The Seventh Daughter (20 page)

“Do the ancient texts speak of a sure victory?” Hopie asked.

“Nay,” said Valentyne. “They do not.” He looked at Tania. “I do not say that this is a safe path, my lady,” he warned. “And I do not say that a bright future lies beyond it, but this destiny is yours, Princess Tania—if you would take it.”

“You would not take it alone, sweet sister,” said Cordelia. “Choose this path and I shall stand at your side.”

“And I,” said Zara.

“I believe that all things have a purpose,” Hopie said, looking solemnly at Tania. “Maybe it is that your strange journey of life was predestined so that you alone of all of us would have the potential to destroy once and for all the threat of the Sorcerer of Lyonesse.”

Tania gazed at her sisters, and then at the other waiting faces. Oddly, she felt less shocked than she would have imagined. It really did feel as if everything that had come before—her disappearance from Faerie all those centuries ago, the mysterious procession of her past mortal lives, and her return to Faerie at this particular point—had all happened to bring her to this place at this time.

“Okay,” she said. “I'll do it.” She took a deep breath. “I'm ready to fight.”

 

It was later that same day. The late-afternoon sun was pouring in long golden rays through the windows of a vast white chamber. The earl marshal's son Titus had brought the four princesses here, to the Great Armory of Ravensare, to fit them for armor and weapons. At dawn tomorrow the Faerie army would be on the move.

Tania still couldn't quite believe the speed with which things had changed. At one moment she had been assuming that the earl marshal would have all the responsibility on his shoulders—and then, in a dizzying whirl, everything was upended and it was her thoughts and plans that everyone was listening to. She wished she had Edric to talk to, or her dad—not Oberon, but the father she had grown up with in London. He always knew how to make her feel better when events threatened to overwhelm her. But he was far beyond reach. Whom could she confide in now? She sat quietly to one side, watching her sisters. Hopie and Titus were examining a large wall map and talking quietly. Zara was practicing swinging a long crystal sword, the blade glowing brightly in the raking beams of honeyed sunlight. Cordelia was hunting among the hanging racks of armor for something suitable for the battle.

The Faerie armor was very similar to that which Tania had seen at Caer Kymry: breastplates and
shields of a hard shelly substance, ivory white on the outside and with a mother-of-pearl sheen within. And there was a whole array of shell helmets, and racks that were hung with mail made of tiny linked shells, hard and impenetrable as chain mail. Swords and spears and axes and maces were displayed on the walls and in standing frames. Tapestries hung between the long windows, showing scenes of battle—pictures of the fall of the Sorcerer King over a thousand years ago, when the Faerie armies had finally overcome him and he had been taken prisoner.

And now he was free again, and Rathina was at his side, and Tania was trying to come to terms with the idea of leading an army into battle against him.

Cordelia strode toward her, a breastplate under her arm. “Come, Tania, see if this will fit you.”

Tania stood up and allowed Cordelia to strap her into the shell armor.

“Is it comfortable?”

“Not exactly,” Tania said.

“But it will protect you.” Cordelia rapped on the plate with her knuckles. “And it will allow you to swing a sword.” She smiled darkly. “I have spoken with Zephyr and Tanzen,” she said. “They wish to bear us into the battle, Tania. Imagine that! Riding against Lyonesse upon wild unicorns of Caer Liel. What a thing to do!”

“I hope they don't get hurt,” Tania said. She swallowed hard. “I hope no one gets hurt.”

“There is faint hope of that,” Zara said, coming up
to them with the sword in her hand. “But we will give better than we receive, I trow, and by tomorrow's eve, we will be wading knee deep in the gray dust of the Sorcerer's vanquished army.” She spun on her heel. “Titus, come away from my dour sister now and help me to choose armor that is both sturdy and becoming.”

Titus turned from the map and smiled. “I shall, my lady,” he said. “But the choice will be hard to make.”

“Why so?” asked Zara, linking her arm with his and walking with him to the armor racks.

“Because I would have you protected head to foot by armor that is a hand's span thick,” he replied. “And yet I would not choose any covering that might prevent me from seeing the beauty and glory of your face.”

“A sore challenge indeed, my lord Titus,” Zara said, grinning at Tania and Cordelia over her shoulder. “But all must suffer in warfare.”

“Is there a budding romance going on there?” Tania asked Cordelia.

“Mayhap,” said Cordelia. “It would be good if Zara were finally able to choose between the earl marshal's two stepsons and put an end to her endless prattle about their virtues and qualities.”

Laughing, Tania stepped up onto the platform where Hopie was perusing the map of Faerie. Her sister looked gravely at her. “You have taken on a great burden, Tania,” she said. “All of Faerie hangs in the balance now, and it is for you to tip the scales in our favor.”

“But no pressure, huh?”

Hopie frowned.

“Never mind. It was a bad joke.” Tania looked at the wall map. It was incredibly detailed, with the saw-toothed mountains painted brown, the forests shaded in green and the rivers and lakes washed with blue.

