A Queen Among Crows: Book One of Empire's End

by M. S. Linsenmayer

  A QUEEN AMONG CROWS

  Book One of Empire’s End

  by M.S. Linsenmayer

  A QUEEN AMONG CROWS

  Copyright © 2017 by M.S. Linsenmayer

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2017

  ISBN 978-0-692-98773-5

  Cover Art by Glenn R. Linsenmayer, Copyright @ 2017, All rights reserved

  http://art.grl-fineart.com/

  For Dad and Kathy

  And with apologies to everyone I "honored" by naming a bird after you. :)

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Prologue

  Tennessee Free Land, October 1879

  Historians will begin my tale with when I lost my first war, or perhaps began my second. But, in truth, my life began with a far smaller enemy, though at the time, One I deemed most foul; and her name was Amora Freya Astarte, because the Temple Virgins of the Divine Shelter for Unwanted Girls named her so, in the belief and hope that naming a child after virtues of love and elegance might make it so.

  Amora was living breathing proof that their theory was unsound, being by far the worst example of love or elegance one could possibly find this side of an incontinent hippopotamus, something I with perfectly sincere honesty and benevolent good will had but recently pointed out to her. This had the twin results of causing Amora to shake so hard her snot started dribbling down her chin, and me to drop the hoe I was holding- we had been assigned to work in the cabbage fields behind the temple- and head for the plausible safety of the woods across from the fields as fast as my rather long and spindly legs and well-ventilated shoes could carry me, as Amora had twenty-three friends, and last I counted, I had none.

  "Eryma Minerva Soteira" Mother Virgin Anya roared my name as I went past the kitchen window, But I, showing the courage and wisdom I was named for, ignored her and took a hard right over the fence and out past the rose shed (which smelled nothing of roses, mind you), ducked under the overhanging water basin, and with heavy breathing tucked my chin and mustered on to freedom, the graceful skips of a small herd of angry aquatic bovines behind me serving as some crude motivation.

  The woods my salvation was not a practical defense, girded with savage needles and dense undergrowth, but rather quite clean, open, and inviting; young white elms waved to me as I dodged between them. All undergrowth, and any old trees, had been burned clean here years before by the war. We, as small children, had hidden in the root cellar when the thunders raged, and the brick walls shook. Now, as older girls, we were still forbidden these woods, as the Virgins feared we might find some lost human remains (I had three, in a box, under my bed) or unexploded cannon shell (sadly, none of those yet, or Amora would have been no more a).

  The war still raged, but many miles farther east, as the British Imperial Fleet ruled the eastern coast, but her armies could not press inland any farther. Our own navy, based in California, was too small to challenge the British, and any attempt by our armies to push on was met by massive shelling of the British Fleet. The war had been going all my life I could remember, and it seemed divine will that it would continue until I was broken scraps in a box beneath some other unwanted girl's bed.

  Reaching the end of my breath, I broke off the main path, and made for the tallest tree I could find. Screeching up, I tucked my small frame on a branch perhaps some ten feet off the ground, behind the trunk, and made myself quiet as I could while I contemplated my brilliant tactical plan (as I took the name Minerva quite seriously):

  One. Anger the Mongrel Horde. Done.

  Two. Make a great escape. Done

  Three. Lead them into the woods. Done

  Four. Most of the horde will not enter. Done (I hoped, or this would be my Gettysburg)

  Five. Wait; when the horde breaks up to find me, get Amora alone. Working?

  Six. Look up as a strange clacking is going on above me?

  Craning my head, I saw in the branches above a small nest, and over the edge of that nest, a very fluffy and undefined head with a pointed beak and two bright black eyes. "Merk" it clacked at me again.

  "Why hello" I said, as I was raised to be polite.

  "Merk" It replied.

  "Are you hungry, I have some cheese"

  "Merk" most enthusiastic, this time.

  I pulled the cheese from under my blouse, broke off a bit, and handed it upwards. It appeared quite the delight, as the creature, whatever it was smacked its beak with great pleasure, before Merking again for more, quite loudly. Enraptured as I was to have made a friend, I missed the obvious tactical problems, which is my only excuse for my surprise when Amora's thrown rock impacted into the back of my shoulder.

  I fell.

  I screamed.

  Then more birds shot down from the sky like black arrows, and everyone began to scream.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Treachery for Dummies

  Part One

  Imperial Prussia

  Early October 1908

  Interlude:

  To Princess and Grand Duchess Catherine Sophia, Grand Commander, Armies of the Russian Empire:

  Your Highness,

  This morning we crossed the river Podkamennay, as at your command, against stiff enemy opposition. Casualties were serious but not debilitating, and the men remain in good spirit. The new Krupp's machine pieces proved devastatingly effective against the Witch's forces as you expected. The Cossacks believe we have destroyed over half the opposing numbers, and that the enemy has retreated deeper into the forest. I plan to pursue into the verge and entrap the enemy between my cavalry and my guns, mythical Maphnk be damned.

