Queen of Oblivion

by Giles Carwyn

  But it did not feel like an assassin’s paradise.

  Ossamyr looked at the narrow dirt path that continued up the mountain from the bridge. Two days from now, the emperor’s body would be interred in the Cave of Oh at the end of that path, and Arefaine would be there, alone. After spending almost a day in the palace cloaked in a glamour, Ossamyr had finally uncovered that piece of crucial information while hiding in plain sight among the contingent of servants who were discussing the funeral preparations. Arefaine was to spend the night in the cave with the body, listening for Oh’s wisdom to guide her forward. She would be there alone, without protection, without her Carriers to distract her from the god’s voice.

  She’d lost track of Brophy in her search for information about Arefaine, but she’d just have to let him wait until her mission was done.

  Ossamyr left the bridge and hiked up the path. She kept her magic wrapped tightly around her, more out of habit than necessity. The glamour only encouraged people to see what they expected to see. The farther she left civilization behind, the less useful such a spell became.

  The exquisite mosaic path that Ossamyr had followed earlier ended about halfway up the mountain. Its final images showed the Nightmare Battle in Ohndarien and Brophy lying on his bier atop the Hall of Windows. There was still plenty of room for the story to continue, and Ossamyr had no idea how it would end. Murder? Or disaster? Would there be anyone left to lay out the final scenes?

  She continued up the steep trail, careful to keep her steps silent and sure. The hardpacked earth was slick with rain. A single misstep would send her tumbling down the nearly vertical mountainside. Her clothes were soaked from the rain and from constantly brushing against the ferns that overgrew the trail. A relentless chill seeped into her desert-born bones.

  As she rose, step after step, she thought about her mission. Reef had assured her that the rainbow-colored crystal she had swallowed would shield her from Arefaine’s magic, but she did not share the Islander’s confidence.

  “The witch relies more on her magic than her senses,” Reef had told her. “She can sense everyone for a hundred feet in every direction, even with her eyes closed, but she won’t see you. Same as old Efften. They had supreme arrogance in their magical sight, and we unloaded a hundred ships on their shores before they even knew they were under attack. That’s the way it will work. And once you get her alone, it’s just you against one unarmed girl. She’ll throw magic at you first, of course. They always do. And by the time she realizes she can’t hurt you, you drive the dagger home. That’s the way they all died on Efften.”

  It had sounded like a good plan weeks ago on his ship, but now that she was here, she could think of a hundred ways it could go wrong. She’d seen what Shara could do to herself physically with the Floani form. Arefaine might not be able to use magic on Ossamyr, but she could use it on herself.

  Reef was absolutely dedicated to his mission, but Ossamyr knew that he didn’t know everything about magic. Shara had explored depths that Ossamyr couldn’t fathom, and Arefaine had the blood of the Morgeons in her veins. No one knew what she was capable of, perhaps not even the girl herself.

  For the thousandth time, Ossamyr reached down to her thigh and touched the dagger he had given her. She imagined the sticky gray poison on the blade. Reef had offered to show her how quickly it worked, but she declined. She believed him. If the blade broke the skin, Arefaine would die.

  Ossamyr reached the end of the path and waited a moment, slowing her breathing. The cave was not what she expected. It was nothing more than a jagged pit in the sloped ground, circled by crude, moss-covered stones and overgrown with ferns.

  She took another step forward, forced herself to crouch next to the opening and peer inside. The rain seemed quieter here. The world seemed smaller. She felt a pull in her gut, something tugging her toward that opening. She swallowed down a dry throat. There was something in there. A light emanated from deep within. Was it some priest? A daily homage? Did they leave a lit torch inside?

  She paused, unsure if she wanted to go in. Her glamour wouldn’t protect her in there.

  Bracing herself, she clambered over the slick rocks into the hole. It descended steeply for a few feet, leading toward a narrow underground opening. She crawled through the cave’s entrance on hands and knees, careful to keep her movements quiet. After a few feet, the cave widened into a natural tunnel almost tall enough for her to stand in. Crouching, she placed one foot carefully in front of the other and proceeded forward.

  The air was heavy, thick, as if the mountain all around her were desperately trying to crush this unwanted breach. A presence exuded from the very walls, and the tunnel itself seemed to glow. She couldn’t tell if her eyes were playing tricks on her, or if the glow was residual light from a source farther ahead.

  The light flickered and moved.

  She crouched, pressing herself against the rock wall, and stared intensely ahead. Her breath came faster, as if someone were squeezing her rib cage. The light moved again, but did not come closer.

  Her body screamed at her to leave, but she rose slowly from her crouch and continued on, following the curve. She stopped, her heart beating madly as she reached a jumbled pile of stones that cut off the tunnel. She crept along the small maze of destruction, peering into the near darkness for a way to get through. Had the angry mountain succeeded? Had Oh’s cave collapsed? She worked her way around the pile of stones, wincing as one of them shifted, making a tiny scraping noise. Crouching down, she crawled underneath one boulder and between two others. Little passageways disappeared in the darkness on either side of her, and she felt as if there were eyes in those spaces, watching her quietly as she trespassed on holy ground.