“At dawn the army will skirt the western eaves of Esgarth Forest,” Hopie said, describing a smooth arc with her arm. “We will bivouac upon Salisoc Heath.” She smiled at Tania. “It is a place of great memory and portent, for it was there that the Sorcerer's armies were routed long ago.”

“Then what happens?” Tania asked, lowering her voice. “I know I'm supposed to be in charge, but I don't have any idea how to organize a battle.”

“You have lords and generals enough at your back to array our forces,” Hopie told her. “But I suspect that we will prepare to make the challenge to the Sorcerer King at sunup the following day. That will give his scouts ample time to run back and inform him of our coming—and of the fact that it is you and I and Cordelia and Zara who are leading the army and not the King.”

“And then?”

Hopie put her arm around Tania's shoulders. “Then you will learn how deep within you run the veins of Royal courage, sweet sister,” she said. “And we will do battle for the Immortal Realm.”

Servants woke Tania before dawn and she ate breakfast with the earl marshal's family and her sisters before being led back to her chamber to put on her armor. Over a light tunic of threaded shells she wore a breastplate and back-plate of flattened white shell, tied over her shoulders and at her waist. Long curved shells protected her legs and arms, and a high-pointed, curling conch shell was put on her head, the lip coming down low on her neck and curving around to protect her cheeks. Finally, she was given a crystal sword for her belt.

She stood for some time, looking at herself in a mirror, wondering how an ordinary sixteen-year-old girl from London had turned in a matter of weeks into a princess warrior of Faerie. She smiled wryly at her martial reflection.
Life can be really weird, sometimes.

“They are ready for you, my lady.” She turned at the voice and walked out of her room. The shell armor was surprisingly light and had been carved and
shaped to allow ease of movement. She followed the serving girl down through the building. Tanzen was waiting in a courtyard. Tania mounted and rode toward the gatehouse. All around her, from every window, people were cheering and throwing petals and flowers down on her.

She didn't know what to expect as she came out under the gatehouse. She halted, her breath taken away by the sight that greeted her.

The slanting rays of the rising sun glinted on the helmets and spear-points of a thousand Faerie knights as they stood or sat astride their horses in wide battalions that straddled the white road leading to the main gate of Caer Ravensare. Seated on horses in front of the ranks of knights were the Earl Marshal Cornelius and Marchioness Lucina with their two sons mounted beside them, ready to lead the knights of Ravensare into battle. To their left the knights of Talebolion and Mynwy Clun were fronted by Lord Brython and Hopie and Earl Valentyne, and on the right flank Tania saw Lord Gaidheal and Cordelia and Zara, with other lords and ladies of Llyr and Dinsel and Udwold, leading a force of knights who had gathered here from many parts of Faerie. All were clad in full armor, and all were looking straight at Tania.

At their backs the fields of poppies were a sea of turquoise and aquamarine and heliotrope, sparkling with a network of white and pearl blossoms like stars on an earthbound sky.

After a few moments Cordelia urged Zephyr for
ward and trotted up to Tania. “A fine morning, sister! How do you like your army?”

Tania tore her eyes from the gathered ranks of knights and gazed at her sister. “What happens now?”

Cordelia smiled. “We ride south,” she said. “Come, your sisters and your captains await. Ride with me.”

Tania touched her heels to Tanzen's sides and followed Cordelia's mount along the white road toward the waiting army. “Don't leave me alone,” she whispered to Cordelia as they rode side by side. “I don't know what I'm doing.”

Cordelia glanced at her. “That is good, Tania. I would fear for our lives if you thought otherwise.”

They came to the end of the parade of knights, and their two unicorns began to wade into the great meadow of poppies. Tania heard a noise like thunder at her back. She turned her head and saw that the knights of Faerie were following. Moments later, as the sun climbed into the eastern sky, all the poppies suddenly burst into wave after wave of daylight colors, sending an eddying flux of scarlet and yellow and orange and lilac and sapphire blue in ever-expanding ripples to the far horizon.

“Thus does Faerie go to war,” Cordelia murmured. “May the spirits of the Immortal Realm bless us in our endeavors.”

 

It took most of the day to circle the western flank of Esgarth Forest and to bring the army at last to bivouac on the high swell of Salisoc Heath. Below them they
could see the palace, some ten miles south of their encampment, following the winding line of the river. The waters of the Tamesis were a dull gray, as though the river suffered the same sickness as the land. Despite their distance from the palace the ground underfoot was dead, the grass withered, the lifeless heather straggling on the earth, the trees at the forest's eaves shrouded in brown tatters.

“The Sorcerer's influence is spreading,” the earl marshal said, standing at Tania's side as they looked down at the palace. “We come not a moment too soon.”

Tents and pavilions and corrals were set up through the long afternoon. Swift birds were sent out to north and south and east and west on Cordelia's instructions, returning to give news of what was happening. Meanwhile, Gray Knights could be seen galloping hard in the south and away to the east, coming and going from the Sorcerer King.

