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Jenever's Hellride

NOTE: Beginning somewhat in the middle of this... The backstory is that Jenever took a contingent of her personal guards (one hundred) and hell rode toward Gramerye. She was stopped at Beau Regard (the shadow where she and Simon had witnessed the Grail Ceremony) by a knight who demanded that they joust him for the right to cross the river. Jenever was going to let one of her veteran soldiers fight the man, since he did not wish to fight a woman, but when she shadow-shifted for armor, she found that the armor would fit her perfectly, and would hide her face.

Her adversary was not particularly bright, but he had done a good deal of jousting, and his lance was perfectly in line. Jenever, on the other hand, despite her facility with horses and weapons, had never tried this before. In S'jaiteh, the idea of a combat not intended to kill would have been laughable. She brought her lance in line at the last possible moment with an almost arrogant perfection.

Both lances struck, but only Jenever's struck true, piercing through the weak armor at the knight's left armpit. He fell from his horse to land hard on the ground.

The other lance glanced hard off of Jenever's shield, and she felt the shock of it through her body. Her helm, which fitted oddly over the mass of her hair, came off and her golden tresses shook free.

A gasp went up from the opposing knights on the far side of the stream. Her own men, who had not been aware of the substitution either, nudged each other, grinning with pride, and a ragged cheer went up.

She wheeled her horse to avoid trampling the fallen knight, and returned to her men.

They were cheering still, but suddenly they were silenced, looking at something behind her. When she wheeled her horse again, she saw that the Champion of Beau Regard had struggled free of the water and was kneeling on the bank, but looking at her. When he saw he had her attention, he called out.

"Dread Empress! Sir Bofors of Beau Regard offers you his allegiance - and that of all his men!"

"Well, whadja know," said Jenever's erstwhile champion. "There must be fifty of them over on that hill."

Jenever smiled, and her voice rang out over the water to Beau Regard. "Your allegiance is accepted! We will ride onward in perhaps half an hour."

She turned to her men, found one with some field medicine skills and sent him over to help with the injury she had inflicted on her new bondsman.

In twenty minutes, she had her entire host mounted and ready to set forth.

They crossed the river, and the entire prospect took on a hint of red. She concentrated, trying to bring in patches of crystal... They had to get to Gramerye, and she had the awful feeling that she was running out of time.

There were patches of crystal - and they were all tainted with red - unlike the previous time she had been here.

The path they followed led them to a great cave entrance - a cave of plantaxy. A long tunnel ... where the white pure plantaxy was banded with red ...

Yet Jenever knew that at the far end would be the palace that was Benedict - or what remained of him.

Jenever called back over her shoulder, "Damage nothing while inside," and then she continued onward, hurrying toward the palace of the Neverking.

She didn't seem to remember the way as being so long, so hard. It was as though the tunnels, which had been smooth and even, were rough and jagged. Several times they had to stop and scramble up a wall that seemed an amalagm of harsh granite with veins of plantaxy both white and - in places - red.

At last they came to a smoother, whiter area. And distantly Jenever and her men could hear shouts, and the clash of swords.

Jenever's lips drew back in a snarl, her face whitened with rage. "If I give the signal," she said loudly, her voice echoing in the crystal caves, "kill everyone you find there - save one. Their leader is called the Hunter. He is young, dark-haired, arrogant. I will point my sword at him if he remains. His blood must by no means be spilled in this place."

This having been said, she spurred her horse onward, Neverking's sword in her hand. "Julian!" she screamed in a voice like a hawk's cry.

They rode up a slope of plantaxy until they came to an opening in the plantaxy that Jenever did not recognise. It should be part of the palace - but she had never seen it before ...

And then she realised. The palace had been torn apart - ripped from the inside out by some great cataclysm. She had reached a large open space, like a vast open courtyard and, opposite her, was what had perhaps once been a wall of plantaxy, but which had now been torn away, revealing two storeys, both open to her gaze, with a steep flight of stairs between the storeys, leading from the courtyard to the upper chamber where she could see Benedict's body lay.

