The Gathering Storm kt-1

by Robin Bridges

  “Does your mother have a Russian cook or a French cook?” Queen Milena asked me.

  “She has both, Your Majesty,” I answered, hoping I did not sound pretentious.

  She nodded. “I do not care for French cuisine. It is too rich for my tastes.”

  “I love French cooking,” Elena said. “But our cook’s smoked ham is the best.”

  It was, overall, a pleasant dinner. There was no blood drinking in sight. No black-magic chanting. I glanced around the table at smiling, gay faces. Militza and Stana were laughing at something Zorka’s husband had said. Elena was whispering to her sister Anna. Anna and Elena could have been twins, instead of being a year apart.

  Danilo was listening to his father discuss his latest work of poetry, which the national theater was staging as a ballet. His father was a great patron of the arts and enjoyed writing plays and poetry. I was not sure I wanted to know any of Queen Milena’s favorite pastimes. She gazed around at her children affectionately, and then her gaze rested on me with a wicked smile. I tried to smile back, to show her I was not afraid, but I didn’t think I was successful.

  The servants began to clear away the table as soon as King Nikola rose from his chair. “Katerina Alexandrovna, I would like to show you the drawing room. Danilo, would you escort the young lady?” The king placed his wife’s hand on his own arm.

  “My dear,” Danilo said smoothly, taking my hand. I would have believed the prince passionately in love with me if I hadn’t overheard Militza in the carriage. He behaved like a perfect gentleman. The devil.

  We entered a grand room with silk-paneled walls, on which hung several large portraits. “These are my ancestors, Duchess,” King Nikola said. “These are the Vladiki of House Peidros-Njegos.”

  Several black-eyed men stared down at me from their paintings. The earliest men wore the black robes and headpieces of the Orthodox clergy. The later bishop princes wore only the less formal princely jackets, with various medals on their chests. The last portrait on the wall was the one of King Nikola, in his own jacket. None of them wore crowns denoting their sovereign status.

  The opposite wall held portraits of the king and queen’s children and a beautiful portrait of Queen Milena when she was younger. Her dark eyes flashed seductively in the painting. “How pretty!” I could not help saying.

  “That was many years, and many pregnancies, ago,” the queen said with a sigh, one protective hand on her abdomen. She pulled me away from the others, and we walked along the grand hallway, looking at other portraits.

  “There is something about your eyes that is so familiar,” I said. “I suppose it is just that your daughters favor you. But I could swear it is something more than that.”

  The princess stared at me silently for a few seconds. “Perhaps it is my sister who you are thinking of?” she said finally.

  I shook my head. “I do not think I have ever met your sister.”

  “But of course you have, dear. Princess Cantacuzene.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face.

  “You seem very surprised,” Queen Milena said with a laugh that sounded almost like a cackle. “I don’t suppose my dear sister ever mentioned me?”

  “Only that your son is about to become a blood drinker. And that your daughters are powerful sorceresses.” I hesitated before adding, “I take it you were never close.”

  Queen Milena laughed some more. “In truth, we were only half sisters, sharing the same father.” She stared out the window into the black night. “My mother was the maid for the princess’s mother. She was turned out of the house when she found out she was with child. Our father, Prince Dragomir, married my mother off to one of his noblemen, Count Vujovic, and I carried his own name. But Mother never let me forget I carry the blood of Bessaraba in my veins.”

  “And so do your children,” I muttered. Had the ghost at Vorontsov Palace been speaking of Princess Cantacuzene or Queen Milena that night? Or even her daughter Militza? Why must ghosts always be so ambiguous?

  “She was truly an enemy of the tsar, you know,” Princess Militza said, joining us at the window. “She has been plotting to return her corrupted lover to the throne with her undead army.”

  I felt cold. And confused. “Ruxandra?” How old had the princess been?

  The queen did not notice my shudder. “Ruxandra is the name she lived under for the last sixty-odd years, after one of our ancestresses. Her true name was Princess Johanna Marija Cantacuzene. It is sad that there are still prejudices against blood drinkers in this day and age. Konstantin was turned by Johanna and they attempted to reclaim the throne from his brother Nicholas.”

