The Queen of Wolves (33 page)

She had fallen into a deep sleep. I watched her face to see if Medhya truly was there, but all I saw was the glow of the plague beneath her flesh, pulsing a yellow-blue.

I took her to the highest point of the cliffs, away from the towered city, where the air was cold but fresh, and the distant fires of Taranis-Hir were hidden. I sat down upon the crumbling rocks, near an outcropping of trees, and laid her down so that her head rested in my lap. I searched the night sky, hoping to sense Ophion and the company of vampyres who would fight with me.

When Calyx awoke, her head in my lap, she said, “She means to use me, this dark goddess.”

“She is trying to terrify us,” I said. “You once told me that I had seen what I was meant to know.”

She looked at me, confused. “I do not remember.”

“When my mother was to burn, at a crossroads, you and Mere Morwenna passed by as I rode along. And you told me—the words have haunted me for these years. You said that I had seen a demon myself once. That it was what I was meant to know. How did you know such a thing? How did you know I would become a vampyre, as was the creature that was drawn up from that well? And in that well, one night I would be cast down and imprisoned? What vision did you have of such things to come?” When she didn’t answer, I whispered, “This is not the time to withhold from me. Your people are nearly dead. Taranis-Hir destroys your kind as it does mine. Tell me what you know that you have not told me yet.”

“Mere Morwenna forbade me from mentioning it again. She made me take a vow.”

“She is dead, and her soul has moved elsewhere. This vow must be broken.”

I could tell that she fought within her own spirit to decide whether to tell me her deeply held secret, but after a bit, Calyx said, “Since I was born, I have seen what some consider unseen. And you—the first time I saw you, I knew that you would bring a terror into this land. I knew that you were meant to some terrible fate. And when you drew up the winged demon from the well, when I heard of this...I saw you trapped in that same well, as that creature had been. I saw you also, with a blade to my throat one day.”

“You have been afraid of me?”

“I have learned not to fear death. But I do not give it instructions on how I am to die, if I can keep this secret.”

“But you are afraid,” I said. “You’re afraid that the Dark Madonna will come through your flesh. That in the Disk dream, you are the Virgin of Shadows. Your final plague is her—Medhya. Yes?”

She closed her eyes as if fighting the thought, and nodded.

“This cannot be true,” I said. “For what is our nature now, will always be in our nature, no matter what curse comes upon us. In all my existence as a vampyre, I have learned this. I have not become a worse man from the nature of vampyrism that has revived me from death. What monstrous deeds I have done, I did no less monstrous ones as a mortal man. Neither will you become other than Calyx, raised of the forest women. For though your plague may be a door to Medhya, you will not be her puppet. I have met many devils and many men, and some were blood-drinkers, and others drank the soul. And none were made worse for their fates, though some gained power from such destiny.” Even as I spoke, I thought of Pythia, and deception. Was that her nature? For many thought so, yet I did not truly believe it, for all she had shown me of herself—though cruel and self-serving—she did not seem the great traitor Pythoness that others believed. To Calyx I said, “We are one night from the solstice. If the ancients were right—if the priests of my tribe understood the nature of the Veil—there is yet a chance to end this.”

“It is the day of the long darkness, and soon the beginning of the ember days. The Veil is thin, this is why the woodland folk call to their dead—and to our goddess—on this day.”

“Do not fear the shadows you see in your dreams,” I said. “For I am also here. I was born in the ember days of the year, and I will not meet my Extinguishing before they come.”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes brightening. “There is a difference in you. Something flows in your blood.”

“As a plague flows in yours,” I said. “Like your plague, what is in me brings me strength. Do not be afraid of Medhya, whom you see in blood visions. She is Queen of Wolves like Enora herself, and has no throne or crown, and she will not gain a foothold through you, or anyone. Call those of your folk who still remain. They must offer their throats to my army. None of you shall die from the bleeding, but the strength of the kings is important, and of their fighters. I will bring healing through the staff to those who suffer here, if they will fight with us in the coming night.”

8

After several hours, during which I brought the Nahhashim to many of the wounded and saw a gray-white light emanate from its spine, and pressed my hands to their flesh that they should heal, I felt a tugging in the stream, and went out to the cliff’s edge.

A storm brewed at a great distance, and the clouds above were black as pitch—but I felt Ophion in the stream. And then it became so strong, and was like a throbbing pain at the base of my skull.

I spread my wings and ascended into the sky. I held the staff out to the wind, and called to the Eclipsis that it should find me.

As I looked southward, across the great expanse of trees that had not met Enora’s torches, I saw the great dark swarm of my tribe moving fast through the murk.

As they descended toward the cliffs, a new snow began to fall from the skies, and lightning split the clouds with its white fire.

When the Eclipsis was in my hand, I embraced Ophion and brought the others into the caverns that they should drink from the healed mortals, and rest—for we would wage war against the white towers by the following dusk. I lay down among the warriors, and slept, as well, for I needed all the strength within me for the battle to come.

A crash of thunder awoke me at dusk, followed by the earsplitting horns of the white towers—they blew their alarms along the hills and valleys of the wastelands. From the many towers, and the city gates, the horns called to all who served the Disk, and Enora, the embodiment of the Virgin of Shadows upon the Earth. The misguided and misled, the merchant-soldiers who followed gold rather than truth, the weak-spirited and the enslaved, all would gather beneath the White-Horse standard. Many would bow and scrape to the White Robes and swear allegiance to their new queen—for yes, Enora was no longer baroness; she had claimed and taken lands that her armies had burned and pillaged, and nearby territories long abandoned from famine and pestilence.

These dreaded sounds were followed by the piercing howls of the Chymer women as they shapeshifted near their grotto at the forest’s edge.

I lay there and felt the heavy burden of the night ahead of us.