  We should reach the calculated impact point within two weeks.

  Yours to command,

  Mikhail Demitrevich Skobevled,

  Pskov Heavy Cavalry

  August 9th, 1908

  I stared at the stark green door with quiet dismay; it seemed to simple a thing to lead to such perfidy. I was not certain what I had expected after my long and all too mysterious voyage but a three-level red brick building in the foreign business section of Kreuzberg was not it. I did not expect the Crimson Palace, or a medieval prison tower, but at least some sort of Gothic government office would have been nice. The gateway to my own private Hades should not have had a Turkish Pastry as its street level.

  I checked the address for the four hundred and eighth time; then my gray cotton business dress, the small throwing knives concealed
upon my person, my pocket watch, the time on my pocket watch, seven minutes had passed, excellent; and lastly to the roofs of the buildings where my small murder of crows watched over me like a flight of black winged angels. Well, if your idea of angels included practical jokes, a hunger for fresh meat and a love of skiing, which several of them were getting ready to do on the snow dusted slate tiles above. At height, still more of my birds swirled in a complex prophecy around the roof of the building behind me.

  I pulled on my oiled leather gauntlet and the largest of my birds came down to land on my arm, before waddling to her customary roost on my jacket shoulder. I had named her Lois after a beloved author; now she chimed her beak twice while looking me up and down with a critical eye, before reaching out pull a few wandering hairs into place. "Done. Interview?"

  "Yes, dearest" I stomped my boots twice to try and clear the snow before marching towards the door knocker with the best confidence I could muster, towing my gargantuan travel box behind me. "What is the worst that could happen? The funds they sent were quite sufficient both for the trip here and for the trip back home to Annapolis. At the least I have had an all-expenses paid vacation of the great cities of central Europe. Perhaps I shall find a romantic knight to swoon me an opera of tragic love."

  I pinched her bill shut with my other hand before she could answer. "That was rhetorical."

  I do not need a bird, brilliant or otherwise, to comment on my age, prominent nose, coffee colored skin, or eternally curled black hair. I had mirrors for that. Other women may have had beauty, class, and romance; I had wit, experience, and explosives. The latter, in my experience, solves more problems than romance does.

  Serenaded by birdly sarcasm I waltzed with what small dignity I had left out of the cold morning and the equally bitter entry way; I was greeted by a dark varnished set of stairs down one way and the smell of fresh cinnamon bread coming from the other. Showing more strength of will than I normally had, Ignored the pastry cafe and headed up the stairs instead. The carpets were Turkish but faded, the door to the office open, the central desk covered in worn green felt, and the young man who rose up from behind it fit but with a painful looking acne right on the top of his prominent Prussian nose.

  "Darf ich Ihnen helfen?" He asked politely. Well, I hope he asked politely. The German language could whisper sweet nothings and sound like an act of war. Rather than mangle what German I know or risk offense with my other tongues I bowed once, and then handed him my engagement card.

  He examined it with care, before taking in myself and my companion, clicked his heels and having come to a decision, gesturing me to a chair to wait. Instead I shook out my legs, miming they were still cramped, and stood well away from the desk. His secrets, whatever they might be, were surely in no danger from me; I could barely even speak German, much less read it, handwritten, and upside down, possibly even in some sort of code; my poor old eyes could not even see the lines clearly from this distance, spectacles or no.

  He smiled his understanding, and walked over to a stout looking door set into the wood paneled wall. I stood, trying not to fidget too openly, and glanced at the book shelves, seeking what few minutes' solace I could find in a search for any old friends. They had a vintage edition of the Necrotelecomnicon, how strange; when alas the portal yawned open again, and he bowed once, motioning me to enter, and then closed the door behind me with an authoritative manner.

  This room was much better apportioned, even if lit only by a few of the new electric lights. There were three men in the room; one, the man I suspected who would turn to be the Moriarty of my little excursion was seated behind the rather ornate desk; the other two were on well-padded chairs on the left; a third unpadded wooden seat was placed in front of the desk, no doubt awaiting my less august rear.

  The three men were all well dressed in conservative suits; correction, two men and a woman, the bronze coiffed one on the left while dressed as a man, was upon further examination, in fact, an athletic woman, sporting a man's suit. All three had the characteristic chalk touched faces and fey eyes of the unnaturally young. I had to wonder, why then had the man behind the desk still had gray in his beard and a balding hairline? Could he not afford more of the medicine, or was he choosing to appear older to bolster his authority?

