by Plague Jack
“So you euthanized her?” Evrill asked.
Calcifer shook his head. “Yes and no.”
Evrill’s eyes hardened. “Calcifer, what have you done?” Wordlessly Calcifer pulled out the vial containing his sisters’ souls and placed it on the table. Evrill stared at the vial in shocked disbelief. “You have no right to play god, Calcifer. Let her go.”
“No right to play god? Who the fuck are you? You play god every day you work in a hospital,” Calcifer snapped.
“I don’t play god, Calcifer. I help heal the sick and the hurt—after that, the gods decide their fate. Your sister was broken, but this is bad magic.” She held up the bottle. “Let her go, Calcifer.”
The elf shook his head. “No. Not yet.”
“What are you going to do? Men, even men with your gifts, can’t bring the dead back to life, and even if you find a way, you shouldn’t. Some things aren’t meant to be, Calcifer.”
“You’re right,” said Calcifer. “Some things aren’t meant to be. Did you hear that the Queen hired me to hunt the Archduke’s assassin? Twenty thousand gold if I bring it back alive. Twenty thousand. I’m going to go to Capricorn. I’m going to hunt down the hellion, and I’m going to capture it. Then, on my way back, I’m going to burn down that fucking cesspool that is Norfield. I’m going to burn the city to ashes and disassemble it stone by stone.”
“Calm down, Calcifer,” said the Duchess. “There are good people in Norfield who don’t deserve any more suffering.”
“Good people? Fuck them. Where were they while humans raped my sister? Whatever good people were in Norfield fled. Fuck the rest.”
Evrill’s eyes narrowed. “Calcifer, get a hold of yourself. You’re scaring me.”
“Good,” he shouted before slamming his hands down on the Duchess’s desk. “Then I’m going to march to Voskeer and claim my bounty. And if the Queen denies me what’s rightfully mine, I’ll burn her until her skin melts and drips down her throne.”
The Duchess shook her head. “When you calm down, you’ll regret those words. You’re acting like a child and projecting your hate on the world when the world does not deserve it. What happened to your sister was… horrible, but you are out of control. I know you’re hurting, but first you need to seriously think about the effect your actions would have on the lives of other elfkin. The Wild Hunt is already out there making a mess. The world doesn’t need another terrorist killing in order to be heard.”
“Fuck elfkin! Fuck the Wild Hunt! Fuck the Queen!” shouted Calcifer, throwing his tankard over his back and storming out of the room. Smoke arose from the edge of Evrill’s desk, where a pair of burned and blackened handprints remained.
Chapter 3
The Van Canns are like the plague. At worst, their pestilence is inescapable and all-consuming. At best, you forget they even exist. But they’re always looming over the horizon. At least there is a vaccine for plague.
—Hatori Sun, Emperor of the Glass Empire
In the Queen’s dream, she ran hazily through an emerald mist. Behind her trailed caricatures of elves. Their bodies were shadows, long and twisted. Just one of their strides covered two of hers. They were like harlequins, and their smiles gleamed white as they shot arrows that left bare trails in the Nixus. She looked over her shoulder just as an arrow sliced at her face and severed locks of her scarlet hair. Her bones made an unpleasant jolt as the Queen hit what felt like a wall. A great shadow towered over her, its face a white porcelain mask. Unlike the elves, however, the figure did not smile. Claws plucked her from the fog as if she were a child’s toy, and the shadow’s mask flipped open, revealing a familiar face.
“Did you miss me, mother?” hissed Prince Darius as he placed his hand around her neck and began to squeeze. “I’ve missed you!” said the boy as his mouth opened and a thick, forked tongue rolled out over sharpened teeth. He licked her neck, leaving it thick with spit.
The self-assuredness that Darius wore so proudly all but vanished when the sky roared. Fear morphed the Prince’s face. His nose was smashed. Splintered teeth fell from his mouth. Once again Minerva fell into the fog. The ground shook and Darius let out a holler as the mighty green dragon landed behind him. Draconian jaws snapped shut and the thing that was once Darius turned to smoke, his mask falling to the ground. The dragon’s wings beat back the Nixus, forcing the elves to gather where the fog met land. A hell-storm erupted from its mouth, turning the elves to ash. The dragon’s eyes were merciless balls of fire as destruction stormed down upon her.
