The prisoner’s gaze hardens, “A queen who demands the death of an entire race of people to conceal a secret misdeed of her own is no queen at all. The true ruler of Vacantia will rise up and reclaim the throne you’ve poisoned and corrupted.”
The smacking of Lyra’s palm across the prisoner’s face echoes off the stone walls of the throne room. The prisoner’s head snaps back as blood drips from his nose.
“Thane Cruelseas you are hereby stripped of your position and found guilty of treason, insubordination, and murder against your fellow Vacantians. You are sentenced to execution by hanging on the morning of the blood rain.” Lyra grips the armrests of the throne so hard that they crack apart beneath her fingers as she reins in her temper.
“Take him to the dungeon,” Lyra flicks her index and middle fingers dismissing the soldiers and the prisoner. “Perhaps a night in the cell of serpents will persuade Citizen Cruelseas to give up the location of his allies.”
“I’d rather die,” The prisoner grins madly as he is kicked square in the back by one of the soldiers and dragged from the throne room.
“Bring me the general of the Vacantian army,” Lyra snaps at a maid scuttling through the room dusting the portraits of Pavo’s long dead relatives.
The woman, a homely, round thing with light brown hair and innocent dove gray eyes, stops dead in her tracks and meets Lyra’s gaze as she worries her lower lip between her teeth.
“Now!” Lyra snarls.
“Y-y-ye-es-s, Your Majesty,” the frightened woman drops into a low curtsy. “Right away, Your Majesty.”
“Hmph,” Lyra grunts as she tosses her legs over the broken armrest and rearranges her black tulle skirts. She drums her fingers on her knee and waits impatiently.
Ten minutes later the general hurries into the throne room escorted by the petrified maid.
“It’s about time,” Lyra sneers, “I was about to die of boredom while you made me wait.”
“Apologies, Your Majesty,” the maid curtsies again. “I had to go to the city gates to track down the General.”
“Fine,” Lyra wiggles her fingers dismissively. “Back to your duties.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Lyra turns her attention to the General, “I want an update on the soldiers we sent to make camp near the Watierai Warrior encampment.”
“We have not received word since they left the foothills heading southwest, Your Majesty.” The General replies.
“Nothing at all?” Lyra questions. “Have you sent messengers?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the balding man clasps his hands behind his back. “They also have not returned. The only traffic from that direction has been the two Shroudanian soldiers transporting the prisoner.”
“I see,” Lyra replies blandly as she steeples her fingers.
“Would Your Majesty like me to send a party out to see what’s going on?” The General asks.
“Stand down for now,” Lyra shakes her head. “The Shroudanian naval fleet is currently patrolling and protecting our coastal border and I want the bulk of our numbers protecting the city from infiltration.”
“Very good, Your Majesty,” the General bows and strides from the throne room.
“It’s so difficult being Queen,” Lyra’s sister’s voice rasps and breaks as her fingers slip around the side of the throne.
“What do you want?” Lyra snaps as her sister appears at her side.
“Our people grow restless,” she informs Lyra as her silver eyes glaze milky white. “They thirst for revenge.”
“Their chance will come soon enough,” Lyra replies indifferently.
“Aye, that’s what you always say,” her sister flashes her a toothless grin. “They won’t wait much longer before taking matters into their own hands.”
“If they have nothing better to do,” Lyra stares off into nothingness, steepling and un-steepling her fingers, “send them to the south and let them feast on the crown-less prince and his band of misfits.”
Her sister cackles, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Just remember, dear sister. Our people are as slippery as the water we were borne of. Impossible to catch and even harder to hold.”
❖
Thane
The Queen’s goons dragged Thane through the palace, past gawking maids and disapproving member’s of the Queen’s council and down into the bowels of the castle to the dungeons. Vacantia’s royal dungeon was infamous for being so far below ground that no one would hear the screams of the prisoners or smell the stench of unwashed bodies and rotting flesh.
