The Seventh Daughter (22 page)

“I cannot say,” she said, weeping. “It is too awful.”

Tania put her arm around Sancha's shoulders. “Talk to me about it,” she said gently. “Please.”

Sancha wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Do you remember when we were in the Library together? When the Soul Books burned?”

“Yes.” Tania remembered it vividly—how could she ever forget those unearthly screaming voices as the flames consumed the books? “I know you're very upset about the books…but…but they're only
things
, Sancha. Things can always be replaced.”

“You do not understand,” said Sancha. “The books hold in their pages the whole of a person's life—not only those things which have happened, but also that which is yet to come. The books speak to me, Tania. Although each book can be read only by the one whose life lies within the covers, I can read them all—that is my gift…and it has become my curse.”

“Why a curse?”

“I have never sought knowledge of the future
from the books,” Sancha said. “I always closed my eyes and stopped my ears from learning what is to come—that is a burden I would not wish to bear. But when the books burned, I heard one voice that would not be silenced.” She swallowed and Tania felt her fingers gripping fiercely into her arm. “I heard death crying out from the burning pages….”

Tania gasped. “Whose death?”

“I must not tell you,” Sancha said, crying. “But tomorrow on the battlefield, death will take a great soul. A beloved soul.” She pulled away from Tania. “Leave me, please, leave me! I have told you too much. I will not speak of it anymore. It is not meant for you to know such things!” She scrambled to her feet and pushed her way into her tent.

Tania got up, meaning to follow her sister—to ask more questions. But she had taken only two paces when she came to an abrupt halt. Why wouldn't Sancha say who was going to die? If she would only tell her, then maybe she'd be able to protect them or even stop them from getting into the battle in the first place. But then a terrible thought struck her and she stared after Sancha, her throat suddenly dry. What if the victim was someone who
had
to be at the front of the battle, someone whom it would be impossible for Tania to allow to stay out of harm's way?

“It's me,” she whispered. The starry sky whirled around her head, the half-moon flashing across her eyes like a strobe light. “I'm the one who's going to die.”

She stumbled back to her own tent and fell onto her bed. She lay like that for an eternity of misery, too wretched even to cry. Then she turned onto her back, staring up at nothing. Silent tears flowed now, pouring down the sides of her face into her hair.

“I wish Edric was here,” she murmured. “I'd like to have seen him again. Just once more before the end.”

She turned onto her side, her face lost in the pillow as she gave way to the depths of grief and despair.

“It is a fine dawn, indeed,” Eden said. “Alas that it is the harbinger of such a deadly day.” She turned her head, looking into Tania's face. “You are very quiet, sister—do thoughts of the approaching battle darken your spirit?”

“No,” Tania replied. “I'm fine.” She touched her hand against Tanzen's neck and he began to walk down the long eastern slope of Salisoc Heath.

She had not slept, except for maybe a few snatched moments in that strange in-between time when night and day stood in the balance and all the world held its breath. A servant had come into her tent shortly before dawn to help her into her armor. She had stood silently in the candlelit tent, allowing her to strap on the breastplate and back-plate and attach the greaves and cuisses to her legs and the vambraces to her arms. And all the while it had been as if this was happening to someone else. Even when the sword belt had been buckled around her waist and she had felt the hilt of a
crystal sword under her hand, it still hadn't seemed real.

She had felt drained of all emotions, as if she was hollow, just a shell of skin over a great gaping void. It was as if her mind was floating in a white cloud while her earthbound body went through the motions of being alive. Even when the sun lifted its shining arc over the eastern downs and the early light leaped like flying sparks from shield rim and spear-point of the arrayed Faerie army, they meant nothing to her. Even the fact that the heath was now alive with grasses and heathers and bright flowers gave her no cheer. She had mounted up and ridden to the front of the army, past the captains in their armor, past her sisters, all else on horseback save for Cordelia, who sat solemnly astride Zephyr.

