide and somber eyes were filled with emotion. Flinn looked away. The people remaining in the hall had grown strangely quiet. A hushed expectation filled the chamber.