The Queen of Wolves

by Douglas Clegg

  She closed her eyes as if fighting the thought, and nodded.

  “This cannot be true,” I said. “For what is our nature now, will always be in our nature, no matter what curse comes upon us. In all my existence as a vampyre, I have learned this. I have not become a worse man from the nature of vampyrism that has revived me from death. What monstrous deeds I have done, I did no less monstrous ones as a mortal man. Neither will you become other than Calyx, raised of the forest women. For though your plague may be a door to Medhya, you will not be her puppet. I have met many devils and many men, and some were blood-drinkers, and others drank the soul. And none were made worse for their fates, though some gained power from such destiny.” Even as I spoke, I thought of Pythia, and deception. Was that her nature? For many thought so, yet I did not truly believe it, for all she had shown me of herself—though cruel and self-serving—she did not seem the great traitor Pythoness that others believed. To Calyx I said, “We are one night from the solstice. If the ancients were right—if the priests of my tribe understood the nature of the Veil—there is yet a chance to end this.”

  “It is the day of the long darkness, and soon the beginning of the ember days. The Veil is thin, this is why the woodland folk call to their dead—and to our goddess—on this day.”

  “Do not fear the shadows you see in your dreams,” I said. “For I am also here. I was born in the ember days of the year, and I will not meet my Extinguishing before they come.”

  “Yes,” she said, her eyes brightening. “There is a difference in you. Something flows in your blood.”

  “As a plague flows in yours,” I said. “Like your plague, what is in me brings me strength. Do not be afraid of Medhya, whom you see in blood visions. She is Queen of Wolves like Enora herself, and has no throne or crown, and she will not gain a foothold through you, or anyone. Call those of your folk who still remain. They must offer their throats to my army. None of you shall die from the bleeding, but the strength of the kings is important, and of their fighters. I will bring healing through the staff to those who suffer here, if they will fight with us in the coming night.”

  8

  After several hours, during which I brought the Nahhashim to many of the wounded and saw a gray-white light emanate from its spine, and pressed my hands to their flesh that they should heal, I felt a tugging in the stream, and went out to the cliff’s edge.

  A storm brewed at a great distance, and the clouds above were black as pitch—but I felt Ophion in the stream. And then it became so strong, and was like a throbbing pain at the base of my skull.

  I spread my wings and ascended into the sky. I held the staff out to the wind, and called to the Eclipsis that it should find me.

  As I looked southward, across the great expanse of trees that had not met Enora’s torches, I saw the great dark swarm of my tribe moving fast through the murk.

  As they descended toward the cliffs, a new snow began to fall from the skies, and lightning split the clouds with its white fire.

  When the Eclipsis was in my hand, I embraced Ophion and brought the others into the caverns that they should drink from the healed mortals, and rest—for we would wage war against the white towers by the following dusk. I lay down among the warriors, and slept, as well, for I needed all the strength within me for the battle to come.

  A crash of thunder awoke me at dusk, followed by the earsplitting horns of the white towers—they blew their alarms along the hills and valleys of the wastelands. From the many towers, and the city gates, the horns called to all who served the Disk, and Enora, the embodiment of the Virgin of Shadows upon the Earth. The misguided and misled, the merchant-soldiers who followed gold rather than truth, the weak-spirited and the enslaved, all would gather beneath the White-Horse standard. Many would bow and scrape to the White Robes and swear allegiance to their new queen—for yes, Enora was no longer baroness; she had claimed and taken lands that her armies had burned and pillaged, and nearby territories long abandoned from famine and pestilence.

  These dreaded sounds were followed by the piercing howls of the Chymer women as they shapeshifted near their grotto at the forest’s edge.

  I lay there and felt the heavy burden of the night ahead of us.

