by Jeff Wheeler
Her left shoulder.
The mark was not there yet.
She felt a burning sensation on her skin. This is not real! She had to wake herself before it was too late. She heard a muffled voice in her ears, but the speaker was not her father. Her hazy senses recognized Corriveaux.
“. . . arrangements are nearly finished, my lady. There will be a feast on the morrow, after the coronation. Then a celebration. A celebration unlike any before. You are most welcome here. You are to be the first Empress of Naess since the days of our ancestors. The people are superstitious by nature. They will worship you truly . . .”
Though she heard Corriveaux’s voice, Maia still saw her father’s face, sensed his deep worry and concern. His hand gripped her shoulder. “You would not believe what has happened since the Dochte Mandar were expelled. The people are murdering each other, Maia! Every day there are new reports of some atrocity. The Dochte Mandar unleashed something in this kingdom before they left. Walraven did, I know it! We never found his kystrel after he died. I think he gave it to someone. Maia, did he . . . give it to you?”
Maia’s throat was dry. She stared at her father. He knew. Somehow he knew. Yet he was not angry. He was . . . hopeful. His eyes were bright with intensity.
“You have it,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes blinding with joy. “The chain you wear around your neck, I can see it. The chain. You wear it?”
Maia nodded, terrified. Her emotions wavered between exaltation and sorrow and terror. She had never told anyone her secret. Now her father knew. He could execute her. He could destroy her without trial or witnesses . . . the shadowstain on her chest was all the proof he would need.
He gripped her shoulders, his voice low and cautious. “I will not tell anyone, Maia. No one need know. In Walraven’s tome, there is mention of an abbey. A lost abbey. It was in Dahomey. Not Dochte . . . not the one the Blight destroyed. There was another abbey. It has been lost in the cursed lands for generations, but the Dochte Mandar know where it is and how to find it. Only someone equipped with a kystrel can follow the waymarkers to it. There is knowledge there, Maia, knowledge that I seek. The Dochte Mandar say the abbey is protected by Leerings that only a woman can pass. Yet they do not allow women to study, do they? There is knowledge there that will destroy the Dochte Mandar. Maia, it will save our kingdom. It is the only way.” His look was frantic, his voice quivering with intensity. “My spies tell me things. They whisper warnings of invasion. All the other kingdoms have fallen under the sway of the Dochte Mandar and cannot be trusted. The Dochte Mandar are a cult, Maia, with ways of divining the future. When they left, our kingdom began to suffer gross tortures, and they will not relent until we are all under their thrall. You must go to Dahomey. You speak their language fluently, and can speak many more tongues besides. I know Walraven trained you to write as well. I permitted it, Maia. I knew that someday I would need you for an errand like this one. I will send protectors with you. Trusted men who will guard you and protect you at the cost of their own lives. Will you do this for me, Maia? Will you leave aboard a ship and sail to the cursed shores? Will you do it? Will you obey your king? Will you honor your father’s wishes?”
Maia stared into his pleading eyes. He was desperate to save his kingdom from falling into the hands of the Dochte Mandar. If she accepted this quest, would she gain the advantage she sought? Would she finally be allowed to study at an abbey and face the maston test?
“When I return,” Maia had said forcefully. “Father, when I return, will you allow me to study at an abbey? Will you please allow it?”
His look hardened, but he did not release her shoulders. His mouth twisted into a sneer. “You seek to be a maston?” He coughed a chuckle. She could see the look in his eyes, the disdain of a man who had broken every vow.
Maia knew what would happen next. She knew what she was going to say. There was one abbey she longed to visit, the abbey where her mother was banished. Muirwood Abbey.
A dream, it is a dream! This was a trick, a deceit. She clenched her teeth together. A force bubbled up inside her and a spike of anger and rage seared her mind. She had to save Collier. She had to wake up.
Say it! Say it!
“No!” Maia shouted.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Assinica
It was like cracking a mirror.
