The Queen's Quarry

by Frank Morin

  He bowed again, his expression locked into a well-practiced look of subservient eagerness.

  The queen huffed impatiently. “Where is Harley?”

  “Here, my queen.” Harley marched into the room, looking rough and dangerous in a fur-lined jacket, her black hair windblown as if she’d just come in from the cold.

  “Well?” Queen Dreokt demanded.

  “No sign of wreckage at the base of the cliff. I fear the last two escaped.”

  The queen’s scowl deepened. “Builders here in my throne room. I shall not tolerate such betrayal.”

  She seemed more upset about the presence of a Builder than in getting quartered and nearly killed by a trio of deadly Mhortair.

  “Shona, you know that Builder?”

  “Yes—” Her words cut off as the queen thrust her thoughts into Shona’s mind with the force of a sledgehammer.

  Shona rocked back with a groan, clutching her temples as the queen fished through her mind for the memories that rose in response to the question. It took only a moment, but Shona felt nauseous by the time the queen finished. The woman had never brutalized her mind like that before and it was a terrifying experience that left her feeling deeply violated.

  Queen Dreokt surprised Shona by laughing, as if suddenly delighted. “He’s such a dear friend of the boy, Connor. Ha! Justice will feel so exquisite on the day his disgusting life is snuffed out.”

  High Lord Dougal spared a concerned look for Shona then offered, “My liege, might I suggest the Mhortair represent a far more pressing danger.”

  “You know less than half of what you think you do. The Builders must be crushed. I’ve set in motion the pathway to their destruction, but perhaps I must accelerate my plans.” She paused for a moment, then shouted, “Turriff, fetch me Captain Aonghus.”

  As the empty-minded former king scurried off to do her bidding, she glared at Harley and added, “And the beggared offspring of Mhortair? How dare they? I gave them purpose, but they’ve fallen so far.” She rose, hands clenched into fists. “And they dare strike at me and use the very secrets I taught them? No. It shall not stand. I shall wipe them from the world.”

  Harley grimaced and muttered, “What a waste.”

  Dougal said, “Our intelligence suggests their lair resides somewhere in Ravinder, but we’re not sure exactly where.”

  “I’ll find it,” Queen Dreokt promised. “Marshal all available forces to Raineach. I’ll march against Maninder and raze it to the ground. That will draw them out. Or I’ll rip the secret from someone’s mind. Dougal, I want an army.”

  Dougal started listing off available forces, but Harley cut in. “My queen, there’s another matter that we must also consider.”

  “Why do you interrupt my fun?” the queen asked in a suddenly petulant little girl voice. Her abrupt shifts still startled Shona, despite how many she’d seen.

  Harley took it in stride. “Just this morning I received reports of an uprising in Merkland.”

  “What?” Dougal exclaimed. With his extensive spy network, he usually prided himself on learning all important news first.

  Shona noted with interest that Ailsa didn’t look terribly surprised.

  “Apparently your commanding general, Rory, has allied with Granadure. He declared patronage a lie, unclaimed a ruse, and Queen Dreokt the greatest threat to Obrion. Half the army stationed there has thrown in with him. They forced out the remaining loyal troops, who are marching south toward Crann.”

  “Revolt? Among your people?” Queen Dreokt rounded on Dougal in a fury, fires burning in her eyes.

  For the first time in his life, Shona’s father stammered, struggling to find the words. He held up a placating hand. “I had no idea. I’ve always trusted Rory.”

  The queen’s fury evaporated as quickly as it arose. She gave Dougal a compassionate smile. “I know exactly how you feel. My own son betrayed me.” Then her fury returned in a flood and she shrieked, “And all who dare defy me must die!”

  “Of course. Please grant me leave to deal with the insurrection. I promise to root out and destroy all who defy your rule,” Dougal said quickly.

  Shona was glad she didn’t have to speak. She was still reeling with the news. Rory a revolutionary? The idea stunned her. He was the epitome of Obrioner loyalty. He was one of the rocks upon which Dougal’s army rested. If Rory was breaking away, who could they trust?