  PART 3: TARANIS-HIR

  Chapter 14

  ________________

  BEFORE THE BATTLE

  1

  Before rising, I closed my eyes and went deep into the dark of self. Merod, where are you? Serpent, be with me. It is the time of the war, and though I do not know its outcome, I wish for your spirit in my blood. You have given me many visions, and much guidance. I call you in humility, for though the weapons of the Asmodh are with me, and the soul of the Nahhashim priests in the second staff, I do not know if this is enough to defeat the enemy. I do not wish the death of the innocent, nor of those who are blinded to truth, nor those misguided by the plague dream. I ask for the safety of my twin children, and even for Pythia, though I cannot fathom her reasons for betrayal. In the vision of the ritual I am meant to perform as Maz-Sherah, it is with the Pythoness upon an altar stone, and it seems a sacrifice, although I do not understand why this should be. Yet, when the time comes, inspire me with the ancient Asmodh words—the words before language—that only you can offer. Keep safe our company, and those who aid us in this fight to close the Veil and to send the Myrrydanai to their rightful oblivion.

  These thoughts were met with silence. I no longer felt the guidance of Merod within me, nor did I sense the Great Serpent as I had in the Asmodh depths.

  I rose from my day’s tomb and went to those who readied for battle.

  2

  The air had grown chillier. I heard the sounds of others in the depths of the caverns, coughing off the day’s rest, calling out to each other. The nest of vampyres went deep in the earth of the Akkadite Cliffs—several chambers snaked below the rock and cave. Though protected with blessings from the Briary Maidens, I knew that the Myrrydanai would seek out those who existed here if there were one more day, and using their mortal soldiers, slaughter the vampyres.

  I wondered that the mortals here who protected us had not died from fear, or had not been tempted to stab us in our hearts themselves while we slept—for I could see upon their faces they still thought us devils.

  Calyx approached me with a man of twenty, who—shivering with fright—offered me his wrist for drinking. I calmed him with words and those seductions known to my tribe, and told him that the pain would be swift and would heal soon after—and with it, lingering pleasure. I was careful with him, and did not drink more than a cupful, for I knew I would drink from mortals that evening whom I could drain. When it was done, I raised his face and looked into his eyes, which were battle-worn and despairing. “For the strength you have given me tonight, I will bring much slaughter to those who have offended you and your kin.”

  Afterward, Calyx took me by the hand and led me out to the mouth of the cave. “Upon three white steeds, three riders dressed in the robes of the Knights of the Disk rode out of the widening gate of Taranis-Hir at middle day. Beside the ice canals they went, and through the drained marshes, across the forest floor. Along the burned path they rode, and several of us watched them come, drawing our blades and axes to meet them if they sought to climb the worn steps and brave the western and southern ledges, to attack us in our lair. But they brought their horses to rest down by the rumblerock, among the snowdrifts where the shallows of the bogs had been covered with brambles. One of them called a challenge to us, while you and your tribe slept. He shouted with angelic voice for us to have faith in the Virgin of Shadows, and to sharpen wood or heat our blades, and to thrust them into the hearts of the devils we harbored. ‘Bring their heads to the top of the ancient saint who lies beyond the Chymer grotto, and drive them upon your spears for the heavens to see!’ He drew off his helm, and showed his face.

  “I went to the ledge that overlooked the deep fall below, and I recognized him as a youth called Robin Carverson who had once bee
n kind to me in the foundries. He was fair and gentle, and he told me of the White Robes’ mercy. ‘If you and your people do this—destroy these devils from Hell—and will come now, and lead your Akkadites to the city, you have the word of the Queen of the Forest and of the Wastelands and of the Jeweled Sea, the earthly saint of the Disk itself, Enora, the Lady White-Horse, that none will be held responsible for any acts committed prior to this day. You may bury your dead who still lie upon the frosted earth, and celebrate the victory this day—with us. And you, ashling, will be allowed to return to these woods and their spirits, for our great queen acknowledges your innocent nature, which is like that of a fawn in the forest, despite the crimes you have committed against her, against Taranis-Hir, and against the Disk itself

  “And to him, I answered, ‘I am no fawn, I am the plague maiden whom you should cower before. When the night falls, you shall have your answer, and not a moment before. But I also offer you and your companions something, for I remember your gentleness from days long past. If you would join us in these cliffs, and swear allegiance to our company, and fight those shadows disguised as priests who rule the city with plagues and bog sorcery—and their queen, who is no queen at all, and only a baroness by the murder of her family...then you, also, will be spared, and will be forgiven.’”