PART 3: TARANIS-HIR

Chapter 14

________________

B
EFORE THE
B
ATTLE

1

Before rising, I closed my eyes and went deep into the dark of self.
Merod, where are you? Serpent, be with me. It is the time of the war, and though I do not know its outcome, I wish for your spirit in my blood. You have given me many visions, and much guidance. I call you in humility, for though the weapons of the Asmodh are with me, and the soul of the Nahhashim priests in the second staff, I do not know if this is enough to defeat the enemy. I do not wish the death of the innocent, nor of those who are blinded to truth, nor those misguided by the plague dream. I ask for the safety of my twin children, and even for Pythia, though I cannot fathom her reasons for betrayal. In the vision of the ritual I am meant to perform as Maz-Sherah, it is with the Pythoness upon an altar stone, and it seems a sacrifice, although I do not understand why this should be. Yet, when the time comes, inspire me with the ancient Asmodh words
—
the words before language
—
that only you can offer. Keep safe our company, and those who aid us in this fight to close the Veil and to send the Myrrydanai to their rightful oblivion.

These thoughts were met with silence. I no longer felt the guidance of Merod within me, nor did I sense the Great Serpent as I had in the Asmodh depths.

I rose from my day’s tomb and went to those who readied for battle.

2

The air had grown chillier. I heard the sounds of others in the depths of the caverns, coughing off the day’s rest, calling out to each other. The nest of vampyres went deep in the earth of the Akkadite Cliffs—several chambers snaked below the rock and cave. Though protected with blessings from the Briary Maidens, I knew that the Myrrydanai would seek out those who existed here if there were one more day, and using their mortal soldiers, slaughter the vampyres.

I wondered that the mortals here who protected us had not died from fear, or had not been tempted to stab us in our hearts themselves while we slept—for I could see upon their faces they still thought us devils.

Calyx approached me with a man of twenty, who—shivering with fright—offered me his wrist for drinking. I calmed him with words and those seductions known to my tribe, and told him that the pain would be swift and would heal soon after—and with it, lingering pleasure. I was careful with him, and did not drink more than a cupful, for I knew I would drink from mortals that evening whom I could drain. When it was done, I raised his face and looked into his eyes, which were battle-worn and despairing. “For the strength you have given me tonight, I will bring much slaughter to those who have offended you and your kin.”

Afterward, Calyx took me by the hand and led me out to the mouth of the cave. “Upon three white steeds, three riders dressed in the robes of the Knights of the Disk rode out of the widening gate of Taranis-Hir at middle day. Beside the ice canals they went, and through the drained marshes, across the forest floor. Along the burned path they rode, and several of us watched them come, drawing our blades and axes to meet them if they sought to climb the worn steps and brave the western and southern ledges, to attack us in our lair. But they brought their horses to rest down by the rumblerock, among the snowdrifts where the shallows of the bogs had been covered with brambles. One of them called a challenge to us, while you and your tribe slept. He shouted with angelic voice for us to have faith in the Virgin of Shadows, and to sharpen wood or heat our blades, and to thrust them into the hearts of the devils we harbored. ‘Bring their heads to the top of the ancient saint who lies beyond the Chymer grotto, and drive them upon your spears for the heavens to see!’ He drew off his helm, and showed his face.

“I went to the ledge that overlooked the deep fall below, and I recognized him as a youth called Robin Carverson who had once been kind to me in the foundries. He was fair and gentle, and he told me of the White Robes’ mercy. ‘If you and your people do this—destroy these devils from Hell—and will come now, and lead your Akkadites to the city, you have the word of the Queen of the Forest and of the Wastelands and of the Jeweled Sea, the earthly saint of the Disk itself, Enora, the Lady White-Horse, that none will be held responsible for any acts committed prior to this day. You may bury your dead who still lie upon the frosted earth, and celebrate the victory this day—with us. And you, ashling, will be allowed to return to these woods and their spirits, for our great queen acknowledges your innocent nature, which is like that of a fawn in the forest, despite the crimes you have committed against her, against Taranis-Hir, and against the Disk itself

“And to him, I answered, ‘I am no fawn, I am the plague maiden whom you should cower before. When the night falls, you shall have your answer, and not a moment before. But I also offer you and your companions something, for I remember your gentleness from days long past. If you would join us in these cliffs, and swear allegiance to our company, and fight those shadows disguised as priests who rule the city with plagues and bog sorcery—and their queen, who is no queen at all, and only a baroness by the murder of her family...then you, also, will be spared, and will be forgiven.’”

I could not help but laugh as she told me of her response, but she maintained an aura of gloom about her.

“They did not think this so amusing,” she said. “The boy I had once known as kind began to curse me—and curse all who remained in the woods. He told me that he and his riders would find me when the battle came and make me suffer such torments as devils—and women who worshipped at the sacred fountains—deserved. I grew afraid that my challenge had doomed us all, for they could have scaled the cliffs had they wished to and sounded an alarm that the city might hear. But they did not. They rode back to their towers and left us. We have watched the paths and roads and narrows since then, for fear of their return—and of others the White Robes might send.”

“They do not need alarms for what they are about. These Disk knights are afraid,” I said. I gripped the staff. “They have much to fear from us. And tonight, their fears will come to them, for the devils are here, and we will ride to them on the wind and upon the backs of horses.”

Snow had continued its blizzard onslaught all the day long, and lightning flashed. The towers of Taranis-Hir—small at this distance—but still like the upward-turned fangs of a jackal, blazed with torchlight along the battlements and the turrets.

I saw the faint blur of dark movement at the top of the walls and gates as many men prepared the weapons that would be thrown from above to those of us who attacked the city gates from below. On all sides of the walls of the city these soldiers stood, though they seemed smaller than ants at such a distance.