Fairy Godmother

then and there. But calling down from above, 'Loyal sons of Fleurberg, we have come to aid you!' and having Elena illuminate him as he landed, meant he had no chance of being mistaken for some warrior of the Katchei's.

Now he stood on a rock, ringed by torches, as the tired old soldiers surrounded him, looking at him with expressions in which fear warred with hope. So far Alexander had said nothing to them, other than to send out word to gather together, and Elena had kept her mouth shut. This was not a Godmother's business; it was the business of a Champion. Here it was Alexander who was the master of the moment.

Finally, when no more men were coming in from the darkness, Alexander drew himself to his full height. 'Hear me, men of King Julian!' The voice that rang through the night sounded like Alexander's ordinary speaking voice, but — stronger, deeper, and certainly a great deal louder.

Below him, the men started and gasped as Alexander's words told them what they had feared — that Stancia was dead. Alexander would not have named Julian King, otherwise.

'Hear me, men of King Julian,' Alexander repeated. 'Your old King is no more. A foul usurper has attempted to seize the throne. King Stancia fought nobly and died as a warrior, his sword in his hand — '

Now that was a complete fabrication, as Elena well knew, but it was the sort of thing that a soldier wanted to hear. No soldier wants to be told that his King was cut down before he could rise from his dinner, that he was slain as he tried to push away from the table by magic against which he had no defense. They wanted to hear that their beloved monarch was a fighter to the end, someone they could emulate, and whose memory they could honor.

' — but Julian lives, and your duty is now to him! Hear me, warriors! I am Alexander, brother of your King, and have come to help you. You must hold until our allies arrive — you must fight to enter the Palace and destroy the evil usurper — '

'How?' bleated one grizzled old man, demandingly, interrupting Alexander's stirring speech. 'How, when spears and arrows just bounce off 'em, and swords and spears won't bite?'

But Alexander simply gave the man a pitying look. 'With the weapons my squire will give you,' Alexander countered, not missing a beat. 'Weapons enchanted by the hand of the Fairy Godmother Elena, to strike to the heart of these monsters and give you strength beyond your own!'

That's a bit much! she thought, though she was secretly pleased at being accorded such great power by Alexander. But — well, it isn't going to hurt, I suppose, to have them think that they're being given magical strength even if they aren't. If they think they are, who knows? It might actually happen. Taking that for her cue, Elena opened the game bag and began passing out whatever came to hand. There was a moment of reluctance, but then she was engulfed by men who were desperate to have something, anything that would serve them against these creatures that some were already calling 'demons' rather than 'trolls.' They were neither, but that didn't matter, either.

There were still weapons in the bag when the last of Stancia's men, the survivors of what had been a rather pathetic little army in the first place, had each claimed a weapon. Alexander began his rallying speech at that point, and Elena stared up at the castle.

It was not a big castle, and fortunately, it was not surrounded by a moat. But the walls were stout and there were an awful lot of torches and forms moving up there.

' — a frontal assault, to occupy him and keep him from spreading out to conquer the city and the Kingdom,' Alexander was saying, when she turned her attention back to him. 'Do not spend yourselves needlessly; it is a holding action that we need. Help is coming from Kohlstania! My father would never permit his son to languish a prisoner! More help is coming, in the form of magical allies, brought to our aid by the Godmothers themselves!'

Your father would never permit an evil magician to set up shop in the neighboring Kingdom, you mean! she thought, with some irony. This was, in fact, King Henrick's worst nightmare come to pass, the very thing he had hoped to prevent by sending all three of his sons to the Glass Mountain. And I only hope that the other Godmothers do respond....

'And what are you doing, while we're doing this?' asked that same troublemaker, dubiously.

Alexander drew himself up, and — yes, there was no doubt of it. His armor began glowing as he took on the full aspect of a Champion. 'I,' he said, with great dignity, 'will be fighting the Evil Mage in challenge combat. Alone.'

'All right,' Alexander said urgently to her, as the little army organized itself around its few surviving officers, and prepared to make that frontal assault on the gate. 'Time for you to go. Find Julian, get him out, and send him around to the front as soon as you hear the fighting start. Then go to the aid of the Princess when you hear the trumpet sound for my challenge.'

She nodded, a great lump arising in her throat, rendering her speechless. He was going through with this, and unless she could find the Evil Magician's heart — he could be killed.

'And Elena — ' he paused, and his voice lost that quality of 'Champion' so that it sounded like nothing more than 'Alexander' ' — I want to know. I have to know.'

'What?' she asked, thickly, expecting some dreadful question about her own guilt in this mess. But she would answer him truthfully if he asked. She owed him nothing less than the truth.

'Will you consent to marry me?'

She felt as if something had slapped her across the helm so that her head was ringing. She heard her own voice say, joyfully, 'Yes!' before her head had formulated an answer.

'Good. That's all I needed to know.' He grinned at her, and closed his helm down over his face. Before she could say anything else, he had lifted her into Sergei's saddle, and the little horse was off like a shot.

She sawed at Sergei's reins, trying to bring him back around, but the little horse was having none of it. 'Godmother, we have a job to do,' Sergei said, acidly, the bit clamped between his teeth. 'Are you going to put all of it to naught?'