Stone Queen

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Juliana didn’t answer. She’d heard men of God preach about the plague, warning it would come back to punish sinners as it had before. Whole families had been wiped out and hysteria had ruled the land. Some even said that half the world died in those long, diseased years. If the plague hadn’t ended when it had, there would’ve been no one left in the Mortal Realm.

  “You understand the why now?”

  She nodded. “Aye, I understand.”

  “What is it? Why are you still sad?”

  “You gave your blessing to save many. It seems to me that such an act should be rewarded, not punished with a life of mischief and war.”

  “Aye,” he nodded, pulling her away from him. Looking deep into her eyes, he whispered. “Methinks I have been rewarded greatly. For fate has given me you.” His hand once more slid to her stomach. “And our son. I care not what happens outside this palace, so long as you are with me.”

  Pain tried to roll through her heart, but she suppressed it. She couldn’t let Merrick feel it. “You gave up your blessing for many. I gave mine up for you. Whatever happens, know I would not change my decision to be your queen. I love you, my king.”

  “And I you, sweet Juliana.” He nudged her chin, trying to get her to smile. “Come to the hall with me. Let Lord Kalen read you. His presence always seems to amuse you. Or I can order Iago to set himself on fire again.”

  Juliana almost felt sorry for the goblin, until she remembered how he had tried to set her aflame one eve after she told them a tale that did not end to the goblin’s liking. She pressed her lips to his, wanting to hold him forever, but knew he’d be suspicious if she didn’t let him go. “I’ll come in a moment. I want to write to my brothers. The trolls keep eating the missives I send them. Halton and Gorman have agreed to go this time.”

  “I could always make it easier and deliver it myself.”

  “Nay, they would not trust you.” She gave a soft laugh. “Go, Lord Kalen arrives at the gate. Greet him and make him welcome. In fact, make him drink, for he is less surly when into his cups.”

  “You would be ill-humored too, if you saw the things he sees.”

  Juliana didn’t answer. He left her, moving with infinite grace and refinement. His touch left her weak, but the absence of it unsettled her calm. Merrick opened the door, stepped out and disappeared. All the doors in the palace were like that. For anyone else, they were simply doors, but for the king and queen they took them wherever they wished to be within the castle walls. All they had to do was want to go somewhere and the castle granted the desire. Juliana concentrated, sending out her senses until she detected her husband entering the great hall.

  The only place Juliana couldn’t reach in the castle was the dungeons, though she knew her husband could go there whenever he wished. She shivered, looking down. The prisons were far from where she stood. It wasn’t as if she wanted to go there. She felt the evil lurking behind barred doors, locked away for all eternity. Merrick had warned her once about rearranging anything in that part of the castle with her will—not that she’d been able to if she wanted to. At least, not until today. Merrick wasn’t wrong when he said her power grew stronger and each time he touched the baby, her magic intensified.

  Today, her will was stronger than that of her king’s. The desperation she felt, the almost trapped, sinking, devilish need to end the suffering of her reign terrified her. It had only been a few months by human measurements and already her determination wavered. How had Merrick lasted nearly half a century as ruler?

  “Halton, Gorman,” she said when she was alone, willing the two playful sprights to come to her. They heard her call and, as always, were right there, ready to do her bidding. Aside from their tiny stature and a slight point to their ears, the two looked like human males in bright green tunics and the miniature golden crowns they insisted on wearing to show their place as the Unblessed Queen’s sprights. “Do you have the message vial I made for my brothers?”

  She felt bad lying to Merrick about staying behind to create a message that was already done, but she needed to buy herself some time alone. Her husband would know when the sprights left the palace, but she could only hope the notion wouldn’t really take hold in his mind until it was too late for him stop her other plans.

  “I have it,” Halton announced, his voice ten times bigger than his body. He poked a hand into his pocket, digging around.

  “Nay, I have it!” Gorman did the same.

  “Do not!” Halton jerked fervently as he dug around faster.