  I could not believe what I was hearing. It seemed to me that no member of the House of Bessaraba had our tsar’s best interests at heart. “But Konstantin Pavlovich, he is most certainly dead. Isn’t he?” I asked.

  The queen smiled and shrugged. “He was staked by the bogatyr in 1831. But I believe my dear sister has been raising the undead army for him.”

  I had to get back to St. Petersburg and I had to warn the tsar. But I had no money, and no way of traveling. There wasn’t even a railroad line out of Cetinje. If I managed to escape from the Montenegrins, how would I be able to leave the capital city?

  “Come, my dear.” Princess Militza grabbed me by the arm. “It will be midnight soon, and it will be time for the prince’s ascension. You have a very valuable part to play.” Her pretty white teeth gleamed. She steered me back toward the others, where Prince Danilo took my arm.

  “But what about the Dekebristi?” I asked. “If you are truly the tsar’s ally, you must send him a warning!”

  Queen Milena smiled. “Do not worry about your tsar. Johanna is dead and can do nothing more for her precious Konstantin.”

  I wasn’t so sure. What if she had already revived him? What if that was why she had been so ill the past spring? Such a ritual would have required an enormous amount of energy, even if the necromancer had been an ancient and powerful vampire.

  The crown prince’s smile was as wicked as his mother’s. “Tonight will be magical, my love. Soon it will be time to go to the monastery, where a very beautiful ritual is to take place.”

  “We cannot be married before my birthday, Danilo. You know my parents will not allow it.”

  “That does not matter,” he said with a low laugh. “I shall wait patiently for our wedding night, but tonight is another matter completely.” He caressed my cheek in a threatening manner. “Do not forget what will happen to your loved ones if you do not cooperate.”

  His renewed threat filled me with dread. Militza took me by the arm again. “We’re going to be a good girl, aren’t we?” she asked.

  “Please let me go,” I said. “If your family is truly aligned with the tsar, why must you do this?”

  “Even the Light Court has need of friends that follow the paths of darkness. With your blood, Danilo will become a more powerful ally for the tsar. Now, if you’re not going to behave properly, we shall have to do something about that.” She placed a cloth with a sickeningly sweet smell over my face. I tried not to breathe in, but the fumes overpowered me anyway.

  The last thing I was aware of was sliding to the floor, with Militza not bothering to catch me.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  I awoke, with both my hands and feet bound, in a stuffy, damp chamber. There were two candles lit, and someone circled the room, lighting more candles. I heard a low murmuring, like a buzz or a hum coming from outside. The person lighting the candles was dressed in a black hooded robe. “Hello?” I asked. “Can you help me?”

  The robed figure said nothing, but put a finger to his lips. The hairy arm and masculine jaw I saw were the only clues that told me it was a man.

  “But I must get out of here,” I said, squirming and trying to work on the ropes. My wrists were being rubbed raw.

  The buzzing grew louder, and as the large wooden door swung open, I realized it was not buzzing but chanting. A small group of more black-robed men,
swinging an incense censer, chanted as they approached the table where I was lying curled up on my side.

  I suddenly realized I was lying on a cold stone altar. My heart began to pound. My nightmare was becoming all too real. “No!” I screamed. I was going to be some sort of sacrifice. “Let me go!”

  The chanting drowned out my cries.

  The wooden door swung open again, and this time, the king and queen entered, followed by the crown prince. He was now dressed in the black robes of the Vladiki. It was time for his rite of ascension.

  The prince’s sisters followed him, wearing veils, so I could not tell which sister was which. The first one carried a small brass pitcher, and the second a brass chalice. The third sister carried a jewel-encrusted chest. The three women approached the dais as the black-robed men continued to chant. I wanted to scream again, but as I caught a whiff of the incense, all thoughts of escape left me. They were drugging me again, I thought hazily.