The Blood Queen awoke in a cold sweat. The terrors had arrived with Phineas’s death, and they had lingered every night since. Instinctively she
groped for the purple vial on her nightstand. She popped the cork and smelled the oily substance within. Not tonight, she thought as she scraped herself from her bed and made her way to her wardrobe. Fingers slid over the cluster of red roses tattooed on either side of her waist, extending from her hip bone to her bottom rib. A strict upbringing had taught her that such markings were taboo, but she liked them nonetheless. Opening her wardrobe, she found a blue gown she liked and slipped it over her naked frame. As a child in the Vaetorian palace, she’d been dressed by servants, but the adult Minerva preferred independence. She fastened her ruby choker around her neck, as always, while an ivory comb provided order to her scarlet hair. Finally the Queen donned a thick coat of snow wolf fur. That’s good enough for this hour, she thought. No one who’s up this late is worth putting on makeup for.
In the corner next to a grand whitewood piano was the glass display case housing the crowns of dead and conquered kings. The molded wreath of golden flowers had been her husband Gabriel’s. The oaken ring had belonged to the elvish Harendiir line. Edgar the Aged had been the famously resilient Dwarf King, but his crown of heavy jeweled stone now lay cushioned on velvet with the others. The final crown was her son’s, a nest of silver thorns. I wonder if someone will be collecting my crown one day, thought Minerva as she had a seat at the piano and played five notes. There were five sharp clicks as the booby traps and intricate locks that sealed Minerva in her room deactivated. Let them try.
The entrance to Minerva’s bedroom was at the far end of a hall that was half the size of her throne room. This hall was the Queen’s gallery, and it was filled with trophies from the Green War and wonders gifted from every corner of the known world. The heavy door closed and bolted behind her as her sentinels stood guard at the far end. Her dress collected dust as it dragged across the smooth stone floor. Patrolling her gallery usually offered the Queen a sense of peace that helped her sleep, but tonight was different. Tonight she would visit Eldred.
“Open the door,” Minerva commanded the sentinels, who obediently shuffled forward and stuck their huge right hands into custom-built locks. There was a whirring sound as the door responded to the sentinels’ gauntlets, followed by a crack and a rush of fresh air from the other side. Minerva was greeted by a wall of stairs, stairs she was not eager to climb. It was your decision to move the royal chambers to the dungeon, she thought as she ascended the stone spiral, her sentinels following close behind. The staircase was a tight fit for the sentinels, and their broad shoulders occasionally smashed against the walls. The reverberating noise was so loud it hurt Minerva’s ears.
The four Queensguard at the stairway’s exit saluted as she passed. “Queen Roselock!” said one of them and the Queen ignored him as usual. Beneath the palace's stone lay a labyrinth of pointed, arched halls and passages that stretched endlessly. The Tarnished Palace extended further underground than above, a fact known to few.
The tunnel began to end and the torches became fewer as she approached a landing. A chandelier illuminated the grand spiral staircase that led downward to Eldred’s laboratory. Why is it that the elves and dwarfs have such an obsession with building underground? thought the Queen as she descended the darkened stairs. The door to Eldred’s laboratory was made from thick whitewood carved in the likeness of Cambrian, his eyes a pair o
f sapphires that glistened in the torchlight. “Wait here,” she ordered the sentinels as she pulled open the heavy door to find her last loyal sorcerer waiting expectantly.
The laboratory was a massive room filled to the brim with experimental technologies and clockwork mechanical prototypes. “Minerva!” hissed a voice from the back of the room. “I’ve been waiting for you. I do so look forward to your visits.” Eldred’s voice was wheezy and gravelly.
“It’s always so dark down here. Why do you shroud yourself in darkness if you never sleep?” asked Minerva.
“Because it reminds me of when I used to dream,” said the voice from the black. “And it helps me think. You should try sitting in the dark sometime. It might do you some good.”
“Could you turn on the lights?” asked Minerva. “I can’t see in this gloom.”
