Chaos Queen--Fear the Stars (Chaos Queen 4)

by Christopher Husberg

  Enura’s laugh faded, but her smile remained. Her eyes left Code’s, and moved from person to person around the bar. It was late, nearly midnight, but the Fellhome was busy, as it would be for another few hours. The bright fire burned merrily in the large hearth. A darts game in one corner, a card game at a large circular table near the center of the room.

  “I’d be willing to bet,” Enura said, “That each one of the people in this room would answer more or less the way you did. It’s about finishing, isn’t it? Climax. And that might actually be what some of them think. But, beneath that response, whether consciously or unconsciously, every single person in this room thinks that sex is about power.”

  Code, his eyes following hers as she gazed at the other punters, grunted in surprised agreement.

  Enura’s eyes returned to his. “You think I’m right?”

  Code ground his teeth, leaning back. “Well, I don’t think you’re wrong, I’ll say that much.”

  “And what do you think, Code? Is sex about power?”

  Code’s head was too fuzzy to come up with a good answer. “I think that sounds right,” he said slowly, “but I think it sounds wrong, as well.”

  Enura nodded. “Too many think sex is about power. One person’s power over another—usually a man over a woman, let’s be honest, but there are always exceptions. Perhaps someone doesn’t feel fulfilled or in control of their job, their life, their relationship. They vent that feeling the only way they know how, one of the only ways they’re taught. Selfishness is involved, too—they want to make sure they get off, and only then do they think of their partner, if at all. But power always takes center stage. Sex is the only way some think they can exert power in their lives, so they take every opportunity and advantage they can. For the already powerful, sex is the culmination of that power. The most personal, complete power a person can experience.”

  Code found himself nodding. Though his brain fuzzed against the inside of his skull, he felt what Enura said was true. “You can hardly call that sex, though,” he said slowly.

  “Indeed,” Enura continued. “And yet that is all everyone in the Sfaera seems to think the act is about.”

  “So…” Code began, but shook his head. He took a few deep breaths, trying to sober up. “If it isn’t about power…”

  “Ideally? It’s about forgiveness,” Enura said.

  “Forgiveness,” Code repeated. His brow furrowed.

  “Forgiveness. Yes. But what I’m talking about has nothing to do with gods or goddesses. It’s just one person with another— or with a few others, what do I care—and choosing to accept that person for all their faults, their foibles. The flab on his belly. The way her breasts hang down. The failure to rise in society, past infidelities, harsh words said the night before… but here they are anyway, together and choosing one another. Never an obligation, always a choice, and all parties involved must make it. ‘I accept you, I love you, and I want you, all of your flaws and imperfections aside.’”

  Code found himself shaking his head. “Nobody does that.”

  “Not everyone,” Enura said, her voice quiet. Her eyes bored into his. “Certainly not enough. But everyone should.”

  Forgiveness. The word echoed in Code’s mind, and with it, the thought of Cinzia. All thoughts of Cinzia, and ultimately the fact that he could not imagine what he would have to forgive her of, and at the same time how impossible it was for someone to forgive him for all he had done.

  Something interrupted his thoughts, then, a light tug at the back of his mind.

  He was being voked.

  He reached into the pouch at his belt, instinctively knowing which stone to grasp, and glanced down at it. A bright green rune inscribed on a dark blue stone.

  Kosarin.

  Code cursed under his breath.

  “Are you all right?” Enura asked.

  “I…” Code did not know what to say.

  He stared down at the stone, and a realization struck him.

  He felt confused about Cinzia, that much was certain. He liked her, but this bizarre conversation with Enura only emphasized the fact that there was no possible connection that could exist between them.

  And his troubles went deeper than that. His orders from Kosarin were to befriend Knot, to infiltrate the Chaos Queen’s inner circle and discover her plans, her plots. To use the people who had become his friends, and report all of the intelligence he gathered back to the Triad. But as far as he had seen, these people had no connection to the Chaos Queen anymore—she had left them long ago.

  But Code had seen the Nine Daemons at work in Arro and Mavenil—both had been the scenes of terrible massacres. Kosarin’s orders seemed to him counterproductive, if they were to prevent another such massacre—or a greater disaster, one that stretched across the entire Sfaera.

