The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI

by Samantha Sabian

  “If you cause them to rise and haunt us, I’m going to kick you in the ass,” Feyden said.

  “I’m not taking anything,” Lorifal protested. “I’m not a thief. I just can’t believe the history here.”

  Raine wasn’t really listening and sniffed the air. “Does the smell seem to be getting stronger?”

  “Yes,” Feyden said, wrinkling his nose. “It does seem to be getting more pungent.”

  “How odd,” Raine said, more curious than disconcerted.

  “What do you think we’re looking for?” Lorifal asked as they continued.

  “I don’t really know,” Raine said. “The Shadow Guild is so strange in their demands, it’s hard to say what would be so valuable to them.”

  Feyden coughed, then stifled a gag. “It’s definitely getting more pungent in here.”

  They rounded a corner and Lorifal’s light illuminated the path ahead.

  “Lorifal, shine your torch over there.”

  “What—?”

  Feyden’s words died on his lips as all three stared at the pile of corpses, stacked to a height over their heads. But they weren’t people, they were rats. Hundreds, possibly thousands of them. They were in every state of decomposition, from skeletal remains to the freshly killed.

  “It looks like something is feeding on them.” Feyden asked.

  Raine shoved one of the bodies with the toe of her boot. “If so, it’s not eating the flesh.”

  “That’s bad,” Lorifal said.

  Raine looked to the looming darkness ahead. “Let’s keep moving.”

  They continued through the catacombs, and the dank air became more and more oppressive. Although Raine was relaxed, Feyden noted that her hand kept returning to the folded bow she kept on her belt, the weapon that she could unfurl with a deadly snap of her wrist.

  “Is that a light ahead?” Lorifal asked, his eyes straining the darkness.

  “Shield your torch,” Raine ordered. “Yes, I believe it is.”

  As fearless as he was, Feyden felt his heart pound in his chest. Who knew what was guarding this treasure? He chastised himself. As creepy as the catacombs were, they were not as bad as marching through the Empty Land and then through the Veil to the Gate of the Underworld. Raine was utterly calm, but Lorifal expressed his tension in a nonverbal way.

  “Sorry,” he said, as the squeak of wind from his backside slipped loose.

  “Really?” Feyden said in disbelief.

  “You know it happens when I get nervous.”

  “At least he has dampened the smell of this place,” Raine said, muffling laughter.

  “With something far worse,” Feyden said, frowning at his companion.

  “Dowse your torch before the gas alights and kills us all,” Raine said.

  Raine fought to get her mirth under control. Weynild was right: when the three of them got together they reverted to juveniles. But the breach of etiquette had relieved the crushing tension she had felt, and she was ready to move forward. She drew her swords.

  “Let’s go.”

  Raine took the lead and the three moved cautiously down the hallway. The light was coming from beneath a closed door. They made no sound as they approached, but nor was there any sound from what lie beyond the door. They paused before the entrance, just outside the ring of light on the floor so their approach could not be detected, and readied their weapons. Raine placed the tip of her sword against the surface, testing it to see if it would give way. It was not latched. She gave a series of hand signals, and Feyden and Lorifal nodded their understanding. Raine took a deep breath, and set the tip of her sword on the door.

  With a shove, the door was opened. Raine went straight through, Lorifal to the left, and Feyden to the right. Their weapons were at full arms, Feyden with an arrow ready to fly, Lorifal with his axe already in full swing, and Raine with her a sword in each hand, one in an offensive position and one readied for defense.

  “Hold,” Raine commanded, and all three froze in confusion.

  The room was nearly empty, set up almost like a sitting room or a vestibule that had been modeled into a living space. There was a small bed against the wall, a bookshelf with a number of tomes, and a small table next to a chair. The light was coming from a candle which flickered from a slight breeze, indicating that this room had some small opening to the world outside. And in the chair sat a young woman, a pale, frail, hollow-looking creature with a thin, delicate face and sharp features. She might have been beautiful once, were she not so gaunt and weary.

  Raine stood upright from her attack stance and sheathed her weapons. She gazed at the woman in consternation, but also with a growing understanding.

  “Where is the treasure?” Lorifal asked, lowering his axe. Feyden strapped his bow to his back and returned the arrow to its quiver.

  “She is the treasure,” Raine said.

  The woman spoke, and there was world weariness to her voice that belied her age.

  “I knew one day the seal would be broken.”

  Raine approached the woman gently, as if not to frighten her, and spoke to her with respect.

  “You are Aesa, are you not?”

  “You know me?” the woman said, surprised.

  “Yes,” Raine said, sighing with a frustration that neither Feyden nor Lorifal understood. She ran her fingers through her hair, troubled. “You are the Empress.”

  The woman did not confirm or deny the stunning pronouncement, and in fact, did not respond to it at all.

  “Raine,” Feyden said uncertainly, “I was just in court. This is not the Emperor’s wife.”

  “No,” Raine said, releasing another sigh, it’s not.”

  “She is his grandmother.”

