The Forgotten Queen

by Matt Glicksman

  "So what's my other option?"

  "Accelerated mending. This is the most common form of healing and its practice is shared by both priests and pan-mages. Although, they tend to disagree on the method of administering the energy, the end result is the same. Energy is transferred from the healer to the patient in order to supplement the natural healing process. The patient's body does all the work, but much quicker, thanks to the additional energy. Because demons naturally regenerate limbs, it would be more effective for you to use this method and focus your energy to regrow your fingers and his arm."

  Ojjuk approached the jester. "The dead arm has to come off first."

  "What?!" Flinch grabbed his shoulder and backed away. "You want to cut off Righty again?"

  Eyzora joined her mate. "I'm afraid he's right. The dead flesh is hindering your growth. It must be removed. There's no other way."

  "If I was able to unlock miracle healing in my mind, we wouldn't have to cut it off, right?" Erynion asked.

  "Technically, yes. But, there's no telling how long it will take you to accomplish that. You're talking about a very difficult spell and extensive knowledge. Something like that doesn't just magically appear after a single day of meditation."

  "But, once I learn it, I won't need the other method, the mending. Maybe we should just put extra effort into learning the miracle healing."

  The red wolf locked eyes with the demon lord. "That's not true. Not every situation calls for miracle healing. In most cases, accelerated mending will do the trick, especially for demons. Each method has its advantages, and they complement each other. Trust me. This is the best approach."

  "Will it hurt?" asked the jester.

  The black wolf gently lifted Flinch's right hand with his teeth. "Do you feel this?"

  "No."

  In a flash, Ojjuk lurched forward and sank his teeth into the jester's shoulder. Flinch shrieked and collapsed on the ground.

  "Flinch!" Erynion knelt beside the iymed. "Flinch, are you all right?"

  The jester glared at the black wolf before slowly shifting his eyes toward the demon lord. "Oh, hey there. Yeah, great. That was only the most terrifying healing procedure I've experienced in my entire life and afterlife."

  Ojjuk spit the arm into the woods. "He's fine. Quick and painless."

  Erynion stood and faced the Denhauli. "How do you both know so much about healing? Were you priests?"

  "Pan-mages," Eyzora said. "Ojjuk and I dabbled in both healing and shape-shifting."

  "Let me guess. Wolves?"

  ✽✽✽

  "Well, here it is." Don Jaisse indicated the plaque on the ground between two lonely black bricks in a sea of red.

  Millan stooped and ran his fingers across the raised letters. "'Here knelt the Zaidon, Umaro Lijjo, as he was cleansed by Her Luminescence, Prima Mashira.' This is amazing."

  "I guess. Most people who live here just ignore this stuff. They walk over that plaque every day."

  Millan shuffled over and placed his knees on the two black bricks. His head rolled in every direction. He tried to envision what it was like during the Assault. He pictured the Prima standing over him, surrounded by hundreds of fighters. "This is the last view he had of the Surface. Where was the hole they broke out of?"

  "Over there somewhere." Jaisse vaguely indicated the spot with the wave of his hand. "I'm not really sure, it's not marked."

  The Nesinu priest stood in the middle of the square. This was one of many locations he had always wished to see in Light's Haven. The only other time he'd been in the capital was for his Acceptance, and Don Skully was not keen on sightseeing during their short stay. Millan smiled at his escort. "Hey, thanks for showing me around."

  "Eh, no problem. It was the least I could do after you shared your account of Royal Oak and your imprisonment. Plus, it's kind of nice to see the landmarks through the eyes of a tourist. I'm one of those people I mentioned earlier who tends to just ignore this stuff."

  "I've waited years to see these spots. I've imagined them so many times, but it's nothing like actually being here."

  Jaisse slowly turned his back to Millan. "Well, we should probably be heading back. The lanterns are being lit, which means it's almost seven strikes."

  Millan quickly joined him as Jaisse began walking out of the square. "Already? I still have one more place to see."

  "Can't it wait until tomorrow? Aren't you hungry?"