“Of course,” said Eldred as the hanging braziers burst into flame and the lab was showered with a warm light.
Instinctively Eldred blinked to protect his eyes from the light, but it did little good as his eyelids had long since become translucent. There were no creatures like Eldred. He was the hellion that had inspired all hellions, but unlike his mad brethren, Eldred still maintained his sanity. His body was completely immobile, more coral than man. Three massive, twisted trunks of brain erupted from Eldred’s skull and clung like vines to the rock and stone behind him. His torso was bare and skin stretched from him like roots, sticking his body to the wall. Red tendrils supported the bulk of his weight and grew from the sockets where his arms and legs had been. “Nightmares again, Minerva? Have you been taking the medicine I gave you?” asked Eldred, stretching his neck forward as much as he was able.
“A bit too much, sadly. It doesn’t work like it used to,” said the Queen with a shake of her head.
“Would you like me to make it stronger? I can’t put in any more nightshade or… well, you’ll die,” said Eldred with a chuckle. “But I could mix you some manticore thistle with some Keonan…”
Minerva cut him off. “No more medicine.”
Eldred squinted. “Then why are you here?” he asked. “The Queen is not known for wandering the dungeons after dark.” He paused. “Then again, the Queen has plenty of reasons not to sleep. Tell me, has there been word from Calcifer?”
“He was last sighted entering Harpy’s Point, but he hasn’t yet departed. Shrike tells me he was visiting his sister,” said the Queen, frowning.
“Calcifer,” said Eldred, tasting the name. “Calsssifer… should he return, I would like to speak with him. After all, he is the first of my kind to be chosen by Cambrian in a long time. Perhaps I could bring him to our side.”
“Not this one,” said the Queen. “He’s a self-made man and he’s proud of it.”
Eldred smiled a wrinkled smile. “So was I, Minerva. The arrogance of youth is a fleeting thing. Sooner or later the empire he’s built for himself will come crashing down. If he is as clever as you say, he can be turned. Cleverer men can always turn clever men.”
“He’s more arrogant than clever,” said Minerva. “If he can’t be swayed he’ll have to be disposed of. I don’t want sorcerers running uncontrolled in my country, and your god has been making more. Could you speak to Cambrian for me? Perhaps he and I can make a deal.”
“No,” said Eldred forcefully. “If Cambrian wishes to make a deal, you will know. He has been silent to me for the past twenty years. I’m afraid the Life-Bringer sees my augmentations as an abuse of a gift. We have not spoken since my evolution. ” Eldred’s eyes rolled upward to his spiraling brain.
“Is it worth it to you?” Minerva asked Eldred. “Is being a human starfish alone in the dungeon what you wanted for yourself?”
“I’m no more alone than you,” he said dryly.
He’s right, Minerva thought, I am alone. Minerva’s face showed no emotion as she spoke. “Perhaps.”
“I have sacrificed most of my magic and virtually all mobility for knowledge. The rule of magic is that that which warps body also warps mind. The reverse is also true—that which warps mind”—Eldred paused to flex his tentacles—“also warps body. Knowledge is more powerful than magic, and I now have a greater understanding of how the world works than any living creature in the country, perhaps even the world. From the depths of this dungeon I can engineer a bright future for Amernia. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”
Admirable dedication, thought the Queen. “And what happens when you get tired of building toys?”
“I won’t,” said Eldred matter-of-factly. “There’s always a problem that needs fixing. There’s always a “big bad” on the horizon. You’ve wrangled several in your lifetime, Minerva. There’s a reason you’re a more effective ruler than your late husband.”
Gabriel was a good man, and honorable, but honor doesn’t make a good king. “Archipelago is not a world of mercy.”
Eldred nodded. “And you, my dear, understand that better than anyone else. It’s why you still live, I think, and why you have succeeded where others have failed.”
“Success is subjective,” said the Queen.
Eldred smiled. “Your victories have made many angry, Minerva. That is one of the many costs of power.”
