by Kyra Dune
“Be careful,” Simon said to her retreating back. “This place is dangerous.”
“I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself,” Selene retorted.
Simon sighed. “I know.” But he said the words low and with a defeated slump of his shoulders.
Normally, Anastasia wouldn’t have hesitated to go to him with an offer of a sympathetic ear but under the circumstances she thought it better to let him be. Everything had changed and even though she still loved him as much as if he were her brother by blood, still she knew something of their relationship had changed as well. She didn’t like it, but she was going to have to get used to anyway. Perhaps she wouldn’t even have the time left for it matter. Another thought she would have preferred to avoid, but one which lurked constantly at the back of her mind waiting to pounce at every opportunity. The possible briefness of her life was not a subject she could avoid. No matter how much she might want to.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Daniella stood beside Richard with her arm threaded through his. This was a means to keep him restrained, as she could feel his muscles tight with the desire to do violence upon their cousin. Everyone in the throne room knew why they were all gathered together. It was left only for the High Priest to speak the word.
“You wish to make contestation for the throne?” He popped another grape into his mouth as he gazed down at Charles and Victor who knelt at the bottom of the dais.
In Daniella’s opinion it was more than a little presumptions for the fat toad to have plopped himself down on her father’s throne, even if he was the man who would decide the next king. And judging by her rigid posture, Jana felt much the same. It was perhaps the only time the two women had ever been in agreeance on anything.
“Yes, your Grace,” Charles said.
A muscle jumped in Richard’s arm and Daniella took tighter hold of him. If only she could keep him composed and under her control this need not be a disaster. Though she had instructed Mark to kill Charles if necessary, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t prefer his case simply be dismissed.
“By what right of blood and reason do you seek to place yourself upon the throne above the Crowned Prince?” the High Priest asked.
Charles rose to his feet to face the question. “I am Lord Charles Ambrose DeHaviland, son of Duke Ulric of Columine and his wife, the Duchess of Columine and princess of Hyacinth, the King’s own sister. I stand second in line for the throne by virtue of my direct descent from the royal blood and linage. Today, I stand before your Holy Grace, High Priest of The Grand Temple, and her Royal Highness, Queen Jana of Hyacinth, to proclaim myself rightful heir by intention of the late King Robert to set aside the Crowned Prince in my favor.”
Still, not a catastrophe. Or so Daniella told herself. She’d suspected her father might have told this secret to his dear friend Duke Victor and it seemed she was correct, as usual. It would have been better for Richard’s case had Charles instead questioned his bloodline, as such would have been impossible to prove. But this...
For the first time, the High Priest took better concern over what was happening before him than on the bowl of grapes. If he was surprised by Charles’ words, as he did indeed seem to be, he was the only one.
“You say the late King Robert intended to name you heir over his own firstborn son?” the High Priest asked. “What proof have you of this?”
“I hold such proof.” Victor now rose to his feet as well. “While he yet lived, his Majesty the King considered me a close confidant. We conversed on this subject no more than three months before he fell ill.
“In the course of this conversation, the King informed me of his intention to name Charles his heir. It was only out of consideration for his son he held off so long as he did. Had he not passed on from this world, he would have made his choice official by this time.”
“And what reason did the late King Robert give you to explain this desire to disinherit the Crowned Prince?”
Daniella held her breath, holding out the thin hope Victor might bring up Robert’s uncertainty concerning Richard’s parentage. It would be an outrageous claim to be made by someone outside the royal family and might be enough to have the High Priest dismiss the whole thing then and there.
“He feared Prince Richard too volatile to make a suitable king,” Victor said. “It takes a cool temper to best look after matters of state. And, if I may presume to be so bold, I would like to remind your Grace it isn’t unheard of in the history of Hyacinth for a king to choose a younger son, or indeed even a nephew, as his heir above his firstborn.”
The High Priest thoughtfully tapped his chin. “It is true the history records speak of such. And if the late King Robert had made this decision more publically known, we could better take it under consideration even without an official decree.” He laid his hand on the throne’s armrest.
“However,” he continued, “I’m afraid we cannot make such consideration on your word alone, Duke Victor. Highly regarded though it may be. Have you any further proof to offer?”
Daniella was so giddy she could have broken out in dance on the spot. Charles’ claim was come to nothing after all. Her father might have spoken to his close friend about such matters, but surely no one else was trusted enough to merit such confidence. And even if they were, whose word might the High Priest take over that of the White Knight himself?
That giddy feeling quickly dropped as heavy as a stone in Daniella’s stomach when Jana rose to her feet. “If you will not take Duke Victor’s word, then perhaps you will consider mine.” The queen’s voice was calm and strong as she spoke.
“Two days before my husband took to his bed, he declared to me his intention to make public decree of his decision to name Lord Charles DeHaviland his heir at the end of that week. He’d have done it sooner if not, as Duke Victor said, for his deep consideration for the Crowned Prince. My husband chose to speak first with his son on these matters, to spare him shock and embarrassment.
