Queen Of Knights Page 34

  "But if it is a trick?"

  "I think not. Remember, the hooded knight delivered the message. No matter what is thought of him, I know he is a man of honor. He would not have been the bearer of this message if deceit was involved."

  "And so I pray."

  "Ins'Alla," responded Saladin, "the will of Allah shall prevail." When he stopped speaking, a slave entered the chamber and bowed low before him. When he rose, he stared not at Saladin, but at the emir's feet as was the custom.

  "The infidel is waiting."

  "In a moment," Saladin replied. He turned in his seat to gaze out the window. Time brings change had been the saying of his early tutor. And time, he'd hoped, would bring a change in the English knight's thinking. He had given Miles time and had offered him much. But for seven months, the Englishman had spurned his offers. Today would be the last time he would hold his friendship out to the man. He would no longer accept the insults that the Frankish knight returned for his friendship and respect. Without taking his eyes from the window, he spoke. "Bring him in."

  Standing before Saladin, Miles stared directly into the Moslem king's eyes.

  "Salaam. Miles of England."

  "Salaam. Saladin, right hand to Muhammad."

  "You refused my gift of yesterday."

  "There is only one gift I may accept," Miles replied.

  "For over seven months you have been with us. You have learned our language, and our customs. You could be one of us, and rise to greatness alongside of me. I can make it so."

  "Is this why you summoned me?" Miles asked.

  "No. I would speak of your unknown knight."

  "Eldwin has taken another caravan?"

  "No, he has let one pass. Am I wrong in believing that the word of this Eldwin is as sacred as a deed he would perform?"

  "You are not wrong." Miles gazed at Saladin, wondering what Gwendolyn had done now. No word had come from Aliya, and he knew not of what Saladin spoke.

  “I have received a message, given my men by Eldwin. It is for a meeting. Should I fear for my life?"

  "A meeting with Eldwin?"

  "No, another."

  "But it was Eldwin who carried the message?" When Saladin nodded his head, Miles said, "Then you should not fear for anything, save the day Richard defeats you."

  "That day will never happen. Miles of England, we have discussed this many times. I have never fought an adversary equal to Richard, but he cannot defeat me. We are equal, I must admit, but the advantages are mine. The best he can hope for is a truce, and only when I have taken back all my territory will I agree to that. "

  "Then we have nothing else to speak of."

  "My friend, we have much to speak of and will have years to do so. Relent, accept the true faith and become one with us."

  "May I return to my chamber?"

  "When I say!" roared Saladin, standing to glare at Miles.

  "Why do you fight me? Why do you persist in this foolishness? Why do you deny what any of my people would accept without question?"

  "I am not one of your people," he said simply.

  "So I have learned." Saladin stared at him meaningfully, until finally a curtain seemed to drop across his face. "Very well, I have no choice but to accept your decision. Return to your chamber and prepare yourself for what you have chosen." Saladin turned then and spoke to the grand vizier in a low voice.

  Before Miles was out of the chamber, Borka-al-Salu bowed to Saladin and left through the rear exit. This time he knew better than to argue with the caliph, for Saladin was angrier than he had ever before seen. The insult the Frank had given him had finally ended the growing friendship between the two. And again, Saladin's chief advisor sensed a danger because of it.

  Miles left the chamber as he was instructed, and when he walked through the hallways, he realized that his position had changed. In the instant Saladin had spoken, Miles knew he would no longer be treated as a friend. But strangely, he welcomed this change, for it served to strengthen his resolve.

  An hour later, while he sat on a cushion in his chamber, four armed Saracens entered and silently collected his armor and weapons. Miles watched them, uncaring what they did, until one grasped Aliya's arm, and began to drag her away. Moving swiftly, Miles raced across the chamber and flew onto the Saracen's back, grabbing his neck in a twisting hold. Suddenly the room exploded in a whirling of rainbow colors, and blackness descended.