  He pulled on that graying chin and spoke, "Please be seated. You are Fraulein Eryma Soteira? Of the Western Colonies?"

  "Indeed I am." I replied

  "That is not a Colonial name, is it?" his eyes were very dark.

  "I am an Orphan. The nuns there gave great care to the classics."

  He leaned forward in his chair. "Ah, a religious education. Do you then believe that your unusual gifts are proof of a divine ancestor?"

  "I believe that the eggs I had for breakfast were too greasy and are in danger of causing intestinal troubles. Divine beings have no such problems."

  The woman to my left smirked at this. Neither of the men so much as blinked. The second man, younger in seeming but perhaps not in truth, now added in a deep and Eastern European accented voice "what is the extent of these gifts? What exactly can you do?"

  "As a 'queen' of lesser rank I may summon and command a kind of animal. My particular species, as you can see, is the black scavenger bird of the genus Corvae, better known as the Raven, Crow, or Jackdaw. I have with me now Lois, her mate James, a small group of their children, and about 30 or 40 native birds that have been attracted to my presence here in Berlin."

  "And can you control all of these?" The first man asked.

  "Those birds that have lived with me for many years, yes; as long as I make the commands simple enough to be understood. The newer birds mostly follow me around, demanding handouts, fighting with one another for my attention, bringing small dead things as presents and largely acting like unruly schoolchildren. Or possibly courtiers" I smiled.

  No one else did.

  "Just to be clear," The first man said "The rumor, that a greater queen can inspire her familiars with more than animal abilities or intelligence? Is there any truth to such things?"

  "As no great queen has been seen since the days of Boadicea; I cannot answer. My birds are smart, yes, and can be trained; but it is because all of that species is intelligent. While I do envy my mythical predecessors their gifts I do wonder about the use. Giant horses may have been useful against the Romans, but a horse is still only a horse. And I can hardly ride a giant raven into battle."

  "What my birds can do" I continued "Is scout out locations, follow desired people and come back and report, carry messages and enter guarded areas unnoticed. I have had some experience doing such in the past during the last war; I thought that was why you were offering me employment now. If that is not the case...."

  "What is or is not the case, Fraulein, is ours to decide" The older man growled back "We have paid good coin for your time. What proof might you have that your pets have the abilities you have claimed for them, that you are not some mere animal trainer?"

  "The two men, dressed as manual laborers, who followed me out of the train station," I kept my voice calm "they were yours? One wore a brown felt cap; the other carried a cracked leather case? They were driving a black motor car?" This was the easy question to ask; normal skills could have seen the men, and they were not that competent.

  "This is the proof of your more unusual abilities that we must pay so much for?" Indeed, he was not impressed. As he had yet to do more then pull on his beard I was beginning to wonder what would gain me a human reaction.

  "Of course not, sir." Perhaps it was time for more aggressive action. "I was merely concerned about the health of my birds. The winter is cold here, flight is tiring, and grenades are heavy."

  "Grenades?" Ah, this at least made his eyes widen. To his left, the other man stopped his twitching while the woman stared at me in a more challenging manner.

  "The ones my birds are flying above the head of the rifleman lying flat on the roof of the building across the street, of course. As one of your
men- the blond with the leather box- nodded to him as I left the taxi cab I did not disable him; but still, a woman must be able to protect herself."

  At this, at last, the older man smiled. He stamped his feet and rose, shaking himself to some sort of decision. Patting himself once, he reached into a drawer under his desk and pulled out a small brass telescope. "Fraulein, I shall step to the front windows where I may get a clear view. If your birds are, as you say, flying escort for you, you may consider yourself employed. If not...."

  He gestured to the woman, who disposed herself to stand behind me, with one hand in her jacket pocket. I attempted to remain still and nonthreatening as possible; sadly, my dear Lois took the occasion to begin playing with the two wooden sticks I used to bind my all too sloppy hair. As a study in intimidation I am afraid I quite failed.

  I did so hope my future employer would return soon. Not, of course, that the no doubt highly experienced murderer behind me was having any effect on my composure, but that whatever it was I had to break my fast on the train this morning was starting to cause true distress. I attempted to adjust myself in a proper lady like fashion only to fail most audibly. Behind me, my executioner coughed to conceal her laughter.

  "I do beg your pardon everyone," I stammered "My poor bird makes strange noises at times."

  "Of course, Madame," The young man replied, "It was clearly the bird." Behind me my looming death seemed to definitely require some sort of cough lozenge. Possibly of the extra strong cherry variety.

  "Excellent," the door behind me opened "Fraulein Soteira, you are indeed hired as agreed. Dame d'Aubigny, here, will take you to your new hotel, and provide for any requests you may have. Please plan for an extended trip abroad, of at least six months."