Queen of Oblivion

by Giles Carwyn

  He nodded, knowing what she was asking.

  She opened her eyes, looking at him, desperate as a child. “Do you…” She winced. “Who do you love, Brophy? Who do you want?”

  Brophy sighed and looked up at the ceiling. It took him a long time to answer. When he did, he spoke softly. “I remember love,” he said with a bitter half smile. “I remember loving Shara. My aunt. Ohndarien. I even remember loving the feel of the sun on my face.” He shook his head. “But that’s all gone now. I don’t feel anything anymore, just anger, bitterness, rage. I think that part of me is gone, ripped away. And I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back.” The words seared in his chest as he spoke them. It seemed like he should be crying, but there was nothing, not even tears.

  “What if we could get that part of you back?” she said, touching the sides of his face.

  He cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you even remember why you agreed to come to Ohohhom in the first place?”

  So much had happened since they’d left the Cinder. Since they’d left Ohndarien. He struggled to remember all the things they’d talked about.

  “You came here to be free of the voices in your head. You wanted to learn how to shut them out. I think I can do that for you now.”

  “How?” he asked, suddenly feeling his heart beating faster.

  “Let me show you.”

  Arefaine took a deep breath and her fingertips on the side of his face started growing warmer. He felt a steady surge of her ani flowing between them, into him. He flinched, but forced himself to stand his ground. The energy warped the air around him. Arefaine’s face pinched in concentration.

  Slowly, the howling voices in Brophy’s head faded away. The seething hate that ate at his mind vanished. He gasped, sucking a breath into lungs that suddenly seemed twice as large.

  The dark cave, so like the confining prison of his hellish mind, was suddenly bright with dancing torchlight. Each bead of dew on the rough-hewn walls was a sparkling diamond. The slight breeze in the cave tickled the hairs on his forearms. The air felt deliciously cool and wet.

  “By the Seasons!” He laughed, looking at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. “What did you do to me?”

  He turned his gaze on Arefaine.

  She watched him with a small smile on her face. “I’ve never heard you laugh.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “Something I discovered recently,” she said, the words tight. He noticed that she still clenched one of her fists. He could see the strain of what she was doing around her eyes.

  “Arefaine?”

  “I don’t know how long I can keep it up, but at least for now, you’re free.”

  “Oh, Arefaine!” He crossed to her and took her in his arms. “Thank you,” he said, kissing her. “Thank you.” He’d forgotten what joy felt like, bubbling up inside him like a gulp of Siren’s Blood.

  Arefaine’s sudden, deep breath caused her breasts to press against his ribs. His hands slid down the curve of her back. Their mouths opened, tongues touched.

  A surge of warmth shot through him and the kiss turned ardent, desperate lips pressing against each other. Arefaine leaned into his arms and brought her leg up, wrapping it around the back of his thigh.

  He lowered her to the sandy floor. She pulled his shirt over his head, and his hand slid between the folds of her dress, touching skin. Her back arched and her cloak slipped open, revealing the curves of her small breasts.

  Brophy knelt between her thighs. She lay back and stared at him, torchlight flickering along her pale legs. With a flick of her fingers, she unhooked the opal clasp of her cloak, letting it pool on the floor.

  He leaned forward and kissed her, shocked by the sudden rush of desire as their bare skin met. He crushed her to him, his mouth on hers, his fingers pushing into her hair as his weight pressed down on her. Her breasts slid firm and warm across his chest.

  Arefaine pushed his pants down past his hips and he slipped inside of her. She gasped, breaking the kiss, pressing her forehead against his, clutching him with all her might as she trembled, thin and fragile like a little bird.

  Brophy didn’t move. He held the moment, reeling with the raw power of being inside her. When her breath slowed, he drew back, searching her face. Ice-blue eyes found his, and her breathing came fast. She pulled at him, hands clutching desperately.

  He leaned over to kiss her, and the feather hanging from his neck swung forward and hit her in the chin.

  She blinked, brushing it aside, and kissed him. Her teeth brushed against his lips, nearly biting. He moved against her, inside her. The heat rose between them, making his skin tingle in the chilly air of the cave. His breath came faster as her fingers raked down his back.

