A Royal Sacrifice Ch. 12

"Mistress," whispered the handmaiden in her ear. Rebecca's voice was heavy with fear.

"Stay strong," snapped Evelyn.

Below them, Stephano sneered, drawing his blade with a long scrape of metal upon metal. "I'm afraid I must insist."

"Oh, God," muttered Evelyn, feeling real fear grip her heart. She turned about, ready to run up the stairs, but two more guardsmen stood at the head of the steps, also with blades drawn. Their faces were malevolent and without mercy.

"Evelyn!" sputtered Rebecca in fear, also spying the two guardsmen.

"Strong," repeated Evelyn, clutching Rebecca tightly to her, drawing upon the girl's fleeing strength as much as she hoped to feed her handmaiden some of her own. "Stay strong."

"But . . . how?" lamented Rebecca.

Evelyn suddenly smiled, a mad, reckless smile. "Because we are not alone," she said, then took a deep breath and screamed, as loud as she could: "CEDRIC!"

***

Even above the buzz of conversation in the ballroom, above the music and occasional laughter, above the thoughts tumbling about in his head, Cedric could hear the faint cry. While many around him seemed to have deaf ears, the young knight did not. Instantly, Cedric was on guard, his eyes wild, reflexes on alert.

"Evie," he said anxiously.

Beside him, Guy perked. "Hmm?"

The knight shot the Uralian lord a look. "My Queen needs me," he said simply, then bolted, pushing his way through the crowd, not caring about subtlety or courtesy. "John! Sir John! To the north stairs!"

Guy watched after the enthusiastic young knight, and noticed as well as another man -- clad in hardened leather marked with polished studs, sword at his side -- broke away from a buxom young blonde and headed for the broad double doors at the far end of the room. Cries of distress and anger trailed beyond both he and Cedric as they barged their way through in the service of their Queen.

Guy took a breath, readying himself, and set aside his glass of wine. And so, here it is, he thought, moving forward through the crowd, picking up speed as he followed the two knights.

***

As Cedric threw open the doors, he took in the scene before him in less than a heartbeat: Captain Stephano, advancing up the stairs, sword in hand, and two more guardsmen at the top, slowly making their way down. And in the middle were the Queen and Rebecca, holding onto each other for support. Cedric noted the looks of relief upon their faces as they saw him. He gave them a grim nod.

"Stephano!"

The Captain stopped, turned about on the stairs, even as the two at the top hesitated as well. Stephano sneered at Cedric, then upon John as the second Knight of Vix burst through the doors. His eyes seemed blank, almost glassy.

"Oh, how touching. Two young pups coming to save the bitch from slaughter," Stephano hissed.

Together, as if practiced, Cedric and John drew their swords and aimed the points toward the Captain. "If there is to be slaughter, it will be yours, and that of your cohorts," vowed Cedric.

Stephano laughed. "Oh, I think not," he cried haughtily, and snapped his fingers.

Peripherally, Cedric and John noted the entrance of two more guards, from their left and right, down the halls that surrounded the ballroom. The two young men exchanged a quick glance.

"Take the guards first?" asked John heatedly.

"No," responded Cedric. "Stephano. He threatens the Queen."

"Five to one," commented John anxiously. "Not the best of odds."

Cedric grinned. "Who said being a knight was easy?" he asked rhetorically, then bellowed in challenge.

Together, Cedric and John charged the Captain, blades whirling, calling upon all they had learned in their few days of training. Both gifted, and strong in both body and spirit, they hoped their talents would be enough.

Stephano was an experienced soldier, however, and recognized that the charge of the two knights was more bravado than anything else. Taking advantage of his higher ground upon the steps, he slashed at the two men, knocking their blades aside. Sparks flew as metal struck metal. With practiced moves, he held back the strikes of the knights as his own faithful men rushed forward.

"I'm not impressed!" cried Stephano, deflecting the whirling blades of his foes. "Our Queen would have done better than to elevate a childhood friend and a stable-boy to knighthood!"

As they fought, John heard the heavy bootfalls of the other two guardsmen coming up behind them. Their impromptu plan of stopping Stephano was not going to work they way they had hoped. "Cedric!" he called.

Without a word, Cedric whirled, his blade dancing off Stephano's with a shower of sparks, and faced a charging guardsman. With a valiant cry and ferocious style, he hurled himself toward the man, quickly hammering upon the guardsman's upturned blade.

