He was still trying, a third time, when the knight drove his blade hard through his chest.
All around him, bloodied armsmen roared approval.
THERE WEREN'T MORE than a score of men still standing in the throne room, from one end to the other. Wizards were scuttling off in all directions like frightened rats, but everyone else looked more dazed than anything else, leaning on their swords wearily.
Baron Tindror was looking for something. When he found it, he trudged across the bodies and strewn weapons, stopped behind Deldragon, and held it up.
It was the crown of Galath.
Gently, almost reverently, he settled it on Deldragon's head.
"All hail King Deldragon of Galath!" he bellowed, and struck the nearest shield, almost toppling the tired armsman holding it. It rang like a gong. "All hail King Deldragon!"
"All hail!" other men took up the cry, Garfist among them. Iskarra clung to him, still crying too hard to say anything. Juskra and Dauntra were gone, and she cared not who kinged it anywhere.
"YOU DID IT," Taeauna said happily, and her arms were warm around him.
Rod nodded vaguely. He was so tired...
She was kissing him, wasn't she?
"I—I DON'T WANT want the throne," Deldragon said slowly. "I am much the junior to many good men—"
"Darendarr," said one of the oldest surviving nobles, "shut your jaws and sit on that throne. I'm glorked if I'm going through this again."
"Aye," said another. "I pledge my allegiance to you, King Deldragon. Rule long and well."
"Yes!" quavered another, who was older still. "And we know Tindror's loyalties, and I hear no one disputing, so..."
"Well, all right," Deldragon said reluctantly, "but—"
A ragged cheer drowned out whatever else he'd intended to say, and then another.
After the third he smiled, shook his head, and went to the throne, limping a little.
"Right, then," he said, turning before it to look down on them all. "Hear then my first decree: I want only one wizard to set foot in my land without my express invitation: Rod Everlar, who I name High Wizard of Galath."
There were some mutterings, but Deldragon asked, "Any of you care to wear this crown?"
The mutterings ended abruptly. "Right," he said with a weary smile. "More radical yet: I want an Aumrarr to be my Lady Herald. Many of you know her already: Taeauna."
"OH, SHIT," TAEAUNA said suddenly. "No." She let go of Rod, only to take firm hold of his hand.
"What's happening?" he asked, a little bewildered. "Where're we going?"
"You'll see," she replied briskly, and towed him off into the gloom. Again.
"WE CAN'T FIND them anywhere, Your Majesty," the knight said wearily. "And I mean anywhere. They're gone."
Deldragon looked furious. "Have the trails around the castle scoured," he snapped, "and quickly! They can't have got all that far—"
He blinked. There was a fat, shaggy man he'd seen before standing in front of him, with a rail-thin woman at his side.
"Uh, Lord King?" Garfist rumbled.
"Not now," Deldragon began, but the fat man held up one shovel-like hand.
"Understand ye're short a High Wizard, an' a Lady Herald?"
Deldragon stared at him.
"Well," Gar rumbled, "we're here. Not an Aumrarr nor any sort of wizard, to tell truth—but we're here, an' the ones ye seek are... not. And I daresay we've wiles enough to outstrip what they have, four or five times over."
"That's true," Isk commented, folding her arms across her breast.
Deldragon stared down at them both—and burst into sudden laughter, gripping the arms of the throne.
"It... it just might work, at that."
"WHERE IS SHE now, Jusk?"
The voice behind her was soft and gentle, and Juskra knew the speaker. She went on staring up at the moon from the battlements above the Ironthar forests, but replied finally, "I buried her yonder, on the hill. With Glaelra and Maethe and too many others."
"That was rightly done," Taeauna murmured, and put her arms around Juskra.
The Aumrarr sat like a statue for a moment, and then dissolved into wracking sobs.
It might take days before she was done crying over Dauntra, but Taeauna was patient.
"I KNOW WE have no appointment," the taller of the two men told Holdoncorp's receptionist, "but we have something vital to the future of your corporation. We really do need to speak to the project manager."
She looked up at him over her glasses, as severely as she knew how. "And your name might be?"
"Tethtyn," was the smiling reply. "And this is Mori."
The other man smiled, and waggled two fingers, ever so slightly.
The woman across the gleaming desk pushed a button almost eagerly.
"Bert? Bert, can you come out here straight away? There are two men here to see Sam; it's very important."
Bert wore shirt-sleeves and looked distracted, but he led them to Sam happily enough.
The last he saw of the two strangers was of them striding into Sam's office. One of them was saying, "We've come to you with a proposal I think you'll find very interesting. It's about Falconfar..."
The project manager closed the door then, leaving Bert one last glimpse of the two visitors. They wore identical mirthless smiles.
TAEAUNA DREW DAGGERS from around her person—so many places, as she went on, that Rod stopped unrolling blankets to watch in open-mouthed fascination.
When a dozen gleaming knives lay around her, she gave him a wink. She raised her hands, wiggled her fingertips in the air in a deft pattern, and murmured something.
In silent and stately unison, the daggers all rose into the air, to hang in a ring floating above her. As Rod watched, they drifted out unhurriedly to surround him and the blankets and everything else, just within the walls of the tent.
"Ready to attack any intruders?" Rod murmured. Taeauna nodded.
"I thought you had no magic left."