  One of Arefaine’s nails caught on the leather thong, pulling it tight against his throat. Her body tensed. She reached up to his neck and lifted the necklace over his curls. Brophy stopped moving as she set the feather in the sand next to them. Something twisted inside his belly.

  “Brophy?” she whispered, wrapping her legs tighter around him.

  He stared at the feather.

  “Brophy?” she repeated, pushing his gaze back to her.

  “Arefaine…” he began, slowly reaching for the feather.

  “No,” she murmured, grabbing his wrist. “Look at me.”

  Brophy shook his head, reaching for the feather again.

  “No,” she said, spinning on top of him, rolling them off the cloak and onto the sand. “Brophy,” she whispered urgently, grabbing his face, trying to force it back toward hers. “Look at me.”

  “Wait,” he panted, feeling the joy dying inside him. He tried to get up. “We have to wait. I have to think a minute.” He gazed at the leather necklace in his hand.

  With a snarl, she squeezed the sides of his face. He gasped as a flood of power rushed into him, striking him in the chest, filling him with fire. He grew hard in an instant, painfully hard. The roaring voices of the black emmeria slammed back into his mind, louder than ever. He wanted to bite her, lash out at her with his fists.

  “Not this time,” she breathed, pushing him to the ground, straddling him.

  “Arefaine,” he cried, twisting away. But she swelled with power, and she pinned him to the floor. Her lips pulled back in a snarl.

  “Stop it!” he shouted, spinning his wrist and chopping out of her grip. She clawed at his face, and they rolled across the cold sand. “Enough!” he screamed, shoving her away from him.

  She spun around, her dark hair in disarray. Her fingers dug into the soft sand.

  “I could have had you anytime I wanted!” she screamed at him. “Anytime!”

  He stood up and backed away, hands in front of him.

  “I can make you love me,” she said, rising to her feet. “I can do it.”

  “That’s not love,” he said, desperate to keep his temper. “That’s hate.”

  Her face contorted, and she lashed out at him. Brophy blocked the blow and shoved her backward. She crashed into the tomb, knocking her head against the stone. His hands curled into claws and he took a step toward her. With a feral cry, he spun away and slammed his fist into the cave wall.

  “No!” he growled, spinning back around to look at her.

  She stared at him for a moment, a line of blood trickling down her chin. Slowly she brought her arms close to her body, covering her naked breasts. Her lip started to tremble, and she bit down on it.

  “Brophy,” she whispered, but he turned away from her, unable to meet her gaze. A sob caught in her throat and she fled, snatching her gown off the ground and scrambling through the gap in the boulders.

  Brophy sank to his knees, nearly throwing up. He crawled to the feather lying in the sand and squeezed it in his fist. He knelt there, fighting the vengeful voices that threatened to overwhelm him. His beautiful moment of freedom was gone, and the brutal crush of their presence was that much harder to bear. He wanted to kill Arefaine
for giving him such a gift and then snatching it away. He wanted to rend her limb from bloody limb.

  He curled into a ball and hid his face in his hands. Help! he shouted in his mind. That’s not me. It is not me!

  The howling voices receded as another voice appeared in his mind. The same one he’d heard when he first arrived here.

  Bide, my son, bide, Oh said, surrounding him like a warm and gentle mist. Her heart is growing. It will blossom in time.

  “Enough,” he growled. “I’ve heard enough of your wisdom. I won’t lead her to the slaughter. I won’t help you kill her.”

  As you say, but your heart will blossom as well. In time.

  Chapter 8

  Ossamyr sprinted down the path, nearly slipping on the mud and tumbling over the edge. She leapt several steps, ducked a sopping tree branch, and shivered as a cascade of water drenched the back of her neck.

  The Physendrian queen had fled from the cave when Brophy and Arefaine started kissing. She couldn’t watch that, even if it meant her death. She’d crept silently through the jumble of boulders, unable to force the sight of their embrace from her mind. She didn’t want Brophy anywhere near that girl, scheming her way into his heart with artful tears over a tragic past. Arefaine was poised to destroy the world, and Brophy refused to see it.