  “Do so,” Gorman shouted, running his hands over his messy brown hair and knocking over his crown. “Ah, see what you made me do!”

  “Ah, ha! See, here, the vial. I did have it!” Halton clutched the bright blue liquid to show her.

  “Only because you stole it from me,” Gorman grumped.

  “My lord sprights,” Juliana said, desperate to get their attention. She knelt, knowing that the inevitable fight between the two creatures was about to start. They’d literally turned arguing into an art form.

  “Ah, you see that, she made me a lord because I have the vial!” Halton boasted.

  “She was looking at me when she said it!” Gorman made a dive toward his friend. Juliana leaned forward, her face more on their level as she blocked the attack with her outstretched arm.

  “Was not!”

  “Was so!”

  “No one will be a lord unless you do what I’ve asked of you.” She kept her tone soft. They both looked up at her, their lashes fluttering over their wide blue eyes. An innocent light shone from the depths. “Please, do not argue, not now.”

  “What is happening?” Gorman asked.

  “You seem upset,” Halton continued.

  “My queen, if you are frightened, know we will fight for you.” Gorman took a step toward her, as if to touch her cheek.

  “To the death, I’ll fight.” Halton pushed Gorman out of the way so he could be the first to touch her.

  Juliana sat back. “I need you to get my missive to the Bellemare spright.”

  “Rees?” Halton and Gorman said in unison.

  “Aye, Rees. Make sure he understands that he must keep it safe until he can give it to the earl in private.”

  “We know our mission, my lady queen,” Halton bowed.

  “We shall not sleep until…” Not to be outdone, Gorman did the same, continuing with a flowery speech about how he’d lay his life down for hers in combat should anything try to take the vial from him.

  “Thank you.” Juliana didn’t wait for him to finish as she stood. “Now go. Godspeed.”

  “Godspeed? What does that mean?” Halton whispered as the two of them followed her to the door.

  When she opened it, she willed the secret entrance leading toward the mountains near the palace to be on the other side. Though the two sprights were annoying, Juliana trusted them to perform this simple task. They might bluster and boast, but she had no doubt they’d expend their last breath to deliver her message to her brothers in the Mortal Realm.

  “Methinks Godspeed means we’ll be gods if we do this quickly,” Gorman motioned for quiet, though his harsh whisper hardly indicated the need for discretion.

  “I might,” Halton snorted, “but you’re way too short to be a god.”

  “Ho! I’m as tall as you.”

  “Are not!”

  “Are so!”

  “Just get the message to my brothers,” she whispered, as the two men disappeared. The baby kicked her hard and her stomach tightened in response, contracting slightly. Rubbing the ache, she took a deep breath. “And get it there safely.”

  Merrick felt Lord Kalen enter his hall before he saw him. The orange glow of torches mixed with that of the five large fireplaces along one of the walls. They always burned, the flames never needing attendance like those in the mortal realm. Soft light illuminated the ribbed vaults along the ceiling and danced over the towering Corinthian columns.

  His goblins merrily danced, their withe
red bodies jerking crazily as they hopped back and forth from one foot to the other. Their short arms pumped up and down over their heads. A hairy figure, too short to be a child, too human in form to be an animal, lifted his taloned feet, clacking them against the stone floor in time to the music. A dark, wrinkled creature hung on the jutted edge of the fireplace. White hair sprouted from his head and his nose hung low over his thick, wide lips. When he smiled, he had sharp, pointed teeth. The music Merrick played for them was dark and sinister, like the underlying wind howling through ancient caves combined with the primitive drumming of sticks banging on stones. Goblin music.

  Volos, the castle troll, sat in the middle of them, clapping his hands with the usual expression of idiocy on his large features. Trolls had the appearance of oversized goblins and normally lived a solitary existence. Volos was different. He was like a child, listening only to the commands of the oldest goblin, Bevil. At night, if the old goblin left him, Merrick could hear Volos whimpering in fear until Bevil came back.