The best news for Tania came late in the afternoon, when the shadows were long and the sun an orange ball in a sky banded with yellow and red cloud. A peregrine falcon came in from the northeast, skimming down the sky like an arrow. The Gray Knights had withdrawn from Esgarth, he told Cordelia; Eden and Sancha and many of the people who had been hiding in the Hunting Lodge were already heading through the forest toward Salisoc. Queen Titania was not with them; she and Rafe Hawthorne and a few trusty men had gone north, making for Ravensare
and intending to follow the road north through Anvis to meet up with the wagons and riders that were bringing King Oberon south.

 

Tania sat on padded silk cushions on the floor of a large circular pavilion. A white wooden pole held up the heavy cloth of the roof, lifting the panels to a point fifteen feet above her head. Colored rugs filled much of the floor space, leaving only a small stretch of withered brown grass by the closed cloth panels of the entrance. Cushions formed a circle on the rugs, and inside the circle platters of food and jugs of Faerie cordial had been laid out. It was evening, and globes of soft blue light hung from the tent pole, giving off a gentle glow, while spiced incense sticks sweetened the air.

Tania's sisters sat around her, eating and talking quietly. Zara had finished her food and she was sitting to one side with her head bowed, playing a small handheld harp that filled the pavilion with rippling streams of music.

Cordelia and Hopie were there, too, but Tania looked with particular fondness at Sancha and Eden, glad to be reunited with them after all those long days of peril and adventure. They had arrived in the early evening, and the reunion of six of the seven daughters of Oberon and Titania had been full of joy and hope.

“What of the morrow?” Eden asked, looking at Tania. “Are all plans now set?”

“The earl marshal's advice was that we should
send heralds to the palace at dawn,” Tania told her. “They'll challenge the Sorcerer King to bring his army out and fight with us. He thinks we should announce ourselves as the Army of the Six Princesses.”

“That is good tactics,” said Hopie. “Hopefully it will convince the Sorcerer that neither Oberon nor Titania ride with us. How many Gray Knights face us?”

“The latest news I have heard is that they number close to three thousand,” said Cordelia. She smiled grimly. “And we are a thousand. How can we not take the day?”

“You say the Army of the
Six
Princesses?” Eden mused. “I wonder….”

Sancha looked up sharply. “We
are
only six,” she said. “I will not acknowledge that traitor woman as kin.”

“A fallen sister is a sister still,” said Hopie. “She is of our blood, Sancha, and nought can change that.” She looked at Eden. “But why do you ask?”

“Before we parted the Queen told me to remember the Power of Seven,” Eden said. “I asked her what it meant, but she said she did not know. All she knew was that there was an ancient text that spoke of the Power of Seven.”

“I heard Gabriel's father use the same expression in Caer Liel,” said Tania. “When Gabriel told him that Rathina had turned traitor, he said the Power of Seven could never be invoked.”

“So the Power of Seven is linked to Rathina,” said Zara. “Most curious.”

“Or linked to all of us,” said Eden. “
We
are seven—or would be if Rathina were with us.”

“That she will never be,” Cordelia said.

“I have read of this Power,” Sancha said. “Our mother is right. It is spoken of in an ancient text indeed. I had almost forgotten it.”

“What does it mean, Sancha?” Eden asked.

Sancha thought deeply for a few moments. “It is of no consequence,” she said at last. “I remember clearly now. Lord Aldritch was right: The Power cannot be invoked.”

“Tell us all the same,” said Tania.

“It speaks of a healing power, a power of life over death that can be harnessed when the seven children of a seventh daughter come together in love and harmony,” Sancha said. “Our mother is the seventh daughter of the House of Fenodree, and were we not cursed with a traitor for a sibling, we also would be seven.” She looked around the ring of her sisters. “I know not what that power may have been, but it is lost to us.”

“As are many things.” Eden sighed.

Zara's gentle melodies had been forming a soothing backdrop to their talk, but suddenly the music stopped and they heard Zara gasp. “What miracle is this now?”

She was sitting near the closed entrance to the pavilion, staring down at the ground where a crescent of short bright green blades of grass was pushing up through the brown tangle of dead grasses. Tania
watched in amazement as daisies and buttercups strained upward and opened their white and yellow flower heads as though nature was creating in a few moments the work of hours or days.

“Sorcery!” cried Cordelia, leaping up and snatching at her sword. “This is the mark of Lyonesse! They come upon us in the night!”

“Nay, sister,” said Eden, also getting up. “This is not death—this is life. This is new life.”

“It must be Oberon,” Tania said. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the entrance. She pulled back the flap and stared expectantly into the night.

A cloaked and hooded figure stood a little way off.

“Father?” Tania called, but she wasn't so sure now—the figure was too slight, too slender to be the King. Her voice wavered. “Who is that?”

The figure stepped forward. The hood was thrown back.

“Well met by moonlight, dearest sister,” said a well-known voice as the figure came within the light of a hanging lantern and Tania saw the familiar features of Princess Rathina.