  She had planned to flee the scene, catch the girl alone later, but she paused at the sound of angry voices behind her. Arefaine had turned on Brophy, assaulting him with her power.

  What had happened? Had Brophy spurned her? Ossamyr couldn’t tell, but Morgeon’s daughter had run blindly from the cave, sobbing and hugging her clothing to her chest. It was all Ossamyr could do to keep ahead of her on the narrow path, sprinting for all she was worth.

  She couldn’t get the image of the two of them out of her head. The way Brophy had touched her hand, the way he seemed so invested in her, speaking words she refused to hear. Ossamyr’s heart ached when he said he felt nothing anymore. That had been partly her doing. She had plunged the first dagger into his heart.

  Ossamyr split her concentration between maintaining her glamour and her footing. She leapt another short flight of steps, slipped on the wet ground. She winged her arms and almost fell, skirting the edge of the steep drop-off, only half in control. She didn’t catch her balance until she reached the narrow bridge over the waterfall.

  As she ran, she realized this might be her only chance to catch the sorceress alone. There was a huge May Dragon tree just down the trail from the bridge. It was the perfect place for an ambush, if she could only reach it in time.

  Her feet thumped across the bridge. The noise of the waterfall roared around her and fell away behind, quickly consumed by the patter of falling rain. The path grew steeper as she raced down the twisting mountainside. She turned a corner and saw the May Dragon tree, its broad trunk nearly blocking the path. Arefaine would run right past it and never see a thing until Ossamyr’s dagger was buried in her chest.

  Charging into the thick overgrowth, Ossamyr whipped around the tree—

  —right into the arms of a dark man. He jerked, plunging his sword into her belly.

  “Die, traitor,” the Carrier of the Opal Fire growled in her ear, twisting the blade. She looked up into his eyes; saw the two other Carriers behind him.

  “The children of Oh will never follow—” The Carrier’s eyes flew wide as he saw her face.

  She gaped, twitching. Her legs buckled, but she didn’t fall. She hung impaled on the man’s blade. She breathed a small whimper, unable to summon the breath for a scream.

  “That’s not her, that’s not the child!” the Carrier behind him exclaimed.

  Ossamyr’s mind reeled, rolling in an ocean of pain. They thought she was Arefaine. They’d come to kill their regent, and Ossamyr’s glamour had showed them what they expected to see.

  “Here she comes!” the third man hissed, looking up the path.

  The assassin threw Ossamyr down, his blade sliding out of her body. She hit the ground hard, sucked in a deep breath, and tried to hold her guts in.

  The three Carriers rushed around the tree. Arefaine ran naked down the path, clinging to her dress. Her eyes went wide, and she tried to stop suddenly. She slipped, sprawling on the muddy path.

  The first two Carriers came at her from opposite directions, swords arcing down.

  “Kill!” Arefaine shouted, and Ossamyr felt the powerful surge of magic. The first man’s blade missed Arefaine by inches. He spun with the momentum and buried his blade in his friend’s shoulder.

  The second Carrier screamed as he was borne sideways. His sword flew from numb fingers, missing the girl. The two Carriers tumbled into the bushes.

  The third assassin charged Arefaine. The girl threw her hands in front of her and screamed. Absolute blackness flew from her hands. It slammed into the Carrier, knocking him off the trail and down the mountainside. The liquid blackness engulfed the great May Dragon tree and slithered up its trunk. A bitter howl filled the world, drowning out the roar of the waterfall and the falling rain.

  Ossamyr cringed, holding her belly together as she threw all of her magic into a protective bubble, fending off the black emmeria that swirled all around her. The May Dragon tree twisted and snapped. Its trunk undulated like a muscle flexing until it ripped itself apart. The rending wood shrieked as the tree shattered and plunged over the edge.

  Ossamyr shut her eyes and forced the blackness away from her. The pressure seemed unbearable. Howling voices whipped through her hair. The foliage blackened and wilted all around her as the plants twisted in agony. Some melted like wax. Others disintegrated.

