The Forgotten Queen

by Matt Glicksman

  Standing in the middle of the road, Erynion scanned all around him and was comforted by the faint patch of dark energy he assumed to be Flinch. Glad the jester had tagged along, Erynion set his sights on the city. Though somewhat close to the north gate, he was well outside the range of any scorchers. He waited patiently, keeping a close watch for any auras hidden in the surrounding area. The quiet calmed him, and for a moment, he enjoyed the cool morning breeze as it made his hair dance.

  The door to Nolka opened and revealed a small figure. Dressed in black and using a golden staff as a walking stick, the man sauntered down the road as the gate shut behind him. He appeared to be alone, but Erynion maintained his distance. When the old man was close enough, the demon lord recognized him as the archdon who had confronted him by the twisted gate.

  The archdon stopped a dozen paces away. "Welcome back to Nolka. You remember me?"

  "Archdon Feranis," Erynion said in the demonic tongue.

  "Ever since the Prima told me about your little arrangement with Don Millan, I wondered how you'd let me know you were here. Imagine my surprise when a wanderer materialized in my bedroom. Nearly scared the soul right out of me."

  "My apologies. That wasn't my intention. I didn't want to approach the city and send your watchers into a panic. I'm glad to hear Millan kept his end of the agreement. Does this mean you're willing to cooperate?"

  "I've yet to make that decision. First, we need to have a chat. Come and sit with me." Feranis stepped off the dirt road and into the grass.

  Erynion suspiciously eyed the star at the end of the staff as he paused at the path's edge.

  "Come closer, please. I don't wish to shout." The archdon lowered himself to the ground.

  "I was warned about those stars, special conduits created for Ayristark's advisors."

  "Ah, I see you're much more informed this time around. I suppose you even know your true identity."

  Erynion played the part of a statue as he stared blankly at the old man.

  "The conduits to which you're referring are designed around specific spells. Mine helps with enchanting. It's what allows me to be so proficient at it, beyond what any other priest has been capable of. So, you have nothing to fear from this star."

  Erynion had already accepted the inherent risk of meeting alone with an archdon, but taking a few moments to assess his situation seemed prudent. If he left now, he still had one more night before the enchantment on his chains faded. The Denhauli seemed to believe he no longer needed them after last night, but abandoning this safety net without an adequate backup plan was reckless. And so, he closed the gap and sat in front of Feranis. At the very least, Flinch was nearby in case something happened.

  The archdon placed the golden staff across his lap. "Good. You may not agree, but I'm in a much more precarious situation than you are. At this distance, you could rip me to shreds before I uttered a single word."

  Erynion held up his hands. His nails, though uncut, were far from the sharp talons that appeared at night. "Nothing of that sort will happen. What do you wish to discuss?"

  "Before we begin, I'd like to make something clear. This is not an interrogation. This is an open discussion. I wish to ask you some questions, and you may find you have a few yourself. If you don't wish to answer, I won't force the issue, but the more open you are with me, the more open I'll be with you. Fair?"

  "Fair."

  "The night you arrived in Nolka, we lost someone. A promising, young priest named Yatiga. The watchers reported she left the city with you and a demon matching the description of the Seductress. We haven't heard from her since. I don't suppose she survived."

  Though he had struggled with the agony that night, Erynion remembered the female priest who had stood up to the Seductress. He also recalled the decaying corpse the following morning. The demon lord slowly shook his head.

  "Can you tell me what happened?"

  "There was a short battle between your priest and the Seductress. Halfway through, your priest just gave up. She became very friendly and helped us through the north gate. The rest of the night's a blur."

  "Did the Seductress pierce the back of her neck?"

  Erynion shrugged. "I wasn't particularly observant. The agony was unbearable."

  "And the next morning?"

  "I woke up in the woods with the Seductress. She had released Corruption, and everything around us was dead and rotting—trees, flowers, your priest."

  Feranis closed his eyes. A single tear welled up in the corner, and his lip quivered.

  "This priest was someone dear to you."