Tania brought Tanzen to a halt on the edge of the heath and gazed out at the Sorcerer King's forces. Eden was at her side. There was no order or organization in the army of Gray Knights that swarmed on Puck's Heath. They looked to Tania like some kind of disease—like a sickness held briefly in check, but ready at any moment to pour out over the land. The Morrigan hounds wove between the emaciated legs of the hideous gray horses like black maggots, baying and howling. The ground under the army of Lyonesse was brown and dead; the tide of greenery ended in the valley between the two high heaths.

Tania and Eden rode down into the valley, flanked by heralds who carried the Royal standards of
Faerie—a yellow sun on an azure background and a white moon on a field of darkest blue. As they brought their steeds to a halt in the lap of the vale, where green grass gave way to brown decay, five horsemen broke from the melee on Puck's Heath and came cantering down toward them. Four of the Gray Knights bore banners: a black serpent on a red background. The fifth wore a black cloak that spread out like wings as he rode down the hill.

The Gray Knights wore the perpetual grin of Lyonesse on their pale, haggard faces, and in their eyes was the red glow of battle madness. But it was the smile that played on the lips of the fifth rider that would normally have chilled Tania to the core. The knights brought their horses to a halt only a few yards from where Tania and Eden were waiting.

“Brave heart!” Eden whispered to Tania as Gabriel Drake spurred his horse to walk forward. He came to a halt only a yard from Tanzen. The unicorn snorted and stamped a forehoof, but stood his ground.

“Well met, my bride,” Drake said, his voice sliding through the air like a silken snake. “Our last meeting left me with a pain I will never forget.” He put a hand to his shoulder, where Titania had stabbed him with the black sword back in the Palmers' house in North London. “Your half-mother, the Queen, kept you from me then, but I do not see her today. Perhaps you have hidden her away in the hope of protecting her.” He laughed softly. “A forlorn hope, my lady. So, have you come to swap final marriage vows with me, Tania?
Are we to be fully united at last?”

Tania lifted her chin and looked Gabriel Drake in the face. There was nothing she needed to say to him. She lifted her arm to signal the herald to speak.

“The seven princesses of the Royal House of Aurealis, rightful rulers of the Immortal Realm of Faerie, demand of the Sorcerer of Lyonesse that he and his armies quit this land now and forever,” called the herald in a high, clear voice. “Safe passage will be allowed for all those that lay down their arms. If the Sorcerer of Lyonesse refuses, then he and his armies shall be swept from Faerie and all those not destroyed utterly shall be imprisoned in amber for eternity.”

A heavy silence followed. Gabriel Drake stared into Tania's eyes as if he was trying to reach into her heart with his will and freeze it in her chest. She looked steadily back at him and for the first time she felt no fear as she gazed into those shining silver eyes. She was going to die today—either at the hands of one of the Gray Knights or on Gabriel's sword. Sancha had seen it. There was nothing to be done, except to die as bravely as she could.

His smile faltered and a look of unease flickered over his face. “You have changed, my lady,” he said. “Something cloaks your mind from me. It is not an enchantment, I would know it if that were so. It is something else. Something within you.” He sat up, smiling again. “I care not,” he said. “It is of no matter how you shield yourself from me, be it for a moment or a day: Your fate is inevitable. I will have you for my
own, my lady, body and mind, spirit and soul.”

He seemed to be waiting for her to respond, and her continued silence clearly confused him. He looked up the hill to where the Faerie army was gathered. “I see you have a new recruit to your little band of sisters,” he said with a twisted grin. “Do not put too much trust in Rathina, my lady—she does not have full possession of her mind.” He raised his hand and curled his fingers. “I hold her heart in thrall. When the moment is ripe, I will speak but a single word and she will turn on you.”

Still Tania said nothing, simply holding his gaze until it was he who had to look away.

Then Eden spoke, and her voice was steady and fearless. “Will your new master not come forth and see how green grows the grass on Salisoc Heath?” she asked. “With Rathina at our side death shall never have victory in this land.”