  "Not really."

  "Tired?"

  "No way. I'm too excited."

  "Hmm. And what is the last place you want to see?"

  "The golden line."

  Jaisse groaned. "The golden line? You don't want to go there. Trust me."

  Millan frowned. The golden line represented the farthest point the Brute's army had reached in the capital before retreating. It was the final site related to the Assault he hadn't seen yet. "Why not?"

  "Well, for starters, it's on the complete opposite side of the city. We'd never make it there and back in time for dinner. And secondly, it's not really such a nice place. I mean, the line isn't made of real gold. It's just stone."

  "I don't mind. I can go after dinner. And don't worry, you don't have to come with me. Maybe just tell me how to get there."

  "Did I mention it's not a nice place? I definitely wouldn't go at night. Priests aren't exactly welcome there."

  "What? Really? How could that be?" Millan asked.

  "How do I explain this? All right, so, you have the castle in the south, and the Sanctuary in the northeast. And most of the nobility live around and between those two points, right? So, that leaves the northern and western parts of the city for the commoners. As you know, the Brute came through the west gate during the Assault. The buildings there were demolished. I'm talking homes, shops, a school. When the Assault ended, a lot of Light's Haven needed to be fixed." Jaisse pointed over his shoulder. "The tunnel where the Zaidon emerged had to be filled in first. That was given top priority. Because of the Seductress and the Shade, the moat around Thoris Castle was widened and an additional portcullis was added to the royal grounds. Pretty much everything was more important than the slums."

  "The slums?"

  "Yup, that's what they are now. With no help from the city and builders being forced to work on other projects, the people in the west rebuilt their homes from the wreckage. I use the term 'rebuilt' loosely. After all, how well can you really build something when you have no experience in construction and your only materials are debris?"

  Millan shook his head. "That's terrible. Couldn't they ask for help?"

  "Of course. And they did. Guy by the name of Horvin went every day to the castle to petition for help, but his requests fell on deaf ears. King Cato was so distraught by the loss of Princess Sereyna, he mourned her for months. He deferred all judgments to the nobility, who naturally wanted to protect the areas where they lived first."

  "They couldn't even spare a few of the builders?"

  Jaisse chuckled. "It's clear you grew up in a small town. You have no idea how selfish the nobles can be."

  "Well, what about Candelux? I heard Head Archdon Vikard is leading the initiative to rebuild Royal Oak. Couldn't the same thing have happened here?"

  "Maybe, but the Prima's decision to put him in charge of fixing Royal Oak is probably an example of her learning from her mistakes. You have to remember that after the Assault, the Prima was still very new to her role. While Candelux's power is said to rival the throne's, she probably didn't wish to overstep her bounds. Plus, it wasn't much later that the whole debacle with the Death Gods sprang up."

  "So, those people were just forgotten?" Millan asked.

  "Pretty much. I can't remember exactly when, but maybe about a year after the Assault, the king wanted to fix up the area. But by then, it was too late. Horvin had already created a sect of commoners dedicated to protecting the slums and helping those who live there. They call themselves douters."

  "As in, doubting anyone is going to help them?"
r />   "Actually, it's douter without the b. It's the device used to snuff out candles."

  Millan gulped. "As in, killing priests?"

  "Not quite so sinister. More along the lines of killing the light, or preventing the light from spreading back into the slums. Horvin and his douters run the area free of influence from the king, from the nobles, and from Candelux. He even has his own watchers. It's a dark spot in the city, so naturally whatever remained of the Brotherhood flocked to its protection. There are even rumors the douters have a strong link to Anoctis, and they've used the thieves more than a few times to steal from the rest of the city."

  "What about the Anoctis assassins? Do the douters use them too?"

  "Who knows? I wouldn't be surprised, but there's no way to know for sure. Anyway, the whole reason I bring up this story is because the slums aren't exactly a place for a priest. If something were to happen to you, it's unlikely anyone would know about it until it's too late."

  Millan hunched his shoulders.