  The archdon slowly opened his eyes. "Yatiga was beyond dear to me. She's the closest thing I had to a daughter."

  Erynion thought about his own daughter, Sereyna. She'd be seven now. How much she must've grown in the three years he'd been trapped in the Depths. His heart thumped as his memories shifted from his daughter to her namesake, Altheus's sister. "I'm sorry for your loss. I, too, have lost someone to the cruelty of the Seductress."

  Feranis folded his arms. "I must say, you're the oddest demon I've ever come across. Most spew insults and hate and take any opportunity to kill a priest. I don't think I've ever heard a demon apologize or express sorrow."

  "If you're looking for an explanation, I have none."

  "No, simply observing. Perhaps a demon lord has a more developed range of emotions, just as the iymed have a more developed intelligence over the fray."

  "Perhaps." The conversation didn't interest Erynion. "Was there something else or can we discuss the reason I'm here?"

  "One more topic, if you'll indulge me. I believe you're the only one who can put this to rest."

  "Proceed."

  "When you emerged from the twisted gate, you ended up in Nesinu. The village had been evacuated, save for one priest. Don Skully. An old man, bald, long beard, likely with a walking stick."

  Erynion concentrated on the description. "The agony was the worst on my first night, but the person you describe sounds familiar."

  "Any chance you know if he's still alive?"

  Snippets of the first night flashed in his mind. "There was light. It burned. I killed him."

  Feranis was silent for a moment. "I see."

  "My mind was pushed to the brink of insanity. I acted out of—"

  The archdon lifted his hand. "Please. There's no need to explain."

  Erynion growled softly. "I'm not a mindless killer."

  "Then you have a reason to kill King Batar?"

  "You're venturing into an area I've no desire to speak about."

  "Then what would you like to speak about?"

  Erynion was about to bring up the enchanting topic once again, when a thought crossed his mind. Feranis had inquired about the demise of two priests, and Erynion answered the best he could. Maybe he should ask about his new friend. "There was a man who lived in Nolka. A beggar called Dulo. Did you know him?"

  Feranis's eyebrows shot up. "Dulo? I suppose I knew him about as well as any other resident of Nolka."

  "Did you know he died recently?"

  "I had heard that, yes. Just a couple of days ago. Tragic, really."

  "Do you know how or why?" Erynion asked.

  "I believe it was suicide."

  "Suicide?"

  "Mm-hmm. He was arrested the day after your visit to Nolka. After all, he was responsible for bringing you into the city, which resulted in the subsequent attack."

  "How does that lead to suicide?"

  Feranis bit his lower lip. "We lost a few watchers that night, not to mention Yatiga. We tried to round up members of the Brotherhood, but they were all in the wind. Dulo was the only one still around that we could tie to the demons, and so he took most of the blame. That poor man. I told the watchers he didn't know anything."

  "What are you saying? They beat him?"

  "I don't know. I stayed out of it."

  Erynion narrowed his eyes. "Because you knew they'd torture him, even though he had no idea what he was d
oing when he led me through those gates. You could've stopped them, but you turned your back on him. You thought he deserved it."

  "How do you—the wanderer?"

  The demon lord nodded. "I suppose we both have some blood on our hands."

  Feranis sighed. "I made a mistake. I can't change that, but I hope one day I can make amends with his spirit. Maybe help him transcend."

  "You couldn't save his life, but you can save many others. Enchant my chains."

  "Save lives? I know the argument behind this arrangement. Mutually beneficial, right? Well, what happens when you've learned your spells? When you can control your purge? How many lives will we lose then?"

  Erynion groaned. "Just one."

  "I've thought about this a lot. Ever since the Prima told me you'd show up at Nolka. Are the Denhauli still with you?"

  "What do they have to do with this?"

  "I hear they can speak directly to Verago. Is that true?" Feranis asked.

  "So I've been told."

  "I'll enchant your chains in exchange for a small favor."

  "Nothing to do with the king, I hope."