During King Pavo’s reign the dungeon was home to Esternwhorl’s most notorious and deadly criminals. The animals who were better off locked away than walking among the people of Vacantia. The war criminals who had razed cities and done things so unspeakable that they shall never be recalled again.
When Lyra took the throne under the guise of being Queen Regent, things changed. The vicious, deadly killers were let loose from their cage. The war lords were given positions of power over the Royal Vacantian Army and the deranged killers were given license to do what they wish — up to the brink of death - to Lyra’s incoming prisoners.
The men and women Lyra condemned to the depths of the castle dungeons were innocent men and women she convinced the people of Vanyia were Mistborn sent below to await execution. Anyone who opposed Lyra’s rule now claimed space in the damp, dark cells below. Here also housed in the bowels of the castle were Lyra’s first husband, Grus, and her natural born daughter Midgella.
It was Midgella’s screams who echoed off the walls as the goons hustled Thane into the dungeon. Though Thane had never seen the young woman before, her resemblance to the usurper queen was a dead giveaway to her identity. One of the depraved killers-turned-wardens had strung the woman up, her arms straining against gravity as her wrists chafed around the metal shackles suspending her from the ceiling.
Midgella who had always been round around the middle was now swimming in the dirty gown she wore that had once been white or cream but now looked as if it had been stuffed up a chimney. Her dark hair hung limp and tangled about her face hiding her features.
Her captor circled her idly as he contemplated the torture devices laid out on a metal slab beside him. He’d already inflicted the red hot iron rods fresh from the fire against the struggling woman’s neck and exposed collarbone. His hand moved over to a slim bladed knife which he used to carve lines into the woman’s stomach as red splotches appeared through her dirty gown. Midgella ground her teeth, trying to keep from crying out. It was fruitless in the end as her captor carved a line from her right eyebrow to the left corner of her mouth.
Thane felt her screams in the marrow of his bones as the goons transporting him held him in place to watch the whole ordeal.
“This is what happens to those who go against Queen Lyra,” one of the goons hissed in Thane’s ear as he jabbed Thane sharply in the side with his elbow.
Thane grunted, “Does it make you feel like a man to carve up young girls?”
“Shut your mouth,” the other goon growled as he backhanded Thane across the face.
Thane shook his head and tried to smirk through the pain. “You won’t break me.”
“We’ll see about that,” the first goon sneered as they dragged him to the last cell in the row. This particular cell was not comprised of bars of steel like the others. It was made entirely of iron, a room with a narrow door with only a small window to look through.
One goon grabbed a sharp looking instrument as he slowly opened the cell as the other one held Thane in place.
“Get him in quick,” the man with the metal instrument ordered through clenched teeth.
The other goon shoved Thane into the cell and slammed the door behind him. As he was met with hundreds of beady eyes staring back at him and the deafening hissing sound of hundreds of forked tongues and the rattling of tails Thane realized what the usurper queen had in store for him was another level of torture.
; ❖
Andromeda
“How far are we from Vanyia?” Andromeda asked the octopus-armed man at her side as she peered through the spyglass provided to her.
“About five leagues, Your Highness,” Serpane informed her as he braced two of his tentacle arms on the rail.
“I’ve told you, please call me Andromeda or Eda,” she reminded him. “How long will that take?”
“About three and a half hours under the right sailing conditions.” Serpane estimated.
“Good,” Andromeda nodded approvingly. “We shall arrive as night falls.”
She excused herself and walked over to where Daegan stood consulting maps.
“I still don’t like this,” Daegan remarked without looking up from the map. Andromeda looked over his shoulder so that to the rest of the crew it looked like they were discussing something on the map.
“It’s a perfect plan,” Andromeda assured him. “The rest of the Perscesian and Losteroan fleet, the Legion and the Kraegen will all be focused on attacking the Shroudanian fleet which will leave the coast wide open. You can drop me there and return to the battle without anyone being the wiser. I will continue on foot and sneak my way into the capital under cover of night.”