  Suddenly, the chanting stopped, and the chamber was silent. I looked around at the walls, where iconic images flickered in the candlelight. The temple reminded me of another chapel, thousands of miles away.

  The queen turned around to her three veiled daughters. “Bring forth the talisman,” she said.

  The veiled sister carrying the jeweled box came forward, opening it in front of her mother.

  Milena’s eyes lit up as she carefully lifted something out of the box. Triumphantly, she cradled an ancient metal disc in her hand. “The Talisman of Isis. Created for our ancestors thousands of years ago, to bring the gift of eternal life to us, her favored children,” she said. “But part of the talisman was stolen by my sister, and taken to a distant, frozen land, where it stayed for many years.

  “Tonight, we reconsecrate it and put its two pieces back together.”

  I gasped. It was the talisman from A Necromancer’s Companion. From what I could see, the talisman was not broken in half but had a large empty spot in the center of the disc, where it looked as if a stone was missing.

  The sister who held the brass pitcher stood in front of me and anointed my head with a sweetly scented oil. I was too weak to protest. She moved to Prince Danilo and anointed his head as well.

  The second sister bent down in front of the altar, holding up the chalice in front of me. I bent over and peeked down, but the chalice was empty.

  The third sister held out the jeweled box to Danilo, who withdrew a golden jewel-encrusted dagger. My eyes grew large, and my mind slowly put together what was about to happen.

  King Nikola took my hands and untied them, yet held me down so I could not run.

  Danilo took his dagger and sliced my palm open, and I gasped in pain. The sister with the chalice held it up to catch my blood.

  “No, please,” I whimpered. My hand stung from the cut. I could smell the metallic scent of my blood mixing with the fumes of the incense, and I was growing dizzy. “No …”

  The veiled sister handed the chalice to her brother.

  But his mother held out her hand. “Not yet. We must restore the two pieces and rededicate the talisman to the Goddess.” King Nikola grabbed my hand and held it while the queen ripped the obsidian ring from my finger. I winced as she scraped the skin. “My sister stole the talisman, hoping to place her lover on the throne of Russia. When she failed, she broke the talisman into two parts.”

  I gasped again. Princess Cantacuzene had given me the stone of the talisman to protect. And the Montenegrins had known I carried the missing piece all along! Danilo had recognized the ring and had relayed the information to his sister and mother. I felt sick and helpless, held down on top of the altar.

  Queen Milena set the ring back into its proper place in the center of the golden disc. “It wants a gift from you, Katerina,” she said softly, holding the talisman under my hand so that drops of my blood fell on the obsidian. The blood hissed a little as it seeped into the stone.

  “No,” I whimpered again. But I was too weak to fight them anymore.

  The queen held the talisman above Danilo’s head. “The blood of Isis, the strength of Isis, the words of power of Isis shall be given to you. May the symbol of Isis act to protect this great divine being from our enemies.” She lowered the talisman and held it over Danilo’s heart.

  He took the chalice of my blood and held it up. “The blood of Isis, the strength of Isis, the words of power of Isis are all mine.”

  With those words, he drained the chalice and became a blood drinker.

  I wanted to retch but was too tired. Tears rolled out of my eyes. My cursed, necromancer’s blood. That was why his mother had wanted a marriage between the two of us. She wanted to use my blood to make him a more powerful Vladiki than his own father. I knew that now that she had her talisman and my blood, I was no longer useful to her. As soon as possible, they would kill me. Princess Cantacuzene had been right.

  Queen Milena smiled at her son. “You will now be able to walk both the paths of the living and the dead, my son. For Isis shines her favor upon you.”

  At that moment, the talisman began to move in her hands. With a cry she dropped it to the floor and stepped back. The walls of the temple began to shake.

  We were deep within the Black Mountain, and one of the terrified priests cried out, “Earthquake!” They crossed themselves and ran out the door.

  “What is this?” King Nikola roared, letting go of me.

  A thin line of smoke, or mist, rose from the middle of the talisman. The walls of the temple stopped shaking as the vaulted ceiling above us filled with the mist.

