Queen of Oblivion

by Giles Carwyn

  Astor stood up straighter. “By who?”

  Brophy took a deep breath. He remembered Arefaine crying in his arms. He remembered the emperor’s cryptic warnings about the girl. “I don’t know who the traitor is, but I do know that a fleet from the Summer Cities is headed toward Ohndarien.”

  Astor frowned. “That doesn’t sound very likely. Uniting the Summer Princes under one banner is like herding a school of fish. I don’t think that—”

  “It’s already done,” Brophy said. “Arefaine set this in motion years ago. They could be at Clifftown before you return to Ohndarien.”

  “But they could never get past our walls….” Astor trailed off. “Unless we are betrayed.”

  Brophy nodded.

  “But I thought Arefaine was helping you,” Astor said. “I thought you were working together.”

  “We are, but she fights the same demons that I do.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Arefaine needs to return to Efften. I believe that very strongly. But I don’t want her to start a war to do it. If the Summer Fleet gets into the Great Ocean it will be a bloodbath. I need you to prevent that.”

  “But she’s a sorceress. She’ll know you’re going behind her back.”

  “I plan to tell her, just not right now. But if I limit her options, she will be forced to find a better one. The Summer Fleet must not be allowed into the Great Ocean.”

  Astor looked away south. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you sure you will be all right?”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  Astor gave him a smile, and it reminded Brophy of the way he used to smile at Trent when his cousin was talking him into yet another glorious bit of mischief. His mind flashed back to a distant memory of laughing with Trent as they drunkenly pulled each other through the boulder field atop Southridge. Trent had swiped a bottle of his father’s wine, and they drank the whole thing, wasting the night scrambling over rocks and talking about girls. Trent never tired of talking about girls. And Brophy never tired of listening to him. They only fought when Trent mentioned Shara’s legs and the way her breasts were getting bigger. But even their fights were more of a game; at least they seemed that way to him now.

  Brophy clung to the memory. It hovered at a distance like a familiar painting. He knew what the details were, but he couldn’t feel them, couldn’t touch them.

  “Are you all right?” Astor asked.

  Brophy didn’t answer. He simply unbuckled his sword belt and passed the Sword of Autumn to Astor. “Take this with you.”

  Astor backed up. “No—”

  Brophy shook his head and pressed the sheath into his hand. “Nothing is more precious to me than Ohndarien and the people within her walls. There is joy within that city. There is life and love and hope that this will all be worth it some day. I need you to protect that. I need you to keep that safe.”

  Astor nodded, holding the sword to his chest. “I will. I promise I will.”

  Brophy pulled him into a strong hug.

  The two of them clung to each other until Brophy couldn’t take it anymore and pushed his cousin back. Clearing his throat, he said, “Promise me one more thing.”

  “Anything,” Astor said.

  “When I get back, let’s steal a bottle of wine. We’ll climb to the top of Southridge, sit, and drink it.”

  Astor smiled a little, confused. “Sure, anything.”

  “And we’ll talk about girls.”

  Astor laughed.

  “Not sorceresses or Sisters of the Council or queens. Just normal girls.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  “I’ll see you there, cousin,” Brophy said. He looked at Astor for one more long moment, then turned and walked back up the dock. He strode down the length of the stone quay to the silver cabinet. It seemed to shine in the gloomy light, and Brophy could feel the black emmeria inside, throbbing like an open wound.

  The two Carriers stood on either side of the container, but they parted for Brophy as he threw open the doors and stared at the blackened stones resting within. Light whispers slithered through his mind. Black tendrils of evil twisted like smoke inside the battered crystal.

  Brophy’s lip curled. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and grabbed the top of the Heartstone. The whispers became howls, and the swirling blackness inside leapt up at his fingers.

  He clenched his teeth.

  Hello, little brother. Have you missed our chats? whispered the familiar voice within the emmeria.

  Muscles corded in Brophy’s forearm. His fears screamed at him to yank his hand away before it was too late. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the Carriers draw their swords.