  At Raine’s request, Feyden and Lorifal returned to Kylan’s side and shared their discovery. Raine had asked them to set up camp outside the entrance while she remained behind. Kylan elected to stay, enticed by the prospect of such a delicious mystery, for the Empress Aesa had disappeared generations ago and was presumed dead. Raine’s wolves still circled the clearing, wary of the dragon even in human form. The vampyres were long gone and Lorifal thought to enjoy the loveliness of the woman in blue, his attempt at subtlety as ineffectual as before.

  Raine, still deep in the catacombs, sat before the Empress. The woman did not look well.

  “How long have you been in here?”

  “I’m not sure. Decades perhaps? Time has lost all meaning for me in so many ways.”

  “You are vampyr.”

  A flush of shame passed over the pale features, a bare tinge of pink as she had so little blood in her veins.

  “I, once the most exalted ruler in Arianthem, now feed off the carcasses of rats.”

  “You have survived all this time on nothing but rat blood?”

  Aesa plucked at her worn skirt. “Yes.”

  Raine stood abruptly, the move startling the woman, but her alarm was barely expressed through the thick veil of her lethargy. Raine grasped her wrists and pulled her to her feet so they were face-to-face, or would have been were Raine not half a head taller than her.

  “You need something more than that.”

  “No,” the woman cried, trying to pull away. This creature smelled intoxicating and her thoughts had been on nothing but the vein throbbing in her neck since the door had opened. “I cannot infect you with this disease.”

  “I cannot be turned,” Raine said firmly. “Magic does not affect me. That’s why I was sent here, to break the seal.”

  “And you would offer me your blood?”

  “I would.”

  The Empress was uncertain, unwilling to believe this stranger would offer such a gift, that she would face so fearlessly what most abhorred. But Aesa was so desperately hungry, having been barely kept alive by the rodents. There were so many times she had wished
to die, where she thought to let her body return to ash, but her will always faltered and she sought the creatures out. And here she was being offered a banquet after surviving on pestilence for years.

  “I cannot guarantee I will not lose control,” the Empress said softly.

  “I suggest you let me worry about that. Now I need you strong. So bite me.”

  Aesa could not resist any longer and put her arms about the beautiful stranger’s neck. She pulled her downward and her teeth broke the skin, latching on in a powerful bite. It was painful for Raine at first, and her Scinterian markings rose to the surface of her skin, but it grew less painful as the deadly embrace continued. She could feel the Empress straighten, grow taller, her skin begin to fill out, her grip begin to tighten. She could even feel a breast grow plump against her arm and the nipple harden as one hunger was fed by the other. The grip tightened further and the Empress grew strong, so strong she began to push Raine backward until she was pinned against the wall.

  And Aesa was lost, for the stranger’s blood was an elixir, more potent than anything she had ever tasted and an ambrosia after years of feeding off the vermin of the catacombs. She had no control and pressed against the firm body she had trapped against the wall, intent on consuming every last drop. But then, with an otherworldly strength, the stranger grasped her by the arms and firmly but gently pushed her away.

  “I’m so sorry,” Aesa stammered.

  “I told you to let me worry about that. How do you feel?”

  “I feel better than I have in years, perhaps decades.”

  Raine examined her and thought that must certainly be true, for now Aesa resembled the stunning young Empress who had disappeared two generations ago. Her cheeks glowed with health and her eyes sparkled with life. The worn gown was now filled with the graceful curves that had been legendary within the imperial court.

  “How is that you are not affected by my bite?”

  Raine sat back down in the seat she had vacated. “Vampyrism is half magic, half disease. And I am immune to magic.”

  Aesa also retook her seat. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

  “In all my travels, I have never come across another with the ability.”

  Aesa ran her tongue over her teeth, savoring the marvelous metallic taste that lingered in her mouth. “You are not human.” Her eyes drifted down to the blue and gold markings still visible on the woman’s arms, astonishing markings that somehow she had missed.

  “You are Scinterian,” she said in disbelief.

  “I am.”

  “I did not think there were any left.”

  “I am probably the last of my kind,” Raine said.

  “That is why you recognized me,” Aesa said, “you are far older than you look.”

  “I am far older than you. But enough of me. Let’s talk of you.”

  Aesa lowered her eyes, her long eyelashes brushing her cheek as stared at the floor. “You want to know why I’m here.”

  “Yes, how does an Empress of the exalted House of Farlein wind up in a crypt?”

  Aesa said nothing, clearly engaged in some internal struggle, so Raine prompted her further. “And perhaps you can explain to me why the Shadow Guild wants you?”

  The Empress closed her eyes, knowing she must reveal all to this stranger.

  “It’s not the Shadow Guild, but rather the Head of the Shadow Guild that wants me.”

  “You speak of Pernilla.”

  It was a gamble, but a gamble that paid off. The Empress’ gaze came up and was steady. “You know a name that is dangerous, a name that no one knows.”

  “But you know it.”

  “Yes. Because I know her.”

  “How?”

  “It’s a very long story, but one you must hear.”

  Raine crossed a leg comfortably over the other. “You have my full attention.”

  The young Empress made her way through the castle. She was greatly favored now, both by her husband and by the people, for she had just produced an heir for her aging husband at a time when he had nearly given up hope. Her life was a shower of gifts and glamorous events in her honor, and it should have been a glorious time.