  Code had seen such terrible deaths. He could not let that happen again.

  And yet, this was Kosarin Lothgarde. He could not very well ignore the man, either. Not to mention the coin and prestige that came with being one of the Nazaniin.

  “You sure you’re all right?” Enura asked.

  Code puffed out his cheeks. Then he stood, his last drink untouched.

  “I thought about making a life-changing decision just now, to be honest with you,” Code said. “But looks like that isn’t in the stars for me.” He tossed a small pouch of silvers down the bar toward the innkeeper, who swept up the payment in one hand and nodded to Code.

  Code inclined his head toward Enura. “Thank you for the conversation. I appreciate what you’ve said, but I’m afraid duty calls. I hope you find…” He hesitated. He’d been about to say, “I hope you find forgiveness,” but that sounded ridiculous, even to his fuzzy mind. “I hope you find something good,” he finished lamely.

  He left before she could respond, marching right out of the Fellhome and toward the Citadel to see what in Oblivion the Triadin wanted at this hour.

  31

  Cliffs of Litori

  URSTADT PACED BACK AND forth as the final piece to the War Goddess rose into place.

  A ragged cheer rose up from the tiellan engineers. Back when they’d first left Adimora, Urstadt had wondered why Winter had brought along so many engineers. The army of Rangers and Winter’s own abilities were more than able to wreak havoc among the Triahn soldiers.

  But, clearly, Winter intended to do far worse than wreak havoc.

  At its full height, the War Goddess stood one hundred rods tall—a mountainous siege-engine. It was so large Urstadt wasn’t sure it would work at all; the dynamics of hurling rocks seemed inapplicable at such a scale.

  The gray light of early dawn was just beginning to appear on the horizon. The engineers had concealed the true nature of their project by building it in pieces, keeping those pieces hidden in brush and piles of wood, and only putting the parts together this evening. A half-dozen significantly smaller trebuchets stood at the base of the War Goddess, as well as a few ballistas, like children at the feet of a giant. They’d have to be moved to lower ground, and much closer to cause any real damage to the city within the walls. But they were for show, and nothing more. A distraction for the enemy. Urstadt doubted Winter intended to move the smaller war machines; the War Goddess was the main attraction here. Whether Carrieri had fallen for the ruse, Urstadt could not say, but the War Goddess now stood completed, fully functional, and ready to make its first attack on the Circle City of Triah, the Center of the World.

  All around them, the Rangers rose from their cots and bedrolls, heads craning back to take in the completed war machine before them.

  Only Winter herself knew the full extent of what she planned; the queen shared less and less of her strategy with her captain. Urstadt had been most comfortable—Goddess, she had actually been enjoying herself—when she had been tutoring Winter, checking every decision the younger woman made, sparring with her daily. But the queen had grown into her position and closed herself off, and now Urstadt found herself feeling rather use
less. She was nothing more than Winter’s glorified sparring partner, now—even her normal task in battle, leading the tiellan infantry, hardly mattered anymore since they had brought almost exclusively cavalry to Triah. She could still take Winter easily in a one-on-one spar, but that was a small consolation.

  But where had Winter gone? She had been standing at the base of the War Goddess moments ago; now she was nowhere to be seen. Urstadt frowned, walking toward the siege engine, looking around for the queen.

  At the base of the War Goddess, a line of not quite a dozen boulders, somewhere between one and two rods in diameter, stood in the grass. Urstadt could not imagine the damage such a large projectile would do to a wall or building. Even more horrifying than the boulders were the three barrels, each as tall as Urstadt herself, lined up behind them. They contained a mixture of cotton, sulfur, saltpeter, and pitch.

  Urstadt gripped her glaive tightly.

  Why are you letting this happen? she asked herself, not for the first time. Had she not accompanied Winter to make sure the young tiellan did not become another Daval? Was this warmongering not worse than anything Daval had ever done?

  To destroy, I must first know love. She had come to love Daval before she killed him. She had come to love Winter, too.

