Novel 2. Royal Justice

— Yeh! — The young official made an obscene gesture to his pursuers and whipped his horse on the croup. The rested mare spurred on as an arrow.

He did not know how long the two of them had been riding eastward, ducking against the horses manes — a minute, two minutes, an eternity. The wind howled, horseshoes clattered on the stony ground, horns sang and steel rang on all sides. Armando looked down to turn his horse away from a pothole in the ground or a large stone, but every now and then he raised his head to look ahead. And each time the line of the royal lancers came closer and closer. The young official did not look back. At one point he rose in his stirrups, tore his hat off his head, and waved it. The lancers galloping towards him drew apart, but not enough to allow the bailiffs to pass through whole troop. The first cavalrymen rushed past Armando, and then the official had to turn his horse round and follow them, to avoid being hit by the hooves of the rear lines. The two cavalry units clashed almost immediately, and the bailiff was in the midst of a mad scramble before he had time to blink. He threw his horse to one side or the other, twisted in his saddle, trying to avoid the blows, not even trying to draw his sword, but it could not go on like this for long. A rider in an old brigantine bearing the crest of one of the rebels came at de Gorazzo from the side. His horse crashed chest-deep into Armando's mare, and the mare fell to the other side with a startled cry. Trying to free his foot from the stirrup, the bailiff had time to see the fragment of a spear sticking in the animal's neck. The impact with the ground knocked the spirit out of de Gorazzo. His eyes went black. Armando made an attempt to get up, but something heavy, smelling of leather and metal, fell on his head, and he lost consciousness.

* * *

Armando was brought to his senses by the sensation of being pulled under his arms. Someone's strong hands pushed the weight off the bailiff's head and chest, pulling him out from under the weight of his legs. De Gorazzo shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts more quickly, and opened his eyes. When he blinked properly, he found himself standing, held under his arms by a pair of soldiers in the armour of royal lancers.

— How are you feeling, Don Armando? — asked a very familiar melodious voice. The lancers turned de Gorazzo round so that he could see Queen Octavia in person. Her Majesty stood literally three steps away from Armando, arms folded across her chest and smiling. The young ruler wore no helmet, her glossy black hair falling over the blued shoulder pads of her famous armour.

— My Lady... — De Gorazzo muttered in a stammering voice, and tried to fall on his knee. The soldiers prevented him from doing so. It was fortunate, for in his present condition the young bailiff would have fallen face down into the ground.

— Stop it, don. — The queen made a sign to the soldiers. They carefully placed the bailiff on the saddle removed from the dead horse. — I said, how are you feeling? I see no open wounds, no fractures.

Armando listened to himself, looking around. He squeezed out:

— Mm-mm... no, Your Majesty... my whole body aches, but my bones are intact.

The Black Brooks Valley stretched out around them, littered with the corpses of men and horses as far as the eye could see. In the distance there were some mounted troops, but there were no more than a dozen soldiers here, near Armando and the queen.

— That's good, — Octavia nodded. — I had given up hope of finding you alive. I was told that you and your friend had been seen in this part of the battlefield, but I didn't know if you were alive. I decided to follow the search myself.

— Gotech... where is... Don de Ardano? — Armando remembered that he had lost sight of the black-skinned giant before the clash had begun.

— They haven't found him yet, either dead or alive, — the queen said with a smile. — But I think if he had died in battle, his body would not have gone unnoticed.

— Yes, — De Gorazzo agreed, grinning involuntarily. — Forgive me, Your Majesty... But why are you here?

— I was hoping to find you, Don. I told you, didn't I? — Octavia shrugged. — The battle is basically over. We have won, thanks in large part to you and your friends. Old Marshal de Crazo is driving the rebel remnants west. Marshal de Holamo commands the rearguard, but is actually looking after Duke Auguste. I have kept the Duke's unit out of the battle, and left enough of my troops nearby for him to sit tight. In Daert, Marshal de Cotocci and the archmage are making sure Auguste's supporters don't do anything while I'm gone. Now that the rebellion is over, we'll have time to deal with the outsiders.

— Donna Minerva got to you, — Armando exhaled with relief.

— Yes, and she brought back invaluable information. I sent her away at once. The families of the Dragon Knights are neutral, so she shouldn't have been on the battlefield. She said she would find her comrades behind enemy lines.

