Mercy's Prince (45 page)

When
Albinonix came around to make his third pass at flaming the Mohorovians,
Valerian glanced down at the wall and cried out. King Orland was in trouble. Several
of the Horde had made it over the wall and threatened him and three other men.

My
lord Albinonix, can you let me down on the wall? I must help my father, the
king.

The
dragon craned his long neck to where Valerian pointed and flew closer. He beat
his great wings forward and lowered himself just above the nearest tower.
Crawl
down to my foreleg, and I will drop you there
.

A
hole opened in the pit of Valerian’s stomach when he glimpsed the ground far
below, but he quickly swung his leg around the dragon’s ridge and moved down
the shoulder. Just as he thought he would lose his balance and tumble off into
the air, Albinonix grasped him with scythe-like claws and set him down in the
tower.

Thank
you, my lord dragon.

You
are welcome, my prince. I go to flame more of the Horde.
With a rush of air from
the downward stroke, Albinonix launched off the tower and dove toward the
massed swarm below.

Valerian
pulled his sword from the scabbard and ran down the tower stairs to the
battlements. He joined his father and the others, who were pressed against the
wall by more than twice their number of Mohorovians.

He
swung the blade around and partially decapitated the nearest one, then used the
sword’s momentum to plunge it into the next one’s chest. The blow jarred him
badly, but he did not lose his grip on the hilt. The creature lashed out with
its claws, which Valerian barely avoided. He wrenched out the blade as the
Mohorovian fell.

By
now the others had turned on him, and the king and his companions were able to
cut them down with their spears.

“Well
done, Valerian,” shouted King Orland. “You are a welcome sight, my son.” With a
ferocious grin, his father turned toward the next wave of Mohorovians scaling
the wall.

Valerian
followed the king along the battlements, using Alden’s sword to great effect
against the Horde swarm. Amazingly, even with the entire flight of dragons
flaming them outside the walls, those who survived the fire continued to pile
themselves against the walls to scale them. They truly had a single purpose, as
Merry had
Seen
.

He
deliberately kept his thoughts to himself and was grateful she hadn’t reached
out to him, though surely she knew he was near. Valerian needed all his concentration
to support his father and keep them both alive. He did wonder briefly if Kieran
was still aloft or if he had been set down to fight.

Though
much time passed, Valerian did not personally see any casualties among the
Levathians, except one older man knocked unconscious by a Mohorovian’s vicious
tail swipe. With his spear, King Orland dispatched the creature before it could
strike a killing blow. One of the physicians attended the man, and Valerian
didn’t envy the headache he would have upon awakening.

The
overcast sky obscured the sun, but it appeared to be only mid-afternoon before
the swarm was decimated and the soldiers could take a break and drink some
water. Valerian stood on the north wall with his father while they scanned the
destruction below. The stench of burned flesh filled the air. Mountains of dead
Mohorovians piled against the wall all the way to the battlements. The air was
hazy from the dragons’ fire. Only a few were still in the air, either flaming
or catching and rending the remnants of the swarm. The rest of the dragons had
landed on the Keep’s towers or out beyond the battle site upon outcroppings of
rock.

“Valerian.”
Orland’s voice was full of weary triumph.

“Yes,
sir?”

“You
have saved us all.” He turned to face him. “I’ve never been so proud of you.”

Valerian
did not know how to answer him. He simply said, “Thank you, Father.”

“By
the way, Lady Merry told me of your proposal.”

“She
told
you? How did she do that?”

“She
came right out and plainly said it. The lady is frank and forthright in all her
dealings. I especially like that about her.” Orland grinned. “I approve
wholeheartedly of your marriage.”

Valerian
was dumbfounded. Not only could Merry
speak
, but his father had no
objection to her.

“I
must see her.”

“You
should find her in the infirmary,” Orland said.

“If
she is not busy, Father, I’ll bring her to you.” Moments before Valerian had
been beyond weary. His strength returned with the anticipation of their reunion
and hearing Merry’s
voice
. He took the tower stairs two and three at a
time in his haste to descend.

But
when he stepped out from the tower, Caelis blocked his path.

***

Merry
could scarcely continue stitching the injured man’s facial wounds at the
knowledge that Valerian was so near. But she could not speak to his mind, not
now while he was in the midst of battle.

When
Merry finished with the stitches, she used a small pot of healing ointment Papa
had rendered and smeared a thin layer over the many stitches, all the while
thinking of Valerian. How would he react when she spoke to him? Would he be
pleased and surprised? She smiled in anticipation.

But
the reality of dealing with Sir Caelis robbed her joy. The treacherous knight
could not be allowed to continue spreading his murderous hatred. She needed to
tell Valerian right away what Caelis had done so he could go with her to tell
the king.

“Are
you finished stitching him?” Rafael studied the young man’s face.

“Yes,
love. When he wakes, we must give him the balmflower tea.”

“I’ll
do it, Sissy.” He glanced back at their patient again. “That’s a lot of
stitches.”

“The
poor man had terrible injuries. He will heal, but he’ll always have scars, and
there was nothing I could do about his eye.”

Rafael’s
face became solemn.

“Sissy,
is that why we have two eyes, in case one gets blind?”

“That
must be the reason, Rafael.” Merry hugged him.

They
sat on an empty cot, watching over their two patients and listening to the din
of battle outside. Gwendolyn could not sit still and paced the length of the
room, occasionally stopping to adjust the stack of cloths or take a sip of
water.

“Why
are there no more wounded being sent here?” she asked Merry. “Are they too
badly injured, or are they simply dying for lack of someone to help them?”

