A Taste of Crimson

by E. M. Knight

  I don’t even have to think to cast magic anymore. I just do it. I will a portal to flare to life beneath me and make it into a wormhole linking to the other side of the ward. The intricate threads of magic all come together in a magnificent, beautiful tapestry, swirling as a mass of complex patterns before me.

  For a bit of showboating, I make sure to leave all the threads visible to the witches around me.

  As they flow into shape, Morgan emits a small sound of approval. I smile to myself. It’s pure vanity, but any time I can impress the former Queen is a win in my eyes.

  The portal across the ward shifts and snaps to its final form. I look down at it. I cannot see through to the other side—a limitation imposed upon the portal by the ward—but I know exactly where the other side opens.

  “You first,” I tell Morgan. Then, I quickly change my mind. “No. Lorne, you go first. If Morgan tries to access the Elemental Forces on the other side, you stop it from happening.”

  The Forsaken Sister nods and drops through. Her form is swallowed up by the portal.

  Just before she goes, I put a trace on her that alerts me to her location and movements.

  I feel Lorne land safely on the ground below.

  “Now you,” I tell Morgan. She lets go and drops through immediately. The trace attaches itself to her as well.

  “Sute,” I say.

  The Forsaken Sister climbs a little bit lower. I sense a bit of hesitation in her before she lets go.

  And then, it’s just me on this side. A tiny bit of anxiety bubbles up within me. It’s all to do with Morgan’s warning before.

  Why was she so certain that the Queen cannot leave the boundary set by the wards? I understand that the farther one goes from the throne, the weaker the link becomes. But nothing in the Currents has ever made me feel that simply walking past the wards would sever the connection.

  I decide it’s a childish fear. I am fully confident in my ability to understand magic. It comes to me as naturally as breathing now.

  Nothing at all hints at the connection breaking if I step past the boundary.

  Still, instead of dropping straight down, I edge to the portal carefully. I feel Sute and Lorne and Morgan below me.

  I reach the edge of the portal. I take a deep breath and dip my toe in—

  A horrible vision explodes in my mind and evaporates all reality.

  I see The Haven burning. My vantage is somewhere far from the outside. I see spires of flame from horrendous beasts being blasted into the wards, which are no longer invisible. The flames crash into the magical barrier, making it bend and break.

  I see the weaves giving structure to the wards coming undone. The fire being spit by those creatures, whose shapes are shrouded by shadow, is not of this world.

  The Forsaken Sister’s warnings flash through my mind.

  The Haven is not protected against demons.

  There are patches along the great barrier that have already come undone. Through them, stream hundreds, even thousands, of powerful vampires, an army of them, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. I feel their presence and know their strength.

  They are all, to the one, stronger than any vampire in The Haven save for Morgan and me.

  A great sense of helplessness washes over me. The horrible visions continue, and I am unable to stop them. Just as I am unable to affect things. I know this is not real, not yet, it’s not happening now… but the immediacy and vibrancy of the vision fills me with terror.

  Suddenly, I’m throttled through to see the scene from within my coven.

  All the woods are aflame. The apartments are burning. The enemy vampires are running wild and ripping apart any of mine that stand in the way. I see the bloodied, limp, lifeless bodies of my Royal Guard. I see the corpses of the Incolam, their throats or hearts ripped out. Some of their eyes are closed, but the majority of the dead have their eyes open. I feel the accusation in their stares:

  You failed us.

  I tip my head back and scream. The vision parts for a second… but then barrels back into me with a vengeance.

  I’m thrown into the depths of the stronghold, where my vampires are making a desperate last stand. They are outnumbered at least a hundred-to-one. It will be a massacre.

  They form a small ring, snarling, hissing, ready to fight to the death. But the enemy vampires do not attack. They simply stand there, boxing them all in and watching.

  I see a path part amongst the intruders. A tall, powerful vampire with markings all over his upper body strolls forth.

  Logan.

  “Where is your Queen?” he hollers. “Where is the one you’ve crowned your champion? Where is the chosen one, the girl of prophecy?”

  He laughs. “She has abandoned you!” From my vantage somewhere in the air, I see the miasma rush across his eyes.

  He lifts his hands and pillars of black flame shoot from his palms. They blast into the ceiling and threaten to collapse the whole underground.

  “She is a false prophet!” he yells. “She has betrayed you, forsaken you in your greatest time of need, and now, because of her weakness, you face your ruin!”

  A huge chunk of rock splinters from the ceiling. It groans and starts to fall.

  My vampires start to leap out the way, but Logan throws one hand out at them and traps them in a black ring of fire. With the other, he directs the flame at the falling boulder—and destroys it completely.

  He lets the magic go. He takes a step closer to my vampires.