  Queen Dreokt settled back into her throne, actually looking concerned. “You realize my son will likely choose to meddle.”

  “That is likely,” Dougal admitted.

  The queen leaned forward a little, her voice softening. “You know you cannot beat him, that he will kill you when you two meet again.”

  Dougal’s expression hardened and he said simply, “He killed my wife.”

  The queen nodded. “I saw the memory. Kilian is a troublesome youth, but your wife was an idiot. He was right to put her down. You two were meddling in your own destruction.”

  Dougal’s face flushed with anger, but he managed to say in an almost respectful tone, “As you say, my queen.”

  She sighed. “Dougal, I see greatness in you, but you’ve allowed that cankered memory to define your life. If I let you face him, my son will kill you.”

  Shona felt surprisingly moved by the queen’s compassion. She knew the depth of her father’s anguish for the loss of his first wife. It had haunted him all her life, had made it impossible for him to truly love Shona’s mother.

  He hesitated for a second before spreading his hands in a helpless gesture. “I cannot abandon my realm to rebels and traitors, my queen. I have to try.”

  She clapped her hands together, suddenly enthusiastic. “Good for you, Dougal! Yes, you must fight to protect what is yours. And I am going to give you the tools to face my son on equal terms.”

  “What tools?” he dared ask, desperate longing in his voice.

  “I will share the secret with you once we are alone, and you must swear to keep it secret from all others on pain of death. It would be a most gruesome death too.”

  “I swear,” he said eagerly.

  Shona wondered what secret could give him an advantage against Kilian. The ancient Dawnus was so powerful, she doubted anyone but the queen herself could face him with any real confidence in victory.

  The queen’s expression turned serious. “See that you do not waste the boon I will grant you. You’ve proven yourself once, but you must pass this test to find stability of heart to serve me at your best. Return to me victorious and you will be rewarded beyond even your impressive ambitions. Take the army from Crann and those troops loyal to me now fleeing Merkland. Take the city and execute all who breathe out threats against my rule.”

  Dougal bowed low again. The queen glanced at Shona. “Go with your father. See how law and order are established. If you prove yourself, I’ll grant you the boon of a tertiary affinity.”

  Shona stammered, “Thank you!” She’d long dreamed of a tertiary power. Now it was almost within her grasp.

  All she had to do was help her father destroy their home and kill a man she’d looked up to all her life.

  “Harley, you go with them.”

  “I’d rather kill Mhortair.”

  The queen leaped to her feet, spitting with fury. “Don’t second guess my orders!”

  Harley didn’t look concerned. She made an attempt at a curtsy. “Sorry, my liege, but do you really need me to go spank that rabble?”

  The queen sat and spoke in a fierce whisper. “You will support Dougal in his attempt to retake the city and destroy my irksome son.”

  “Kilian does need dealing with,” she said softly, eyes lighting with anticipation.

  The queen waved them away. “Go. Do my bidding.” Her voice turned deadly serious. “Do not fail me like you did with Evander. It irks me to no end that we have yet to discover his hiding place.”

  For the first time, Harley betrayed a hint of nervousness. Not even she was immune to the queen’s wrat
h. “I swear my life to the task.”

  The queen’s grim look evaporated and she grinned and rushed off the dais to give Harley a warm hug. “Take care, my dear. Be safe, and mind the cold. It’s winter out, after all.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will.”

  The queen waved everyone else away, ending the audience early.

  “I know he’s infatuated with the Grandurian wench, but I never imagined Rory could be such a legendary fool,” Dougal hissed as the rest of the assembly headed for the door.

  “Are you really going to kill him?” Shona asked. Somehow she hoped they could save Rory. He’d led the team to rescue her in Alasdair. He was almost like an uncle to her and the thought of having to kill him nauseated her more than she’d ever admit.

  Her father snapped, “Of course. He’s done this to himself, Shona. I’ll make it quick, though. After all, he’s given us the perfect opportunity to prove ourselves. With this victory and with Kilian destroyed, nothing can stop us!”