“It is a terrible misfortune which saw him fall into such a swift and mysterious illness the eve before he was to make the decree known to all.”
Stunned silence followed this remark. No one could have possibly missed the artfully hidden innuendo beneath Jana’s words. She dare not make an outright accusation, but her thinly veiled suggestion was obviously a deliberate attempt to undermine Richard’s bid for the throne.
“Bitch,” Richard growled. “I swear I’ll slit her--”
“Shut up.” Daniella dug her nails into her brother’s arm and pulled him from the room before he could say or do something to ruin whatever chance he still had at the crown.
Once they were out in the hall and the door closed behind them, Richard jerked his arm free from Daniella’s grasp and rounded on her. “Why didn’t you say something? She practically accused me of murdering my father.”
“Keep your voice down,” Daniella hissed. “What could I say? Jana spoke no word which wasn’t truth, nor did she make an open accusation. Had I spoken up it would only have given credence to her insinuation. As if your reaction didn’t do well enough. You,” she jabbed him in the chest, “need to calm yourself.”
“What I need,” Richard clenched and released his fists, “is to smash that bitch’s face in.”
Daniella rolled her eyes. “Good God Above, will you never grow up?” She sighed. “Go to your room. I have this all taken care of already. So long as you don’t do anything stupid.”
“You don’t give me enough credit.”
“I give you all the credit you deserve,” she said. “Now go.”
Richard turned and stomped off down the hall, muttering something decidedly nasty under his breath as he went. Daniella pretended not to hear. She loitered outside the throne room long enough to give Richard a good lead before heading to her own room, which was only a few doors up from his.
Several maidservants waited for her in her chambers, but she sent them all away upon arrival. She had no need of them at the moment. Indeed, she inte
nded to do something she wanted no audience for.
A crystal ball sat in one corner of her sitting room. To the casual eye it was nothing but a bauble, rather plain and nondescript to look at. A Magus would have known better. Daniella crossed the room and placed her hands on either side of the crystal. The imp Gibli, whom she had summoned from the aether, had as much as told her the only way to alter her vision was for Anastasia to die, but still she had to see.
Milky mist swirled within the heart of the crystal as Daniella opened her inner eye to the power of the aether. Since she was a small girl the vision of death meant to fall upon her and her brother were he not made king had driven her every action. Some things she had done were terrible and difficult, but for her life she had done them anyway.
Something dark shifted through the mist. It was nothing Daniella had ever seen there before. Always, when she looked, the same scene of death was opened to her. Never clear or certain on the exact manner of death, but only that death would come.
Her fingers began to tingle in a most unpleasant sort of way. The dark something was drawing closer to the surface and Daniella wanted no part of it. Something strange was happening. Something out of her control. And it was simply not tolerable. She sought to close off her inner eye and break contact, only to find she couldn’t. Whatever the dark form was, it had a tight hold of her and she could not escape.
Panic welled up in the back of Daniella’s throat. She could neither move nor make a sound, but only stare in mute terror as the form drew closer and closer. A suggestion of something rippling with black scales slipped past, and then a single burning red eye stared back at her.
For so long has your mind been blinded by one who would hide the truth from you. The booming voice filled up the room. Or perhaps it only filled Daniella’s head. She could not be sure.
Let me reveal to you the real future and how it will come to pass.
A barrage of images flashed before Daniella’s eyes. Images of a terrible war and the blasted wasteland it would leave behind. Strange and awful sights to behold. The vision cleared and the eye returned. You can prevent this tragedy. But you must summon me from the aether. Soon. The eye swirled into darkness and was lost.
With the spell released, Daniella stumbled away from the crystal. She sank to her knees. Her mind whirled with all she had seen. It was beyond her to know who the voice had meant in referring to the one who was hiding the truth, but she knew in her heart everything the voice had said, everything it showed her, was real. As she knew, without having been told, what sort of being the eye belonged to.
“Archdemon.” Daniella said the word aloud to see how it would feel on her tongue. A shiver rolled through her. Her gaze wandered to the dragon tallow candle on its self. She had used the candle before to summon demons, though until recently only low levels ones. To call an archdemon from the aether was nothing she had ever considered. And not only because she was doubtful she had the power to control such a creature.
Calling forth a demon from the aether required a blood sacrifice. A few drops of the witch’s own for an imp. A goat, or other medium sized creature, for a nightmare. But for an archdemon... Daniella shook her head. “I can’t.”
Arranging for her last stepmother’s “accident” and poisoning her father hadn’t been hard at all. She didn’t like either one of them anyway. But to summon an archdemon required the life blood of a loved one. And for Daniella that list was exceedingly short.
If she refused, the world would burn. A good sense of self preservation insisted she must do as the archdemon bid, and yet for the first time in her life, she found herself thinking of someone other than herself.