  "Look," Jaisse said, "it's not so bad. But I would recommend you go tomorrow during the day. And you might want to leave the brown robe in the Sanctuary."

  "But I don't have any other clothes. My belongings were in the Royal Oak rectory when it was destroyed."

  "No problem. I can loan you some clothing. Just make sure you don't venture into the slums."

  "How will I know?"

  "Heh, you'll know. The border's pretty obvious. You can't miss it."

  Millan mused. "Let me guess. The golden line."

  Chapter 5

  His bushy blond ponytail barely swayed as Eriph traversed the stone corridors of Moultia Palace. Across his back, he carried an odd object for a priest, a metal shield. With three points at the top like a crown, the shield tapered at the bottom into a rounded point and hung just below his waist. In the middle of the crest, the shield was adorned with a simple four-pointed star, the symbol of Candelux, despite his recent expulsion from the guild. Eriph passed a few fellow Death Gods and politely nodded, recognizing them from his sponsorship ceremony earlier. As he approached the bedroom of Founder Mortis, Eriph briefly caught a conversation from the other side. One voice was unmistakably Mortis, Eriph's sponsor and one of the nine Death God founders. But the priest didn't recognize the other speaker.

  "He hasn't found the conduit yet," Mortis said.

  "What if it's not in Light's Haven?"

  "It has to be."

  Eriph knocked and the voices stopped. The door opened, and a woman appeared in the threshold. Immediately, the priest noticed her eyes, a strange mix of blue and gray, like a sky unsure of what weather to bring. The hair that rested softly on her shoulders was beyond a single color, as though her body couldn't decide which shade would be best. From the end of her hair, he briefly noticed her bandaged arm, but his focus was drawn back to her eyes.

  The woman stared intently at him. Her head tilted and her eyes narrowed. Eriph suddenly realized how the situation looked. It wasn't his intention to ogle her, but there he stood with his mouth open and no idea what to say. Luckily, he was saved as the door opened the rest of the way and revealed his sponsor.

  "Eriph, what a pleasant surprise," he said with a growl.

  "Founder Mortis." Eriph gave a slight bow. "Sorry, I mean, Mortis."

  "Better. You'll get used to it. May I introduce you to Ivochna. She's also part of our group."

  "It's a pleasure to meet you," Eriph said to the woman.

  Ivochna hadn't broken her gaze for a moment. The priest tried to avert his eyes, but they were eventually pulled back to hers.

  "Likewise," she finally said, before brushing past him.

  Eriph felt compelled to turn and watch her walk away. Her outfit was made up of a shirt with one missing sleeve, a buckled vest, and formfitting pants, which pegged her as most likely a scout. Since his arrival, he had been introduced to many Death Gods, especially under Mortis's sponsorship, but this was the first time he had met her.

  Mortis cleared his throat.

  Eriph faced him and forced an innocent smile. "Sorry, I just haven't seen her around here before."

  The founder's expression remained flat. Above his thin lips, he had only the right side of his face exposed. The left was shrouded by his hood. "Ivochna has been on a very important assignment out by the Den. She only just returned a few hours ago. How are you settling in now that you're officially a Death God?"

  "Good. Very good. I didn't realize how many people would show up to the ceremony today."

  "It's not every day someone gets sponsored."

  "I see. I noticed there were only five founders there."

  Mortis sighed. "Was there something you wished to discuss?"

  "Yes, there is."

  "Very well. I need to head to the dungeon. Why don't you come with me and we can talk on the way."

  Eriph was only a half step behind as Mortis took the lead. "I came to ask you for permission. When I was here for specialty training, I learned so much from Founder Braha—um, I mean, Brahawee. I was hoping you'd allow me to continue training with her."

  "Hmm. Eriph, I know these first few days have been difficult for you, adjusting to our culture. As someone who came from the same guild with the same expectations and hierarchy, I understand your plight. It, too, was difficult for me to break away from the titles, the bows, the…the signs of so-called respect. You'll learn, as I did from Shinigami, that we are all equals here. The ranks among the Death Gods exist to maintain some semblance of order and make decisions on behalf of the guild. However, your personal decisions are your own. I am not your master."