  Assuming the queen dug Evander up from wherever he was hiding and destroyed him too. Or mind-wiped him. Somehow, Shona could not imagine Evander as a mindless slave. A martyr, yes, but not a slave.

  How many people they cared about would they need to sacrifice to climb the ladder of their ambition?

  “I’ll find you soon,” he said, pushing her toward the door and turning expectantly back toward the queen. Shona was tempted to linger, but wondered if that would trigger the queen’s volatile temper.

  The throne room had emptied remarkably fast and she found herself alone in one of the stairways leading down to the central palace. She descended slowly, mind whirling.

  Ailsa caught up with her a moment later, looking grave. “I imagine you must be worrying for all those you care about in Merkland.”

  Shona felt a little embarrassed. She hadn’t really thought much about the people whose lives and homes were now in danger. She’d been wondering if Connor was somehow involved in Rory’s change of heart and if he would dare stand against Harley and the army about to march north to crush the rebellion.

  “Do you know where Connor is?”

  “You and I both know he’ll end up in the middle of whatever ends up happening.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. He’s such a fool! They all are. Can’t they see that they can’t fight her?”

  “Not alone, they can’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a bright girl, Shona. One of the brightest I know. Today you stand on the cusp of the future, with perhaps your best opportunity to decide your fate and that of many others.”

  “How?” Shona’s voice fell to a whisper and she glanced around fearfully. “Even thinking the questions I want to ask could get me killed.”

  Ailsa winked. “Every path is overgrown with risk these days, but you already see that surrender to evil and tyranny is not the only answer.”

  “It is if I want to survive.”

  “Is it, though?” Ailsa held her gaze. “As you pointed out, no one can stop the queen alone, but that is not the choice you face. Perhaps the right group working together could defeat her.”

  Shona found herself wanting to believe that. She cast another worried glance down the stairway. They would not remain alone for long.

  Ailsa added, “Perhaps they will fail, but perhaps with the right help, they might just succeed. The question you have to ask yourself is do you prefer surrendering to slavery until the day the queen grows tired of you and executes you out of hand? Or reshapes you, body and mind, into what she considers more worthy on that particular day? Or do you prefer to stand for Obrion and liberty while it’s still possible?”

  Shona opened her mouth to speak, but wasn’t sure what she intended to say. She needed time to think. The faint hope of freedom from the insane queen’s rule that Ailsa suggested tempted her mightily, but could she risk everything chasing such a flimsy dream?

  On the other hand, if she steeled herself to help her father destroy those who dared fight for freedom, if she killed people she cared for, she would win the coveted tertiary affinity. They might die anyway, so perhaps their deaths wouldn’t really be her responsibility . . .

  She had long since accepted the potential need to sacrifice many to bring peace and prosperity to the nation and even the continent. There were always those who fought to thwart progress, but always in the past those sacrifices were made by political enemies and nameless individuals she didn’t know and didn’t care about. Now, as she faced the true cost of her ambitions, doubts began creeping in like the canker of rust spreading over bright steel.

  Ailsa patted her hand and gave her an encouraging smile. “I don’t need to know your choice. You do. Consider my words and do not hesitate when the moment comes. You’ll know it, and I doubt you’ll get a second chance.”

  She turned to leave, but Shona grabbed her arm.

  “What else are you involved in, Ailsa?”

  “I am proud of my sculpting work,” Ailsa said with a smile, her green eyes glowing with good humor, and Shona suspected with many secrets.

  “But that is not the full picture of who you are.” Shona leaned closer, realizing that Ailsa was perhaps an even more powerful ally than she had suspected. “How much have you told Connor?”

  Ailsa concealed her surprise well, but Shona caught a hint of it. “You are indeed a clever girl,” Ailsa said approvingly.

  “When I see you again, we have much to talk about.”

  “We might indeed.”

  “Tell Connor to stay away. I don’t want him hurt.”

  Ailsa chuckled. “Since when does Connor do anything any of us tell him to?”

