by Eric Flint
Malei. The name came back to her memory as the stories she had been told in her childhood resurfaced. She was a witch who had tried to overthrow her father. The fairy council had supported him and it was their power that had exiled her to the mountains. Pawn also remembered hearing rumors that the witch had appeared at her christening and had attempted to place some sort of curse on her—one the fairy council had been able to counter. She closed her eyes for a moment. Obviously, they hadn't fully succeeded.
The witch had called her a pawn and had used her as such in whatever game she was playing. Now her father was dead—by her own hand. The witch will pay for using me like this, she thought. A chill seemed to wrap itself around her and the girl shivered.
"Do not presume to lift your hand to me!" She heard Malei's voice in her head. The witch had cast some sort of magic with those words. She knew she would not be able to do anything against her. Her hand tightened on the hilt of the blade and she concentrated on returning to Malei's office.
* * *
Malei paced her office; the mirror had gone blank after Pawn had completed her task and it was taking longer than it should have for the girl to be returned. A sudden chill filled the room as a mist began to form. She raised her staff and whispered the words of an emotion calming spell. Between that spell and the protections she had woven on that first day, she should be safe.
The mist shimmered as the girl stepped out. She dropped the bloodstained dagger on the table. "Next time, do your own dirty work, witch!"
Malei looked at Pawn and grinned. The girl's eyes were now a brilliant sapphire. The previous spells placed on her were broken. The Pawn was no more; there was only an angry young woman with a major decision to face.
Malei passed her hand over the knife and the blood vanished.
"What is this?" Pawn started to reach for the dagger, but stopped herself from actually touching it.
"It was only an illusion, a test. You killed no one tonight." Malei reached behind her to the shelf, picked up the dusty alicorn pendant, and laid it on the desk next to the knife. "In chess, when a pawn reaches the other side of the board it is promoted; sometimes to the most powerful piece on the board. Now that you know what it is to be a Pawn and subject to the whims of another you are ready to be a Queen," she said.
Pawn stared at her for a moment. "Then my father . . ."
"Is still alive."
"But you tried to take his throne before. Why do this? Why use me? If it was only an illusion, are you planning to enchant me again so I will kill him for you?"
Malei shook her head. "No, child. What I have done and what I do is to preserve and protect this kingdom."
The girl reached for the pendant, and Malei trapped her hand before she could remove it from the desk. "If you pick up that pendant, you will have no memory of this place or of me. You will be returned to your family, and it will seem as if you have awakened from a long sleep. You will no longer have a choice in what you do. You will be required to fulfill the role your family has laid out for you. However, you will perform that role exceptionally well because of your time here."
Malei removed her hand from Pawn's. "On the other hand, if you pick up the dagger, you will be permitted to remain here and continue your training. You have within you the potential to be a great leader. The choice is yours." She paused for a moment. "Before you choose, I have one other question. What was your opinion of the request brought before you during the session with Pyrin?"
"I agreed with the proposal."
"Why?"
"By ensuring everyone is able to read, they are less susceptible to rumor and superstition. It is easier for those who govern to make sure their message is delivered properly if it is written out instead of hoping nothing is misspoken if it is only heralded."
Malei nodded. "You are ready to choose." She waved her hand over the knife and the pendant. As her hand passed over the blade the blood reappeared.
"Know this; whether you decide to stay or leave, you will one day have to live with another's blood on your hands. Whether you spill that blood yourself or order it spilt, either way you are the one responsible. You should also understand that your responsibilities to those you lead and serve must come before personal loyalties. There may come a time when you will have to sacrifice someone or something you care deeply about to protect those who look to you for protection."
The girl hesitated as her hand wavered over the bloody dagger and the silver necklace. "Wasn't it you who taught me that sometimes we must put personal desires aside in the name of duty because it is in the best interest of those we would serve and have serve us?"
Malei nodded once. "I am proud of you, Aurora. You have learned your lessons well. Pick up the pendant and claim your birthright."
"Why did you do this to me?" Aurora demanded.
"Because I was once as you are now." Malei reached up and removed a slender silver chain from under her dress; on it hung a silver alicorn identical to Aurora's. "As the eldest, I believed I would be the better choice to rule. However, my father was adamant that a woman could not rule and gave what should have been my birthright to my brother—your father. Since then, I have remained here, protecting the kingdom with my magic and keeping a watchful eye on the royal family. My mother was the only child of the previous king and when she married, her husband was crowned as the heir and she became subservient to him. Fortunately, they married while her parents were still ruling and he came to love this kingdom and the people here so that he was a good ruler. I worry that there will come a day when someone will marry into the royal line just to take control of our land and subjugate it to another. Because of who you are, there are many who will want to control you in order to control what is rightfully yours. I have given you the training to prevent this. You will no longer be a pawn. Not for me, not for your parents or anyone else."
