bound at their backs. Soon one of their captors sat across a campfire from them, while two others stood at the warrior's sides.
Alicia looked at the two who stood. One of these was the huge, surly brute who had cuffed her. He still sniffled noisily and seemed disinterested in the events around him. The other was an older man, wiry strong, though his legs bowed slightly and his hair and beard had gone white. This one looked at Alicia with a scalding hatred that frightened her.
Finally she looked at the man who sat before her. His smooth skin and lithe, strapping physique marked him as younger than either of the pair who flanked him. He had hair the color of gold, and proud, even haughty, blue eyes-eyes the color of deep winter ice. He wore his hair long and braided. Long mustaches trailed to either side of his mouth, though his firm chin was shaved. She sensed, even before he spoke, that this man was the leader of their captors.
'Who are you?' began the seated northman, in accented Commonspeech. 'Why do you make war upon our people?'
Alicia paused at his words and suddenly realized that it was her task to respond. 'We do not make war against you. Rather, it is you who have attacked us!'
The man sloughed off her reply with an arrogance that inflamed Alicia's temper. 'Are you scouts for your army? Or are you spies?'
'Neither!' she snapped. 'And why have you taken us prisoner? We offered you no harm!'
'Harm?' This time it was the older man, the one with such hatred in his eyes, who spoke. 'Explain how this can fall from the sky and slay my son!'
With an abrupt gesture, the white-haired warrior held out an arrow, and Alicia tried to keep her astonishment from her face. The gold and red markings on the shaft clearly indicated it had come from the High King's arsenal-a fact obviously known to these northmen as well as to her.
'When were you attacked?' she asked. 'And where?'
'In the morning of the past day.' Again it was the younger man, the chieftain, who spoke. He talked quickly, as if he believed that she already knew the answers to his questions.
'A shower of arrows such as this came from the heights above my column-a treacherous ambush!' Those ice-blue eyes flashed, and Alicia suppressed a shiver of fear. 'They slayed five of my men, including Knaff's only son!'
'I can only say that such treachery should be punished, but it was not worked in the name of the High King! Betrayal is done to both our nations in this act. King Kendrick desires peace with the north, as he has for these last twenty years.'
'And how is it that a mere slip of a girl speaks for a mighty king?' demanded the old warrior. She guessed the fellow to be Knaff. His eyes burned into hers.
But her own gaze flamed back at him, such that he blinked in surprise and then scowled darkly. Alicia didn't feel Keane's foot nudge her side as, furious, she spat her reply.
'I am the High Princess Alicia, daughter of King Kendrick and heir to the crown of the isles!'
Now the younger northman's eyes widened, and he looked at her with skeptical appraisal. The three warriors jabbered in their thick tongue for a moment, and she saw them casting scornful looks at Keane. Suddenly she realized the warning that had been implicit in the mage's kick, the warning she had ignored when she informed these northmen that they held captive one who could prove to be a very useful hostage.
'Indeed, I have heard that the King of the Ffolk has fair daughters. Now I know it to be true.' The chieftain, with a half-smile, nodded his head in a gesture that might have indicated respect. His response surprised her-and annoyed her, as well-but she felt it best to ignore whatever insult might be found there.
'The rulership of my people is a matter of mind and sinew, not determined by fair skin or hair,' she pointed out. 'But now you have the advantage, sir. Tell me who holds my companions and me so unjustly captive.'
'I am Brandon Olafsson, Crown Prince of Gnarhelm,' replied the young northman, his face still crooked with that clever half-smile-overly clever, to Alicia's thinking.
'A royal meeting, this,' remarked Tavish dryly. 'Could it perhaps be accomplished with a bit more comfort for the participants?' She shrugged awkwardly, indicating her bound hands, and Alicia, too, began to realize how the leather thongs had begun to bite into her skin.
The prince nodded thoughtfully, though Knaff's scowl darkened even further. 'You haven't answered my questions, but indeed it would seem that you need not be bound for our discussions.' Brandon nodded to one of his warriors, who stepped forward with a thin knife.
In that instant, a ripping sound tore through the camp, like the rending of a huge piece of canvas. Clumps of sod flew up from the ground with shocking suddenness, and the northmen recoiled, shouting in alarm. Alicia saw Knaff raise a monstrous double-bladed axe, while Brandon leaped to his feet, barking orders to his men.
The princess watched this hole in the earth with a sense of numb disbelief, for she could see the real ground, still there, even though it had appeared to burst upward.
Beside her, Keane groaned in frustration. 'Rotten timing!' he hissed, obviously recognizing the illusion for what it was.
The northmen, however, were fooled to a man. A pointed snout, like a huge rock, jutted from the hole, and then a pair of feet, tipped by monstrous blunt claws, emerged on either side of the muzzle. With a mighty heave, the claws pulled a squat, monstrous body from the ground, dragging pieces of sod on each shoulder. The snout gaped, revealing wicked teeth. Tiny, bloodshot eyes blinked wickedly from either side of the pointed nose.
'Bulette!' cried one of the northmen as the warriors formed a ring around the emerging creature.
Knowing the monster was an illusion, Alicia nevertheless shuddered at the thing's horrifying visage. It was huge, larger than a bull, though its shape resembled that of a monstrous armored badger. A massive shell, like a great sea turtle's, covered its back, and the face and legs were covered all over with armor-hard scales. With a dull roar, it dragged its body from the earthen tunnel and surged toward a northman.
She knew of the bulette, which, though exceedingly rare, was a beast of consummate horror and deadly nature. It burrowed through the earth like some monstrous mole, appearing at moments when it was least expected. Though she knew this one was an illusion, that didn't totally dispel the terror of its violent arrival.
Massive foreclaws reached for a northman, who stumbled backward, slashing with his axe. Both the weapon and the beast's talons missed their targets by inches. Another northman dodged in to chop into the thing's armored shoulder. Alicia watched in amazement as the man's axe met the illusory surface and stopped, almost as abruptly as if it had met a solid object.
The image of the bulette whirled and its jaws gaped before the courageous attacker. He bellowed a cry of fierce and savage joy, raising his axe and striking at the grotesque snout. The princess realized that the man fought in a berserker frenzy. She had heard some northmen were capable of this battle trait, but its reality was beyond her mind's grasp. Howling madly, the berserker hurled himself at the creature again, his blade slashing, his teeth clenched in a murderous grin as the fire of battle lust surged in his eyes.
Suddenly a flash of color popped between them, and she saw the grinning face of the faerie dragon.
'Pretty good, huh?' asked Newt smugly. 'But what are you waiting for? Let's get out of here!'
'We can't, you little idiot!' snapped Keane. 'We're tied up! They were just about to let us go when your 'friend' arrived!'
Newt pouted. 'Oh, bother! Can't you untie yourselves? I mean, you have
The answer was lost in a shout as a warrior of Gnarhelm rushed at the beast, but in that same instant, the monster's image wavered, becoming translucent and insubstantial. The charging man plunged through the fading form, stumbling in surprise and then falling headlong into the campfire.
He shrieked in pain as the flames hungrily devoured his beard and the braid of his long hair. Forgetting the monster for the moment, several of his compatriots pulled him from the flames and quickly threw him into the icy stream. When they finally lifted him out, his face was blackened and seared. Ugly red patches showed where his cheeks had been burned.
Two clerics came to his assistance and began to salve his wounds as best they could. They had no healing spells left, having used their powers to cure the wounds of those injured by arrows earlier in the day.
'Sorcery!' growled the burly warrior beside Brandon, making a curse of the word. Blinking, the gruff warriors looked around, realizing that the attack had never occurred.