  Shona frowned. She had a good point.

  Ailsa added, “But I will warn him and the others of the danger. Be careful, Lady Shona, and be sure to look deep and see clear in the days to come.”

  64

  When You Can’t Go Back, Go Forward Boldly

  Hamish lounged on a couch in Lord Dougal’s personal study, high atop one of the tallest towers above Merkland’s enormous palace. For the first time in the last couple of days, he felt almost himself again. He patted his stomach contentedly. “I like eating like a high Lord. The cooks in the palace are exceptional.”

  “Well you’ve eaten enough to keep them all busy,” Rory said. He sat in an overstuffed chair closer to the fire and glanced at the silver tray cluttered with empty dishes on the little table beside Hamish’s couch.

  Ivor, who had taken high Lord Dougal’s tall, padded leather chair behind his desk said, “I’m still amazed you survived.”

  Aifric, who sat in another comfortable chair near Rory, a glass of mulled wine clutched in her hands said, “I barely believe it myself.”

  The miraculous effects of activated pumice still amazed Hamish. Aifric had seemed reluctant to share the secret with anyone else, but Hamish had insisted. If they were going to have any chance against the queen, they needed to stop keeping so many secrets from each other.

  Hamish extracted a little piece of the porous stone and tossed it to Ivor. “Quickening it changed everything. We flew right through that crazy storm, but it couldn’t quite touch us. It was almost like we had shifted into a different piece of sky.”

  “Is that how it is when you tap pumice as a Petralist?” Ivor asked.

  “Not really. Elemental powers seem to evaporate when they make contact, almost like they get drained away.”

  Hamish said, “I definitely need to do some serious testing with this thing. I can’t wait to get back to Faulenrost. Jean will be thrilled.” He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.

  Rory looked grim. “Despite her injuries, it sounds like the queen will recover. She’ll be furious.”

  Hamish grimaced. “I’m worried she’ll come after us, or send Harley.”

  Ivor leaned back in Dougal’s big chair, his expression thoughtful. “It’s definitely a risk, but I suspect she’ll be more focused on exacting revenge against the Mhort
air. Hopefully she’ll ignore us for a while.”

  Aifric said, “That’s what I’m afraid of. I need to return to my people and warn them.”

  Hamish wanted to help her, was tempted to offer to fly her into Ravinder. He would love to get a glimpse at the Mhortair’s secret base, but he could not take the risk that they would react badly to his presence. He had learned too much and needed to talk with Jean, Connor, and Kilian.

  “We’ll help you in every way we can. In fact, we’d like to establish communications with your people to make it easier to help each other out,” Ivor said.

  They were already hard at work making plans with contacts all across the kingdom. From what Hamish had seen so far, their network was amazingly extensive.

  The door to the office opened and Tomas stepped inside, grinning. “General, she’s here.”

  Rory leaped to his feet, looking nervous and excited at the same time. Ivor rose and headed for the door.

  It flew wide before he reached it and Anika leaped through, leading with her fist. Ivor stumbled aside, barely avoiding getting trampled. Already tapping granite, her body transformed into perfectly-sculpted lines, Anika sped across the room to Rory and punched him right off his feet.

  Rory rebounded from the ground, laughing like a fool. He slipped inside her next punch, wrapped his arms around her torso, and pulled her tight. They embraced in a passionate kiss, holding it long enough that even Hamish started feeling uncomfortable.

  When they finally broke for air, grinning like idiots, Rory laughed. “It’s about time. I thought you were waiting until spring time.”

  Anika took an angry step back, but her retort was cut short by Rory’s fist. He seemed to have expected her to move that way because he caught her under the chin with a fierce uppercut that lifted her off her feet and smashed her head through the ceiling.

  She dropped to the ground and the two pummeled each other with fierce passion, scattering the rest of them and smashing most of the furniture in the room.

  Ivor finally interceded by wrapping both of their heads in ice. They smashed their heads together to break the ice, but did not resume their playful, destructive bashing.