Christopher Stasheff: Warlock's Last Ride

They were all around now, a solid wall of fangs, tentacles, and talons. Alea struck again and again with her staff even as she channeled her psi power into Magnus; claws laid open her arm, and her grip weakened, but she didn't even look, only swung her staff all the harder, straight between the monster's eyes. It exploded, and she knew Magnus was still fighting with his mind.

High above, on a sea-cliff, Allouette, Gregory, and Cordelia held hands, merging their power as they glared down at the beach. Halfway across it, a line of fire leaped up, and most of the monsters shied away in terror. A few jumped through, though, and charged blazing and shrieking into the melee around Magnus and Alea—and there were certainly enough horrendous shapes crowding in about them.

PUCK APPEARED WITH A POP AMONG TREES that lined the river, where the cat-headed alien watched the battle with detached amusement. "If you truly have the power you boast of, Catface, use it now! Send it to those who can use it well!"

"I did not boast," Evanescent said, "but I shall send my power to the woman."

A sudden burst of strength filled Alea, making her stagger, but she straightened and used some of that amazing new power to make the monster who swung its mace-tipped tail at her explode before she channeled the rest to Magnus.

A force far stronger than anything he had ever felt charged Magnus; he reeled, dizzy with power for a moment—just as an explosion rocked the giant human-headed ants at his left. Gregory stood there, arms around his sister and his wife. They staggered, catching their balance, then lashed out at the surrounding horde with psi power, making bodies explode and tentacles strike at their owners. Even so, they couldn't fend off all the fangs and stings and horns; they were soon bleeding in several places each, but they fought on with their minds, winnowing the horde. As soon as they felled one monster, though, another thrust through in its place.

Back-to-back, the Gallowglass siblings and their spouses fought hundreds of monsters.

Magnus recovered, looked about him, and realized that Alea and his siblings could hold off the enemy for the moment. His eyes lost focus as he concentrated on the mental world, sending a thought questing ahead through the mist, seeking the mind that had organized and supported this obscene army. It was almost as though a cable of pure malice stretched from the monsters back into the mist. Magnus followed it—but before he found its source, a bolt of mental energy rocked him. Another followed, driving him to his knees.

A giant wolf burst through the line and leaped on the wizard, jaws gaping wide to engulf his head.

Alea screamed in anger and jammed her staff into its maw, knocking the beast backward—but a huge paw flailed at her and dagger-claws shredded her gown, slashing lines of pain down her left side as the beast fell, knocking her to the ground with it. It scrambled to its feet, jaws reaching for Alea—but Quicksilver's sword pierced its heart and the beast fell again, this time for good.

Anger and sullen determination made Magnus gather and concentrate the titanic power he held, building it into a mighty weapon of true force, but knowing with sickening certainty that it would not be enough—not quite enough.

Then, suddenly, a jolt of power flowed into him—not so very much by itself, but enough and more than enough to equal and overcome the mind of malice that directed the horde of monsters about him. Magnus narrowed his eyes, reached way down deep within and found strength there that he had never known, brought that force up from the bottom of his being to strike back with every bit of power he possessed, every ounce of anger and rage and fear, directing at the unseen malignant mind all his longing for revenge, all the outrage at everything he'd suffered and not deserved.

Something shrieked in anguish, some long trailing, dying, cry as the force opposing Magnus lessened. The shriek faded and was silent, and the cable of force uniting the monsters, dissolved.

A keening cry of despair rose all about the Gallowglasses, piercing their heads with pain, immobilizing them for a moment. When they looked up, though, the monsters were backing away.

Magnus lifted his head, eyes terrible with more power than he had ever known. He reached, lifted, and threw. The monsters exploded outward in a wave. Those farthest away turned to flee toward the mist, saw the line of fire and shied back screeching.

Allouette lifted her head, and the fire died.

The monsters raced for the mist, but their movements had slowed strangely, as though they fought their way through molasses.

Still on his knees, Magnus whirled to Alea to find her struggling back to her knees. He stared at the blood flowing down her side, reached to staunch it, but she pushed his hand away. "Only a scratch, Gar, though a long one. Finish what needs to be done."

Magnus stared at her a moment, then nodded and turned back to the fleeing remnants of the horde.

"We could slay them all." Quicksilver lifted her sword, mayhem in her eyes.

"Why slaughter even such abominations as these if we need not?" Gregory asked. "Send them home."

Geoffrey nodded reluctantly. "That is the chivalrous course."

Fire erupted from the beach again, right behind the last of the monsters. It trumpeted in panic and fled.

Rocks shot from the ground nearby, striking at monsters on the other flank.

Courses of rocks, sheets of flames, barrages of invisible stings—steadily they herded the monsters back into the mists.

Magnus realized he could leave the mopping-up to his siblings and their spouses for the moment, and turned to scan the cliffs and trees, wondering where that titanic force had come from, that and the extra last jolt that had that saved himself and his sibs and given them victory. He saw no one standing under the trees, no one in the long grass— but when he lifted his gaze to the cliff-tops, he saw a solitary rider looking down at him. For a moment, their eyes met, and he knew his father.

Then Rod gave a single nod and turned away. He disappeared from sight, and Magnus gazed after him, stunned that the man who begot him, the stranger to Gramarye, should have gained so much power in his old age.

THE PARTY WAS in full swing, and it looked as though the peasants were going to make a night of it. Catharine and Tuan left their generals to watch over the field with ranks of soldiers encircling the celebrants and most of the off-duty troopers mingling with the peasants, helping keep the party merry. The king and queen went back into the castle, chatting as they went, marvelling over how well the day had ended and the wisdom their son had gained.

As they came through their own huge portal, Catharine said, "How amazing to have seen your brother and his son! But where did they go?"

"Here, Mother."

Startled, Catharine turned from her husband—and saw her younger son standing with his uncle and cousin, and before them, the strange knight who stood with his hands bound.

Catharine stopped, staring in surprise, but Tuan went past her, arms wide, a smile lighting his face. "Well met, brother! How wonderful, after so many years, to have you visit my home!"

Taken aback, Anselm stared, then managed a small smile. "I could wish it were for a happier occasion, Majesty."

"I too—but you did not attend my son's wedding, and I missed you sorely."

"I am an attainted traitor, Your Majesty!"

"Here at home, I am your brother Tuan and nothing else! Except, perhaps, your nephew's uncle." Tuan turned to Geordie and took his hand. "Welcome, George."

Geordie winced. "Please, Uncle! I am called Geordie now, a name I heartily prefer."

Tuan laughed. "Then well met, Geordie." He turned to the stranger knight with a frown. "But what is this gift you have brought me?"