  She was not ready to destroy Winter. Goddess, if such a thing was even possible. Urstadt outclassed Winter by far in physical combat, but she had nothing like psimancy, or the two thousand loyal, adoring Rangers at her back.

  A few people in the gathering crowd pointed up, about midway to the top of the War Goddess. Urstadt looked and finally found Winter perched atop the pivot of the trebuchet, where the two massive triangular frames met at their peak, forming a fulcrum around which the huge arm swung.

  “Tiellans!” Winter shouted, getting the attention of the entire crowd. By now, all of the engineers had gathered at the base of the trebuchet, along with most of the Rangers who were not on duty. Nearly two thousand people, gazing up at Winter, shading their eyes as the first rays of dawn began to peel out over the land.

  “We have been through much to get to this point,” Winter shouted. Urstadt wondered whether the tiellans on the edge of the crowd could even hear her; the wind threatened to carry away every other word.

  “But now, we are here, and we have a purpose. We have a weapon!” Winter raised a fist in the air, and the tiellans erupted in an almost deafening cheer.

  Urstadt glanced back toward Triah. Carrieri surely had eyes monitoring the tiellans on the cliffs, and the tiellans were making enough ruckus by now that they must have been noticed, spies or no spies—just like the massive war machine that had sprung up seemingly overnight. There was no sign of an incoming force yet, but she knew in her bones it was only a matter of time. Within the hour, surely.

  “And we have a purpose,” Winter said, as the crowd’s cheers died down somewhat. “The humans outnumber us. They always have. You saw what the Eye did to the Rodenese fleet weeks ago, and it has kept them at bay ever since. But numbers and scare tactics have never mattered to us; you saw what we did to the Legion’s forces when they met us in battle! Each of you were there, each of you helped us defeat forces two, three times our own number. You fought against the daemons when they rained from the sky. You saw what we can do together.”

  Winter smacked the wooden arm of the War Goddess. “Now, with this weapon, we will put a dagger in their heart, and pierce them through with fear.

  “They will send soldiers to respond,” she continued, “but we will be ready for them. And today, we will see humans suffer, and we will watch as they cower in fear.”

  Another ragged cheer rose up from the tiellans, although Urstadt couldn’t help but think that this one seemed less enthusiastic. Whether that was true, or the spawn of her own misplaced hope, she could not say.

  “For tiellans!” Winter cried, both arms jutting above her.

  The tiellans below repeated the cry in a deafening roar, but the chant slowly shifted. “For tiellans, for tiellans,” they chanted a few times, no more than half a dozen, before the words changed, and the overwhelming majority of the Rangers shouted, “For the queen, for the queen!”

  Winter clambered down the War Goddess, landing on the grass next to Urstadt with a flourish. “Prepare the War Goddess,” she told the engineers. “It is time we attack, and show the Center of the World our own power.”

  * * *

  “How many?”

  Carrieri stormed down the halls of the Legion’s barracks, a milieu of his generals, admirals, aides, and Nazaniin swarming around him. His chief aide, Ryven, spoke to him. Ryven was also the filter through which all intelligence passed through to him. “Not quite a dozen of them, Grand Marshal—”

  “There’s no way those engines could reach the city, even from atop the cliffs. What are they planning?”

  “That is… generally true, Grand Marshal, but there is one engine that defies that assumption. They must have been building the parts in secret since they’ve been here, but it only started going up last night, and, well, it’s assembled now, and it’s—”

  “It’s massive, Grand Marshal.” General Toggo Marshton, of the Sapphire Regiment, spoke. “We have no doubt such an engine can reach the city proper, perhaps even the Trinacrya. And the size of projectile it must be able to launch…”

  “Let’s not forget it was made by tiellans,” Admiral Seto said. “While it might look imposing, its functionality remains in question.”