The guardsman grunted, stumbling back, finding himself instantly upon the defensive beneath Cedric's fierce attack. He parried and blocked, shuffling his feet backward as Cedric advanced. He managed a few thrusts and strikes of his own, but the young knight's natural skill was obviously greater than his own.

With a feint, a parry, and a low, whirling crouch, Cedric came up under the guard of his opponent, and thrust his blade home. Steel split flesh and bone, forcing a quick spurt of blood as the point of Cedric's blade tore through the guardsman's torso. The guardsman's limbs fell limp; he sagged to the floor, his life pouring out of him.

Cedric gritted his teeth at the sight and jerked his blade free. He whipped his head about, watching as John cut down his own foe with a trio of quick slashes that rent through cloth, flesh, and bone. John's foe pitched face-forward to the ground, still quivering, yet no longer a threat.

The two knights nodded to one another, then returned their attention to the stairs.

***

Prince Drest had heard the cries, on his way to his chambers. The shrill scream torn from Evelyn's lungs had made his decision for him, and he found himself running full-tilt through the halls toward the source.

Emerging from a second-floor hallway, sword in hand, Drest took in the scene quickly; two guardsmen, swords in hand, moving down the stairs toward a cowering Evelyn and her handmaiden, while the Knights of Vix -- Cedric and John -- battled two other guardsmen at the foot. And between the knights and their Queen was Captain Stephano, head of the castle guard, blade clutched in white-knuckled hand, murder obvious within his eyes.

A king's son has the benefit of being trained by the best, and Drest was no exception. With quick, whirling movements, he descended upon the two guards before him, slashing with skill and precision. The first fell quickly, his sword arm all but severed before a second strike bit deep through his neck. The other guard was quick to respond, and charged Drest, blade flashing viciously.

From the corner of his eye, Drest saw the Captain descend upon Evelyn and her handmaiden, his sword stabbing downward. Dread gripped him, then. Oh, no! Evie!

"Evelyn!" he cried, watching Stephano's blade become swallowed up by the linen and silk the women wore. Both the Queen and her handmaiden screamed in terror . . . or pain. Drest gritted his teeth, feeling a dark hand squeeze his heart.

And then came another, a man in the dark blue coat of Ural, a slim, slightly-curved rapier in hand. He burst through the doors from the ballroom, the point of his blade leading the way, and darted past Cedric and John, unerringly up the stairs toward Stephano. As the Queen and her handmaiden fell back amid a flurry of their petticoats and robes, Stephano's blade slashing down, the man called Lord Dorr charged recklessly, yet with deadly precision.

Stephano jerked his sword free and held it high in both hands, ready to cleave in two one of the women before him. But he suddenly shuddered with pain. The point and first few inches of a rapier's blade erupted through his chest, spraying blood. A stunned look crossed Stephano's face. His sword wavered in the air above him.

Behind the Captain, Lord Dorr jerked his blade free, then stabbed again, this time through Stephano's heart. The Captain convulsed, blood gurgling from his parted lips. His body sagged, as life fled his eyes.

With a deadly slash, Drest opened a deep wound from groin to neck in the last guardsman, causing the man to stumble back and cough and choke in his death-throes. The body tumbled down the steps, joining the corpses laid out by Cedric and John. He rushed down to the Queen's side, fearing the sight of blood upon her. Yet there was no wound; Stephano's first stab had missed both Evelyn and Rebecca, but only barely, it seemed.

All eyes fell upon Lord Dorr, who jerked his blade from the back of Stephano. Grimly, he wiped the blade with a crimson cloth at his belt, then sheathed it. He gave a quick nod to Drest, then Evelyn. His eyes were stoic. "I am glad to have been of assistance," he said simply, then turned and headed down the stairs.

***

The castle had been emptied; not even the musicians had been allowed to remain. All guards had been sequestered to their chambers, after John and Cedric had chosen two that they knew could be trusted to watch them. The gates were closed, portcullises lowered and locked in place. The castle had never been more vulnerable as it was at that moment. But Benedict could think of no other alternative.

"I want to know what the Hell is going on," he growled, standing in the midst of the Queen's audience chamber. Evelyn sat in her chair at the far end, flanked by Cedric and John. Rebecca stood close at hand, eyes cast to the floor. Prince Drest paced as his half-sister sat along the wall, all at once demure and quietly seductive. Muriel kept an eye on Viviane from her position in the corner. Guy Dorr occupied the opposite corner, arms folded, eyes trying not to betray his interest and amusement. Finally, the Lord Chamberlain stood mutely by himself, arms wrapped about the selfsame book Evelyn had seen him carting earlier.