  I sat up on the altar and slid down, hiding on the opposite side of the large block of stone from the king and queen. Everyone remaining in the temple stared up at the mist in horror. “What have you done?” King Nikola whispered to his wife.

  The chamber had suddenly grown much colder, even though the torches and candles still burned.

  Queen Milena raised her hands up and spoke a prayer to Isis for protection. Her frightened daughters huddled behind her.

  The mist began to take shape above us. It glowed a bluish white. I watched in terror as I recognized the familiar glow. It was a pure cold light.

  Suddenly, the torches and candles were extinguished, and the temple was flooded with the cold light of the mist. The color drained from Prince Danilo’s face. He seemed to wilt, crumpling to the floor in a faint.

  A malevolent voice thundered from above us. “WHERE IS JOHANNA?” it said.

  “No,” the queen whispered, growing as pale as her son. “It cannot be.…”

  King Nikola drew himself up. “Who are you?” he shouted. “I order you to leave Black Mountain at once!”

  The walls shook again. Stones began to tumble from the ceiling. I heard Elena shriek from behind her mother.

  “YOU DARE ORDER ME?” the mist roared. “I AM KONSTANTIN THE DEATHLESS! YOU WILL OBEY MY COMMANDS!”

  The mist grew, swelling until it filled the temple and closed in on us. And it was painfully cold. The cold I felt in my bones was nothing like the chill it gave my heart. It felt as if the cold light was grasping for my very soul. I heard the others on the other side of the altar crying out and realized that the mist was clawing at all of us.

  “Your Johanna is not here!” Elena shouted. “She is dead!”

  “YOU LIE!”

  I did not think the pain could get any worse, but it did. I fell to the floor, freezing and exhausted and ready to quit fighting. The others must have collapsed as well.

  Suddenly, the painful cold disappeared, along with the mist. It did not recede into the talisman. It simply vanished.

  My head was throbbing. I tried to get up, to get away from that horrible place. I had to escape. But I did not have the strength to move.

  The crown prince was the first to stir. Moaning, he got to his knees and placed his fingers on my neck. “She’s alive,” he said.

  The blackness closed around me again.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  I awoke the next
morning in a large bed, my head pounding and my bandaged hand throbbing. The prince had drunk my blood. We would now be forever linked. Feeling nauseated at the thought, I started sobbing miserably. How could I have let this happen?

  And now—with my blood—Konstantin had returned. Queen Milena had not realized her sister had been using the talisman to keep her lover’s soul safe. He would go after Tsar Alexander and his family next.

  I climbed out of bed and tried the door. I realized with relief that it was unlocked. But then, the Montenegrins had what they needed from me. They had no reason to keep me imprisoned.

  Princess Militza met me in the hallway. “Awake at last, I see! Mama will be pleased. Would you like something to eat? She is having tea in the parlor.”

  “No, thank you.” To be truthful, I was afraid of eating or drinking anything else in the palace. “Have my parents arrived yet?”

  She did not answer. “Follow me, Duchess” was all she said.

  Tea was held in the queen’s parlor, an elegantly decorated room with red silk wall hangings. The walls were covered with portraits of her children.

  “Duchess, good afternoon,” Queen Milena greeted me.

  Afternoon? I hurried to the window and drew back the heavy curtains. Late-afternoon sun stretched across the courtyard in front of the palace. I saw several carriages slowly driving up and down the street.

  “You have been sleeping deeply all day. Sit here and have some tea.”

  “I am sorry, but my stomach is feeling a little queer at the moment. Please forgive me.”

  “Oh?” She placed the pot of tea back on its tray and stared at me with her penetrating black eyes.

  “We should warn the tsar about Konstantin,” I said.

  Queen Milena nodded. “Of course. A telegraph has already been sent to St. Petersburg.”

  “What else can we do? How can he be stopped?” I asked.

  The queen shrugged with a helpless smile. “I would not have the slightest idea.”

  “But—”