Centaur of the Crime: Book One of 'Fantasy and Forensics' (Fantasy & Forensics 1) (35 page)

Vazura held a little bronze cylinder to his eye. He aimed it upslope, twisting a knob on the side as he did so. He let out a satisfied grunt.

“No movement from the centaurs.”

“Excellent,” Behnaz said gleefully, “Our first volley should scythe through them like a field of ripe wheat!”

Numbly, I stared as long-necked trumpets blatted out a triple series of notes, conveying the order down the line. Up and down the line, units hoisted flags of red and black. The sound of waves on a rocky beach as the infantry began to beat their shields with the flat of their swords. Behind them, archers in bright red and white uniforms nocked wickedly sharp arrows to bowstrings.

“Whatever you felt about Benedict, listen to me!” I said, almost pleading. “There’s no need to go to battle with the centaurs!”

“You’re wrong about that,” Behnaz said. His eyes flared like molten steel in a furnace. “My warriors need this battle. I need it. You were just too slow to realize this simple fact.”

“Indeed,” Vazura added from above, with a coarse laugh. “That’s how a woman’s mind operates, does it not? About two steps behind a man’s?”

“Yes, it was certainly her bad luck,” Behnaz said, taunting me. “Bad luck to have no real allies in this world. Bad luck to have been born female. She can’t even restore her honor by doing something useful: dying on the field.”

I closed my eyes at that. Held back tears of despair. I clenched my fists, as if that pathetic act would blot out the impending disaster. I’d done everything right. Every single damned thing! I’d solved the murder!

But still, these people wanted their damned war. Their senseless slaughter of Angbor’s people. And my friend, Galen.

That’s when it happened.

My mind went
click
.

So hard, that I actually felt my molars grind against each other. The numbing fog that hovered over my brain vanished in a wash of memories.

Liam’s voice sounded, quiet and gentle, in my ear:
Luck isn’t a power. It’s a ‘perspective’. The only true waste would be to despair. To give in.

Galen’s gentle admonishment:
Honor counts for all with a griffin.

And then Magnus Killshevan’s deep, rich baritone:
Why risk a kingdom that’s about to plunge into war? A war where we’d be badly outmatched, if not for the griffins.

That was it. And Momma Chrissie didn’t raise her girls to quit before all was said and done.

I took a deep breath. Spoke as loudly as I could. So I could be heard over the rising din of men preparing for battle.

“You speak of luck, Lord Behnaz?” I said, deliberately throwing a mocking tone into my voice. “It is lucky that the realm of Andeluvia is allied with the mighty griffins, is it not? Because they’re the only thing that allows you to challenge the centaurs. It makes me wonder: how badly overmatched would you be if they were not your allies?”

“Dayna,” Shaw said quietly, out of the side of his beak, “What art thou up to?”

“Using the truth as a cudgel,” I replied. I glanced over at Vazura’s mount. “Who’s the griffin with Captain Vazura?”

“Thou espies Firewing, the current Pride Leader.”

“I have no need of your meddlesome speech, woman!” Behnaz said.

“Who said I was speaking to you?” I shot back. “I’m addressing the Pride Leader of the griffins, not some overweight courtier with delusions of grandeur.”

At that, Firewing raised his head. His bright golden irises, shot through with specks the precise color of ripe orange rind, focused on me with imperious curiosity. He said nothing, but I had his attention.

“I hear tell that honor counts for all with a griffin,” I began. “But that must be a legend. Something from days past. If someone says that honor means something to a griffin, then they’re a liar!”

Firewing blinked as if I’d slapped him. He let out a derisive snort.

“Why do I think that? Because you’re serving Lord Behnaz. And Behnaz is leading you right into a war he knows was started by a wizard’s lie. A deception. Any order he gives you, any order you follow—dishonors you and your entire people!”

“Fly, damn you!” Vazura shouted, as he thumped his heels against his mount’s sides. “Do not speak with her, stupid creature! I forbid it!”

As if brushing off a pesky fly, Firewing reached back with one forepaw and grasped his rider’s leg. The griffin made a forward-throwing motion with his forepaw. Vazura flew out of the saddle and landed on his face with a metallic
crunch
. The Captain let out a groan and lay still.

“Thy methods make an old drake proud,” Shaw observed.

“Flattery doth not suit thee, Grimshaw,” Firewing replied, in a voice both sibilant and deadly. The larger griffin’s eyes swiveled back to me like lit search lamps. “My people are allied to Andeluvia. A dishonorable cause can still be served honorably. Or doth thou challenge my code? Speak quickly, ere I dip my beak in thy blood.”

“You seek to serve honorably?” I asked. “Then tell me, Firewing: how much honor is there in attacking a foe which sits and does not fight back?”

“There is naught,” the griffin admitted.

“Cast your eagle eyes upslope, then. Tell me what you see.”

Firewing heaved himself to stand on his hind paws. Seeing the huge griffin do that was like watching a freshly scrubbed battleship tilt on its stern. I didn’t dare turn to look at what Firewing saw. With any luck, he’d spy a forest of lances quivering in the soft ground, point first. Where Galen had ordered his people to set their arms.

Of course, if Galen hadn’t been able to control his father’s warriors, then even my latest effort would be moot. And I’d just be caught in the undertow of this world’s madness.

“Commander Yervan!” Behnaz shouted, his voice rising to a fever pitch. “I am ordering you, take that woman into custody!”

The leader of the palace guards looked over to where I stood. Shaw’s battered, bloody face loomed over my shoulder.