  But it was not. Life felt empty, hollow. Her matron nurse told her it was the after-effects of the pregnancy, that sometimes the strain of birth was so great that a woman could fall into despair, even to the extent that she failed to bond with the child. And that was indeed how Aesa felt, as if a dark gray veil were settling over her eyes, as if the world were slowly going dark. She tried to love her child, the infant that lie in the gilded crib, but he seemed a foreigner, as if someone had left a child on the doorstep of the castle. It was not necessary for her to bond with the boy, nor even truly desirable, for he already had a series of nurses to breastfeed him and take care of the duties that were beneath an Empress.

  So she wandered the castle, a wraith-like creature, outwardly smiling and cheerful to all she met, but inwardly slowly dying with an invisible disease whose symptoms were the triumvirate of apathy, lethargy, and despondency. Only her closest handmaiden knew of her inner despair, and the older woman sought many ways to jar her from her mood, including gossip and rumor.

  “The Emperor has a new advisor, I am told.”

  “And?” Aesa replied languorously.

  “She is quite beautiful, I hear.”

  Aesa knew what her attendant was doing, attempting to inspire jealousy so that she would display any spark of life, but the thought of her husband having an affair barely moved her.

  “That’s nice,” Aesa said, and her handmaiden left in frustration.

  Still, the servant’s words inspired, if not ire, at least mild curiosity, and soon Aesa rose from her bed and dressed herself, paying more attention to her appearance than she had in some time. She floated down the hallways, only mildly aware of her waiflike beauty and the admiration it occasioned.

  She entered the throne room and her husband looked to her with hope, pleased to see her up and about. She waved to him as she approached from across the room, then stopped at an urn containing a spray of flowers: orchids and autumnal blooms from the countryside. The flowers were lovely, but that was not her focus as she bent to smell them, allowing her to pause and examine those surrounding her husband. All were familiar to her but one, and her first thought was that her handmaiden had underestimated the gossip, for the woman was not only beautiful but stunning in a unique manner. Where most women of the court were frail, pale creatures that fluttered about, this one was earthy and voluptuous, possessing a sensuality that would have been considered uncouth or even vulgar were it not displayed with such utter confidence. Her eyes were dark, so dark it was difficult to discern their true color, and she glanced about the room coolly, those eyes settled on the Empress.

  Aesa started, for she was openly staring, but she could not look away. She slowly stood upright, gazing out over the orchids, her eyes still locked with the magnetic gaze of the woman. Seemingly against her will, she found herself moving toward the throne.

  “My darling, it is good to see you. I trust you are well?”

  The Empress curtsied, glad that she had worn one of her finest gowns, and took her husband’s hand.

  “I am very well today, my lord. Thank you.”

  “I must introduce you to Melusine. She is an alchemist and practitioner of the arcane arts. She has offered her services to the court and has provided much guidance and advice. She has already settled a stubborn dispute and rooted out an intrigue before it blossomed into a threat.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Aesa said, wondering why her voice trembled so, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “I assure you,” the woman said in a low, smooth voice, “the pleasure is all mine. I am at your service.”

  Aesa had no idea why such an innocuous statement, one she heard many times a day,
caused her to flush. Or why the knowing, amused expression on the woman’s face made her insides coil and writhe about, bringing forth a warm wetness between her legs that not even her husband had been able to produce with his gentle advances. And why the words, “I am at your service” were not at all servile but somehow implied the opposite.

  The Emperor was surprised that his usual glib wife seemed to be struggling in the conversation, but he attributed it to her latest bout of ill humours. He took her arm.

  “Come, Aesa. Come sit with me.”

  And so the Empress did, sat next to her husband while he sought to entertain her with the court chitchat. Aesa wanted to ask more of Melusine, but could not get the words to form in her head without them sounding transparent, although she didn’t know what that transparency would reveal. Instead, she let her eyes follow the woman about the room, responding to the Emperor’s chatter when the conversation warranted. And occasionally, the woman’s dark eyes would return to her, coolly assessing her with that knowing look that sent a thrill through the young sovereign.

  The afternoon passed, and it was with enormous disappointment that Aesa watched Melusine depart from the throne room, a room which had seemed bright with promise and now seemed darker than it had all day.

  Aesa slowly flowed down the passageway, as wraithlike as ever, for now she was deeply lost in thought. And where before she had displayed at least the pretense of attentiveness and courtesy, now she displayed none at all. The guards, servants, and nobles she passed did not garner even a glance.

  She came to the wing of the palace that was usually deserted, one staffed by only a few guards at regular intervals. This had been one of her favorite places before her despondency, and she would come every day to sit among the statuary and read or sew. Today she was neither reading nor sewing, and stood before a statue that she had always admired without seeing it. The marble mermaid gazed coyly at Aegir, but neither the god of the sea nor the Empress of the House of Farlein saw her.

  “She is lovely, is she not?”

  The voice behind her startled Aesa, as did the warm air that tickled her ear. Heat flooded her body at that low tone and she feared to turn around, so closely was Melusine standing to her. She could feel the woman’s robes brush against her back. She had not heard or seen the woman approach; it was almost as if she had materialized behind her.