The Queen’s mind traveled, thinking about what she and the dukes had done to the elfkin’s cities. It’s no wonder the subhumans have banded together and started calling themselves the Wild Hunt. I can’t blame them for hating us, but our actions were necessary, thought Minerva. Capricorn was a mistake, but the dwarfs deserved it for that cursed red sand. “And the Wild Hunt? They’ve taken credit for Phineas’s death. That means they have at least one hellion working for them. If your god’s making sorcerers again, he’s making them for the other side.”
“So what?” said Eldred. “You control the armies, the technology, and—most importantly—the crops. It should be your priority to prevent incidents like Norfield from happening again, or else more elfkin will flock to their cause.”
If only Pendragon had saved the Archduke, none of this would be happening, thought the Queen. She had been too harsh with Pendragon before he left. You lost your temper and threatened the closest thing you had to a friend, and you hadn’t even spoken to him in what? A decade? “The Wild Hunt’s attacks have become increasingly violent, although that’s largely believed to be the work of fringe groups. A village outside Sinstolke was burned to the ground, and most of the humans who lived there were found broken on the wheel. Stolk had the subhumans responsible put down.”
“What of the Black Feathers? They were terrorizing the Whitewood and the Bysmal Swamp long before the Wild Hunt showed up. Their hatred of humans is infamous.”
“I’ve often worried that the Black Feathers would try and rebel,” admitted the Queen, “but hating humans is their hobby. They’re drug dealers first, freedom fighters second. Stolk has the Bysmal Swamp under control.”
“Jario Stolk is a complete sadist,” said Eldred. “Degenerate savagery is the Stolk family curse, after all.” Eldred raised an eyebrow. “And speaking of savages, appointing Arterius Blake as temporary protector of Norfield was a mistake. It only serves to villainize you in the eyes of the people.”
“Blake is a mad dog, but he’s my mad dog,” argued the Queen. “He is there to impose martial law until another ruler is chosen. He’s a temporary fix to keep things from getting out of hand.”
“I think it’s a bit late for that,” said Eldred with a slight chuckle. “Blake’s brand of brutality is half the reason that the Wild Hunt exists. Violence needs to be used tentatively if you wish to maintain order.”
Minerva shook her head. She and her dukes had ordered the use of Nixus in the Green War, when it had just been formulated and was poorly understood. They had never counted on the gas expanding beyond Capricorn until it covered Amernia’s northern point. Over time the Nixus became less toxic, taking hours instead of minutes to kill, but still the Nixus fields were uninhabitable, a fact the Queen hoped to change. “How’s the machine progr
essing?” Minerva asked Eldred, her eyes darting to a large cloaked mound obscured by several sentinel prototypes that were hardly more than nine-foot-tall metal scarecrows.
“See for yourself,” said Eldred, letting loose a whistle. In response, gremlins crawled out from their arched holes at the bottom of the wall. They were black things, faceless and red-eyed, and they bounced forward on all fours like monkeys. The gremlins were enslaved by Eldred and served as his hands. They reminded Minerva of her nightmare and she found them unsettling. Wedged between a stack of propellers and twelve-foot metal rods was a hulking object covered by a gray wool sheet. The four gremlins grabbed one side of the cloth and pulled it off in a puff of dust.
The machine stood like a spider atop four thick legs. At the body’s center was a large glass eye above a circular metal grate. Air wheezed in and out of the hole under the eye, causing the leather airbag that made up the bulk of the body to inflate and deflate slowly. “It’s finally done,” said the Queen as she inspected the device with a large smile.
“No, it’s not. I’ve just finished the body,” said Eldred, shaking his head. “It’s going to take longer, much longer, to get it working to the point where it can remove Nixus. I would have gotten it working sooner, but the gas is highly sophisticated and, well… not my design.”
“It’s a start,” said Minerva. “When will it be ready?”
“When it’s ready.”
“I need them now, Eldred. I need them before subhumans storm my cities.”
“So impatient,” said Eldred with a click of his tongue. “You will get them when they are ready and no sooner. Art cannot be rushed.”
“Art needs to rush,” said the Queen, her eyes burning with anger.
“These things take time. Abusing science has been Amernia’s greatest folly. Better to take twenty years building than risk another Green War.” He smiled. “And I have nothing if not time.”