"As do we all," said Evelyn, face and voice both grim. Her gaze shot to Drest for a moment.

"Let me handle this," spat the Chancellor, glaring at the Queen. "You may be the regent of the land, but that is only by birthright. I am Chancellor. I know what it takes to run a kingdom, to keep order and civility intact!"

Evelyn met the older man's glare with impunity. "And a fine job you've done," she said acidly.

Benedict seethed, taking a step toward the Queen. "You insolent whelp—"

"Go to Hell!" she cried, lurching up from her chair, startling all within the room. She stormed toward Benedict, not caring for his power, his influence, nor his perceived ideas about her. "From the moment I came here, I have suffered naught but your rudeness, your insolence, your disfavor! I am tired of it!"

"Hold your tongue, woman—" he warned, raising a hand.

But Evelyn's flew before his, slapping hard across Benedict's face. The older man stumbled, stunned as much by the blow as by the fact that it had been delivered. He touched his bloodied lip as Evelyn continued:

"SHUT UP!" she cried, visibly trembling as she stood with clenched fists before the Chancellor. Her eyes blazed, bosom heaved. "I will not suffer any more indignities from you," she said in a barely-controlled voice. Her words were fast and heated. "Neither of us asked for this, but the fact remains that I am your Queen, and you will bloody well treat me with respect!"

Benedict straightened, hand to his face, his eyes fierce yet tempered by feelings of both intimidation and, indeed, respect. At least a small part of him admired the way this nineteen-year-old girl both stood up to him, and commanded the attentions of all within the room.

"Now," said Evelyn, possessed by courage and determination. "I have no illusions that what happened tonight was anything other than the work of Bagdemagus."

"Do you have proof of that?" asked Viviane, smiling smugly. "Perhaps your house is not as strong as you would wish."

Evelyn met her eyes sternly. "If it is not, it is only because of the influence of outsiders," she said meaningfully. Her eyes narrowed. "But I will return to you shortly."

Viviane bristled, straightening in her seat. Only her half-brother's cautionary hand upon her shoulder kept her viper's tongue in check.

"As I said," Evelyn continued, addressing the others within the room, one at a time. "The attack tonight was the work of Bagdemagus. Stephano's actions were not his own. I could see it in his eyes. And, had I been close enough, I have no doubt I would have seen it in the others—"

"'In his eyes,' Your Highness?" Benedict chided. He scoffed. "Have you suddenly developed the Sight?"

Evelyn faced the man once more. "No," she said. "I have always had it. I simply did not realize it."

A low rumble coursed through those in the room. Looks and expressions were exchanged.

Benedict chuckled dryly, wiping away a last drop of blood from his lip. "The evening's events have gotten to you, Queen. You are beginning to sound hysterical."

Evelyn stepped closer to the man, slowly, inoffensively. "Benedict," she said. "I know you do not think much of me, and to be honest, I consider you a pompous, insufferable ass." She continued, ignoring the Chancellor's shocked look. "But there is one thing I need from you now. I need your guidance, your wisdom, your experience. You said that I know nothing of ruling a kingdom. You are right; I don't. That is why I need you. I need you to believe in me, to afford me the faith of conviction that you revealed when you told me of Bagdemagus and my father."

Benedict was silent, his eyes wavering from the Queen's before they drifted and found Muriel. He found it strange that he would seek her silent counsel in this matter, but he did.

"Something in you trusted me, then," Evelyn said. "Something compelled you to warn me. Whatever that something was, I need that, now. Not just for me, but for all of us within this room. So, please, let us set aside whatever we may have thought for one another. Pride and pettiness account for nothing. And I say that as a woman who is guilty of both."

Benedict listened, all the while with his eyes upon Muriel. Her short nod of encouragement, along with her smile, inspired his decision.

His face snapped back to Evelyn. "Understand that it may take some time for me to fully accept you, Evelyn," he said. His eyes dipped. "But you are my Queen. I have endeavored to be both teacher and taskmaster to you . . . however, I may have . . . blurred the lines a bit."

Evelyn reached up and cupped the Chancellor's face, both startling the man and making him flinch. "Benedict," she said softly, surprised at her own calmness. "Did you trust my father?"

He frowned at the question. "Of . . . of course," he said. "Granted, there were things we did not agree upon—"

"But you trusted him."