  Anger burned within Carrieri, chiefly toward himself. He had known of the tiellan presence in Litori for weeks, and had allowed them to remain on the clifftops unmolested, other than the occasional test of force. He’d successfully removed all the rihnemin, and thought it best not to pursue violence where violence wasn’t needed. The tiellans were not besieging the city, after all, only biding their time atop the cliffs. He had thought the war engines they’d been constructing were nothing he could not handle—the creations of inexperienced fighters; distractions. The possible alliance between the tiellans and Roden worried him, and he had thought the tiellans might be trying to pull Triah’s attention away from the war at sea. Winter was not above alliances of convenience, after all. She had proposed just an alliance to him, in the middle of a pitched battle, in order to defeat daemons.

  But he had not expected a formidable weapon to appear on the cliffs above the city.

  “We should get to the Eye,” someone said.

  “And do what? Watch while they bombard the city?” Carrieri’s laugh was mirthless. “You know as well as I do that the Eye was not designed to fire at the cliffs.” He stopped to consider. The barracks would likely be a target, if the tiellans had remotely good intelligence on Triahn geography. But so could any number of buildings, locations, and key areas of the city.

  But, first things first.

  “If we cannot take down the engine itself, we can reduce the numbers that guard it.” Carrieri looked to his psimancer, Illaran. “What of the Hood Regiment? Are they in position?”

  “They are, sir.”

  “The tiellans will surely ride to meet the Hood Regiment if we send them out; they have the advantage of higher ground. Tell the Hood Regiment to attack.” The Hood Regiment, under command of General Arstan Gerundi, consisted of three thousand good soldiers; not his best, but quite nearly. The tiellans only numbered two thousand, but Carrieri had seen what they were capable of against forces twice their size. “Send the Orb Regiment out as reinforcements,” he said in a snap decision. “We must be sure to put as much pressure on them as we can.”

  Aides scrambled to relay those orders as Carrieri continued speaking to Illaran.

  “General Gerundi’s orders are to distract, if he does not have the numbers to destroy,” Carrieri said. “Tell him to be cautious—to distract the tiellans from using that thing, but not to risk his entire force. We can’t afford to lose the Hood Regiment, not when our forces are already spread so thin.” Even sending the Orb out to reinforce the Hood might pr
ove folly if Roden chose to attack.

  And that massive war engine could just be a distraction, to lure Triahn forces into a trap atop the cliffs.

  But he had to take that chance. He couldn’t just let them bombard the city from the cliffs without retribution.

  “We move to the top of the Merchant’s Tower,” Carrieri said. It was farther south than the Trinacrya, and would be a very difficult target, even with a machine the size his lieutenants described. “Bring maps of the city and the cliffs. We monitor the situation from there.” He thought for a moment, then looked to General Marshton, commander of the Sapphire Regiment. Marshton’s troops were mostly the children of nobles and wealthy merchants, and rarely saw battle because of the sway their parents held in the Parliament, but Marshton himself had a knack for tactics and positioning. “Marshton, send orders to your regiment to be battle-ready, and confine them to the southern barracks for now, out of shot of the war machine; if the battle is long, the Hood and the Orb will need relief troops quickly. But in the meantime, go yourself to the Eye. Survey the situation as best you can from there, but keep eyes on the harbor, too. Make sure God’s Eye is battle-ready. We can’t risk an attack from the sea as well.”

  “Yes, sir.” Marshton saluted, then turned on his heel and marched off, his pace quick.

  “Admiral Seto, ready the fleet. We will not be caught unawares, and even with the power of God’s Eye we want to be ready on the sea as well.”

  The admiral saluted, and then rushed away with his own aides.

  Carrieri nodded. Looking around, his eyes rested on Illaran, the Nazaniin representative.

  “One more thing, Illaran,” Carrieri said, and the young man met Carrieri’s eyes. “In private, if you please.” He hoped the best for the Hood and Orb regiments, but he had a contingency plan, too.

  * * *

  Cinzia walked alongside Jane through the streets of Triah, the other eight chosen disciples trailing behind them. They had finally filled the last two disciple positions, unsurprisingly with the two remaining names the current Disciples had lacked from the original set of nine: Danica and Lucia. Together with Cinzia, Elessa, Ocrestia, Baetrissa, Arcana, Valeria, and Sirana, they made a quorum of nine disciples, mirroring the names of the original Nine Disciples that had followed Canta when she walked the Sfaera.