"Nor did I," she purred triumphantly, crawling forward to where she could start to unlace his tunic, "but while you were rolling around drooling after working the dream-gate to take us from your Earth home to Malragard, I was plundering one of Malraun's private caches of magic. Falconfar needs no more
wizards... and with spells gone, there'll be none. But I have a small armory of enchanted items, and know how to use them so most men won't know I'm not casting spells. It's been centuries since Falconfar has had a sorceress of power—and when the last Queen-Sorceress reigned, this world knew peace and prosperity. I'd like to bring that happiness to Falconfar again."
"Starting with just one Falconfar man?" Rod teased, as she tugged away his tunic and pushed him down onto his back, straddling him on her knees as she started to unlace her leathers.
Taeauna froze, her fingers halting amid the thongs as she stared hard at him.
She bent low, her intent, serious face close to his.
"Do you consider yourself a man of Falconfar, then, my lord?" she whispered.
"Oh, yes," Rod Everlar growled, reaching out to tug her bodice apart and out of the way. "Yes, I do."
Here ends Book 3 of the Falconfar Saga, the tale of the
awakening of Rod Everlar, how he came to know that fantastic
worlds can be all too real, and how much in the end he loved
having learned that.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE [named characters only]
"See" references occur where only partial character names appear in the novel text (such as when a surname is omitted). Not all folk in Falconfar have family names; Aumrarr, for example, never have surnames.
These entries contain some "spoilers" for FALCONFAR, and for maximum enjoyment of this book, should be referred to only after two-thirds or more of the text has been read.
A note on the nobility of Galath: from lowest to highest, their ranks are knight, baron, klarl, marquel, arduke, velduke, lordrake, prince, king. A knight is a "sir," but barons and up are addressed as "lord" (it is acceptable to call the reigning monarch "Lord of All Galath," but "the Lords of Galath" are the collective nobility of the kingdom). Outside Galath, the "Lord" of a place is usually its ruler.
Albrun, Xandur:
warrior of Darswords, who fled the independent hold when it fell to the army of Malraun the Matchless.
Arlaghaun:
"the Doom of Galath," a deceased wizard who was widely considered the most powerful of the three Dooms (Falconfar's wizards of peerless power), and for some years the real ruler of Galath. Arlaghaun inhabited Ult Tower, the black stone keep of the long-dead wizard Ult, in Galath, and with his spells commanded armies of lorn and Dark Helms, as well as every utterance of King Devaer of Galath. Some judged his power so great they called him "the Doom of Falconfar." He was slain at the end of DARK LORD.
Askurr, Endramace:
tall and proud commander in Malraun's army. A capable, well-respected, kindly veteran warrior.
Aumrarr, the:
a race of winged warrior-women who fight for "good." They seem human except for their large, snow-white wings, and fly about taking messages from one hold to another, battling wolves and monsters, and working against oppressive rulers. They are dedicated to making the lives of common folk (farmers, woodcutters, and crafters, not the wealthy or rulers) better, and laws and law-enforcement just. Their home, in the hills north of Arvale, is the fortress of Highcrag, where most of them were slaughtered, early in DARK LORD.
Baerold, Darvus:
big, bristle-browed, and deep-voiced warrior of Darswords, who fled the independent hold as it fell to Malraun's army. A wary, suspicious man.
Barlaskeir, Ommaunt:
the wizard-king of the distant Falconaar realm of Aundraunt. Very powerful in his magic but only rarely seen outside Aundraunt; his rare journeys occur when he desires gold and gems, and agrees to hire out his magical services to someone wealthy enough to pay his very high fees.
Blackraven, House: noble family of Galath, whose head is a marquel.
Bloodhunt, Aumun:
Velduke (noble) of Galath, an angry, conservative old man who lost a leg at the siege of Bowrock in DARK LORD.
Bloodhunt, Haerelle:
Velduchess (noble) of Galath, the deceased wife of Velduke Aumun Bloodhunt. An accomplished wizardess who died of winter-fever, and is entombed in a pavilion in the Bloodhunt gardens, abutting the Velduke's mansion.
Bracebold, Olgur:
"Blade of Telchassar," a veteran mercenary warcaptain from the rich port of Telchassur who has taken service in the army of the wizard Malraun. Loud, belligerent, and sometimes jovial, a man of simple pleasures.
Bralgarth, Melvo:
aging, limping commander in Amaxas Horgul's Army of Liberation, who was installed as Lord of the independent Rauklor hold of Hawksyl by Horgul after the army conquered it. A cold-eyed, cynical, brutal and ruthless man.
Bresker, Ilmos:
a large, capable warrior of the household of Klarl Annusk Dunshar.
Brorsavar, Melander:
Former Velduke of Galath, a stern, just, "steady" and therefore popular Galathan noble, well-respected by most of his fellow nobles. Large and impressive-looking, having shoulders as broad as two slender men standing side by side, he was crowned King of Galath by several fellow nobles at the end of DARK LORD. Some Galathan nobility were slow to accept his authority; although civil strife is still raging in his kingdom, he is slowly gaining wider acceptance.
Buckhold, Tamgrym:
a tall, terse, stealthy commander in Malraun's army, a veteran warrior whose face is disfigured by dozens of crisscrossing sword-scars.
Carroll, Rusty:
the grayhaired, honest, follow-the-rules Head of Security at the headquarters of Holdoncorp, on Earth. Note: a fictional character.
Cathgur, Darmeth:
a warrior of the household of Klarl Annusk Dunshar.
Dark Helms, the:
warriors, aptly described as "ruthless slayers in black armor." Living men and (increasingly, as their losses mount over time) undead warriors, these enspelled-to-loyalty soldiers are the creations of Holdoncorp.