Stone Queen

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Tania flew past William’s head, smiling as she veered off her course toward Hugh to go to Thomas. “Thomas, my brother, welcome. It has been too long.”

  Thomas managed a small smile for the faery queen. “Tania, as lovely as ever.”

  “William,” Hugh said, turning everyone’s attention back to the subject. “What took you?”

  “It’s nothing. Just something I had to take care of.”

  “In this realm? What?” Thomas asked, striding across the hall toward William. “Did you find a way to free Juliana?”

  “Nay, it had nothing to do with Juliana.” William glanced away, biting his lip.

  “By all that is holy, Will, tell us what you were doing,” Hugh demanded. His wings fluttered. Thomas put his hand over his mouth to keep from chuckling as he stared at Hugh’s back.

  “It is a personal matter.” William tried to refuse.

  “William!” Hugh yelled.

  “Lord Angus discovered I have been coming to Feia to visit you. His men have been watching the palace and when I came, they took me.” William shrugged. “It is naught to be concerned over.”

  “My faeries have seen no one in the forest.” Tania landed by her husband.

  “They’re giants.” William crossed his arms over his chest. “They’re huge. They can see far. I know, I was a giant once.” He waved his hand, frowning. “Or four times. I lose count. There was a lot of drinking that fortnight.”

  “Angus? The giant whose daughter you—?” Hugh began.

  “I swear the baby is not mine,” William interrupted. “But do you think he’ll listen? He insists I marry the woman. So, when they discovered I was coming here in secret, they stole me away to Lord Angus so that I might face these imaginary crimes.”

  “You were held up by an angry father?” Thomas asked, trying not to smirk.

  “A giant angry father,” William defended. “I swear on Bellemare that is all that happened. I was detained by Lord Angus and then I came straight here.”

  “How did you escape?” Tania asked.

  “I, ah…” William shrugged. “It matters not.”

  “How?” Hugh tried not to laugh.

  “I agreed to marry the woman as soon as I finish my wizard apprenticeship.” William lifted his hand, hurrying to add, “But the true jest is mine. I’m mortal. I will not live long enough to finish my apprenticeship.”

  Hugh’s features fell some at the mention of mortality. Unless fate intervened and he was murdered, he would live forever, unchanging. The trade-off was seeing his brothers age and die like men die. Covering the emotions, he grinned, holding his arms to the sides. “Both my brothers here in my home. Come, this calls for a feast.”

  “We’ll drink to Juliana,” Tania said.

  The men’s expressions fell at her words. Hugh knew she meant no harm by them. Tania grew up in this realm, where magical spells happened, people became lost and later were found. But this was Juliana, their sister. Sweet Juliana. Precious, perfect Juliana. A celebration did not feel right without her.

  “Mayhap just a drink,” Thomas answered.

  “Aye,” William agreed. “A drink.”

  “To our sister,” Hugh said. “To our Juliana.”

  “I should tell you exactly how I escaped the prisons,” Ari said.

  Lucien felt her moving around their bedchamber, but did not take his eyes from the fireplace. He already knew, and yet he still said, “I have wondered.”

  “William the Wizard found a way into the dungeons,” she said.

  Lucien glanced in her direction, lazily winding trails of fire between his fingers. He lounged in his chair, the firelight warming his chilled flesh. Wearing only his unlaced breeches for comfort, he shifted his weight, crossing an ankle over his knee.

  All was going according to his plan. The half-breed army was begun, the two faery mothers hidden safe within the mortal world, worshiped in demon temples. Even the border between the Immortal Realm and Bellemare was beginning to blur. The more protection spells Sir Thomas cast, the more magic that was used, the more the boundary between the worlds slipped. Soon their protection magic would be undone by itself and his demons would be able to cross over, carrying with them fire and darkness. Bellemare would be lost, the mortal world a living hell.

  “He took me out through the fireplace when it surged,” she continued when he didn’t answer.

  “Did he?”

  “Aye. He felt he owed me for saving him. He wanted me to go with him. I wanted to, I considered it, but I sent him away.” Ari moved, dancing between the columns of gauze, disappearing and reappearing within his vision. There was a carefree feeling to her graceful movements as her bare feet swept over the rough stone. Unconsciously, he willed the floor to smooth for her. She smiled, flashing her violet eyes in his direction.