The shattered slivers slid away from Maia’s mind and she could finally see again, breathe again, feel again. She was awake, fully alert, and herself, and she discovered that she was walking down a corridor on a velvet rug with golden tassels on the fringe, surrounded by Dochte Mandar. The air was heavy with the scent of an ancient incense. Leerings lit the corridor, several different kinds, each resting on a plinth of marble. The men who surrounded her were armed with swords fixed with rubies in the pommels, but they were not guarding her. She was being escorted in a royal manner, Corriveaux at her side, her golden dress making a gentle whispering sound as it dragged along the carpet.
“Excuse me?” Corriveaux said, his eyebrows knotting in confusion. “You mean you wish to delay the coronation? It was my understanding that the titles would be vested immediately upon your arrival in Naess. Word must go out before the storms of the season begin and communication ends with the other kingdoms.”
Maia had no idea what he was talking about. She had no context for his words, but she realized that the being inside of her had been fully participating in the discussion just moments before.
He put his hand on her shoulder, her left shoulder, to help brace her. As soon as his palm pressed the mark, fire seared from the brand and her mind began to blacken again.
She shook off his touch and halted, her head swimming. “I need to sit down,” she said with rising panic in her voice.
“Of course,” Corriveaux offered. “Your suite is this way. I had hoped for people to see you in the audience chamber. It will get tongues wagging if we delay the coronation, of course. Do you need some refreshment? I can have wine or cider brought . . . ?”
Maia shook her head forcefully. “The suite. Please.” The sides of her vision were fraying, sloughing off like ashes from a smoking log. She pressed her mouth, her stomach suddenly nauseous, and followed Corriveaux as he escorted her down another branch of the hallway.
The walls were all made of dark-stained wood. The edges had been carved and polished into strange rune-like patterns that she had never seen before. The door handles were forged of polished silver, each one meticulously crafted by master metalsmiths, the edges supple and curved and designed with the symbols of serpents. They walked for a brief while longer and Maia struggled to control her thoughts, to keep her mind her own.
Leave me be! she ordered in her mind.
We are bound together, daughter. We share one flesh. I have great need of you.
“Here we are,” Corriveaux said unctuously. He fit a key into the door and twisted the lock. Then he motioned for the escort to remain where they were in the hall.
She glanced at him, at his polished boots, his trim black vest with a golden collar embedded with an absolutely massive sapphire. A frilly white ruff was at his throat, and his beard had been neatly cropped and trimmed. He gestured for Maia to enter.
“After you, Empress Marciana.”
She looked at him sternly, her eyes flashing, her heart pounding in her chest, and then walked into the room. What was she going to do? It felt as if she were on a runaway boat with no oars. She could only clutch the edges and endure the ride through the rapids.
The room was easily twice her height and there was a magnificent dome in the center, supported by enormous wooden stays. There were three hearths, and Corriveaux used his kystrel to light the Leerings inside each of them. The elegant polished table in the center of the room had huge squat legs carved like pillars. It could easily sit sixteen, and was surrounded by gilded chairs. Near the windows was a huge canopied bed—monstrous in
size, and covered with heavy veils and trappings—as well as chests, pedestals topped with fruit and flowers, hooks and pegs, and enormous rugs and blankets.
The sky was dark outside the windows, the black ebony of night. This was when the powers of her inner demon were the strongest. She remembered in despair that the kingdom of Naess was known for its few sunrises and shortened days. It was so far north, the sun seemed to hide most of the year. Winters were cold and frostbitten, the moon and stars the only light.
This was a perfect land for the Myriad Ones. She felt them all around her, their panting, their nuzzling, their obedience to her as their mistress and ruler. Her heart shuddered at the feelings that began flooding through her. Retribution. Revenge. Murder. The sensations were so powerful, she felt as if there were nothing left of her but a gentle spark—a spark that could be snuffed out in an instant.
“Your look has . . . altered,” Corriveaux said, tapping his lip.
He gestured to a large stuffed chair, but Maia knew that if she sat down, lay down, or even stopped moving, she would lose her mind again. There were icy waters beneath her and she was moving on fragile ice.