Gabriel smiled at her. “You would make us tremble with talk of new grass, my lady? I know of the Power of Seven. It is a soft power, a feeble power—it has no cutting edge. Nay, my lady, were each grassy blade a blade of crystal and were each pretty flower a Faerie knight, still would the scythe of Lyonesse cut you down. The King will come forth, my lady, have no doubt of that—but before that time comes, the flowers of Faerie will all be weeded away.” He lifted his arm and gestured to one of the Gray Knights.

The creature began to speak, its voice thin and shrill. “The High King of Lyonesse, in reparation for
his unlawful imprisonment at the hands of Oberon Aurealis, takes now this land of Faerie unto his own for all time. The former Queen and all of her daughters will surrender themselves to his mercy and the armies that have gathered to oppose him will disarm and disperse. One hour only does the King give for compliance with this demand, and refusal to obey will be dealt with most harshly.”

“Those are our most reasonable terms,” Gabriel said. “None other shall be given.” He looked from Tania to Eden and back again. “And do not mistake me, your royal highnesses: If you seek battle, your army will be destroyed and none shall survive to remember you.” He bared his teeth. “And when the slaughter of this day is done, the knights of Lyonesse will go forth throughout the land and not a man nor a woman nor a child will be spared the wrath of their passing. We will make Faerie a desert.” His eyes shone with an evil light. “One alone will be allowed the gift of life,” he declared. “I would not have my bride killed. No, Tania—you will live on forever at my side.” The smile widened. “You will never be free of me, Tania! Did you not know? We are bonded for all time!”

“No, Gabriel,” Tania said quietly. “We aren't.” And now it was her turn to smile. “Don't you get it?” she said. “Today is the day I'm going to break the bond between us once and for all.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, his face transformed by anger and uncertainty. He drew back his lips and
opened his mouth as if to speak, but she didn't give him the chance; she touched her heel against Tanzen's flank and he carried her rapidly back up the long slope of Salisoc Heath, Eden and the heralds cantering after her.

She heard Gabriel's voice calling: “The only way you will ever be free of me is with your death, Tania!” he shouted. “If that is your choice, then so be it. Today you will die!”

Tania gave a breath of laughter. “Tell me something I don't know, Gabriel,” she muttered.

Eden caught up with her. “I know what you fear, sister,” she said. “But death is not the only path.”

“Yes, it is,” Tania replied calmly. “But don't worry, I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid at all.” She urged Tanzen into a gallop, pulling out her sword and brandishing it in the air as she rode toward her waiting army. Her only regret at that moment was that her parents would never know what had happened to her.

“The talking is done!” she shouted, galloping wildly along the face of the Faerie army. “In the name of King Oberon and Queen Titania and the Seven Princesses of Faerie, follow me!”

Tanzen turned, rearing up on the brow of the hill and letting out a piercing neigh. And then he went galloping back down the hill, and behind her Tania heard the gallant shouts and the clashing of swords and spears on shields as the Army of the Seven Princesses poured like a shining wave down the long hill at her back.

Tania fought mechanically, her body moving with a fluid, passionless skill as she urged Tanzen into the throng. Her shield rang with blows, swords and spear-points glanced off her seashell armor and her curled conch shell helmet, and all the while arrows sang in her ears and her head was filled with shouting, with the neighing of horses, and the maniacal baying of the Morrigan hounds. She thrust and parried with her sword, blocking a sweeping sword-strike, bringing her own weapon in under the defenses of her enemy and striking swift to the heart. And then she was moving on, not waiting for the Gray Knight's body to explode into dust before she was engaging another with the shining play of her crystal blade.

Tanzen acted as one with her, the wild unicorn of Caer Liel rising and falling among the hordes of Lyonesse, hooves pummeling and teeth biting and the spiraling horn slashing and stabbing at the mobbing
hounds and the Gray Knights on their bony undead horses.