  This is madness, she thought. Get out of here before you’re trapped forever.

  She ignored the invisible eyes, ignored her thoughts. Sometimes crouching, sometimes crawling, she squeezed through to the other side. Beyond the cave-in, the tunnel widened into a larger chamber.

  Her breath caught in her throat, and she pushed herself against the cold rock.

  Brophy stood on the far side of the cavern, looking down at the shattered remains of a great stone tomb. His hands rested on the jagged edge, and his head was bowed. Such a boy. So strong, vital, intense. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memory of his laughter, the memory of his earnest look when he’d asked her to run away with him. It had been eighteen years ago, but it rose in her mind as if it was yesterday.

  She stared at him like a jumping rat frozen in a cobra’s gaze. Why was he here? Why now? This meeting couldn’t happen now. Not…Not until this was done.

  But she couldn’t make herself leave. If she tried to kill Arefaine and failed, everything she wanted to say would be left unspoken. This could be her only chance to talk to him, to finally apologize.

  Ossamyr retreated into the shadows, fighting to control her breath. What would he think if he found her here? Would he kill her? Expose her mission? Could she make him see anything more than a traitorous queen trying another assassination?

  Biting her lip, she peered around the corner, looking at the side of his face. She closed her eyes, barely able to breathe. If this was the only moment she was to be given, then that’s the way it was. He had to know. She had to try. She had to make him see.

  Footsteps behind her!

  She whirled around, listened closely. Someone was coming.

  Quiet as a whisper, she retreated into a dark alcove, between two boulders. Sending a surge of ani to her glamour, she leaned her back against the rock wall and pulled her black cowl over her face. The chill of the rock seeped through her sodden clothes.

  The footsteps neared, light and lithe. Someone trained or someone young. Perhaps both.

  “Brophy?” The voice came from the far side of the rubble.

  Ossamyr’s hand slipped under her dress and unsheathed the dagger. She could end it now, when Arefaine passed beside her in the darkness. She could cross the distance in a
heartbeat. The young sorceress would never know until the dagger was buried to the hilt in her back.

  “Yes. It’s me,” Brophy called back.

  Ossamyr winced, her heart aching. She hadn’t heard his voice in so long.

  He crawled into the jumble of stones not five feet from her. She could almost reach out and touch him.

  “Through here,” he said.

  Ossamyr heard Arefaine crawl forward. In a few moments she would pass right by Ossamyr’s hiding place.

  Brophy would try to stop her, if she attacked. He’d always seen the world in black and white, and he would have no doubt upon which side of that line Ossamyr stood. Like Baelandra said, Ossamyr’s betrayal was like yesterday to the boy.

  But could he actually stop her if she attacked Arefaine? She knew how fast he was. With surprise, she might be faster, but she might not.

  And then what would he do? Would he hate her, loathe her, kill her before she had a chance to explain? Why would he believe the lying, scheming Queen of Physendria over his new lover? The boy had always been gullible. When he fell, he fell hard. She, of all people, knew how true that was. He’d been willing to die, and to kill, for her before. He would certainly be willing to kill for the beautiful goddess of the Ohohhim.

  Arefaine reached him. He took her hand and helped her through the narrow opening.

  Ossamyr clenched her teeth. Her hand trembled, and she wanted more than ever to stick a knife into the young woman.

  But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Not now.

  Instead, she slowed her breathing, calmed her heart. And she listened.

  Chapter 7

  Brophy helped Arefaine to her feet, and they looked at each other for a long moment in the faint torchlight. Her smile was irreverent and wild. She wore a black cloak with an opal clasp over a black gown. There was a little streak of powder just above her ear, but the rest had been wiped from her face. He knew she’d washed it off for him. And he knew why. He sensed her desire like a dark current pulling him away from the shore.

  She had lain hidden in the rocks for quite some time, watching him from the darkness while he stood before the broken tomb that once held Oh’s coffin. He wondered why she had hesitated, why she had remained hidden. Was she afraid to talk to him? Or was it Oh’s presence she feared?

  “How did you know I would be here?” he asked.

  She winked at him. “Magic.”

  He frowned, and the carefree glimmer faded from her eyes.

  “I heard that you spoke with that priest,” she said. “Where else would he send you?”

  Brophy nodded, letting go of her hand and walking back to the shattered crypt. Brophy had expected Oh’s resting place to be the height of opulence, the crown jewel of a city crafted to perfection, but it was just a dusty little hole in the ground with a broken tomb.

  Arefaine stopped next to him; put a hand on the cracked lid. She did that a lot, mimicked his actions.

  “Have you heard ‘the voice’ yet?” she finally asked, the sardonic half smile returning to her face.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  She chuckled. “I came up here many times when I was a child. I never heard a thing.”

  “Then why did you lock the gate?”

  She paused, tapping the lid with one fingernail. “To keep everyone else away.” She gave him a lingering look out of the corner of her eye. “But I knew a simple lock wouldn’t stop you.”