— I was worried about her. — De Gorazzo tried to stand up. He failed miserably. — And I'm worried about Gotech. But thank you for the good news, Your Majesty. And for your concern.

— I gave you a task, you've done it. Of course, it is my duty as commander to take care of you now. — Octavia smiled again and held out a clenched fist to the official. — I swear on my royal blood, Don Armando, we will cleanse our continent of these scum. I will do everything I can to stop them from meddling in the affairs of others. I'll even make an alliance with the Empire if I have to. But I'm sure we can manage on our own.

— You can count on me in this matter, Your Majesty. — His body felt like cotton, but the young official raised his hand and touched his fingers to the queen's armoured fist in a formal gesture of oath.

— Great, then we'll have to get you...

— My lady! — one of the foot soldiers suddenly interrupted the queen. — A troop of soldiers is approaching.

— So? — Octavia turned to him.

— He is... under the banners of the Duke de Veronne.

As Armando looked in that direction, he saw a group of fifty cavalrymen approaching from the direction of the king's camp.

— Jacques. — The queen frowned and flashed a glance at one of the soldiers. — Mount up. Ride to the nearest unit and bring them here. Don't say anything, just bring them here as soon as possible.

— Yes, my lady. — The soldier took off, rattling his armour as he ran.

— What's going on? — Armando asked.

— No good, Don. — The young ruler looked at the approaching cavalry. — Marshal de Holamo had received a direct order not to let the Duke's soldiers out of the camp after the battle was over. Why did he...

She faltered. Her face changed, and she stretched out:

— So that's it...

— Your Majesty?

— Duke Auguste himself rides at the head of the troop. And the marshal is with him, though he has not raised his banner.

— So.

— I'm not a good judge of character, — the black-haired girl said, grinning sadly. — I thought the marshal was reliable....

— Madam, you should get on your horse and... — one of the soldiers started, but the queen raised her palm, silencing him:

— It's too late. Our horses are weary from battle and theirs are fresh. Our troops are far ahead, we won't catch up in time. And I'll bet the Duke has a few outsiders with long-range weapons.

— Then...

— Let's trust in the Creator. You leave now. I'll buy you some time.

— We won't leave you, Mistress, — lancer shook his head. His comrades joined him in a conciliatory cheer.

— I won't give you orders. — Octavia drew her sword and strode leisurely towards the ducal cavalry. Armando, still not thinking clearly, caught up with her and walked beside her. The soldiers lingered, climbing into the saddles.

— I hope he doesn't have the nerve, and it's just a show of force — the queen said in a completely mundane tone, not looking at the young official walking beside her. — But if suddenly... Don Armando, I want you to know. Octavia is a throne name. Before my coronation, my name was Letitia.

— That's... how.. — de Horatso mumbled. Only then did he realise why Octavia was telling him this. But he had no time to say anything in reply — de Veronne's cavalry came close, surrounded the queen and the bailiff from three sides. Octavia's lancers, lined up behind her, prevented them from closing the ring. A few riders rode on, apparently in pursuit of a soldier who had been sent for help. Duke Auguste the Strong rode forward, a huge man on a huge horse. The ruler of the Duchy of Veronne was as tall as Gotech and a good third as wide. The pretender wore only a light breastplate over his gold-embroidered green camisole. Armando gritted his teeth when he saw that Auguste's four personal guards were holding unusual long rifles across their saddles, definitely gifts from another world.

— What an awkward meeting, Your Majesty, — the duke say, looking down at the young queen. He didn't think to dismount.

— Indeed. — The girl in the black armour rested the point of her sword on the ground, palms folded on the cross. Her face remained impassive, her voice calm, even a little mocking. — I thought I had explicitly ordered you to guard the camp with the marshal. What are you doing here, Don Duke?

— I conferred with the Marshal, and we agreed that it was a crime to wait in the rear at such a crucial hour for the country. — The duke grinned rather unpleasantly.

— Oh... — The queen tilted her head to her shoulder to look behind the Auguste's back at her commander. — In truth, Don de Holamo, I thought you were a man of strong opinions.

— I... — The crown marshal began, but was interrupted by the Lord of Veronne:

— The Marshal always said he was loyal to the kingdom, not the crown. I convinced him I could bring more glory and greatness to the country than you, Your Majesty. It's a good thing you're not alone, by the way. Too many people saw you survive the battle, it would take a scapegoat for a public execution....