Tania fought without fury and without emotion. Even when Tanzen carried her to where the Gray Knights were massed most thickly, plunging through the crowded creatures as though breasting a rising tide, she felt nothing. She swung her sword, fending off a hound that leaped at her throat, hearing it whine as her crystal blade bit deep. She ducked to avoid a swinging mace, slashing upward, her sword severing the arm at the elbow. The arm cartwheeled through the air and came thumping back onto the stump, the mace still gripped in the skeletal fingers. Tanzen wheeled to one side, his head coming down, his spiral horn thrusting into the neck of the rider's gray steed while Tania leaned into the plunge and her sword pierced the Gray Knight's chest. Tanzen turned again, tossing a Morrigan hound high into the air. Tania's sword sliced its head from its body as it fell.

She had only one thought in her mind—to find Gabriel Drake in all this mayhem and madness and to do her utmost to kill him before he killed her.

The surge of the battle moved away from her and she found herself in a strangely empty eddy of the battlefield. Tanzen turned in a slow circle, snorting and stamping as if eager to get back into the melee. All around her, the knights of Faerie were hammering at the gray legions of Lyonesse, but Tania could see that the tide of battle was slowly turning in the Gray Knights' favor. The Faerie banners were waving
valiantly, but they had been pushed back up the long gradient of Salisoc Heath, and there were many—far too many—Faerie knights lying in the long grass, staining the green to a dark, livid red.

Tania shook her head to get the sweat out of her eyes. Where was Drake? She had not seen him since the two armies had first clashed—and she had no idea of how long ago that might have been. Time didn't mean anything in all this deadly chaos. She could see the grim banners of Lyonesse on the rise. And in the air around one of the serpent banners, she saw falcons and eagles circling, diving constantly, harrying the standard-bearer.

“Cordelia!” she exclaimed.

Her sister was there, high upon the back of her leaping unicorn, her sword a white blur as she fought her way toward the banner. Gray Knights galloped toward her, their inhuman shrieks carried on the wind. A single hack of Cordelia's sword sent the serpent banner tumbling. Tania caught her breath as, moments later, she saw the Gray Knights surround her sister. For a few moments Cordelia and Zephyr fought savagely, but then an unlucky spear-thrust caught the unicorn in the side. He reared up, his neck arching back as he cried out to the sky in a high, sweet, piercing voice. And then he fell and Cordelia was lost among the Gray Knights. The birds flocked to her aid. Swords bit the air, arrows flew, spears stabbed upward. Many of the birds fell, but still they came.

For the first time that day Tania allowed herself to
feel something real. And what she felt was
fear
. A terrible fear—not for herself, but for her sister. She heard Sancha's voice in her head.
Tomorrow on the battlefield, death will take a great soul.

Not me! Cordelia! She was talking about Cordelia!

She had been so caught up with the image of herself as the
special
one—the most important of the seven—that it had never occurred to her that someone else might be the target of Sancha's prophecy.

“Tanzen! To Cordelia!” she called. The wild unicorn roared up the hillside like the north wind. Tania clung grimly to his back as he fell upon the Gray Knights. They went slashing and hacking through them, buffeted by sword and spear as they fought their way toward Cordelia.

She glimpsed her sister through the crowding knights. Cordelia was on her feet, standing over her fallen unicorn with a sword in either hand, the crystal blades whirling while her enemies swarmed around her, their monstrous steeds screeching as Cordelia cut their legs from under them and sent their riders tumbling. Birds attacked the milling knights, flying into their faces, talons raking at their eyes, curved beaks pecking. But the undead creatures of Lyonesse could only be destroyed by a strike to the heart, and too many hemmed Cordelia in now, blocking the whirl of her swords with their own blades, closing in on her for the kill.