  Have you grown weary of fighting? Have you come to embrace me and return home?

  Brophy’s fingertips turned black, and the ichor crept up his fingers. The back of his hand darkened. Wiry hairs sprouted upward. Scales puckered across his skin.

  He growled, and a fierce joy leapt inside him, wanting to connect with that limitless ocean of power, to let it wash him away.

  He gazed at his hand, narrowed his eyes. The black stopped spreading.

  “I’m coming for you,” Brophy said. He held the memory of Shara in his mind. He imagined standing with her atop the Hall of Windows, and he threw his will against the Fiend’s. The bristling hairs shortened. His skin smoothed and lightened. The swirls of black inside the Heartstone spun faster, agitated, as he pushed the corruption back into the crystal.

  “I will find you,” Brophy whispered. “I will take the child of Morgeon to the hole where you hide, and together we will dig you out of the shadows and rip you apart.”

  Those are strong words from such a frightened and angry little boy.

  “I’m not frightened anymore,” Brophy said. “You’ve never beaten me. And you never will.”

  The howls grew weaker. The last of the black left his fingers, flowing back down into the Heartstone. “I’ll see you soon,” Brophy promised the fading voice. “Very soon.”

  I’m looking forward to it. The voice faded into the distance. I’m looking forward to it.

  Brophy slammed the doors.

  Chapter 6

  Wait here,” Commander Geldis said, twisting his torch into a wall sconce. “We’ve almost reached the Citadel, but I want to scout ahead before we head back above ground.”

  Shara nodded, grateful for the rest. She shifted her grip on Baedellin’s wrists. The girl hadn’t stopped struggling for a single moment on their long trip through the tunnels. She fought like a cornered cat, constantly panting and wheezing from her exertions. Restraining the child all this time had been incredibly draining. Shara hated to see Baelandra’s daughter this way, blackened eyes staring at nothing, tiny ribs straining through her filthy skin with every labored breath. The child was obviously suffering, as if every moment were agony. Shara almost thought it would be a mercy to end the girl’s suffering, but she promised herself that she would not give up. Shara had abandoned Ohndarien when the city needed her most, but she would not abandon this child.

  After the initial attack, their little group had fled underground. They had crossed the city using the network of tunnels that radiated outward from the Heart. The Lightning Swords had traveled in wary silence. Shara had never seen a group of Ohndariens so grim, so beaten down. The Lightning Swords had fought the corrupted for years, without ever losing faith or courage. But facing this new threat, seeing friends and neighbors turned against them, seemed to have drained the life out of them.

  Geldis and his men filed past her and up the narrow stone steps and Shara sank to the floor of the dimly lit tunnel. A single soldier stayed behind. To protect her or guard her, she wasn’t sure which. He was a young man, probably seventeen or eighteen, but his baby face made him look even younger. He eyed the child thrashing in her arms.

  “Shara-lani,” the young man said, keeping his distance. “How did you stop them? Before? What did you do t
o those weeping ones?”

  “Yes, I’d like to know as well,” a voice said out of the darkness. Shara turned to see Galliana emerging from the shadows into the flickering torchlight. Shara’s niece had kept her distance during their long walk under the city. She was upset and made no attempt to hide it. Shara didn’t blame her. The young Zelani had every right to be angry after the way Shara had abandoned her.

  “Do you actually think these creatures can be saved?” Galliana asked, tapping Baedellin with her toe.

  Shara looked down at the little girl. Even with the added strength from her magic, Shara’s hands ached from the effort of restraining the child. “They’re not creatures, Galliana, they’re still people. They’re still Ohndariens.”

  Galliana obviously didn’t agree. “Go on ahead, Rathus,” she said to the Lightning Sword. “I’ll keep an eye on Shara-lani.”

  The boy hesitated for a moment before doing as he was told. He headed up the narrow stairs and disappeared from sight.