“You haven’t breathed a word of this plan to Queen Carina or Octavia or Cygni,” Daegan turns his head to look at her sharply. “I am the only one you have told of your plans, the only one who will know what fool’s errand you’ve departed on. And once you’re inside the capital city how will I know if something has gone awry? If you’ve been discovered and brought before Queen Lyra. There is still a price on your head, Princess.”
“I’m not planning to infiltrate the palace,” Andromeda explains, “I will keep myself hidden until morning. Lyra will want to work quickly and show the people of Vanyia that rebels will not be tolerated. Tomorrow is the morning of the blood rain, the most popular execution day of the year. They say the god Zarouk weeps the blood of his enemies on that morn every Rain Season casting the souls of the executed to the deepest pits of the undrawhorl.”
“Shi’ite, the Landborn believe in the craziest stuff,” Daegan shakes his head. “And you assume that General Cruelseas will be among the executed because of his status. Question; why is it your place to help him escape? The General has a second and third still under his command and a battalion of men. Why does it have to be you?”
Andromeda looks straight out at the sea spread out before them, “Thane tried to help me once he realized who I really was. Even though he was too late, at least he tried. I owe him the same.”
Daegan exhales slowly through his nose, “I should go with you. Queen Carina will skin me alive if anything happens to you.”
“That’s why the fewer people that know, the better.” Andromeda rubs her temples as she feels a headache coming on. “I will be back at your side by nightfall with General Cruelseas. I promise.”
“You better,” Daegan warns as he squeezes Andromeda’s hand.
Andromeda smiles briefly before striding away and taking up post by the bow of the ship. The crew bustles around her, following Daegan’s orders to break away from the rest of the fleet and head toward the Vacantian shoreline near the capital.
The rain picks up soaking through Andromeda’s tunic but she stays rooted to her post. “I’m coming Thane,” she whispers on the wind. “Just hang on.”
Chapter 24
Thane
Thane had survived the night in a cell filled with snakes. Large, squeeze-you-to-death snakes, small rattlers, mid-sized highly poisonous serpents whose saliva, if it dripped on you, ate your skin away on contact. Yet Thane had made it through. For some reason the snakes seemed afraid of him and had kept to the far end of the cell refusing to come any closer than that.
In the morning, or at least Thane assumed it was morning, he was yanked from the cell and his wrists were bound behind him tight enough to cut off circulation in his hands. Midgella’s eyes met Thane’s as he was dragged past her cell. Her face was a mess of coagulated blood and mottled purple, red, and blue bruises. Thane hoped, even if it was too late for him, that Cygni and Andromeda found a way to save Midgella from the evil hands of the usurper queen’s henchmen.
As he was led up onto the main floor of the palace and through the halls no one would meet his eye. Maids scurried down other halls and courtiers pretended as if Thane was not walking among them.
The guards dragged him through the palace doors and into the gloomy morning. Gallows had been set up in the city square and a crowd was already stacked six-deep around the platform. The guards threw Thane into a pit with the rest of the unfortunate souls waiting for the noose.
❖
Andromeda
Twelve Hours Earlier
Andromeda stole into the walled city of Vanyia as the lights flickered on across the city illuminating the otherwise dark, rainy night. Strands of shallow bowls filled with votive candles were strung from one building to the next. The few merchants who had dared to set up shop in the market since Queen Lyra’s inquisition had begun were packing up for the night as Andromeda slunk through the shadows.
Beyond the city center the streets were as quiet as the grave. No more than one or two candles flickered in windows as Andromeda darted from one dilapidated tenement to the next. A cloak hanging to dry on the stoop of a darkened doorway was quickly scooped up and thrown over Andromeda’s shoulders as she hurried down the lane. She pulled the hood over her head so that her eyes were shadowed concealing her identity.