She did not know how long she would be able to keep her mind, so she had to move quickly. “Where is the High Seer?” Maia asked, trying to summon an imperious tone.
Corriveaux’s mouth twitched. “You wish to kill her already? I am not surprised. It will cause a backlash from the mastons, of course. But I know we can keep it quiet for the entire winter at least. You wish her brought . . . here? I thought you may perhaps wish to use the dungeon.”
“Bring her to me,” Maia said, trying to breathe.
“Very well,” Corriveaux said. He walked to the door, opened it, and gave the order.
Maia could feel a thrill of victory churning in her chest. She squeezed her hands, trying to tame her feelings.
“Are you quite yourself, Your Majesty?” Corriveaux asked. “Your expression is troubled. Your hands are nervous. Pardon my noticing such things, but that is what I do. Is she still . . . struggling?”
Maia rubbed her hands together, pacing through the room, looking at every detail to distract her mind. The luxuriousness of this chamber was beyond Maia’s experience, even within her father’s court in Comoros. Every dish and spoon, every cut of cloth was exceptional and costly. The room was immaculately clean. The wealth of the Dochte Mandar was both gaudy and proud. A door led to a veranda outside. She walked over to the glass of the inset window and stared outside, seeing stone sculptures in the gardens beyond and rugged shrubs that could somehow endure bitter cold.
“Do you wish to see it?” Corriveaux said at her ear. She felt the pulse of the Medium again, and the Leerings throughout the garden suddenly exploded with light. Maia needed to shield her eyes against the glare. The blackness of the night had been completely driven away. It could have been a spring morning, just before dawn. The gardens were beautifully and intricately designed, one area leading to the next with steps and rotundas and benches and statuary that was mismatched yet fashionable.
“The Victus have spent years assembling these pieces,” Corriveaux said. “Gathered from fallen abbeys throughout all the seven kingdoms. While we lack the artisans to fashion our own, I think the effect is sufficiently grand. We are your humble servants, Empress.” He smiled at her—like a wolf. “I cannot tell you how long we have searched for a woman sufficiently strong and young to house your ancient spirit. I tell you, these plans have been underway for quite some time. You chose an acceptable consort, the King of Dahomey. But I think he may be too young and impetuous. Chaining him with a kystrel was brilliant, of course, but he will soon lose his usefulness to our plans, will he not? He is pining for you in one of the guest rooms.”
Maia looked at him, her heart pounding with fear and desperation, but she was relieved to know Collier had not been harmed. She had ruined Cruix Abbey through her ignorance, destroying its Aldermaston with a kiss. But the one who lived inside her had much bigger and bleaker plans for her.
His expression changed, hardening. “Ahh, you are not her,” Corriveaux said with a brief chuckle. “I can see the difference plainly. Good evening, Lady Maia.” He bowed at his waist. “Welcome to Naess.”
“Why am I here?” she asked, trying to swallow the lump of tears in her throat.
“You are here,” he said with a tinge of malice, approaching her. “But not for very long. After your coronation as ruler of the Dochtenian Empire, you will be sailing the seas once more. We found them, you see. We found the land the mastons fled to. We knew that not all of them had returned to build abbeys, but the mastons would not reveal where their ships had sailed from. It has been a most closely guarded secret. Despite our best spies and efforts, from the use of kishions to torture, we could not learn about that hidden land. Until they revealed themselves by looking for their lost cousins.”
He sneered at the word and pinched her chin smugly. “Our way of life is well-balanced, you see. Pitting each kingdom against the other. Fomenting wars and strife, but only enough to keep the people’s small minds fixed on glory and gain. You have read the tomes, Lady Maia. You know that mastons were the ones who caused the plague that destroyed the seven kingdoms. A single, reckless young girl, over a century ago.” His face contorted with anger. “Such power cannot be trusted to mortals. No one should be allowed to choose the fate of an entire generation.”