  “Because you knew I’d find you?”

  “You have my soul.” Ari turned, coming back through the gauze. “There is no escape for me.”

  “Hm.” He didn’t smile, instead piercing her with his gaze as he detected every change in her movement and expression.

  “You would have left me there, wouldn’t you? I’d be there still if William had not come.” She stopped her pretty movements to look at him, waiting for an answer.

  Lucien closed his eyes, only to open them as he looked at the fire. She would never know the truth, never know that it was he disguised as William who freed her. No one would ever know. “Aye. I would have left you down there. Mayhap forever.”

  Mystic Forest

  “They are getting worse, aren’t they?” Ean looked at his brother’s pale face shaded by the thin canvas tent hanging down from the thick branches overhead. The grass beneath them was as soft a bed as the Blessed King could find. The sounds of the forest, of insects humming, of a far off bird, of leaves crashing, carried forth on the warm breeze as it drifted over through the thick of the trees.

  According to Adal, he’d looked near dead from his time in the Fire Palace and now, combined with the infected claw and bite marks on his body, he appeared almost corpse-like. Only the shallow rise and fall of his chest showed he lived.

  Next to Wolfe was Brodor. He had suffered fewer wounds, and had been in fine shape to begin with, but still his pallor was bad. He didn’t move, lying just as still as the rescued prince.

  “No matter what we try, the wounds do not heal. We can manage to stop the bleeding, but only for short periods.” Adal wiped his bloodied hands on a piece of torn tunic. “I’ve sent Levin back to the forest for more herbs.”

  “We need a healer.” Ean frowned, looking at his own bloodstained hands.

  “At the encampment—”

  “Nay,” Ean stopped the commander from finishing. He watched, but Wolfe did not move. “We need healers who understand this kind of infection. We are using all the herbs they would use back at our encampment. None of it helps.”

  Ean left the makeshift tent. The forest was dense—too dense to see through. He strode toward a clear, still stream that curled from the trees only to cut a path back into them. Along the shores were wide paths. The dirt floor was covered with the littering of leaves and twigs. Sunlight shone in from the break in the trees, glistening like liquid crystals on the top of the glassy water. A log had fallen over the stream at a shallow point to make a natural bridge between the two shores. Ean’s foot slipped in the moss that grew along the water’s stony edge, but he caught himself before he fell.

  “You wish to seek out a dark healer?” Adal said. He’d followed him out of the tent, joining him along the stream. Kneeling on a flat rock, he put his bloodied hands in the water, rinsing them. “But, who can we trust? It’s clear the wizard told Lucien of our coming, or in the very least allowed us to be seen by the Damned King. Those lycans were waiting for us outside the palace. They knew we’d be there.”

  “I do not think we have a choice.” Ean watched the pink water drift past, carrying the blood away. He crouched, keeping both feet on the ground as he lean
ed against his knees. He put both hands in the water, wiggling his fingers. “We must go to Merrick.”

  “What? But we are at war,” Adal protested. He dried his hands on his stained tunic, doing his best to avoid the bloody spots. “You would go to the unblessed for—”

  “Wolfe is his brother as much as mine. I know you do not believe me, but I have felt good in Merrick. He may hate me, but he will not turn Wolfe away. I can only hope to learn what magic he knows to heal Brodor as well.” Ean sighed, the decision sitting heavily upon his conscience. “Send Levin back to the encampment with the news that we live and will be joining them shortly. We will tell no one of this trip to Valdis.”

  “And if King Merrick does not agree to help us?”

  “He might not help us, but he will help Wolfe.” Ean stood, flicking the water from his hands. “Even if I was certain he’d throw me in his dungeons, I would still go. I would forfeit my life for Wolfe’s or Ladon’s.” It wasn’t a lie. Now that Ean had found his brothers, both after so long, he could not lose them. “Let us ready some cots for Wolfe and Brodor. We will ride slow and steady toward Valdis and hope Merrick detects us before we get there.”