A large number of the Hunter's men were in this courtyard, and endeavouring desperately to gain the stairs - which were being valiantly defended by two men - one a young man wearing the uniform of the Hunter's army ... and with a face that reminded her of long dead Haakon. But there was something in his face - some pain, some dread knowledge, that made him terrible to look upon.

The other man she knew at once - Flaubon - fighting like one possessed to safeguard the steps.

And against these two, the Hunter's men had not yet prevailed. But it could only be a question of time.

"Aid the defenders!" Jenever cried and set upon the Hunter's men. She was adept at horsed combat, although it was not her specialty, and her body was graceful and strong. She hurled herself to the forefront of the battle, cutting down as many of the attackers as she could.

Her charge carried her well within the body of the Hunter's men, and then she began hacking and slashing fiercely. At first her foes were surprised by the fresh onslaught - but swiftly they turned and regrouped. They were elite troops, Jenever realised, and even her men were in for a sharp and bloody battle.

And the fighting was thickest around the two men who held the stairs. Flaubon was holding his own, she saw, although the fierceness of the conflict was wearying even him. But the man he was beside fought magnificently - and the pile of dead at his feet grew so high that his attackers were forced to haul his dead companions aside before they attacked him in their turn. Yet every now and then his action was awkward - a feint that even a beginner might be ashamed of.

And all around them, Jenever realised, the palace that was Benedict was in ruins ...

Jenever continued to fight her way closer to Flaubon and his companion. No motion was wasted, as catlike she strode forward, Benedict's sword a whirlwind of death in her hands.

How... was this possible...? Had Julian somehow attained the stairs and done something to Benedict's body? Had someone else of the blood of Amber been sacrificed here? Had Julian bled himself simply to damage Benedict? Would any of these things actually create the damage she saw before her?

Jenever did not know, and it was not important that she know. For now, there was killing to do. Later, there would be revenge. And in between, whatever was in her power to halt this titanic flood of idiocy. Her mouth was a tight, white line. She had wanted to fight the Hunter ever since they had put her in a Cage, but she had never thought his pettiness and cruelty would drive him to damage the one thing that was holding the plantaxy back... She didn't even consider that he might not have known.

"Flaubon!" she yelled above the din of the melee. "Where is Julian?"

Flaubon cast a desperate look in her direction, and took a slash to his arm.

"Gone!" he yelled. "Something ... " He killed the one who had injured him ... "happened."

The other defender winced. He was pale, but determined - and even as Flaubon tired, his confidence seemed to grow.

And then they were all absorbed in the fight again ...

And Jenever's men were sore pressed. Several had fallen - knights in their armour and the seasoned troops Blake had trained. But they were all fighting ferociously to secure the palace.

At last, their enemy broke and fled and - with shouts of triumph, many of her men streamed after them. It was dangerous, Jenever knew - they could be ambushed and trapped in the ruins of the palace.

"Hold!" she cried. "Defend this place!"

Several had remained, and awaited her orders. Flaubon had slumped against the wall at the foot of the stairs, breathing heavily - he had taken several wounds, she could see. And his companion in arms had run up the stairs and into the uppoer chamber where Benedict's body had lain - and, presumably, still lay.

Jenever took out her medical kit and came to sit beside Flaubon. Working quickly and gently, she began to clean and bandage his wounds, stitching up those that needed it. Quietly, she said, "What happened here? I will do whatever I can, but I must understand. Who was that man fighting beside you? Haakon's son? Where did the Hunter go? What of Benedict?"

Figuring that was enough questions for the moment, she busied herself with taking care of Flaubon, and simply listened.

Flaubon turned his head and looked at her. She saw weariness in his eyes, and a worry, a fear.

"Jenever," he said quietly, and his uninjured hand shot out to grip her wrist firmly. "Jenever - that was Benedict."