To spill blood with her own two hands was hard enough, but the blood of someone she actually cared about? How could she ever make such a choice? Soon, the demon had said, though not how soon. It would take time for her to come to such a decision.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sometimes, gods dream. For Shirelyn, such dreams were of the world above her prison cave. A world of harsh sunlight, bitter wind, and the twisted skeletons of former grand buildings looming overhead. Once brimming with life, it was now nothing but a blasted ruin. Like so many other realms her brothers had destroyed.
It was a fitting dream. One to remind her of why the Cataclysm must come to pass and her brothers must die. So much wickedness had been wrought by their treachery. She was the only one who could make it right again.
Shirelyn walked through what was once a vast city of skyscrapers and paved roads. No living thing moved about her, but she had seen the first tentative stirring of new life in the far flung corners of this realm. Perhaps in time this realm would return to what it once was. She intended to help it be so once she was queen of all.
A slight breeze stirred the hem of her white dress about her ankles. She always wore white in this dream, rather than her usual denim and leather. Her long, dark purple hair also was different here, for it hung loose and flowing rather than in its customary braids.
In her dreams, Shirelyn had traveled the width and breadth of this realm. The only place she could walk beyond the walls of her prison. It was during such dreams she had gathered the many trinkets which decorated the cave she called home. For gods could bring things from their dreams into the waking world.
How she loved those small treasures. The bangles and the rings and such which she wore always were dear to her. As was every possession she had gathered. They brought her a closeness to the people who once inhabited this realm. How she wished she could have known them before they were obliterated.
Of all the lands in this realm, it was this lost city which called most strongly to her. She knew not why, but perhaps it was due at least in part to her having found Shush here, half buried in the sand. Shush, who was her most dear and cherished friend.
Often times when she was here Shirelyn would close her eyes and try to imagine the little girl who loved Shush once upon a time. Sometimes such thoughts made her laugh. Other times they made her cry. She hoped with all her heart the little girl and Shush had held tight to each other as their world came to an end. At least then they would not have been alone.
Wind sighed through the city like a sad lament. This was a haunted place. At times, Shirelyn even believed she saw, from the corner of her eye, the faint specter of one long dead. But whenever she turned to look, nothing was there. They knew who she was and so they hid from her.
It was only proper for her to be plagued by the dead of this realm. Billions upon billions, all lost. It was because of her brothers, of course, but still she did feel some guilt in the matter. She should have suspected they would betray her. Especially Ishkael. Her blindness to their coming treachery was part of why so many worlds were wiped away. She would never make such a mistake again.
Shirelyn stepped onto a street, cracked and rutted but still intact. Sand skittered across the toes of her boots. This realm would be her seat of power once she was queen. She had no desire to reclaim her birth land. Too many bad memories. That realm was best leveled and transformed into a great desert to stand always in memory of what her brothers had done.
A grim smile touched her lips. Once her brothers were conquered, she would burn their bodies and scatter their ashes across the desert which was once their home. They had sought so hard to rule over it, let them have in death what they could never claim in life.
A noise separate from the cry of the wind caught Shirelyn’s attention. It was as if a stone had been disturbed by a misplaced foot. She paused, her lavender gaze searching the ruins for the source. Nothing of its kind had been heard here in time untold.
Ishkael stepped around the side of a nearby building. He looked exactly as she remembered. Dark black hair with a fringe purple falling across one silver eye. The other flashed in the sunlight as he grinned at her. “Hello, sister dear. It’s been far too long.”
“You can’t be here,” she said. “This is my dream.”
“And yet, here I am.” He strutted tow
ard her, the chains on his leather jacket rattling. “Mish wouldn’t approve of me using my powers this way, but I had to see you once more before the realms fall.” He looked her over with a critical expression.
“I think I prefer you in real life,” he said. “This ethereal, saintly look doesn’t suit you at all. Too soft.”
“Why have you come?” Shirelyn took no fear in his presence, only great puzzlement. “You couldn’t kill me in the waking world and you certainly can’t kill me here.”
“Killing you was never my first thought,” he said. “I know you believe the Cataclysm will aid you better than it will us, but you’re wrong. Still, I look forward to facing you once more in the true flesh.”
“As I look forward to facing you,” she replied, “and watching you die. It is all you deserve for what you’ve done.”
“Your words tear my heart.” He placed one gloved hand to his chest. “Do you truly blame me for all this? I made you an offer once. Had you not turned me down, none of this would have happened. All these realms destroyed, all the lives lost, are on you and your vanity.”
“I should have killed you the moment you first spoke those words to me,” she said. “But I was weak. I yet viewed you as my brother and I refused to see the evil in your heart. No more. Now I know what you are. And Mishkael as well. You have poisoned this world and so many others. You will not do so again. I will see to that.”
He laughed. “Do you really think a few higher powers on your side is going to win the day for you? Sister dear, you have no idea what you’re in for.”
Shirelyn stared back at him in serene silence until his smile lost a touch of its confidence. “Poor Ishkael, you never learn. You waste precious power to come here with the intention of what? Intimidating me? As if that were possible. You are nothing but a sad, wicked little boy playing at being a man, as you have always been. And I tire of trading words with you.”