Aurora picked up the pendant and fell to the floor. A spot of blood was on her finger where the horn of the alicorn had pricked her. Malei stepped around the desk and carefully placed the necklace around the girl's neck. She then spoke the words of an ancient spell and the sleeping girl vanished from the room.
Malei passed her hand over the mirror and watched as the girl appeared in the sleeping chamber of a high tower at the palace. She clutched the silver alicorn pendant at her neck as she watched the scene unfold in the polished surface. A young man was there, frozen in time as he leaned over the girl. The prince who had passed his own tests in reaching the castle to kiss Aurora.
A blue light glowed in the room and the man stirred slowly. He looked at the sleeping princess, then leaned over and gently kissed her.
Aurora's eyes fluttered as she woke. Her hand went to the silver pendant she wore before she reached up to kiss her prince.
* * *
As the spell completely faded, Malei watched the rest of the castle waking up from their long sleep. She spent not much time at it, however, for she had other pressing business to attend to. She did wonder, briefly, how the legends would be written about the sleeping princess who had waited one hundred years to be awakened by her prince, now that Aurora had no memory of her time with her aunt.
It was an amusing thought. She would probably be labeled as an evil witch!
* * *
Carol Hightshoe is the author of several short stories.
To see this author's work sold by Amazon, click here.
CLASSIC
Research Alpha
Written by A. E. van Vogt and James H. Schmitz
Illustrated by David Maier
I
Barbara Ellington felt the touch as she straightened up from the water cooler. It was the lightest of touches, but quite startling—momentary, tiny flick of something ice-cold against the muscle of her right arm at the shoulder.
She twisted quickly and rather awkwardly around from the cooler, then stared in confusion at the small well-dressed, bald-headed man who stood a few feet behind her, evidently awaiting his turn for a drink.
<
br /> "Why, good afternoon, Barbara," he said pleasantly.
Barbara was now feeling embarrassment. "I " she began incoherently. "I didn't know anyone else was near, Dr. Gloge. I'm finished now!"
She picked up the briefcase she had set against the wall when she stopped for a drink and went on along the bright-lit corridor. She was a tall, lean-bodied girl—perhaps a little too tall but, with her serious face and smooth, brown hair, not unattractive. At the moment, her cheeks burned. She knew she walked with wooden, self-conscious stiffness, wondering if Dr. Gloge was peering after her, puzzled by her odd behavior at the water cooler.
"But something did touch me," she thought.
At the turn of the corridor, she glanced back. Dr. Gloge had had his drink, and was walking off unhurriedly in the opposite direction. Nobody else was in sight.
After she'd turned the corner, Barbara reached up with her left hand the rubbed the area of her upper arm where she had felt that tiny, momentary needle of ice. Had Dr. Gloge been responsible for—well, for whatever it had been? She frowned and shook her head. She'd worked in Gloge's office for two weeks immediately after she'd been employed here. And Dr. Henry Gloge, head of the biology section at Research Alpha, while invariably polite, even courteous, was a cold, quiet, withdrawn character, completely devoted to his work.
He was not at all the kind of man who would consider it humorous to play a prank on a stenographer.
And it hadn't, in fact, been a prank.
From Dr. Henry Gloge's point of view, the encounter with Barbara Ellington in the fifth floor hallway that afternoon had been a very fortunate accident. A few weeks earlier he had selected her to be one of two unwitting subjects for Point Omega Stimulation.
His careful plans had included a visit to her bedroom apartment when she was not there. He had installed equipment that might be of value later in his experiment. And it was not until these preliminaries were accomplished that he had headed for the steno pool, only to find that Barbara had been transferred out of the department.
Gloge dared not risk inquiring about her. For if the experiment had undesirable results, no one must suspect a connection between a lowly typist and himself. And even if it were successful, secrecy might continue to be necessary.
Gloge chafed at the delay. When on the fourth day of his search for her he suddenly recognized her walking along a hallway fifty feet ahead of him, it seemed as if fate was on his side after all.
As the girl paused at a water cooler, he came up behind her. Quickly, he made sure that no one else was in view. Then he drew the needle jet gun and aimed it at her shoulder muscles. The gun carried a gaseous compound of the Omega serum, and the only sign of a discharge, when he fired it, was a thin line of mist from the needle end to her skin.
His task then accomplished, Gloge hastily slipped the instrument into the holster inside his coat and buttoned his coat.
Barbara, still carrying her briefcase, presently came to the offices of John Hammond, special assistant to the president of Research Alpha, which lay on the fifth floor of what was generally considered the most important laboratory complex on Earth. Alex Sloan, the president, was on the floor above.