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  The end was coming. Gwendolyn knew this with a certainty that could not be denied. But how it ended would depend on her special abilities. As Eldwin, she had led her knights against Saladin's supply caravans, disrupting the flow of food and equipment to Jerusalem. But those forays had only disrupted, not stopped them completely.

  Yesterday's meeting with the latest caravan would be the last the Saracens saw of Eldwin and his men. The convergence of her two plans had solidified, and now there was but one path left.

  She had been successful in drawing attention to herself and had insured this success by paying two men who were devout Christian Moors. They acted as spies for Richard, and Gwendolyn had used them to send word to Saladin, through devious channels, that the Frankish woman was a beauty such as had never been seen in this land.

  Word had reached her through these spies that Saladin had taken an interest in the stories, and rumor stated that even the women of the harem heard of Saladin's desire to see the beauty of the golden-haired woman.

  That was what had prompted Gwendolyn's move to stop the caravan and deliver the message to Saladin. In the missive she had asked for a meeting and expressed her great desire to meet the monarch of the Moslem empire. She had also stated that there was a purpose to this meeting that could only be spoken of to him. If he desired to meet her and also wanted the attacks on his caravans stopped, he would come alone to the Oasis of Prosperity.

  Alone! That had been the key word. For Gwendolyn's plan to succeed, Saladin must come alone. That had also been the reason she had exposed herself to the lascivious stares of the townspeople. Word of her different beauty had to reach him, to pique his interest, and to make him want to see and meet this strange woman.

  When she had been satisfied that he was interested, as the spies had indeed reported, she readied her message, and, in the guise of Eldwin, delivered it.

  "The horses are ready, my lady," Roweena informed her as she entered the chamber.

  Gwendolyn gazed at her servant and friend and saw Roweena's face pinched by worry. "All will work out," she said, trying to ease the girl's mind.

  "You are always so sure of things, but I am not. I am frightened, my lady. I am scared you will not return."

  "You must believe in me-believe that I will come back."

  "I will pray for you." Then Roweena forced a smile and unfurled the long riding cape she had brought. "This will hide your form from those who watch."

  Gwendolyn looked at the dark hooded cape and nodded.

  She bent and lifted the silver sword and secured it to the sash around her abdomen before allowing Roweena to place the cape on her shoulders.

  "Take care, my lady," Roweena whispered.

  Gwendolyn stretched out her arm, and Valkyrie went from his perch to rest on her leather-banded wrist. Silently, Gwendolyn left the chamber and walked out into the night, confident that Roweena would prevent anyone from knowing that Gwendolyn had left Ascalon.

  Outside she met James and Arthur and mounted the mare waiting for her. Together, the three riders and the large eagle rode through the silent town, and through the gate that had been opened for them. The small band rode through the day, ignoring its heat, and continued deep into the multicolored desert.

  Above the riders, arcing magnificently in the sky, flew Valkyrie, leading them forward to their destiny. When the sun dropped from the western sky, the riders drew to a halt. Below them was a rocky valley, and in its center was the Oasis of Prosperity.

  The oasis was an anachronism, as was much of the country. It was a small spot
of beauty fighting against the relentless rolling of time that threatened to consume and make it a part of the large area of waste. Sandy, rocky desert spread for as far as the eye could see, yet centered in the valley was this lush sward of green. Tall trees spread their arms to the sky, and a proliferation of cacti, their yellow fruit contrasting to the green, welcomed all travelers with their juicy sweetness.

  Yet, Gwendolyn's eyes passed over the beauty as she sought to learn if any had arrived before her. The slopes leading to the oasis were deserted, and there seemed to be no life within its green confines.

  Then she gazed up at Valkyrie, who was slowly circling above. A moment later he flew over the oasis. The giant eagle circled the valley twice more, and then Gwendolyn relaxed when she saw the bird alight on top of one tree.

  "It is safe," she told her squires. A half hour later, the three riders stopped within the oasis. Night had fallen, and only the illumination of the early stars lit their way. The moon would rise, but not for several hours.

  When Gwendolyn was on the ground, she turned to her squires and spoke. "You remember where the cave is?"

