They landed one by one, diving and rolling, then sat up, panting and staring at one another wild-eyed. Finally Allouette said wonderingly, “We are alive and whole!”
“Only a temporary state if Zonploka has his way,” Alain warned. He looked around at his friends. “What shall we do now?”
“Stand ready to defend,” said a familiar voice, “for surely they shall not let you escape so easily.”
The companions looked up in surprise and saw a lean and thoughtful young man with lank blond hair neatly combed, looking down at them from a tall warhorse. His face seemed a thinner version of Alain’s. Behind him six men-at-arms stood ready with their spears.
“Diarmid!” Gregory jumped up. “You are well come indeed! My dear, this is my chess mate Diarmid; Diarmid, my bride Allouette—oh, but surely you have met at Quicksilver’s trial?”
“I would surely remember so fair a flower,” Diarmid said gallantly but with no heat.
Allouette remembered him quite well, for as Duke of Loguire he had been Quicksilver’s judge—and her own. “I was . . . disguised, Highness.”
Diarmid gave her a small bow. “I hope we shall have the opportunity to renew acquaintance, but at the moment there are more immediate matters pressing.”
“Aye, an invasion of monsters!” Alain stepped forward. “You are well met indeed, brother.”
Diarmid smiled down at his older sib. “You did not, I hope, think I would sit at home and twiddle my thumbs while you went riding off to adventure and glory.”
“I had something of the sort in mind, yes,” Alain agreed. “Nevertheless, brother, if it is adventure you wish, you are likely to have more of it, and soon—for the morning mist is almost gone, and if Zonploka seeks to stop us, he will have to send his army through in minutes.”
“Surround that knot of mist, men of mine!” Diarmid called, and the footmen spread out in a semicircle, archers and spearmen alternating, their weapons aimed at the whirlpool.
“Quicksilver, let us and Alain meet them with steel.” Geoffrey drew his sword. “Let Gregory, Cordelia, and Allouette fight with telekinesis and whatever other spells they can fashion.”
“I am surely as well trained in fighting as yourself,” Allouette protested.
“True,” said Geoffrey, “but you are also a most powerful projective telepath, and should be able to wreak far more havoc with that gift than with a sword.”
Allouette blinked, uncertain whether to take the comment as a slight or a compliment, then decided to take up the issue after the battle was done, if the two of them still lived.
Monsters exploded out of the vortex with howls, roars, and baying.
“Loose!” cried Diarmid, and bowstrings thrummed. Arrows sprouted in monsters’ throats, but they only roared with anger and pain and kept coming.
Alain, Quicksilver, and Geoffrey immediately formed a triangle, facing outward, swords at the ready.
The gigantic bull with pointed teeth lowered his head and charged the trio; the dire wolf and the giant scorpion closed in from the other two sides. The rest of the dozen, though, went right past the trio and charged the soldiers.
The gigantic scorpion’s stinger flashed down at Quicksilver, but her sword swung even more quickly, chopping it off. It fell short but gouged her shin; she screamed but swung again, chopping off a pincer.
Geoffrey jammed his sword down the throat of the dire wolf, then yanked it out a split second before the great jaws clashed shut; he spun to chop off one of the scorpion’s claws. The dire wolf fell back, coughing blood; Geoffrey kicked the stinger at it just as the wolf bounded forward again. The stinger’s point caught it in the chest and it fell, jaws snapping at the pain.
Allouette glared at the oncoming menagerie of giant snakes, gargantuan spiders, ogres, goblins, and trolls; a huge dragon exploded into existence before them, sweeping them with a blast of fire.
Alain sheathed his sword as the bull charged again. He dove, catching a horn in either hand. The bull tossed its head, bellowing in anger, and Alain let go, somersaulting into a seat on the bull’s neck. He whipped out his sword as he seized one horn again, lay flat, and slashed his blade under him, across the monster’s throat. The bull’s bellow turned into burbling as it pivoted in rage, snapping its jaws, trying to reach the man just behind its own skull. It failed, of course, but one pointed tooth did score Alain’s leg. He shouted with pain but hung on grimly and stabbed behind his own knee, sword piercing between the bull’s ribs and into its heart. Blood gushed from its throat as the monster fell to its knees.
Alain vaulted off—and his right leg crumpled beneath him. He stabbed at the ground, using the sword as a cane to push himself up, and hopped back to take his place in the triangle.
The squadron of monsters fell back from the dragon’s fire, screeching and chittering; then a troll bellowed, “Not real! Can’t hurt!!”
Cordelia stared at the dragon’s mouth, thinking of molecules speeding up their dance to a frenzy.
The troll charged forward, then screeched and fell back, its hair burning. The other monsters skidded to a halt.
“Loose!” Diarmid cried again, and the bowstrings thrummed, sending razor-sharp broadheads to pierce hide and fur. The monsters screamed again but charged in anger. The dragon roared and half of them fell, writhing in agony; the other half charged onward.
The archers managed one more volley, but the giant spiders and giant snakes came on. The spearmen gulped but braced their spears, then stabbed as the nightmares came upon them. One went down, ichor streaming over his chest from a spider’s fangs, but the monster made a grating noise and retreated away, turning to scurry back toward the vortex but falling in a tangle of legs on the beach.
Another spearman stabbed straight into a snake’s maw, then dropped his spear and leaped aside; the snake thrashed about in blind pain. The soldiers dodged its loops, but its eyes were already filming over in death.
The third spearman’s point went into another snake’s nose. It hissed in anger, sounding like a boiler blowing, and struck at the man again—but the spearman held it off with his weapon, though it forced him back and back. Then it threw a coil over him. His companion archer loosed arrows at close quarters, feathering the monster, but its coil tightened inexorably around the spearman, whose cry of horror grated into choking.
Diarmid galloped up and chopped down. The snake’s head fell and the coil loosened as the huge body began to whip about in its blind death-dance.
Quicksilver shoved her shoulder under Alain’s arm. “Lean on me and walk, Highness!”
“And you upon me,” Geoffrey said, throwing an arm about her waist.
“Where are you wounded?” she cried in alarm.
“On my left arm,” he answered, “the one you are now guarding. Advance!”
So, supporting one another, they hobbled up behind the monsters who still crouched before the dragon, waiting for an opening. The companions began to slash and stab.
Then, suddenly, the dragon was gone and the wounded fighters stood staring around at dead monsters.
Cordelia dashed up, crying, “Allouette! A rescue!” She touched her hand to Alain’s leg and began to knit muscle fibers back together.
Allouette set her hand on Quicksilver’s shin and frowned intently. “Poisons . . . I must change the molecules to benign ones . . .”
Quicksilver bit her lip, choking back cries of pain.
Gregory knelt by one fallen spearman, resting a hand on the wound in his abdomen, then shook his head and turned to the other fallen man. He placed a hand to either side of the fellow’s chest, beginning to knit fractured ribs back together and close the walls of the bronchial tubes in a pierced lung.