  "No, this would be a personal favor. There is always a degree of uncertainty when someone dies regarding whether they transcend or not. I don't believe Yatiga carried any burdens, but it would ease my soul considerably to know hers is not bound to Verago or trapped in the Depths. Can you tell me her fate tomorrow morning?"

  Erynion imagined how that conversation would go with Ojjuk. Perhaps, it was better if he asked Eyzora. "I will look into it. Does this mean you won't do the enchantment until tomorrow?"

  "Yes and no. Place your chains on the ground before me." Feranis shifted to his knees and used his staff as support.

  The demon lord unwrapped the metal links and coiled them in the grass.

  The archdon held his hand over the chains. "This spell was strong enough to prevent your purge?"

  "Not by itself, no. It merely kept the agony at bay long enough for me to retain my sanity and cast some spells throughout the night."

  "I'm not surprised. You have too much energy for this enchantment to burn through. In its current state, it would only last you the night. So, in the interest of time, I'll simply add to this spell and make it stronger."

  "And I won't feel the agony at all?"

  "I can't say for sure, but it'll definitely be a vast improvement. Meet here tomorrow, an hour after sunrise. You tell me the fate of Don Yatiga's soul, and you'll get your enchantment."

  Chapter 11

  "You're late," Lady Sundancer said sternly.

  "I'm sorry, I"—Millan panted as he propped himself on his knees for support—"I ran as fast as I could."

  "Millan!" Prima Mashira beckoned him over from across the stables.

  The Nesinu priest straightened up and fixed his white scarf. As he strolled toward the Prima, his legs quaked from his recent sprint through the Sanctuary. "I'm sorry, Your Luminescence. I know I'm late. I was returning Don Jaisse's clothing to him, then I went to the wrong stables. I didn't realize the Sanctuary had two. And then I got lost on the way here."

  Mashira held up her hand. "It's quite all right. Ten minutes here or there isn't going to make a difference in the end. Follow me."

  They walked to a nearby stall where Millan instantly recognized its occupant. "Orfius!"

  The horse with a dark-and-tan brindle coat and white hair around the hooves whinnied and offered its neck to the priest. As Millan gently stroked her mane, he thought fondly of his mentor, Don Skully.

  "She was brought back to Light's Haven after the attack on Royal Oak. As an ambassador, you require a horse. I think it's only fitting you should have Don Skully's."

  Millan's eyes widened. "You're giving her to me?"

  "Not entirely. She still belongs to the guild. However, as long as you remain in good standing within Candelux, I don't see why Orfius couldn't be assigned to you on a permanent basis."

  "Thank you so much. I'll take good care of her."

  "I know you will. Come, I'd like to introduce you to the other ambassadors."

  As Millan followed her, he glanced over his shoulder to find Sundancer right on his heels. He still couldn't believe this was all happening. Ambassador to the Death Gods. A trip to Alovajj. A Champion of the Light as his bodyguard.

  At the front of the convoy, outside a white carriage with gold accents, was a man in a black robe and white scarf that matched Millan's. The Prima stopped next to the archdon. "Ambassador Millan, I'd like to introduce you to Ambassador Kainol."

  "Nice to meet you." Millan eagerly extended his hand.

  Kainol had some age to him, as was evident by the patches of gray hair, but they in no way outnumbered the black hairs, which seamlessly extended down into a chinstrap beard. He pressed his thin lips together, and they nearly disappeared. "I see you're unaware of the etiquette, but in spite of your new title, your rank is still that of a don. In fact, outside of formal proceedings, it would be completely acceptable to call you Don Millan, instead of Ambassador Millan. And so, your interaction with me should be no different than with any other archdon."

  Millan looked at the Prima before dropping his hand and bowing. "Apologies, Your Grace. This is all very new to me."

  "Don't give it a second thought. It's nice to finally meet you. Prima Mashira has told me a lot about you."

  "She has?"

  "Of course," Kainol said. "I make it a point to know exactly who's going to be by my side. Now, were you bothered or annoyed when I corrected you?"

  "Not really, no. More embarrassed."