— I suppose there's no point in asking you to settle our dispute with a duel, is there? — The young queen threw back her head slightly, smiling contemptuously.

— Unlike you, Your Majesty, I'm not afraid to entrust important matters to others, — the duke replied with a chuckle. — But there are some things I intend to do personally today.

Auguste the Strong slipped his hand into his saddlebag and pulled out a curved metal object. Armando had seen very similar ones on the belts of the strangers killed in the pit of the command post.

— It's called a pistol. A gift from my business partners as a token of good co-operation. — The duke pointed it at the queen. — I've spent a lot of time mastering it, and I can say that....

This strange conversation was not to end, for a deafening roar from the sky caused everyone to raise their heads. A coal-black war dragon was descending on the battlefield, a furious dragon, judging by its bared fangs and clawed paws.

— Damn it! — exclaimed the Duke. The object in his hand came to life, twitched, spat fire — once, and again, again, again. The bullets struck Queen Octavia in the chest, piercing her blued cuirass. The girl staggered, but by an incredible effort of will she stayed on her feet — Armando, who came to his senses, had to grab her by the shoulders and pull her to the ground, saving from the fourth shot. Auguste's guards needed no special commands — their guns slammed down frequently. A rain of lead swept over de Gorazzo's head, sweeping away the royal lancers. The bailiff had no time for that — he was trying to lay the queen more comfortably, at the same time covering her with his body from de Veronny's soldiers. The dragon practically crashed into the ground nearby, crushing several riders with its body, including one of the riflemen.

— Ar... — the black-haired girl said suddenly, looking somewhere in the sky, over the bailiff's shoulder. — Don...

— Your Majesty?

— Live... fight... stop... — de Gorazzo could barely make out the queen's whisper through the crackle of gunfire, the dragon's roar, and the horses' neighing. — My... orders...

The last queen of the Iderling dynasty did not utter another word as blood gushed from her mouth, spreading down her cheeks and chin. The girl wheezed and stretched convulsively in the bailiff's arms. She twitched a few times in a final convulsion and collapsed. Octavia's eyes remained open, but the flame of life in them was gone.

— Your... — Armando realised with confusion that he was crying. Tears poured from his eyes, blurring his vision. De Gorazzo tried to lift the queen in his arms, but the weakness had not completely passed, and the girl's body weighed alot in her armour.

— Don Armando! — As if through cotton wool stuffed in his ears the bailiff heard a shout. He looked back — Donna Minerva was waving at him, hanging dangerously from Charcoal's back. The dragon staggered back, as bullets and jets of magical flame struck it, reflecting off the blue flaring force shields. The knight used everything she had, including the disposable amulets woven into the dragon's harness.

For a few seconds de Gorazzo hesitated. He could not take Octavia with him — but he could not leave her here, among his enemies. What if by some miracle something else could be done? If master Carlon could help with healing magic?

— Don Armando! Over here!

Wiping his tears with the dirty sleeve of his jacket, the bailiff rose, took one last look at the queen's breathless body, and ran to the dragon. He jumped up and grabbed with both hands the straps that braided Charcoal's body, and the dragon stopped staggering. It ran forward, wing beating, scattered the Duke's cavalrymen, pushed off the ground, soared into the air, accompanied by gunfire and the hiss of battle spells. Armando heard them for a few moments, and then there was only the sound of wind in his ears.

Donna Minerva got out of the saddle, helped the bailiff climb onto the dragon's back, secured there with straps behind her seat. Asked:

— The queen?

— Dead, — Armando breathed out. He was shivering violently, and the icy wind did nothing to stop it. The bailiff's face was unprotected by helmet, making it hard to speak. — I...couldn't...do...anything...about it.

— And I was too late, — the knight said bitterly, getting back into the saddle. — Captain Valria sent me back as soon as we met, told me to protect the queen, and to find you if possible... — she said.

— Have you seen Valria?

— Yes. And the rest of her people.

— And Gotech?

— No. You, too?

— He's alive. The Queen... so she thought... Where are we going?

— To the assembly point. To the Imperials.

— Well, yes... — Armando covered his eyes. The tears dried as suddenly as they had come. But the dying Octavia's last words continued to echo in his head. Live. Fight. Stop. Her orders. — Where else do we have to go now...?