  I could not help but laugh as she told me of her response, but she maintained an aura of gloom about her.

  “They did not think this so amusing,” she said. “The boy I had once known as kind began to curse me—and curse all who remained in the woods. He told me that he and his riders would find me when the battle came and make me suffer such torments as devils—and women who worshipped at the sacred fountains—deserved. I grew afraid that my challenge had doomed us all, for they could have scaled the cliffs had they wished to and sounded an alarm that the city might hear. But they did not. They rode back to their towers and left us. We have watched the paths and roads and narrows since then, for fear of their return—and of others the White Robes might send.”

  “They do not need alarms for what they are about. These Disk knights are afraid,” I said. I gripped the staff. “They have much to fear from us. And tonight, their fears will come to them, for the devils are here, and we will ride to them on the wind and upon the backs of horses.”

  Snow had continued its blizzard onslaught all the day long, and lightning flashed. The towers of Taranis-Hir—small at this distance—but still like the upward-turned fangs of a jackal, blazed with torchlight along the battlements and the turrets.

  I saw the faint blur of dark movement at the top of the walls and gates as many men prepared the weapons that would be thrown from above to those of us who attacked the city gates from below. On all sides of the walls of the city these soldiers stood, though they seemed smaller than ants at such a distance.

  The drums began, and pounded out a slow but regular beat. These were answered with drumbeats along the canals, and the drums at the towers, and in the brief interval between this dooming noise, thunderclaps burst from the clouds. The booms grew softer as the last light of day was no more, and the deepening shadows of the storm clouds—rightfully called ravens by the pagans of the wood—darkened even the white snow.

  “The day passes too swiftly,” Calyx said. “The long night begins. In years past, I would be here with the other women of the Great Forest, and we would call the Briary Maidens to aid us, and give offerings to the Lord and Lady of the Wood. But now, I feel the Veil’s torn caul, as I feel the plague in my blood. The rage of the Old Ones grows, and the fires of the heavens split the skies. Enora’s army burns the canals and the woods at the edge so that we must enter fire to meet them in battle. They know you are here. They are prepared. If we do not take it to them in a few hours’ time, they will ride to us—but a thousand riders of the Disk, and not three.”

  “We will end this at their gates,” I said. “I will take the heads of many. I will find those who have offended you and your kind, as I will find those who have harmed my tribe among them. Corentin Falmouth will feel the suffering he brought to Ewen and those vampyres of my tribe. The alchemist, and Pythia—the betrayer of her tribe—if she is with him, will find no escape from the sword I bring to the gates of Taranis-Hir. Before dawn, Enora will beg for the mercy of the Great Serpent, but I will cast her down into the Asmodh fires before I allow her breath to cloud the air for one more night.” As I spoke these words, I no longer felt Aleric within me. Falconer I was, and Falconer I would remain, son of the Great Serpent and no other.

  The storm of falcons would fly with me to the gates, and tear them down, and when the city had been taken, we would burn it to the earth, and salt the earth that such a city should never again grow from the Barrow-Depths.

  She turned to me, grasping my arm lightly, leaning in to me. “Their sorcery is powerful. The White Robes have called many men from provinces and towns, offering them wealth and the promise of Heaven for their loyalty. The minds of so many are polluted by the Disk dream. How do we fight the world?”