  "There's no shame in that. The first part of ambassadorship is showing people the proper respect. And I don't just mean me. You must adapt to the culture of others. For example, when we get to Alovajj, the Death Gods don't use titles. But that doesn't mean we drop ours when we talk to one another. Understand?"

  "Yes, Your Grace."

  Mashira patted Kainol on the shoulder. "He'll do fine. Is everything ready to go?"

  "Yes, Your Luminescence. Now that Ambassador Millan is here, we can begin the journey."

  "Excellent. Safe travels and may the angels watch over you."

  "Thank you. And you as well."

  Mashira led Millan past a number of watchers to a plainer carriage. Two women stood by the door, one robe black, the other brown.

  "Ambassador Millan," the Prima said as they approached the carriage. "I present Ambassador Navi Laila."

  Millan bowed. "Your Grace, it's nice to meet you."

  The woman in the black robe had short, sun-kissed brown hair that dangled above her shoulders. A wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows. "Your Grace? 'ow's that? You're an ambassador same as me, aren't you?"

  The Nesinu priest was startled by the difference in demeanor compared to Kainol. Her accent sounded familiar, but Millan couldn't quite place it.

  "There's never been a don appointed as an ambassador in the history of Candelux," Mashira explained. "So, feel free to decide however you wish for him to address you."

  Navi mused. "I suppose when Kainol's 'anging around, Your Grace it is. Otherwise, Navi'll do. Anyway, nice to meet you as well. This 'ere is my second, Don Layola. She 'elps me with whatever I need."

  The woman in the brown robe nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Ambassador Millan."

  "Likewise," the Nesinu priest answered.

  There was a short lull before the Prima spoke. "Well, I have matters to attend to. Ambassador Millan, Lady Sundancer, Ambassador Navi, Don Layola, I wish you all safe travels and may the angels watch over you."

  The group returned the Prima's wishes, and she departed.

  "So, Millan," Navi said. "Is it true you were 'eld captive by the demon lord?"

  "Yes, for about five days."

  "And you negotiated your release?"

  "That's right."

  Navi chuckled. "It's no wonder they made you an ambassador. You're a born negotiator."

  Millan smiled sheepishly. "I don't think that's the reason.
"

  "Oh?"

  Before he could elaborate, Archdon Kainol joined the group. "Sorry to interrupt, but we're going to be getting underway. Ambassador Millan, your horse has been positioned behind Ambassador Navi's coach."

  "Understood, Your Grace. Thank you."

  "Now, 'old on a minute," Navi jumped in. "Millan's an ambassador, so 'e should be in a coach too."

  "It's all right," Millan said. "I don't mind riding on horseback."

  "Nonsense. You can 'ave Layola's spot and ride with me while she takes your 'orse."

  The Nesinu priest didn't know what to say. He didn't want to force someone out of a comfortable journey. Lady Sundancer stepped in before he could respond.

  "Ambassador Navi, I would prefer if Ambassador Millan didn't leave my sight."

  "Well, 'e won't as 'e'll be right 'ere in my coach. I'd like to 'ave a nice chat with the young man."

  "In that case, I humbly request you speak with Ambassador Millan while he remains on his horse."

  "Oh, come now, Lady Sundancer. You can’t expect the young man to 'ave a proper talk like that. I'm not going to 'arm 'im."

  Millan's eyes darted back and forth as the two discussed the traveling arrangement until finally the bloodseeker reluctantly relented.

  "Fine, but I'll be right next to the carriage every step of the trip."

  "I wouldn't expect otherwise." Navi stepped to the side. "After you, Ambassador."

  Millan lifted himself into the coach. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sundancer staring intently at him. It made him uneasy, but the Nesinu priest ignored her and plopped down on the seat.

  Ambassador Navi entered, shut the door, and drew the curtain. "There we are. Comfortable?"

  "Yes, very. Thank you. I'm worried about Lady Sundancer, though."

  "Oh, she'll be fine on a 'orse."

  "No, it's not that, it's just—"

  Navi snickered. "I know what you meant. She 'as a duty. Well, there's no 'arm in 'er being on the other side of a window. Even if she doesn't trust me."