  Arefaine lay where she had fallen. Dark streaks extended outward from her like rays from a black sun. She stared at her hands in horror. A little ball of golden light spun frantically around her head.

  Two hunched, blackened beasts slowly rose from the surrounding forest. They slunk toward her. One reached up, ripping the shark-fin helmet from its head. Part of its scalp tore loose from its misshapen head. It howled its rage at Arefaine as it swelled, its bones twisting and snapping.

  Arefaine scrambled to her feet and sprinted back up the path. Bloodthirsty shrieks erupted from the corrupted beasts, and they launched after her in close pursuit.

  “Get her,” Ossamyr whispered, her bloody hands shaking where they pressed at her abdomen. “Rip her black heart out.”

  Chapter 9

  Arefaine clutched her dress to her naked chest as she fled back up the hill. Screaming voices swirled around her, through her, flooding her from all directions at once. She couldn’t stop them. She couldn’t get away.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Her Carriers followed, their claws churning the earth as they ran on all fours. Their eyes burned like coals. Lewlem flew into one of the things’ scaly face, and it stumbled, slipping in the mud. The other one leapt over it without breaking stride, drawing closer with every jump.

  She raced across the bridge, her bare feet slapping the wet wood.

  They were too fast! She had to think. Had to—

  She looked back again just as one of the creatures leapt on her, sinking its teeth into her shoulder. Bones snapped and flesh tore. Arefaine screamed as she fell, her fists bouncing off it like she was striking stone.

  A white hand suddenly grabbed the beast’s neck. Brophy leapt over Arefaine, hauling the creature away from her. He spun and threw her attacker down the steep slope. It skidded to a stop as the second one leapt over it and charged him.

  The two Carriers leapt upon Brophy and dragged him to the ground. He fought back, taking and landing thunderous blows. The three combatants became a blur of black hide and white skin.

  Agony seared Arefaine’s shoulder as she rolled to her knees. Her palm slid across the sharp edge of a bone protruding through the flesh. A surge of energy flooded her and she let it come, filling her like a screaming wind.

  Brophy kicked one of the creatures away from him. It broke through the railing and nearly fell, but its claws
stuck fast in the wood at the last moment. It dangled over the abyss, fighting for a better grip. Arefaine reached out for its mind, tried to grab hold of it, but her thoughts floundered in an ocean of pain. She couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t control her breath.

  Brophy wrestled with the other corrupted Carrier. It pinned him to the bridge and tried to punch him, but he slipped sideways. The creature’s fist splintered the wooden planking. Brophy spun to his feet and slammed both fists into the side of its head, knocking the creature halfway through the hole.

  The second beast scrambled over the railing. Brophy lunged forward and grabbed it before it could regain its feet. He spun around behind it and snapped its neck. The thing’s head flopped limply to its chest, but it continued to fight, its arms and legs frantically clawing at thin air. Brophy threw the monster at its fellow. The two beasts mindlessly lashed out at each other for a moment, claws ripping through each other and tearing chunks out of the bridge.

  Borne aloft by the screaming wind, Arefaine focused on her wound. Closing her eyes, she grabbed her mangled shoulder under the armpit and pushed on it until the splintered bone slid back within her body. With a roar of triumph, she felt the wound bubble, twist, and close.

  Brophy ripped away a piece of splintered railing and leapt back into the fray. Black blood flew as he stabbed the abomination in the neck with the length of splintered railing.

  Arefaine rose to her full height. She took three huge breaths through clenched teeth and spun her pain, her rage, and all the screaming voices into a single black ball in the center of her body. The blazing sphere burned away all pain, all fear, and a glorious sensation flooded her.

  With a smile, she took one last great breath and threw her power at the Carriers. It roared out of her in a screaming black wave. The ani struck them like midnight surf crashing into black rocks. Brophy was thrown backward as the ani devoured everything it touched. The Carriers disintegrated, splattering the mountainside with black chunks of bubbling flesh. The wooden bridge inflated, twisted, and then burst like cracking bones.