  Shara stared at her niece. The Lightning Sword armor looked wrong on her. Galliana should be dressed in enticing silks, not hard leather and steel. The girl had changed much in the last few weeks. It wasn’t just her head wound and her beautiful blond hair, cruelly shorn. She looked like a girl who had been married too young to an ungentle husband. She resembled the terrified orphan who had fled to Ohndarien from Faradan. The serene and confident Zelani student was long gone.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Shara said. She offered her niece a smile. “But I do miss your hair. I was always so jealous of your hair.”

  “You can go get it. It’s in a gutter somewhere near Donovan’s Bridge. One of them caught my braid, yanked me off my feet, and nearly killed me. That’s how I got this.” She pointed to the head wound. It was wrapped in a thin bandage that looked like it hadn’t been changed in days. “I cut my hair right after I woke up.”

  Shara took a deep breath. “I owe you an apology,” she said.

  Galliana said nothing.

  “I feel,” Shara started, having a hard time speaking. “I should have been here.”

  “Why did you go? Where did you go?” Galliana said, biting every word as if it hurt her.

  “I ran away and tried to stop caring. I failed.”

  “Well,” Galliana said with more sorrow than anger. “While you were busy failing, we were busy dying. They’re all gone. The council, Caleb, nearly all the Lightning Swords, the entire Zelani school except for Bashtin and me…” Her voice trailed off into silence.

  “Galliana—”

  “Those things came after us first, Shara. They broke into the school, killed us in our beds. Even the children.”

  Shara closed her eyes tight, unable to speak. Everyone. Caleb. Even the little ones. She saw them all in her mind’s eye, and each face was a knife in her heart. She felt hollowed out, helpless. How much had her one moment of pain cost this city? She swallowed. “What about Gedge and Reela? And Issefyn? What about the rest of Baedellin’s family. Her father? Astor?”

  “Gedge and Reela were ambushed at the Quarry Gate a week ago. They were trying to protect a group of civilians fleeing the city.”

  Shara breathed through the image of it.

  “Nobody has seen Issefyn,” Galliana continued. “If she’s lucky, she's dead and not one of them.”

  “What about Faedellin?”

  “The captain is still with us.” Galliana shook her head. “You’ll see him soon.” Shara heard the odd tone in Galliana’s voice, but didn’t push the issue.

  “Astor?”

  Galliana gave another snort. “The Heir of Autumn betrayed us. He sailed east before the weeping ones arrived and took half the Lightning Swords with him. The emperor stole the Heartstone, and he went to get it back.”

  She nodded, though she doubted the emperor had anything to do with the Heartstone’s theft. With every step Shara took, she realized how encompassing young Arefaine’s plans were. No doubt she had somehow manipulated or tricked the emperor into taking the Heartstone.

  Shara was still angry at herself for not seeing the depths of Arefaine’s ambitions earlier. Jesheks had said a queen was behind the gathering of the Summer Fleet, but the scope of the Morgeon’s daughter’s plans was astonishing. After meeting Arefaine, Shara knew in an instant how smart and eager the sorceress was. But even at that, she could not have guessed that Arefaine’s reach extended far enough to orchestrate a joining of the Imperial and Summer Fleets in the Great Ocean.

  Looking back, she cursed herself for the number of warning signs she had ignored. Shara had felt the girl’s reckless hate that night when the Silver Islanders had tried to steal Brophy’s sleeping body. She should have known that Arefaine would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. Shara had been so focused on releasing Brophy that she’d blinded herself to all else. And then she’d run off and left a limitless supply of black emmeria in the girl’s possession. If the emmeria gained full freedom, it would consume the world.

  Shara didn’t yet know what Arefaine’s final goal was, but she knew that she didn’t want Brophy anywhere near her. She longed to leave all this behind and rush after him, but she couldn’t leave Ohndarien now, not like this.

  “I am sorry I left,” she said. “Had I any idea what would happen, I never would have gone. But I’m here now.”

  Galliana turned away from her apology, struggling to contain her emotions. “Why did you come back? Why now?”