  "But you're my sponsor."

  "Of course. We discovered early on sponsors were necessary to keep the guild free of buffoonery. We are responsible for whom we vouch. A black mark against you is a black mark against me and my judgment. As your sponsor, I alone choose whether your place in this guild exists."

  "But I can do whatever I want?" Eriph asked.

  "So long as your actions do not break our one rule, you can do whatever you want, go wherever you want, and say whatever you want."

  "All right. Well, in that case, I have a question for you. Why did you sponsor me?"

  "It's no mystery. I knew who you were. I knew what you were capable of."

  "But in the past year, you never spoke with me once. And now, you trust me?"

  Mortis groaned. "Mm, trust. Like love, that's a word with many degrees. Do I trust you with my life? Not a chance. Not yet, at least. Do I trust you'll make a good Death God? Well, I wouldn't have sponsored you if I didn't."

  "But how can you be sure?"

  "Are you planning on proving me wrong?"

  "Of course not," the priest sternly answered.

  "Good. Now, if you're here to ask me for advice, I'll gladly give it. But, at no time do you need my permission. Understood?"

  "Yes. Thank you." Suspicion lingered in Eriph's mind. There must have been something else behind the sponsorship, but he didn't wish to press the matter.

  "Tell me, Eriph, have you been to the dungeon yet?"

  The question caught him by surprise. "No."

  "Would you like to see it?"

  "Sure. Is there something down there to see?"

  "Aside from the demons our beginner relaks are working on, yes, we actually have a new prisoner."

  Eriph had heard of relaks during his training with Brahawee. They were zaidons, dark energy users, who specialized in controlling demons. During the process, demons were tamed and answered only to their relak. The Death Gods called it companionship, but others equated it more to servitude or slavery.

  "A new prisoner, huh? Anything special?"

  "A couple of oddities," Mortis said. "It's why I've been asked to have a little chat with him."

  "Oddities?"

  "Well, it would seem this demon is burdened with a reservoir of dark energy."

  Eriph gave it some thought but couldn't determine the significance. "What does that mean?"

&nb
sp; "I'm not sure. It's the first time I've heard of such a thing. I'm told it's quite a bit of energy, though. It's isolated by a barrier and quarantined within his body. We need to find out why."

  "Quarantined energy might mean he's prone to the agony if the barrier is dissolved. Is there any risk of a purge?"

  "Unlikely. There are priests keeping watch over him until this is all sorted. Any hint of trouble and that cell will light up so much you'd think we'd captured the sun."

  "What about the other thing?" Eriph asked.

  "How do you mean?"

  "You said a couple of oddities."

  "Mm, yes. Apparently he's injured."

  "And that's strange?"

  As they approached an archway leading to a stairwell, Mortis faced the priest. "It didn't happen during his capture. He was already injured when he emerged from the Depths. Verago normally ensures his demons are in good health before sending them up. So, yes, it's strange."

  "What's wrong with him?"

  "He's blind."

  ✽✽✽

  Prison. Again. Verago would not be pleased if he knew. The trap set by the Death Gods was a surprise, considering the scouts reported the area to be all clear. Evidently, they were misinformed. The next step was to figure a way out. It wouldn't be easy, but it wouldn't be the first time he made it out of Alovajj.

  Sonojj rested his back against the interior of the cage. He gripped the metal bars on both sides and kicked the enclosure with his feet. Good construction. Any attempt to stand was pointless as the box was only a few feet high. The demon drew in a deep breath, and four distinct scents tantalized his nostrils. His guards wore cloth, probably robes, which meant they were likely priests. Sonojj's captors had no doubt discovered his pouch of dark energy.

  The hinges squealed as a distant door opened. Two sets of footsteps approached the cage before parting ways. The steps that continued toward him belonged to someone quite large and probably female, given the floral scent. The other set was barely audible and moved to the side near a couple of the guards.