Commander Yervan turned the point of his sword down. With a quick motion, he jammed the weapon into the soft earth. He stepped back and shook his head back and forth. Next to him, the rest of the palace guards repeated their Yervan’s action.

Sweat beaded Lord Behnaz’s forehead as he saw his palace guard back off. He gasped for air like a drowning man as he realized what I was doing.

Panicking, he fumbled for a medallion that hung on a little silver chain around his neck and spoke into it.

“First Horse Cavalry, to me, now!” he shouted. “Cut down the woman and the griffin beside her!”

Chapter Forty-Three

A terrible, pile-driver of a jingle rippled through the ground. An entire squadron of mounted knights on horseback came pounding down the length of the field. Instead of lances, each warrior reached back and pulled out a long sword, Wicked-looking red runes glinted from each weapons’ blade.

Shaw let out a snarl. It was echoed and deepened as Firewing’s massive vocal cords chimed in.

“The woman speaks the truth.” Firewing declared. The huge griffin sank back to all fours. Casting a gimlet eye on the approaching horsemen, he let out a call that was half leonine roar, half eagle’s scream.

Chaos broke out as the griffins that made up the army’s left threw off their riders. The snap of leather harnesses echoed across the field as the griffins leapt into the air as a group, arrowing towards us.

The Andeluvian cavalry picked up speed. Their battle cries echoed in my ears. A flash of silver and black as they raised their weapons, preparing for the killer blow.

Lord Behnaz pulled his sword. He jammed his stirrups into his horse’s flanks. Joined in the charge, screaming at the top of his lungs.

The griffins flared their wings. Landed around us to each side. Raised up, extending their deadly talons. All together, they let out a roar.

I’d never heard anything like it. Like a rippling, popping lava flow. A crackling inferno of redwoods. A steam cauldron with a thousand nozzles.

I tasted the smell of griffins’ breath.

Hot copper and torn flesh.

The horses reared, throwing the charge into disarray. One rider went down, almost trampled in the fray. Behnaz shouted orders, managed to restore some kind of order. He raised his weapon again, flanked on either side by his well-trained, mounted warriors.

Firewing’s terrifying visage glowered down at Behnaz’s mount. The horse’s knees betrayed a slight tremble. And on either side, the Pride Leader’s griffins arched their proud necks, ready to strike.

I stood my ground. Fixed Lord Behnaz in my gaze.

“Guess what?” I said. “
Mine are bigger than yours.
”

“Drop thy weapons,” Shaw demanded.

Behnaz’s knuckles went white on the hilt of his sword. His brow twitched, trying to figure out some other strategy. None existed.

He threw his weapon down in disgust.

“Stand down,” he called. “Pass the order to the rest of our host! The battle is over, stand down!”

The next few seconds were filled with the clatter of steel and wood as swords, flails, and bows were put down. And as soon as the cacophony died away, Commander Yervan and one of his palace guards stepped up and grabbed hold of the reins for Behnaz’s mount.

“What are you doing?” Lord Behnaz demanded, “Release me!”

“No one shall take orders from you,” Yervan said firmly. “As leader of the palace guard, you are under arrest for usurping royal authority. The dungeon will be your next residence. But at least you can share that with your Captain.”

“You cannot arrest me! By law, I am the legitimate ruler!”

“In the absence of the royal family, a senior Lord may lead the realm’s army into battle.” Yervan recited. “Unfortunately, Lord Behnaz, you just declared the battle over.”

Yervan’s subordinate led Behnaz off the field. The nobleman cursed and swore the entire way. Two more of Yervan’s men followed, lugging Captain Vazura’s limp form between them. The commander of the royal guards looked up at me, eyebrows raised.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” he said. “But who leads us in the absence of Benedict’s son?”

A shadow flitted by overhead. I looked up, squinted against the bright sunlight. As if from out of a dream, an owl the color of a fresh Dreamsicle soared across the field to perch atop the Andeluvian standard. Cheers broke out as the assembled troops recognized Albess Thea.

“There’s your answer,” I said. “Want to bet that your country’s laws say that
outside
of battle, the leader of the realm is the reigning Albess?”

“One would advise against taking that bet,” Thea called out. “A foolhardy choice of financial acumen that would be.”

A clatter from off to my left. I whirled and saw Liam fall back into the grass. The Fayleene called out in alarm.

“He’s free! Watch out!”

Magnus had shoved the princeling away. The wizard rolled, came up with one of the dropped swords in his hand. He spoke a single word of magic. A shimmer rippled the air. In Duke Kajari’s place stood a handsome centaur stallion.

Magnus’ face looked similar to Kajari’s—wider, more angular, but similar all the same. Patches of brown, red, and white dotted his equine flanks. His pearl-gray hooves churned up dust as he galloped towards me, weapon aimed point-first at me like a dagger.

“You shall join me in death!” he cried. “Damn you, Dayna!”

He never got to carry out his threat.

A bright yellow flash came from the Andeluvian lines, scorching my retinas with a web of red pinpricks. Magnus stiffened as if he’d trotted across a live power line.

“No,” he groaned. “Not that…”

And with that, he slumped to the ground in a tangle of equine legs.

Master Seer Zenos pushed his way through the startled crowd, brandishing his stunning staff. He held the weapon up in front of me while Yervan sent two of his men to pick up the centaur. At this rate, Andeluvia was going to have to add a whole new wing of cells to the palace dungeon.

“Did I not say that my Staff of Stunning could grant oblivion for the rest of the day?” he declared with a wild cackle.