Benedict nodded.

Evelyn's hazel eyes glowed with meaning. "I only ask that you trust me," she whispered.

Watching from his corner, Guy Dorr smiled wanly. Oh, you have your hands full, wizard, he thought. This is not some simple girl-queen. This is a regent born.

Benedict nodded reluctantly, gently taking the Queen's wrists in his hands. "I will try," he said, slowly pulling her hands from his face.

Evelyn smiled slightly. "Thank you," she said, then turned and headed back to her chair. She sat, gathering her robes about her legs. Her face became stoic and strong. "I think it has been proven tonight that Bagdemagus can get to anyone, anywhere. He charmed my handmaiden—"

Beside her, Rebecca lowered her head in shame.

"—and he somehow seduced Captain Stephano into trying to slay me. Clearly, we are none of us safe from his influence—"

"Excuse me, my Queen?" came Viviane's voice.

Eveyln cocked her head, regarding the voluptuous woman. "Yes."

Viviane took a breath, glancing to Drest for a moment's support, and taking his hand. "I am no Sorceress myself, but I . . . know some things."

Evelyn arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

The buxom temptress nodded, her face showing the conflicting emotions she felt. "My understanding is that there are many ways a wizard such as Bagdemagus could gain influence over others. I must admit that, based upon what I have heard, it does seem that your Captain was . . . not in his right mind tonight."

Evelyn nodded slowly. "Thank you," she said, though the words seemed forced. She lifted her head, looking to the others. "So, how do we deal with this? I seem to be the only one who can see the wizard, and recognize his touch upon others. But it would not be feasible for me to expose myself just so that we may find him."

The room was quiet a moment. Thoughtful looks crossed the faces of those in the room.

"My Queen," said John, standing to her left.

Evelyn turned her head. "Sir John?"

He cleared his throat. "Eh . . . I believe that . . . I, as well, am able to see him even when he wishes not to be seen."

A few soft gasps sounded through the room. Evelyn peered intently upon her knight. "Are you certain?" she asked.

John nodded, trying to ignore the curious looks the others in the room gave him. "I observed him, once, riding his pale horse through the village. Everyone else parted before him, even though not one looked upon him directly. It was as if . . . as if they considered him the highest royalty, yet at the same time . . . he was invisible to them. It is strange, I know—"

"No," said the Queen with a small smile. "That is how it seems to me, as well."

John smiled in return, gave a short nod.

"So it appears we have our eyes," Evelyn said, for the first time since the evening's events feeling that hope still existed. "I will charge Sir John and Sir Cedric with the task of finding Bagdemagus. It is time we took the fight to the bastard."

Guy Dorr narrowed his eyes as he gazed upon the Queen. Good luck, your Highness, he thought.

Benedict spoke first above the rumble in the room. "My Queen, if I may," he said. "We know nothing of the Spectre. Certainly, he has been seen, and fought, but we know not his lair, nor his motives—"

"I do."

The room fell silent at the sound of the Lord Chamberlain's deep, rich voice. All eyes watched as he stepped forward, cradling the aged tome in his arms.

"Do you know something?" Evelyn asked.

Alistair nodded. "I believe I do," he said, and opened the book. "This is a treatise of ancient pagan magical rituals. The Old Magic, as many would say, and certainly the path our foe has followed."

Evelyn gripped the arm rests of her chair. "What have you found?"

The Chamberlain sighed. "I wish it were more," he said. "But what I have uncovered -- given that much of pagan magic remains unknown to us -- suggests that the wizard Bagdemagus seeks to invoke a powerful spell, one designed by the Infernal himself, to gain dominion over the land."

Evelyn raised her hand to quell the objections by Benedict and others. "Tell me more," she said.

Lord Alistair nodded, glancing to the yellowed pages of the book. "It is my conclusion that Bagdemagus seeks to cast the spell of Ultimate Sacrifice," he said. "In which a virgin regent is to be given to the Devil upon the Midsummer Day."

Evelyn felt a chill course through her body. The room was conspicuously quiet. "I . . . see," she said.

Benedict was the first to speak. "I have to say that it does make sense," he said. "The wizard insured you were the only child of King Richard, and to be a honest, a girl is much more likely to remain chaste than a boy . . . ."

The Queen suddenly felt sick. She settled a hand to her stomach, a move that was not lost upon either Rebecca nor Muriel. But as both women moved forward, Evelyn waved them off.