  As Lord Kalen entered, the man paused near the goblins, throwing up his arms and dancing in a circle with them. The elfin noble looked little more than a barbarian with a pelt of animal skin draped over his shoulder. A gold disc brooch, etched with the symbol of Kalen’s ancient line, held the skin into place. He might look the part, but there was more to him than muscle and barbaric tendencies. Kalen had the burden of magical gifts.

  The goblins cackled in pleasure. Kalen smiled, his purple eyes flashing as he stopped dancing only to continue on toward Merrick’s throne. With him came the scent of the forest, a subtle stirring to the castle air. Long, wavy brown hair framed his face, tangled from his ride. He carried himself well, but did not move like the gentleman he was born to be. Instead, Kalen seemed like a caged animal when indoors and Merrick knew the dark elf threw himself into exhaustive physical activity to wear his energies down. It was why he liked fighting so much.

  “Lord Kalen,” Merrick acknowledged.

  “My king.” Kalen bowed his head.

  Merrick motioned to the side, away from Juliana’s throne though it was empty. A chair grew, twisting silently up from the stone floor, and a goblet of piskie ale appeared on the arm. As he drew his fingers back, a matching goblet appeared in Merrick’s hand. He took a leisurely sip of the liquor, enjoying the sweet flavor and knowing Juliana liked tasting it on his mouth when she kissed him. “How is the war?”

  “Violent. Long. Bloody.” Kalen’s smile widened as he moved to take a seat. Generally accepted as a madman, he led the elite dark elfin warriors known as the Berserks. The noble often made what appeared to be careless decisions to those peering in from the outside, sometimes calling off his troops on the eve of a great battle they’d be sure to win. He would judge a person with one touch, turning an apparently great ally from his door and accepting an unquestionable enemy into his home. Other warriors outside his Berserks thought him reckless, but the Unblessed King knew the true secret to Kalen’s genius. He was a clairvoyant, cursed with empathy. It was something he didn’t tell many people. “How is the queen?”

  “Guarded.” Merrick took another sip. He focused his feelings briefly on his wife before drawing his attention back to his friend. “I worry.”

  Kalen took a long drink, finishing his ale before setting down the empty goblet. Taking a deep breath, as if bracing himself, he reached toward the king, fingers pointed up, palm out. “Tell me.”

  Merrick pressed his palm to Kalen’s, pointing his fingers up as well. The instant they touched, a thin band of light entwined their joined hands. All information Merrick wished to impart to the man flowed between them. It was over as soon as it began. Kalen slowly lowered his hand back to his empty goblet, tilting it slightly in the king’s direction. “You got something stronger than ale, my king?”

  Merrick chuckled, waving his hand over it to fill the drink once more. This time with a green, potent concoction the mountain wizards produced in strange stills hidden in caves. It was vile, strong and had been known to make lesser creatures sleep for days after a single sip. Kalen glanced at it, made a small noise of appreciation and took a drink without hesitation.

  “Do you see why I worry?” Merrick asked, keeping to his ale.

  “All carrying women have moods,” Kalen answered, moving the goblet from his mouth only long enough to answer. “It passes with the birth.”

  “I fear it is more than that. I want you to read her just to make sure.”

  “So you told me.” Kalen lifted the hand he’d touched to Merrick’s and wiggled his fingers. “But as I’ve warned you before, to know the future is to know madness.”

  Kalen’s visions were only pieces of the future—bigger pieces than most, but pieces nonetheless. When Merrick first found out about his son, he’d gone to a divining basin to see the future. The images it showed were of his hands covered in blood as Juliana screamed, her pale cheeks stained with tears. The memory of it haunted him still.

  “See, madness,” the noble whispered.

  “Kalen, Juliana is my…” He took a deep breath, not daring to say the words out loud. To do so, to admit the depth of what he carried inside would be to weaken himself to those unscrupulous creatures who would gladly relieve him of his throne. Now was not a time to be weak. Fate had been cruel to him once when it made him decide between a life of happiness on the Blessed throne and the life he now led. Though, it wasn’t much of a choice. If the old king hadn’t been stopped, the Blessed throne wouldn’t have been much. Would fate be cruel again? Would it take the dream of a family away from him? If he whispered how he felt about his wife, would fate hear him?