  Brophy turned and focused on the tomb before him. Arefaine had changed since arriving in the Opal Empire. She was devouring the attention she received from the hundreds of servants and advisors. She felt like she was slipping further and further away from him.

  “So what do you think of this great empty cave the priests are so in love with?” Arefaine asked.

  “Why do you say it is empty?”

  She watched him for a moment. “Because the ghost who is supposed to haunt it died a long time ago.” Her playful tone vanished. “The first emperor wasn’t a god. He was a mage just like me—powerful but mortal.”

  “That’s not what the emperor believed. He swore he was following the Voice of Oh.”

  Arefaine’s brows came together in consternation. “There is no Oh! There hasn’t been for a thousand years.”

  “How can you be that sure?”

  She frowned, staring hard at him. “If you’re waiting for a god to appear, you will be here until this mountain crumbles to dust. Oh was nothing more than a weakling driven by fear. He stole the world’s greatest treasure and expected everyone to wait meekly in line while he locked it away.”

  “Maybe,” Brophy said. “But there is something here. I can feel it.”

  “A thousand-year-old bloodstain.” She shook her head. “Nothing more.”

  “Perhaps, but that bloodstain has become the map of your life.”

  Arefaine turned away from him and took a minute to calm herself. “We’re fighting again?”

  Brophy said nothing.

  “I thought we had agreed to seek answers together,” she said. She came back and took his hand. “Are you angry with me?”

  He let out a breath. “Not with you.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you.”

  He paused, then said, “Let’s leave this place. Let’s go to Efften. Alone. Tonight.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Not during the twelve days of mourning. I’ve been very careful about maintaining all the customs to ease the transition—”

  He put his fingertips against her lips. “You like being regent too much. It frightens me.”

  She studied his face carefully before replying. “What did that priest tell you?”

  “The emperor said you had a decision to make when you arrived on Efften.”

  “Yes.”

  “Dewland told me what that decision would be and what choice they want you to make.”

  Arefaine took a deep breath. Lewlem’s soul light flew out of her sleeve and began to circle her head. “What did he say?”

  “He and the emperor want you to take all the black emmeria to Efften and seal it within one of the silver towers. They want you to kill yourself, to reenact Oh’s sacrifice.”

  She tried to keep the emotions from her face, but Brophy could see the war going on behind her eyes.

  “They don’t believe you would ever make that choice on your own, so they wanted to make sure you fell in love with me. They hoped that you would sacrifice yourself to save my life.”

  She nodded, her jaw muscles flexing.

  “That’s why the emperor isolated you, ignored you. He wanted you lonely. He thought that would somehow force you into this decision.”

  She turned away, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Lewlem zipped around her head, and she snatched him out of the air, clenching him in her fist.

  “They…” The words stuck in her throat. “They raised me for the slaughter?”

  “It’s not going to happen, Arefaine,” he said. “I won’t let it.”

  Arefaine pressed her fist to her lips and stared at Oh’s tomb. “There have been enough sacrifices,” Brophy said. He stepped around her and grabbed her hands. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. “There have been enough lives lost to the black emmeria. Oh couldn’t resist its power, so he assumed no one could. But I’ve done it. You’ve done it. Together we can destroy it.”

  Arefaine twisted out of his grasp. “Is this part of the lie? Is all of this just to get me to fall in love with you?”

  Brophy looked into her red-rimmed eyes. “I hate what they did to you, and I won’t be any part of their plan.”

  She looked back at him, trying to see the truth in his words.

  “Come with me,” he said. “We’ll leave for Efften tonight. Let’s go see what’s locked in those silver towers and decide for ourselves what to do about it.”

  Arefaine scoffed. “You want me to just walk away, abandon everything I’ve achieved here?”

  “Yes.”

  Her lips came toge
ther in a firm line, and he waited as she struggled to answer.

  “You think I like the power too much,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

  He nodded.

  “Perhaps I do. I want them to bow to me. Every last one of them.” She drew a breath through her teeth. “They owe me.”

  “Yes. They owe you,” Brophy said. “And you now have the power to collect that debt ten times over. But is that what you really want? Do you want to punish the Ohohhim? Fling them against the Silver Islanders until they are all dead? Will that make you happy? Will that make up for everything you have lost?”

  Arefaine clenched her fist, looking at the shadowy ground. Her proud shoulders slumped, and she let out a breath as though she’d let go of all the weight in the world.

  “You’ll really go there with me, just the two of us?” she asked, looking up at him. “You’ll help me find my father?”

  “I don’t think you’ll find your father, but I do think you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

  “All right,” she said softly, her chin lifted. In the yellow torchlight, he saw the tears standing in her eyes. “I’ll go with you. I’ll go tonight.”

  Relief flooded through him, for a moment pushing back the howling voices in his mind that constantly threatened to overwhelm him. “Good,” he said.

  She finally got her breath back under control and nodded. “There’s something I need to know before we go,” she said with a little sniffle. “I think I always knew what the Ohohhim wanted from me. And I never cared. Not what Oh wants, or what the emperor wants. They’re dead. But I need to know…” She closed her eyes and swallowed. “I need to know what you want from me?”