A rusty ladder clung to the side of a tenement giving access to the roof so Andromeda leapt to grab the top rung and swiftly began to climb.
Lucky for Andromeda the buildings in this part of the capital were so crammed together she could step from roof to roof. She wound her way from the market district to the outskirts of the city center. When the distance between buildings grew greater she took a deep breath and swung onto the strand of lights connecting one building to the next as the ground was splattered with hot wax and wicks sputtered out.
As she hung from the strand she made the mistake of looking down and her stomach plummeted. She needed a couple deep breaths before she was able to propel herself onward putting one hand in front of the other as her legs dangled uselessly below.
Using all of her strength she swung her legs onto the roof once she reached the end of the strand. Andromeda lay flat on her stomach on the roof for a few minutes allowing her heart rate to slow and relishing the feel of solid stone beneath her body.
Finally she was able to stand and cross the flat rooftop on shaky legs. She leaned against a tall metal tub filled with water for support as she scanned the city below. In the city center Andromeda could see palace guards setting up the gallows for the morning’s executions.
“Looks like we arrived just in time,” Andromeda observes as she hears the landing of a large beast behind her and feels the flapping of wings stirring her hair. Turning to face the new arrival she asks, “What took you so long?”
Octavia snorted as she slid from her stormrider, “When you’re the head of the Starborn fleet it’s not so easy to slip away undetected.”
“Like it’s easy to sneak off a ship amidst a fleet of ships when you’re a princess of the sea,” Andromeda scoffs in rebuff.
“What have we got?” Octavia asks as she steps up beside Andromeda and peers over the edge of the roof.
“As I suspected,” Andromeda nods in the direction of the platform being erected in the city center. “They’re setting up the gallows. There will be a hanging first thing in the morning.”
“What’s our plan?” Octavia asks as Andromeda ducks behind the metal tub for coverage.
“We’re going to need to raid the aviary.”
❖
Cygni
Cygni had grown accustomed to the rain seeping through his clothes no matter how many layers he wore. It was the chill that cut straight to the bone that he would never get used to. Queen Carina and her people along with
the Losteroans had split off from Cygni’s group days ago. It was their plan to attack the capital city from two sides — by sea and by land.
That left the Watierai Warriors and the Order of the Thorn traveling across the continent by foot and hoof while the Starborn riders scouted overhead. One day bled into the next; wake up and forage for something to eat, pack up camp, march through rain-slicked countryside until Cygni’s men were so tired they were marching half-asleep, eliminate any soldiers loyal to Lyra that they came across, set up camp and collapse as darkness fell. Wake up and do it all over again.
When they were about a half day outside of Vanyia a raven’s call cut through the sounds of grunting soldiers, horse’s clomping, and wagons rolling through the mud. The bird circled the company twice before diving in Cygni’s direction.
Cygni lifted his arm to shield himself right as the bird landed on his forearm, its talons gripping his arm just tight enough to hold on.
“Nice timing,” Lester smirks as he falls into step beside Cygni.
“Would it make you think less of me if I said I’d only lifted my arm to protect my face?” Cygni chuckles as he unwraps the scroll wound around the raven’s leg. Once free the animal hops to Cygni’s shoulder, staying solid as Cygni marches on without missing a step.
“The stories of your tangles with the women of Vanyia are legendary, Your Majesty,” Lester says not unkindly. “We wouldn’t want your looks tarnished by accident when you’ll need to choose a queen someday.”
“Don’t remind me,” Cygni groans as he unrolls the scroll and reads the missive.
“What is it, Your Majesty?” Lester asks as he pats the raven on the head and peers over Cygni’s shoulder.
“It is a message from Princess Andromeda,” Cygni informs his second. “Apparently she and Octavia of the Starborn have split from their people and snuck into the capital city. It appears that Lyra is not taking any chances and plans to execute Thane this morning. They’re hoping to intercede the execution and save General Cruelseas from the gallows’s knot.”
Monsters & Mist Page 32