  “I will read her again,” Kalen said. “But, methinks it best if—”

  Merrick shot to his feet. A searing pain ripped through him, a cold, barren gash in his power. He felt a burning across his gaze, indicating the whites of his eyes filled with black as he looked up to his bedchamber, every sense on alert. Bitter, icy emptiness greeted him where Juliana’s essence should’ve been.

  “What?” Kalen stood, his body tense. “What has happened?”

  “Juliana,” Merrick whispered, shaken. He’d sensed her great need before all traces of her disappeared completely. Panicked, his body turned to mist, drifting faster than he could run through the great hall to the door behind his throne. Going under it, he arrived in his bedchamber only to solidify. His wife was there, waiting, only she wasn’t as she should be. Her body was cast in black stone, frozen in time.

  “Juliana, nay. What have you done?” Merrick’s heart pounded, a painful slam against the inside of his chest. He swallowed against the agony of it, as he stared at her face, willing her to break free from the stone and come to him.

  One of her hands reached out as if to hold something and the other cradled the stomach rounded with their unborn child. He trembled, moving to touch her immobile face. The lingering scent of unblessed power floated in the air around him, as palpable as his own flesh. Though he searched, he could detect no other magic in the chamber. The door flung open behind him, the thick oak hitting the stone wall.

  “My king?” Kalen demanded, his tone gruff with tension. “What has happened? Who has been here? Do you sense them?” He reached for his waist, pulling out a wickedly sharp dagger. Merrick smelled old blood on the blade, though it looked clean.

  “She did this to herself.” Merrick trembled. As he touched Juliana, the warm stone seemed to move beneath his hand with life, her life. And yet, he could see her statuesque beauty with his own eyes. She was gone. She’d left him. His heart squeezed in his chest, nearly choking him with its pain. “She imprisoned herself in stone. Only unblessed magic is… There is no other. She did this to herself.”

  Merrick felt the nobleman walk around them, saw him from the corner of his eyes as a blur. Kalen searched the chamber, but it was empty. Merrick couldn’t take his gaze off Juliana’s hard, black face. Every detail was there, the small crease in her full lips, her long eyelashes, the strands of her wavy ha
ir resting over her ears.

  Finally, Kalen stopped looking and didn’t move as he stared at the queen. Merrick glared at him, demanding, “Did you foresee this? Did you know something was going to happen to her?”

  “Nay, my ki—”

  “Did you know?” The Unblessed King’s voice lifted, rumbling as he surged toward his friend. He grabbed Kalen by the pelt and jerked him violently, dragging him toward Juliana’s stone form. “You have read her. You see these things, I know you do. Why has this happened? Why did she do this? How do I free her?”

  Kalen looked unconcerned by his king’s anger and did not fight back. “If she did this, are you sure she’ll want to be free? If only her magic is in the chamber, she must have had reason.”

  Merrick glanced down at her pregnant stomach, feeling sick. A reason? What other reason could there be? He turned his attention to the nobleman once more, needing to lash out. “Then you did know!” Merrick lifted Kalen off the ground only to lower him back down and let go as he realized beating his friend would solve nothing.

  “Nay. This I did not see. It must have been planned after I met with her last. Or else she didn’t know it herself.” Kalen touched the queen’s outstretched hand. He closed his eyes. “I can’t find her in the stone. It’s like reading the wall. Are you sure you sense no other magic? To cast such a spell takes great power.”

  “There is only our magic in this chamber.” Merrick pushed Kalen away from his wife, replacing the man’s hand with his own. “Her powers were growing daily. I felt it. Mayhap she could not control this.”

  “You know as well as I that an act like this would take great concentration and skill. If her magic had been uncontrollable, most likely she would have blown up half the castle, not made herself a part of it.”