Bjorn laughed and swung his own staff to block. Alain's cracked against it and, on the rebound, swung at Bjorn's ankles. He dropped it to block, then chopped down in a short hard blow that glanced off the side of Alain's head.
At the city gates, Catharine screamed.
Alain staggered backward, shaking his head, and Bjorn followed, tight-lipped and plainly disliking his work, but swinging at Alain anyway.
Somehow, the prince leaned aside at just the right moment, and the staff whistled past him. He gave his head one last shake and leaped high to swing a roundhouse blow at Bjorn.
Too late, Bjorn recovered and lifted his staff, but Alain's blow cracked on his collarbone. He howled in pain and swung the butt of his staff at the prince's belly. Alain blocked both that and the next blow at his head, then gave ground, blocking every blow as Bjorn grew more and more angry, then swung a two-handed blow at his head. Alain ducked and, before Bjorn could recover, advanced on him with three-strike combinations. Now it was Bjorn who fell back, trying frantically to block—until he missed, and one swing connected. Alain's staff cracked squarely against Bjorn's skull, and the big man's eyes glazed.
Alain leaped back.
Bjorn began to lean from side to side, dazed but managing to hold his balance—barely. Alain could have struck him down with impunity. Instead, he thrust with the staff as though it were a lance and struck Bjorn's breastbone. The big man overbalanced and fell like a tree. He slammed into the ground, and Alain was at his side in an instant, dropping to one knee to feel for the pulse in the man's throat.
The peasants held their breath.
Then Alain looked up grinning. "He lives!"
The peasants cheered and lifted him up bodily.
Geoffrey forgot his pledge and dashed forward. Then he saw that Alain was sitting on the broad shoulders of two peasants, while the others danced about him, cheering and waving their flails and scythes in triumph. They bore the victor back to his parents, chanting a war song.
Geoffrey started to run after them, then remembered and turned back to help Bjorn to his feet.
The crowd bore the grinning Prince before the King and Queen, then suddenly fell silent, shocked by the enormity of what they had done. Into the silence, Alain cried, "They are a people of whom we may be proud, my liege! And the one who dared fight me is surely a hero!"
"That he is," Tuan said gravely, then turned to the guardsman beside him. "Bid the castle cooks bring out food and ale for all these men, that we may celebrate my son's victory!"
The crowd stared, unable to believe they were to be rewarded, not punished. Then they let loose one massive cheer, and the dancing began again.
In the midst of it, Alain managed to slip down off the shoulders of his bearers and turned to face the still-dazed peasant who came before him with one arm slung about Geoffrey's shoulders. "Bjorn," said the Prince, "you are an honorable man who has had the courage to stand before his Prince this day, and fought a fair fight, cleanly and honestly. Will you take service with me?"
Bjorn blinked, coming out of his stupor. Then he bowed, albeit with Geoffrey steadying him. "Your highness," he said, "I shall."
"Lend me a groat, will you?" Alain asked the nearest soldier. The man stared, then fished in his pouch and held out a coin. Alain took it and pressed it into Bjorn's hand. "You have taken my pay," he told the big peasant. "You are my man."
"And you are my lord!" Bjorn grinned from ear to ear. "Hail, Prince of Gramarye!"
There was a commotion at the gate and people pressed back to let through a wagon bearing the first three casks of ale. The peasants cheered and pressed forward.
ALEA SAW MAGNUS standing poised for battle, glaring at the thousand monsters who raced to see who could be first to rip him open.
For a moment, she stared in horror at the nightmare army, shrinking in terror—but beside her, Magnus stood at bay, the man who had given her back her life, and she mastered the fear as she had mastered every fear that she had faced since her parents had died, and stepped up beside Magnus, clasping his hand to give him what strength she could, turning toward the horde of horrors that bore down on them, knowing that if she was going to die, she would at least meet death by the side of the man she loved.
ON THE BATTLEMENTS, Cordelia sagged with relief. "My love is safe!" Then she straightened, turning to her brother and clapping her arm about his waist. "Now, leaping wizard!"
On his other side, Allouette seized hold of him, too. Gregory threw an arm about each and teleported. The women heard two thundercracks—one for the implosion of air rushing into the space where they had stood, another from the explosion of the air they displaced as they arrived. Dizzy for a moment, they clung to Gregory and to one another, then looked up and saw a nightmare bearing down on them, a horribly distorted cow with talons instead of hooves and barbed horns that glinted with poison.
ROD SEEMED TO have inherited some of his son's talents, but teleporting wasn't one of them. He had to ride to the riverbank—but he had a steed with a tireless gait. Robots do break down occasionally, but Fess was in excellent repair.
"Okay, slow down, we're coming to the top of the sea-cliff."
"It is thirty-six meters away, Rod." Nonetheless, Fess did begin to slow. He went up the last few yards to the brink of the cliff at a trot and stopped.
Rod stared down in horror. Horns, whelks, talons, saber-teeth, tentacles—horribly distorted creatures filled the meadow, parodies of animal forms, some combining two or three beasts, some part animal and part human. More poured out of the mist, rushing up the slope of the beach toward the grass at its crest. Thankfully, the rising sun was already beginning to burn away the fog.
That thought brought Rod out of his paralysis. Scanning the plain, he saw his son standing on the grass at the top of the beach with Alea beside him. Anger and fear shot through him. "Elves! Isn't there an elf around?"
"Here, Lord Warlock."
Rod looked down, staring in amazement at fifty elves who appeared from the grass, one standing head and shoulders above the rest. "Puck! I might have known you'd be onto this. Quick! Knock them over"
"We cannot." The elf's face was taut with strain, sweat trickling from his brow as he glared at the monsters. "Fierce magic protects them; all our power is brushed aside."
"Then feed your power into Magnus! Added to his and Alea's, it might be enough to make the difference."
"We have tried, Lord Warlock."
Startled, Rod whipped his gaze to the other side of his horse and saw Brom O'Berin. "Save your grandson, Brom! He doesn't have the good sense to leave this alone and wait for the army!"
"Only magic can prevail against this horde," Brom said, tight-lipped, "and that which gives power to them is too alien from ours."
"Maybe Magnus …"
"We cannot send our power into him," Brom said, never taking his eyes from the man who was his grandson. "He has been too long from the soil of Gramarye. We cannot feed him."
"I can!" Rod cried. "I'm his father! He has my genes in him no matter where he goes, and they're not made of the substance of Gramarye! Funnel power into me, and I'll channel it to him!"
Brom stared at him a moment, then gave a taut nod. "Come down."
Rod dismounted and knelt in the grass. Brom seized his right hand, Puck his left, and the psi power of hundreds of elves coursed through him, almost making him faint—but he held on to consciousness, waited until his system adjusted to the flow of energy, then stared at his son, reaching out mind to mind, and channeled the flow of psi power into Magnus, adding all of his own, bringing it up from the very depths of his being.
MAGNUS REELED WITH the sudden influx of power thrilling through him; he could only think, So this is how a high-voltage line feels! Alea looked up in alarm, thrust her shoulder under his arm as he staggered and held him up. Magnus steadied and straightened, still feeling so full of psi energy that he must burst. Steady on his feet, he glared at the manticore that charged up at him and thrust Alea behind him. They had fought back-to-back many times before; her staff came up even as she pressed her shoulders against his, still feeding her psi power into him, but ready to defend.