  The ache inside Merrick grew, even as the scratches he tried so desperately to keep embedded into his chest began to fade. He’d called Lord Kalen back to help him, needing his trusted friend at his side. It wasn’t as if he could contact Lucien and ask nicely for Juliana’s dagger. He was going to need magic and lots of it.

  Singing filled his hall, the sweet sounds of a mermaid and her two nymph companions. The mermaid, a dark skinned favorite of Lord Kalen, sat on the stone ground with her purple and silver tail swishing in the pool of water he’d created for her in the main hall’s floor. Two others sat beside her. A redhead with her legs drawn up, barely covered by the clinging white material of her gown, and a petite blonde with incredible lips, who dipped one naked foot into the water while resting her chin on her knee.

  They were the same three who sang the night he held a banquet for Juliana, and the tinkling of their joined voices rang torture over him as he remembered that night. The language was an ancient water language that cast a small spell that invoked those who listened into dancing.

  It was before Juliana accepted her place by his side as queen, when he’d introduced her to his subjects. Closing his eyes, hearing the music, he pictured her as she’d been.

  Curls had been piled high on top of her head, cascading down the back in long ringlets threaded with blue ribbons. The heavy sapphire necklace and matching ring she had worn were still in the palace vault. The jewels matched the dark blue gown Merrick had materialized for her. Starting just off her shoulder, the sheer material had fallen gracefully down past her wrist to hide her hand. The same fabric overlaid the skirt and fluttered over the darker satin as she danced. A slight smile crossed his face as he remembered the bodice. He’d made it low, the square cut showcasing her breasts, but she’d begged him to lift the material higher against her throat, as if hiding the suggestive cleavage would diminish his desire for her.

  He had made the gown dark blue to match her eyes and it had, bringing out the color. Her gaze had sparkled like the stars he called down from the heavens for her. He had rearranged the heavens and earth for her, much to the anger of the wizards, and he would do it again if he had to.

  Thinking of her like that, he unconsciously changed his clothes to what they had been that night. His tight breeches and shirt remained black, but he wore a long sleeveless overtunic that hung open in the front, falling to the ground like a cape. The dark material was embroidered with dark blue, the front held together by two silver chains that draped over his chest. An up-turned collar framed his face and leather bound back the sides of his long hair, winding down the length from his temples to just above his waist. Cool metal wrapped his forehead, crossing from temple to temple with a dark blue sapphire appearing in the center.

  “Interesting choice in decoration, my king.”

  Merrick blinked in slight confusion at the sound of Lord Kalen’s voice. But his friend did not speak of the king’s new attire, as his gaze was on the old crone hung upside down before the singing women. Thick chains held her to the ceiling, allowing her to swing back and forth. She’d given up trying to escape the hour before and now just hung, silent and grimacing.

  “Though, would you mind covering up her back end. It does not make for a very welcoming sight.” Kalen motioned his thumb at the crone but, as his eyes moved to the singing women, his expression changed. He grinned at the dark mermaid. She smiled back at him, batting her purple-tinted lashes. When he looked back at the king, he arched a playful brow as he mouthed his thanks.

  “I’m only getting started with her.” Merrick had placed the hem of the crone’s gown into the ankle chains but it must have slipped out of the back. He motioned his hand, covering the problem. The witch struggled at his words, the chains rattling anew as she glared at him. He knew she wanted to speak, but her mouth was bound shut with a ring of stone. “When I’m finished, she’ll be broken.”

  “Tell me how I should cross you, my king, so that I would deserve such a punishment.” Kalen again looked at the mermaid, biting his lip.

  “I did not summon you here for pleasantries,” Merrick said.

  “I know.” Kalen’s expression fell some. He lifted his hand, fingers up.

  “I will order her to your bed for a century if you help me…” Merrick hesitated.

  “Tell me,” Kalen said.

  Merrick lifted his hand and waited as the thin thread of light wrapped over them, telling Kalen all he needed to know. The nobleman instantly turned to where the witch hung upside down. The light disappeared and Kalen slowly pulled his shaking hand away, not bothering to look back at the king.

  “What you are asking of me…” Kalen whispered.