  “This is not the world,” I said. “I have seen other lands in my journey, and the plagues have touched them, but not all mortals cower before the Disk dream. These White Robes are the hounds of the Veil, the shadows of priests, and the one who rules them. Our aim is for closing the Veil itself. This is the time of the Great Crossing, and Medhya uses the tears of the Veil and the blood of many to break through. An aspect of Medhya herself—in the form of Datbathani, her sister—told me that one of my children will mend the Veil. The other will tear it. That one was made of fire and one of blood, though I do not understand these words. They are both flesh and blood, of me. I must take my children beyond the grasp of the White Robes. They will not be pawns in this war.”

  One of the mortals came out from the rock opening, and told Calyx that there was not enough blood among them to satisfy the hundreds of warriors who had come from Myrryd.

  “I will tell my tribe of this, for they are bidden not to harm you. But they shall drink deep tonight, in battle,” I said. I reached for Calyx and drew her close. “Will you join the fight, ashling?”

  “Everyone here will join it,” she said. “For we still have weapons and will. And now that you have brought healing to the wounded, they, too, will take up arms and return. We will fight to the death.”

  “Good. Have your men gather nine horses from those in the paddock. We will descend the cliffs in three hours’ time, and the Asyrr and you—and I—will ride into battle as kings of this earth, while our warriors cover the skies as hunting falcons.”

  “But we can have the horses ready within the hour,” she said. “For they are rested and watered, strong and able for battle.”

  “I have something I must do first,” I said, and would not tell her my intention. I found Ophion, and drew him aside. “While I am gone, you are in charge of our tribe.”

  “Do you leave us now in these first hours of dark?” he asked. “Oh, my brother, do not do this. I cannot command this...this rabble.”

  “It will be a short while,” I said. “You must make sure they do not overcome the mortals who offer blood. And here, you may hold this”—I drew out the Eclipsis—”as a symbol of your power.”

  “I cannot do anything with it,” he said, turning the obsidian-black orb over in his hands.

  “They will not know that,” I said. “And they will see you as my representative here. You led them from Myrryd with your knowledge of the stars. They trust you, as do I.”

  Then I returned to where I had slept the day, and donned a simple tunic and breeches and boots, borrowed from one of the mortals. Over this, I drew a hooded cloak. I sought Calyx, who walked among her people and brought them strength and comfort for the coming battle. “Where in the towers do they keep my children?”

  “There are rooms in the tower of White-Horse—they will probably be locked in their chambers,” she said, but cautioned me, “Though you seek your twins, you must know that the boy, Taran, is as cruel and bloodthirs
ty as his mother. It is Lyan who is gentle and has learned lessons of humility and suffering from watching the kingdom’s evil.”

  “They are both of my blood,” I said. “And if the boy is a monster, it is the Myrrydanai who have made him so—and their mother, whom I saw within the Veil bleeding him over the bogs to call up the dark spirits that have invaded this land. He is innocent, though he may not seem so.”

  “I wish I could say that the nature of a child is so changeable,” she said. “But I do not believe it from what I have learned of life.”

  “You will not speak of my children like this,” I said. “Tell me, is there no other place they might be kept?”

  “None that I am aware of,” she said.

  I was not angry with her for her opinion of my son, for I did not know either child except at some distance. Yet I could not blame either for the lives they had led to this point. I was determined to save them from the tyranny of their mother’s darkness.

  After I spoke with the Asyrr and settled their impatience with strategy, and warned their servants and warriors to drink no more from our mortal hosts, I leapt from the rock face of the cliff and flew out into the darkening night.

  3

  The blizzard had grown thick, and battered at me as I went. Lightning flashed, followed by roars of thunder, and the constant beating of the war drum from far below. I flew high above the trees, into the storm clouds, where the temperature nearly froze me, yet I did not wish to be seen by Morns, who would surely be patrolling the skies.

  In moments, I focused my mind on falcons, and felt the tingling of the Serpent’s skin along my body as I burst into many forms—and became several falcons flying in formation, together, moving as a mass of blurred wings. In the centuries since, I have understood the molecules of the body, and the influence of the mind over them—their shapes, their separations, their joinings. The shapeshifters of my early life somehow had a key turned within their blood and flesh and minds to shift like this, though most could not control their shifting.