“I’m
sure Drew is all right.” Merry squeezed Gwendolyn’s hand. “Perhaps the great
dragons are so powerful, no one else has been hurt.” Her heart swelled with
admiration for what Valerian had done in bringing the dragons. She couldn’t
wait to see them. And him.

She
had just decided to risk going outside when the squire regained consciousness. He
moaned and grabbed his head. Merry jumped up and firmly grasped his hands.

“You
must not touch your face. Here’s a healing tea for you to drink. It will dull
the pain.”

He
emptied the cup with Rafael’s help and opened his eye, focusing on Merry.

“What
happened?” His voice rasped.

There
was no way to soften it.

“One
of the Horde slashed your face.”

“My
eye?”

“It
could not be saved,” Merry said. “I’m sorry.”

His
hand automatically went to his mouth.

“Wha’s
wrong with my lip?”

Merry
sat beside him and gripped his hands again.

“You
had three deep gashes in your face. I have stitched them together, and they
will all heal, but you must try not to touch them until they do. I’ve put a
salve on them to aid in healing as well as fading the scars.”

The
squire took a deep breath and lay back on the cot. He closed his eye, and a tear
leaked out. Merry gently wiped it from his cheek. Brentley spoke up from the
other cot.

“You
really know what you’re doing, my lady.” He cocked his head, listening. “It
sounds like the battle may be coming to an end.”

Merry
stood, half hoping, half fearful.

“Go
on, Merry.” Gwendolyn came to stand beside Rafael. “We can handle things here,
can’t we, Rafael?” He nodded. “I can’t bear to look anyway. You go, but don’t
forget to come and tell me if Drew is all right.”

“I’ll
send him to you.” Merry kissed Rafael’s head. “I know you’ll be a good helper
to Gwen until I return.”

            Merry
ran from the infirmary, all her weariness gone with the joy of seeing Valerian
again.

***

When
Caelis saw Valerian leave King Orland’s side and head for the tower stairs, he
sent the men standing with him to the kitchens. Now, Caelis blocked Valerian’s
path to Merry in this cramped, isolated corner of the yard.

Valerian
burst out of the tower. He stopped when he saw Caelis.

“Stand
aside, Caelis, and let me pass.”

In
answer, Caelis raised the battle-ax still stained with Mohorovian blood.

“I
think not. This day has been a long time coming. You will never pass over me
again.”

Valerian
drew his sword and held it to the ready. He took a halting step in the
direction of the Keep, then another.

“This
is not the way to resolve our quarrel.”

Caelis
narrowed his eyes.

“You’re
wrong, as usual. This is the only way to resolve it.” He tightened his grip on
the ax. Lunging forward, he swung it down toward Valerian’s head. This was
going to be as easy as slaughtering the pacifists.

To
his surprise, the whelp used his sword to bat the ax against the stone wall,
sending up sparks. The vibration jarred Caelis’ hand, and he barely kept his
grip on the ax. Valerian rushed Caelis, the sword aimed at his throat, but
Caelis blocked the blade with the haft, raising splinters. Valerian backed
toward the tower entrance, so Caelis feinted another attack to force him into
the corner. Then he kicked over a stack of crates to block the entrance.

Valerian
moved out of Caelis’ reach, inching toward the Keep.

“Your
cowardice killed Waryn,” Caelis said, “and now you are too cowardly to face me
like a man.”

A
shadow passed over Valerian’s face, but then he set his jaw, shifting his grip
on the sword.

“I
am not afraid to fight you.”

Before
Valerian could act, Caelis turned the ax and swung parallel to the ground,
aiming just below shoulder level. Valerian’s eyes widened. He ducked and then
rolled out of the way, coming immediately to his feet. Caelis tried a lower
swing to cut the prince’s legs out from under him, but Valerian leaped out of
the way. The prince used the turn to swing his blade backhanded. The sword
scraped Caelis’ shoulder armor, making his belly clench. He gritted his teeth
and thrust the ax like a spear.

The
point caught Valerian on the breastbone and slammed him into the wall. With a
groan, Valerian swung wildly at Caelis, but the blade didn’t reach him. The
prince was bruised, even though the ax head’s point hadn’t pierced his chain
mail. Caelis aimed again, higher. Gasping for air, Valerian slid to his right.
The point caught his arm just below the mail sleeve, drawing blood. When the
prince stumbled, Caelis swung the ax around. Valerian stepped inside the swing,
but didn’t lift his sword quickly enough. Caelis pushed him away with the haft
of the ax. Valerian rolled to his feet again and held the sword to the ready.

Caelis
faced him, catching his breath. The prince was panting, and sweat beaded his
brow.

“Against
all odds you have returned, and I cannot let you live,” Caelis said. “But before
you die, whelp, you should know that, not only will I take your crown and your
place as king, I will also take your intended bride and sire a royal brat on
her, by force if necessary.”

“I
won’t let you touch her.” Valerian’s face twisted in anguish. He raised the
sword over his head and lunged forward, hacking down with the blade.

Caelis
easily blocked the blow with the haft. He laughed and kicked Valerian in the stomach.
Moaning, Valerian bent over, nearly dropping the sword. Caelis brought the ax
around to behead the prince, but Valerian charged into the swing, and the haft
struck his back. The edge of the blade sliced through the chain mail and into
Valerian’s right shoulder. The prince cried out, and the sword dropped from his
limp fingers. They grappled and fell, but Caelis came to his feet first. He was
too close to properly swing the ax, so he kicked Valerian’s ribs.

Valerian
doubled up, groaning. He grabbed the fallen sword with his left hand and
desperately chopped at Caelis’ legs. One stroke connected with Caelis’ right
calf, and he backed off, grimacing. Warmth trickled down his leg, but it wasn’t
deep.