  Shara considered telling her about the approaching Summer Fleet, but now was not the time. She would talk to Faedellin about that. “I returned from the Summer Seas as quickly as I could. Some friends dropped me off on the Petal Islands. The refugees there told me what had happened, and I snuck into the city as soon as I found a way in.”

  Shara remembered her painful return to the island, where she had built a cottage for Brophy. The herd of goats had been slaughtered and eaten; her and Brophy’s cabin was full of frightened orphans and the few women who were trying to watch them all. Lawdon and Mikal hadn’t wanted to leave Shara, but she insisted that they continue on to Port Royal and find where Lord Reignholtz’s children had gone into hiding. As much as Shara wanted the two of them by her side, she was glad for their sakes that they hadn’t seen this.

  Galliana looked at Shara intently. “You said you knew what happened to them, how they became like this?”

  Shara nodded as Baedellin thrashed in her arms, her thin muscles straining against Shara’s implacable hold. Shara kept her breathing even and steady, cycling the Floani power into herself. “I’m sure you have heard how ancient Efften was built by magically enhanced slaves. The sorcerers called them the indentured. I believe Baedellin and the others were enslaved in the same way.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Before the fall of Efften, the use of ani slaves was forbidden and all written references to their creation were destroyed. The new laws nearly caused a civil war. Perhaps they would have, but it didn’t matter because the Silver Islanders attacked them just a little while later.” Shara looked down at the black stains on Baedellin’s face. “My understanding is that the victim’s soul is ripped from their body. Their minds are left intact, but their ani, their life essence, is removed, leaving them no will to act on their own. They are essentially intelligent puppets. Any mage can grab their strings and force them to act as they wish.”

  “Can you control them like you’ve controlled the corrupted?” Galliana asked.

  “I haven’t tried.”

  “Why not? If we could control them, we could fight back.”

  “True, but at what price? What you call the weeping ones aren’t like the corrupted. The mindless beasts that attacked Ohndarien for so long were physically transformed by the black emmeria. The vile magic invaded their bodies like a disease. But that disease could be cured. The invader could be cast out. The weeping ones are something much different. They draw power from the emmeria like a plant draws power from the sun. I cannot pull the
emmeria out of them any more than I could pull the sunlight out of a tree.”

  “But you could block the sunlight? Shade the tree?”

  “Yes. But if you shade the tree, it will die.”

  “Good, I want them to die.”

  “Do you really? Or is that the easier path?”

  “Don’t talk to me of easier paths. While you were dancing on pleasure barges in the Summer Seas, we were here fighting those things.”

  “You are right,” Shara said, looking into her niece’s tortured eyes. “I left, but I am back now. And I am going to help you defeat whoever is controlling these people. We’re going to win Ohndarien back.”

  Galliana was unconvinced. “If you want to help us, tell me how to fight them,” she pleaded. “What did you do back there to stop them?”

  “I stunned them, nothing more. I flooded them with my own ani and disrupted their connection to the black emmeria.”

  “Why can’t we control them like the mages of Efften did?” Galliana asked.

  “Because we would have to use black emmeria to do it.”

  Galliana paused at that. She ran her hands through her ragged hair. “But it’s possible,” she said, looking guilty as she said it.

  “Yes, it’s possible.”

  Galliana held Shara’s gaze for a long moment. Shara knew her niece was tempted to use the black emmeria against their enemies. Her sister’s daughter had always had a quick temper, but she knew right from wrong. She knew there were lines never to be crossed. Thankfully, she let the subject drop. Galliana stood up and paced back and forth in the narrow confines of the tunnel. “I’ve heard this is the tunnel the Sleeping Warden and Mother Medew used to sneak into the city during the Nightmare Battle.”

  “Really?” Shara said. “I wasn’t sure where we were.”

  “Yes. It’s one of the closest tunnels to the Citadel. None of them extend into the fortress itself. The city’s founders must have thought that would have been too big of a risk.”