Barbara paused before the massive black door with Hammond's name on it. She gazed possessively at the words Scientific Liaison and Investigation lettered on the panel. Then she took a small key from her briefcase, slipped it into the door lock and pressed to the right.
The door swung silently back. Barbara stepped through into the outer office, heard the faint click as the door closed behind her.
There was no one in sight. The desk of Helen Wendell, Hammond's secretary, stood across the room with a number of papers on it. The door to the short hall which led to Hammond's private office was open. From it Barbara heard Helen's voice speaking quietly.
Barbara Ellington had been assigned to Hammond—actually, to Helen Wendell—only ten days before. Aside from the salary increase, part of her interest in the position had been the intriguing if somewhat alarming figure of John Hammond himself, and an expectation that she would find herself in the center of the behind-the-scene operations of Scientific Liaison and Investigation. In that, she had so far been disappointed.
Barbara walked over to Helen Wendell's desk, took some papers from her briefcase, and was putting them into a basket when her eye caught the name of Dr. Henry Gloge on a note in the adjoining basket. Entirely on impulse—because she had seen the man only minutes before—she bent over the paper.
The note was attached to a report. It was a reminder to Hammond that he was to see Dr. Gloge today at three-thirty in connection with Gloge's Omega project. Barbara glanced automatically at her watch; it was now five minutes to three.
Unlike most of the material she handled, this item was at least partly understandable. It referred to a biological project, "Point Omega Stimulation." Barbara couldn't remember having heard of such a project while she was working under Dr. Gloge. But that was hardly surprising—the biological section was one of the largest in Research Alpha. From what she was reading, the project had to do with "the acceleration of evolutionary processes" in several species of animals, and the only real information in the report seemed to be that a number of test animals had died and been disposed of.
Was the great John Hammond spending his time on this sort of thing?
Disappointed, Barbara put the report back into the basket and went on to her own office.
As she sat down at her desk, Barbara noticed a stack of papers which hadn't been there when she had left on her errand. Attached to them was a note in Helen's large, clear handwriting. The note said:
Barbara,
This came in unexpectedly and must be typed today. It obviously will require several hours of overtime. If you have made special arrangements for the evening, let me know and I'll have a typist sent up from the pool to do this extra work.
Barbara felt an instant pang of possessive jealousy. This was her job, her office! She definitely did not want some other girl coming in.
Unfortunately, she did have a date. But to keep an intruder from taking her place in John Hammond's office, even if only for a few hours, was the more important matter. That was her instant decision, needing no second thought. But she sat still a moment, biting her lip; for that moment she was a woman considering how to put off a male who had a quick temper and no patience. Then she picked up the telephone and dialed a number.
For some months now, Barbara had settled her hopes for the future on Vince Strather, a technician in the photo lab. When his voice came on the telephone, she told him what had happened, finishing contritely, "I'm afraid I can't get out of it very well, Vince, so soon after starting here."
She could almost feel Vince absorbing the impact of the denial she was communicating; she had discovered quickly in their brief romance that he was trying to move her towards premarital intimacy, a step she was wholly determined not to take.
She was relieved now, when he accepted her explanation. She replaced the receiver, feeling very warm toward him. "I really do love him!" she thought.
It was a few moments later that she suddenly felt dizzy.
The feeling was peculiar, not like her usual headaches. She could feel it build up, a giddy, light swirling which seemed both within and without her, as if she were weightless, about to drift out of the chair, turning slowly over and over.
Almost simultaneously, she became aware of a curious exhilaration, a sense of strength and well-being, quite unlike anything she could remember. The sensations continued for perhaps twenty seconds then they faded and were gone, almost as abruptly as they had come.
Confused and somewhat shaken, Barbara straightened up in her chair. For a moment she considered taking aspirin. But there seemed no reason for that. She didn't feel ill. It even seemed to her that she felt more awake and alert.
She was about to return to her typing when she became aware of a movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked up and saw that John Hammond had paused i
n the doorway of her little office.
Barbara froze, as she always did in his presence, then slowly she turned to face him.
Hammond stood there, staring at her thoughtfully. He was a man about six feet tall, with dark brown hair and steel gray eyes. He seemed to be about forty years old and he was built like an athlete. Yet it was not his appearance of physical strength but the fine intelligence of his face and eyes that had always impressed her during the ten days since she had been assigned to his office. She thought now, not for the first time: "This is what really great people are like."
"Are you all right, Barbara?" Hammond asked. "For a moment, I thought you were going to fall out of your chair."
It was highly disturbing to Barbara to realize that her dizzy spell had been observed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hammond," she murmured shyly. "I must have been daydreaming."