Cordelia lost her footing and fell. Screaming their triumph, the Gray Knights closed over her. Tania
urged Tanzen forward, leaning over the unicorn's head to stab and thrust at the knights that surrounded her sister. She was aware of someone at her side; someone on a bay horse—a rider in Faerie armor, a spinning sword, a shouting voice, a familiar face twisted in rage.

“With me!” Rathina howled, hacking her way through the Gray Knights.

Together, Tania and Rathina cut a path through to their fallen sister. Cordelia staggered to her feet and swung herself onto Tanzen's back behind Tania. Horse and unicorn reared and turned, heaving through the enemy, bursting out of the throng and cantering into clear ground.

“Are you okay?” Tania said, panting, twisting her head to look at her sister.

“I am unhurt,” Cordelia said. “But it was an opportune rescue. I fear they would have butchered me else. Alas for Zephyr, I could do naught to save him. Come, find me another steed. I have a great debt to repay to the filth of Lyonesse.”

“I wouldn't have been able to reach you without Rathina,” Tania said, looking across to where her dark-haired sister sat astride her horse, catching her breath.

“Aye,” Cordelia said, nodding to Rathina. “That was bravely done.”

“A drop in the ocean of my debt to you all,” Rathina said grimly. She tugged on her horse's reins. “Much is still to be done.” She kicked her heels and
the animal went galloping back toward the enemy. “I shall see you anon!” she called back. “On the field of victory, or not at all!”

“Have you seen the others?” Tania asked Cordelia.

“That will be Eden,” Cordelia said, pointing down the hillside to an embattled huddle of knights. In the middle of the throng the air was livid with blue-white flashes, like spears of landlocked lightning. “I have not seen Zara and Sancha since the battle began,” Cordelia continued. “But Hopie is upon the hill, ministering to the wounded. Lord Brython stands guard over her like an oak tree, wielding a double-handed axe and allowing none to come near.”

The two armies had broken into many smaller groups spread over the heaths and the vale between. There was some savage fighting going on almost under the eaves of the forest where the Earl Marshal Cornelius and his sons were attacking a serpent banner. The valley itself was like a deadly, boiling cauldron: knights of both armies pressing at one another while the hounds circled and pounced, pulling down horses where they could, while the shrieks and calls and cries of the conflict rose horribly into the air.

The Moon banner and the Sun banner of Faerie had become separated: The Moon banner was to the rear of the battlefield, protected by Earl Valentyne and his knights, but the banner with the yellow sun on its sky blue background was partway up the slope of Puck's Heath, the knights protecting it pressing forward toward the crest. Tania saw a small valiant figure
galloping up the side of Puck's Heath toward the Sun banner, sword raised and shining in the light. Zara!

But a group of Gray Knights was racing across the sloping ground, closing in on her from behind, like storm clouds chasing down the summer sun—and their leader was wearing a black cloak that spread out behind him like bat wings.

“They're going to catch her!” Tania shouted.

Cordelia leaped from Tanzen's back. “Go to her aid!” she called, slapping the unicorn's hindquarters. “I will find a steed and be with you as soon as I may.”

Tanzen surged forward, his mane streaming out as he galloped full tilt down the hillside and across the valley to the rise of Puck's Heath. Tania screwed her eyes against the shrilling air, her sword gripped tight in her fist as she leaned into the rushing wind. Running quicker than any horse, Tanzen soon closed the gap between them and Drake's Gray Knights. Tania knew that these were the deadliest enemies on the battlefield, armed with swords of Isenmort, protected by black amber, led by the evil renegade Lord of Weir. But she didn't care—she had been afraid of Drake for far too long. He had invaded her dreams and made her life a bitter torment. But one way or another his hold over her would be broken today.

Tanzen didn't flinch as he went crashing into the side of Gabriel's horse, his long horn piercing the beast to the heart. But the force of the impact threw Tania from his back. Earth and sky wheeled around her, but she kept her wits and hit the ground in a
urled roll, her armor absorbing the shock so that she was on her feet in seconds, a little dizzy from the fall, but crouched sure-footed with her sword ready.