Jenever's eyes widened but she made no other sign of surprise. "He took a body, then? To avoid being subsumed in the red plantaxy? I suppose the rustiness of his form can be explained by his time in stone... I should speak to him."

She rose gracefully and ascended the stairs toward the dais where Benedict's body's had lain. At least ... she would have done. But Flaubon was still gripping her wrist.

"Jenever," he said urgently. "Leave him ... let him have a little time alone. Do you realise what he has done? And what this will mean to him?"

Rather than even attempt to answer those questions, Jenever countered with one of her own, "Then what can I do? Somehow, in my mind, it is as if I am still striving to get here, even though I have come, and come too late, it seems. I'll leave him alone, but you must tell me exactly what happened, or if you have not the breath for that, what can be done about it."

"You saved our lives," said Flaubon simply. "If you had not come when you did ... I think we would soon have been overwhelmed. Benedict ... as you saw, he is new to his ... the body. And I was almost exhausted.

"I was here ... in Gramerye ... with Madame. She summoned me - her armies had come to Benedict's defence. They are fighting - still fighting for all I know. She sent me to the palace, to see why Benedict had ceased to communicate with us. I came here - to find a detachment of Julian's men ripping the place apart."

He broke off and swallowed.

"Do you have any water?" he asked.

Jenever nodded and went to get him a waterskin from her horse, returning quickly.

Flaubon drank deeply, and then nodded his gratitude. He seemed to have revived a little.

"Why was no one else contacted? Seth, perhaps? He could have brought some kind of reinforcements, no doubt. It was by luck alone that I tried to speak to Benedict and found out what had happened." She paused. "Do you know why... the plantaxy is stained with blood? Is that the same thing that made Benedict leave it?"

"I don't know about that," said Flaubon. "When I came here - the plantaxy seemed normal.

"All I know ... I saw the detachment attacking the palace. I was alone - we thought we had the army surrounded ... and I was just a messenger. But ... when I saw what was happening - I lost my head. I should have called for help but ... " He shrugged.

"I charged them - I was crazed with rage. Unicorn only knows where the berserker comes in my genetic make-up - I never suspected its presence before. And I sobered up pretty quickly, to realise I was surrounded.

"I drove one of them back ... a clone, I thought. He staggered back against the wall - sveral of them had done so before, but to no ill effect. But this one ... it was as though the plantaxy was suddenly malleable - he sank into it, as though the stone were foam ... but he screamed ... again and again." He was silent for a moment, and Jenever felt him shudder.

"Then suddenly he was silent ... his head drooping forward. I thought he was dead, I thought Benedict had killed him. But then he looked up." He shuddered again. "His eyes ...

"And then I knew ... Benedict had taken him - bvecause it was that or be destroyed."

Something appeared in Jenever's eyes then that was not attractive, but it was gone before it was possible to see what it might be.

"I..." she took a deep breath, let it out, began again. "I regret that it was necessary - I know that he never wished to do that. But I cannot say that I would prefer the alternative. And you know that he does not have time to mull over it. None of us have time to ruminate on past actions, whether good or ill. There are reasons - many reasons - I should not have come here. But I am here. And now we ought to decide what to do next. Do you think he's had enough time, or shall I pass the time bringing some of the others up to speed?"

Flaubon turned his head and looked at her. "The others? Who is here? Where are they?"

"Here?" Jenever shook her head, smiling. "I meant I'd contact them with songlines. I took no one else with me, and if there were others outside, my men would inform me."

Flaubon nodded, sinking back slightly.

"How did you hear of this?" he asked - but before Jenever could answer, they both heard shouts from her guards outside.

"Hey, Sarge!"

"Who are you? Identify yourselves in the Empress' name!"

"Perhaps I tempted fate," Jenever said with a bemused smile. She rose and made her way to the entry hall to see what (and who) was outside.

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