  "Could we not wait in the trees?" James asked.

  "It would be too risky. You will be able to see from the cave."

  James nodded his head reluctantly and then went about his duties while Arthur opened a leather bag to spread out their evening meal.

  After eating, Arthur and James mounted their horses and rode away from the oasis to the small hidden cave Eldwin had found the week before. The cave overlooked the oasis and afforded a perfect view of its center, where Gwendolyn would meet Saladin. From the cave, the twins would watch, and if any others came, they would stop them with their longbows.

  But James realized that if any came at night, they would come unseen. The twins kept watch for two hours, but found it to be a futile exercise, and, following their mistress's instructions, finally gave themselves over to the sleep they had been denied for two days.

  Gwendolyn, beneath them, prepared herself for her meeting with Saladin. She took off the hooded cape and, ignoring the chill of the desert night, sat wearing only a simple Saxon tunic. Powerful forces played within her mind, and she gave herself over to them, as she drew the silver sword and laid it across her lap.

  She sat for hours, with memories assaulting her mind. Memories of herself and Miles, of their first meeting, of their love, and of the sharing of that love with their bodies. Within her, Gwendolyn knew the ache of loneliness, and the sadness of her desires. Then came the strengthening of her will: the forces which had guided her across the world returned to lend support to her resolve.

  Then the sword began to vibrate within her hand, sending trembling surges of energy throughout her body. Her eyes snapped open in the instant her sword began to glow. The moon had risen, and the silver blade reflected the luminescence of the night's haunting sheen.

  With only instinct guiding her, Gwendolyn lifted the sword before her, grasping the pommel in both hands, and holding its tip toward the face of the moon. To any who might have seen, they would have sworn a lightning bolt had been released by the moon to sail toward the center of the desert.

  Gwendolyn's arms trembled within the powerful grip of the sword, as light exploded all around her. She fought it, trying to control what was happening, but could not. Then she stopped herself and gave in to the silver call, realizing that her energy and need had called forth this power, and nothing else.

  The instant she submitted to it, the light calmed, and the sword hummed in harmony with her thoughts.

  "Use the power, Daughter of Thunder, ride the heavens and see your desire." The calm, wordless voice of the priestess soothed her mind, and Gwendolyn accepted the old one's advice.

  The gentle wrenching separation of body and mind was smooth this time, and no discord shook her thoughts. Then she entered the multifarious layers of the otherworld, to float within a crimson cloud.

  "Welcome, Daughter."

  Gwendolyn's mind shook, and emotions threatened her very existence. The sparkling sapphire eyes of Gwyneth Kildrake gazed lovingly at her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  WITHIN the swirling ethereal plane, Gwendolyn faced her mother. It was not the wavering images of the woman she had seen in the company of the old Druid priestess, but the actual and pure spirit of Gwyneth, with her beautiful features and soft glittering eyes.

  "It is time for you to learn more, my daughter."

  "And time for you to grow," added the Druid priestess who appeared beside Gwyneth. "You have used your powers wisely, Child of Thunder, and have striven to reach your destiny. Look!" she commanded with a wave of her hand. The crimson cloud parted, and Gwendolyn gazed upon a kaleidoscopic scene that tore at her imagination.

  It was a changing, fermenting vision which turned her mind into a mass of confused thoughts. When the realization of what she saw struck her, tears fell from her bodiless eyes. Years passed before her, hundreds of them. She watched Devonshire and Radstock change. She witnessed battles and death and plague. She saw lives become meaningless existences, their only purpose to serve the cruel needs of others.

  She saw wars and machines that defied description lay waste to the beautiful and bountiful earth; and then she witnessed the end. Throughout the land, horrid inventions of death rained. Volcanic clouds of unknown magnitude spewed across the face of the earth, and almost all life ceased to exist.

  "No!" she screamed, denying what she saw.

  "It is the path mankind has chosen long before your birth, and one that we must follow."

  "Then why am I here? Why do I exist? For what you have shown proves only the futility of life!"