The collapse of Gabriel's horse had thrown his knights into confusion, some of the hideous animals falling headlong, others bucking and swerving to avoid the chaos. Gabriel had been catapulted over his horse's head and was lying motionless on the ground with his cloak over him like a shroud.

With a cry Tania ran toward him, her helmet falling off so that her long red hair was released into the whipping wind. She stood over him, feet spread, her sword raised in the high ward. This was the moment to set herself free. A simple lunge and Gabriel's dominion over her would be finished forever.

But she hesitated. She believed herself capable of killing him in a fair fight, but to thrust a sword into his body while he lay helpless at her feet? Every instinct in her shouted out against it. She lowered her sword, stepping back. She was aware of a group of Faerie knights thundering up the hillside, Sancha and Rathina at their head. They broke against Drake's disordered Gray Knights, fighting desperately against the Isenmort swords. Gabriel stirred, heaving himself up on his arms, shaking his head, struggling to get his feet under him.

“Get up!” Tania shouted.

Gabriel pulled himself to his feet. He swayed, his cloak swirling around him, his face dazed. Then he
looked at Tania and the silver glint in his eyes was like knives in her heart.

“Pick up your sword,” she said.

“Gladly,” he said, stooping and sweeping up his sword of shining steel. “You were ever a fool, Tania. Now meet a fool's end!” He ran at her, his sword aimed at her throat.

She parried his blow and sidestepped, her smooth side sweep almost managing to slash him as he stumbled by her. He was quick, his blade coming up, ringing on hers as he fended off her attack. Now they faced each other again, their eyes locked—his a deadly silver that clashed and sparred against the gold-flecked green of hers. He leaped forward, sword extended. She turned his thrust aside, spinning and striking fast, her sword cutting through the billows of his cloak, striking solid flesh. He let out a shout of pain, stumbling to his knees. Tania saw that there was blood on the edge of her sword.

He was up again in an instant, slicing the air with his sword, holding her at bay. She could see that she had hurt him—he stood bent over to one side with a grimace of pain on his face. But through the pain he still smiled that vile, knowing smile. Seeing the smile and looking into those silver eyes again, she beat and beat and beat down on his faltering blade, howling with an anger she had never known herself capable of as she forced him onto his knees.

At last he let his sword fall away and knelt there, his arms limp, blood spreading over the gray mail on
his side, staring up at her with eyes that were like twin full moons in an empty sky. She lifted her sword, trembling with rage.

“Our bond does not end with my death, Tania,” he said. “Remember, we are bonded for all time. Murdering me will not set you free. I will haunt you down all the long ages.”

She stared at him, shaken by his words in spite of her rage.

Then his eyes moved away from her face, seeming to focus on something behind her. A smile curved his mouth. He spoke a single word, like a breath on the air. “Rathina!”

Something hit Tania from behind, something that knocked her sideways, jarring her sword out of her hand and throwing her to the ground. She was vaguely aware of the stamping of hooves and of movement above her as a rider brought a horse to a sudden halt and swung from the saddle.

Tania lay winded on the ground as she saw Rathina step in front of Drake, her face grim and set, her sword held in both hands. “I cannot let you do this,” Rathina said. “Leave him, Tania—I do not wish to fight with you, but I shall if you seek to do him any more harm.”

“No!” Tania groaned, staring into her sister's face. “Rathina, no!”

“I cannot help it,” Rathina said, her voice cracking with something close to madness. “I am
his
!” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “No more blood
need be shed, Gabriel, my love,” she cried. “It is not too late. Let us quit the battlefield—let us leave this Realm entirely and be forever as one.”

Drake rose to his feet, his eyes shining, his face twisted with a malevolent smile of triumph. “Did I not warn you, Tania?” he said. “Did I not tell you she would turn on you?” He pushed indifferently past Rathina, making her stumble to one side, his sword ready in his fist as he strode toward where Tania lay.