  “Aye, I know.” Merrick was sorry for it, but he needed to know the truth. He needed Juliana’s dagger. Lifting his hand, he materialized a drink for his friend. Kalen glanced at it, but did not touch it. “I cannot do it, Kalen. I have not the gift. But I will give you anything you ask for.”

  “Send them away. Stop their singing.” Kalen took a deep breath, striding over the stone. The carefree giant had been replaced by the efficient movements of a soldier with purpose.

  “Ladies,” Merrick ordered. Their voices stopped mid-note as they looked at him. They nodded in unison. The king waved his hand and the three singers disappeared, taking their stone pond with them, as he returned them home.

  “Remove the stone. Let her speak.” Kalen stood before the witch, reaching to pull the blindfold from her missing eyes as Merrick removed her stone gag. The elf dropped the ragged cloth on the floor. The witch sniffed him, grinning a mouthful of rotted teeth.

  “Bind her hands,” Kalen said. Merrick did, beckoning black chains from the floor to wrap her wrists, jerking them hard to the side.

  “Aye, psychic, read of me,” the crone taunted. “I have marvelous things to show you. An eternity of my deeds before you find the one you want. I will taint you. I will be in your dreams.”

  “Anything I want?” Kalen said to Merrick, giving a weak laugh as he glanced back. “Can you take the gift away? Can you stop the images I see?”

  Merrick stood. “If I could grant such a thing, I would, but I cannot—”

  The words were interrupted as Kalen laid his hands on the witch, gripping her wrinkled cheeks. The nobleman’s body stiffened. The flames in the five fireplaces stopped moving, their light over the hall unchanging as Kalen began to chant. Merrick slowly walked around, watching as the dark elf read the woman. The droning sound of the nobleman’s voice was drowned out by the sounds of the witch’s laughter as she tried to jerk away.

  Suddenly, the crone screamed, as if her soulless heart were being ripped from her chest. Her arms shook, blood trickling down the black chains as the metal cut into her wrists, dripping with increasing rapidity onto the floor. Kalen’s fingers dug into her flesh, draw
ing more blood with his nails. The dark, long length of his hair shook with each of his movements. Red began at his roots, spreading down from the crown over the brown length, the crimson color flowing over his wavy locks like blood.

  The witch’s eye sockets bled, dripping down her forehead. Kalen let out a loud cry as the witch did the same. The blood tears rolled over his cheeks, cutting alongside his mouth. He gasped, pulling away from the horrible woman as he stumbled back.

  The king made a move to go to him, wishing he could have done it himself. He sensed the deep agony the nobleman felt. Kalen lifted his hand to stop Merrick’s advance, as he fell to the ground. “Do not. No more. I cannot be touched. I do not want to see any more.”

  Kalen wiped his nose on his sleeve. Merrick motioned forward, materializing a cloth before his arm was completely extended. He dropped it on the floor near the man. Fighting the need to ask him to hurry and reveal what he’d learned, the king forced himself to hold back.

  “She’s locked the queen in a world of stone,” Kalen said.

  “We know this much. She’s—”

  “Nay, the queen is awake in a stone world. She sees us as statues, but she’s here in the palace.” Kalen pressed his palms against his head, groaning slightly. “Nay, she was here in the palace until recently. Dark spirits were sent to frighten her away. Only two others can enter the stone world.” He pointed weakly at the witch. “The crone and her counterpart, a childlike creature that lives in the Fire Palace.”

  “Too late, too late,” the witch cackled.

  “To know the future is to know madness,” Kalen whispered, his words rambling and slurred as he talked more to himself than Merrick, “for there are things that cannot be changed. But, to see the past and present, to feel the darkness that will not be altered, to know there is no hope of fighting the deeds that are already done. Sometimes it is better not to reveal.”

  “Kalen, please, I must know,” Merrick insisted.

  “You, in your pain, made a glorious infusion to the witch’s power.” Kalen breathed heavily. “She fed off your misery and would be feeding still. I feel how you love and want your wife. Only, the witch didn’t count on your love for Juliana being so strong. Since you faced the crone in her den, your feelings have weakened her. Her guard was down and I felt, I saw… They have yet to finish…”