  "No, Daughter of Thunder," said the old one. But Gwendolyn no longer listened to her mentor; the horrors she witnessed were too strong in her soul. Then she felt the gentlest caress she had ever known. A soft, lingering caress of love and devotion rippled through her mind. Turning, she looked into the shimmering pools of her mother's eyes.

  "Look now, Gwendolyn, and see what your purpose is."

  Gwendolyn gazed again through the crimson veil and saw a small tunnel within the earth open. Although they were much changed and deformed, she recognized the hills of Radstock and saw that the opening was the very tunnel that led from the training pit Miles had built for her.

  The land surrounding it was strange, with unknown foliage and vegetation. Intuitively, she knew that the terrible weapons which had destroyed her home had wrought these changes to land and life.

  Then she was startled from her thoughts when two figures emerged from the tunnel. Both rode strange beasts that barely resembled horses and both wore glistening armor that resembled a shining second skin.

  When the two rode out of the tunnel's mouth, they stopped to look around. Suddenly a scream ripped through the air, and a golden eagle flew from the bowels of the earth.

  Gwendolyn's first thought was of Valkyrie. But she noticed the eagle's wings reflecting light in an unnatural way. A moment later she saw the bird was not a living thing, but something made of metal. How could it fly? she wondered.

  The two riders, acting in concert, removed their helmets.

  Gwendolyn cried out voicelessly and again felt Gwyneth's soothing caress, for before her, she saw duplicates of herself and Miles.

  "No," whispered the old one, "look closely."

  Gwendolyn did. The woman was as tall as she, with long hair of gold and silver, and if Gwendolyn had not known better, she would have thought herself to be looking at her reflection within a still pool. But then she saw the difference. The woman's eyes were the sea-green of Miles's own. Then she looked at the man who wore the face of her husband. His eyes were different, too; his eyes were the blue of a morning sky—his eyes were Gwendolyn's.

  "I don't understand," she whispered. She cried out again when the woman drew a sword. "My father's sword!"

  "It belongs to the issue of Kildrake, who will rule the earth and all upon it in the generations to come," intoned the Dr
uid priestess. She waved her arm, and the picture dissolved.

  "You have been blessed, Gwendolyn, daughter of Gwyneth, and cursed. For what you have seen is a thousand years distant. A thousand years of darkness and death to survive. You have been chosen and blessed, yet that blessing is a curse, for you and your issue are what stand between life and darkness for all."

  "Why?" she whispered.

  "There is no answer to satisfy your question. Ask me not, for only the future can respond. But know you well, that you have proven able. You not only defeated the puppet of darkness, but aided your father, as well. In defeating Morgan, and that which controlled him, you have set yourself free to continue your life, and also lifted the earthly bonds which held the son of thunder at bay."

  "And Miles?"

  "We cannot control the destiny of all. Morgan's deceit was guided by darkness; we knew of the possibilities, but not of the actualities. That is why we prepared you. Saladin is but a man, as is Richard. You have the sword of your father. That is the legacy we have given you. Our time on this plane is done, and we must leave you forever."

  "No!"

  "It is as it has been ordained. We have taught you and guided you. We have given you knowledge and understanding. You are the beginning, you are the chosen. You have defeated the power of darkness for now, but it shall return. You and your line must be vigilant, for you are now the guardians. Ask not for more; accept not less. Now is your time to live and take control of your existence. You have the sword and the power to wield it. One day, in the far future, you will watch over your issue, as we have done over you, and see the world led back to sanity."

  "But Miles?" Gwendolyn asked, her mind growing heavy with the weight of sadness and loss.

  "You must secure him and free him. There are no powers to aid you, only yourself, your mind, and your heritage. We bid you farewell, Gwendolyn, Daughter of Thunder."

  "Wait!" Gwendolyn commanded. The power of the thought, hurled from her with the force of her father's hammer, captured both her mother and the old one in its grasp. Only once before had Gwendolyn dared use the strength of her mind against her mentor. Now she knew she must use it again, for there was one more thing that must be done before she would allow them to leave her.