Corriveaux wandered to a nearby table and traced his finger on the polished surface. “After many years of searching, we found the land they call Assinica. There is a great host living there, enough to tip the scales of power. They cannot be allowed to return and upset the balance. We have learned through the tomes, you see, that when mastons rule, the people die. We will not be trampled so easily.”
Maia stared at him hard. “I do not know about any of this. I was banished from my father’s court—”
“Of course you were!” Corriveaux said with a gleeful look. “Woman, we made you! You were chosen as a young girl by us, the Victus. You were our secret. You were our sign. We chose you to bring back the hetaera.” He smiled with delight at her shocked expression. “Oh, Maia, please understand! Your feelings have been manipulated since you were a small child. So have your father’s. So have your mother’s. Lady Deorwynn has been our tool since she studied in Dahomey to become a courtier. It was her duty to seduce your father and destroy his marriage. You were banished because she requested it. Men are the greatest of all fools, you see.” He smirked. “Men are corrupted by women, just as women are corrupted by gold. It has always been thus. It shall always be thus. The Victus do not fear the hetaera. We do not fear women learning how to read and engrave. On the contrary, it is a sign of great courage to go against ancient traditions. Was it not Ovidius who said that we are ever striving after what is forbidden, and coveting what is denied us? That while what is allowed us is disagreeable, what is denied us causes us intense desire? Maia, you have been crafted like the handle of this cheese knife.” He picked it up and turned it over in his hands admiringly. “You were born to become a hetaera.”
Maia shook her head and backed away from him. “I will not do it,” she said strongly, though her voice quavered.
He snorted. “We do not need your permission. Or your willingness. You, foolish girl, allowed a Myriad One to inhabit your body. You have been in the thrall of a most ancient being who desires revenge against the mastons for destroying her order. Our interests are quite aligned. We make you queen . . . empress . . . goddess of the world. The abbeys will be destroyed again, just as you destroyed Cruix Abbey. They are so much easier to burn than to build.” He smiled. “We will send you to Assinica first, however, to unleash you upon the mastons. We have a fleet of ships, a veritable armada, which will then collect the Leerings and jewels and art from that vanquished people. A treasure greater than the one we stole from the other kingdoms.”
Maia’s heart was pounding in he
r ears. She could feel the rejoicing of the being trapped inside her.
“You think you can tame her?” Maia said, aghast. “She will destroy you.”
“I think not,” Corriveaux said. “She needs us, just as we need her.”
“You are mistaken,” Maia said, shaking her head. “It would be wiser to simply kill me. She will destroy all that you have built. There will be no empire left for her to rule. She only knows how to destroy.”
Corriveaux scratched the edge of his mouth. “I think I am done speaking with you, Lady Maia. I see you are still struggling with her. It is only the light from the Leerings that has kept her from reclaiming you thus far. Let me quench them.”
Maia felt his mental command to tame the garden Leerings. As they dimmed, she felt a wall of despair slam down on her. Her thoughts struggled under the pressure. Her vision blackened. Yes, the darkness gave power to the being inside her.
Maia reached out to the Leerings in her mind and lit them again, washing the gardens with brightness once more. She felt a hiss in her mind, a scalding pain that continued to intensify, crushing against her will.
“Enough,” Corriveaux said. He darkened the Leerings again, but their light did not go out fully. Maia struggled to cling to her connection. She was drowning in darkness. The gardens were pale, the light wavering in the Leerings as her will and Corriveaux’s contested for them.
Help me, Maia begged in her mind. She pleaded with the Medium. I would rather die than accept this fate. Give me the strength to keep the light!
“You are strong,” Corriveaux grunted, impressed. She saw sweat glisten on his brow. “But given your heritage, you would be. It was crucial to our cause that you were never allowed to train in an abbey. I feel your will bending. You cannot defeat me. I have trained for too long. Of course, you were trained as well. One of the best Victus of all was assigned to tutor you. To groom you for your role as the empress who will destroy the mastons. Walraven did his job admirably.”