  “Bow down to me,” he says. “Swear fealty to me, join my coven, and I will make you great. The time of hiding from humans has come to an end. Join me! The age of vampires has begun, and it is here, on this day, that the history of our species will be made. When the two greatest covens come together under common rule, we will have all we need to take our rightful place in the world! No more cowering in the shadows. No more hiding from the sun! We are the superior species, and all men will tremble before our might!”

  He puts out one hand in invitation. “Join me. Join your own brothers and sisters who are on the winning side. Your Queen’s monarchy has ended. Come to me, and be spared. Or resist… and die.”

  No! I want to scream. Every word that’s come from Logan’s mouth was a lie. The moment my vampires turn themselves over, he will unleash the demons he’s brought with him on them and exterminate them all.

  One of The Haven vampires steps forth. At first, his face is not clear to me. But then the veil parts, and I feel absolutely no surprise at whom I see.

  Felix.

  He stops halfway between my vampires and Logan. He goes to one knee.

  “I give you my fealty, my King,” he vows.

  His words seem to make the very air shake.

  Logan smiles, the miasma still storming in his eyes, and beckons Felix forward. The traitorous vampire walks right up to the king.

  He stops a foot away. Logan steps closer, eliminating the distance between them.

  “A wise choice,” he says, and claps both hands to Felix’s head. Magic, Blood Magic, the sort I’ve never seen before, a kind rife with corruption and poison and wickedness, streams from Logan’s hands into Felix.

  The Haven vampire gasps. His eyes roll back, showing only the whites. Dark, black veins spider web all over his face from where Logan’s holding him. His whole body shakes, convulsing. He foams at the mouth.

  That evil, vile, horrible magic continues to pour into him.

  Suddenly, Logan lets go. The convulsions stop. Felix goes still.

  Slowly, the black veins burrow under the skin, but not fully. There is a hint of them remaining, evidence of the corruption done.

  “Go and join your brothers, friend,” Logan whispers.

  And like an automaton, Felix plods to join the rest.

  Suddenly, I realize something horrifying. All of the opposing vampires have traces of those black veins on their faces, their necks. All of them have given themselves to Logan, surrendering their souls and independen
ce to the evil wielded by the man.

  “Who is next?” Logan roars with laughter. “There is no resistance to be had. Join me—or die!”

  And then, without warning, Logan’s head snaps up right to me. His eyes, somehow, latch onto mine.

  He knows I’m here.

  His mouth twists into a cruel shape, and he throws one hand up. A black pillar of flame shoots toward me. I shield my body and scream…

  And discover myself lying on the ground, on the other side of the portal, with Lorne and Sute and Morgan kneeling, concerned, all around me.

  The moment my eyes open, Morgan pulls me up. “What happened?” she demands. For some reason, I hear genuine concern in her voice. “What did you do?”

  I look at her for a moment, still completely dazed.

  The vision… the vision seemed so real.

  “Eleira,” Morgan snaps. “Tell us!”

  I give my head a shake and jerk to attention.

  “I saw a dream,” I say. “A vision of the future.”

  I swallow. “The Haven will be destroyed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Eleira

  The Paths

  I stand, helped up by the two Forsaken Sisters and the former Queen.

  “A vision?” Morgan asks. “What was it? You must tell us!”

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and shake my head. “Later,” I mumble. “I have to make sense of it.”

  Truth is, I don’t trust Morgan enough to reveal to her what I saw.

  I glance up at the portal. Somehow, despite me losing consciousness, it’s still there.

  “We intercepted the weaves,” Lorne says, as if reading my mind. “As soon as we felt you fading, Sute and I wrestled them away from you. You did not make it easy for us. But we managed, and now we hold the portal open.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “I think.” I give my head another shake. “I didn’t know it was possible to grab the weaves cast by another witch.”

  “Were you conscious, it wouldn’t have been,” Sute says. “We interrupted them a moment before you would have let go, as they were about to snap back to the Currents.”

  I nod. “In that case, I do have to thank you.” I look around. “Where are we?”

  Morgan extends one arm past her. “This is my private collection, put together over many, many years. As Queen, it now belongs to you.”

  I peer down the long, narrow hall. I don’t see anything worthy of mention.

  The blue glow I saw before is no longer present.

  Morgan gives me a knowing look and simply mutters, “Follow me.”

  She leads us down one winding hall. It circles deeper into the earth. After we make a few full turns, Morgan stops and gestures ahead. “You’re all wondering why the glow you saw before has faded,” she says. “Well, here is your answer. A veil covers the entrance to this place. It came into effect when we stepped close. Only the Queen,” she looks at me, “may lift it.”

  “How?” I ask. All I see her gesturing toward is a solid rock wall.

  “You know how,” she tells me. “The crown has sat on your head. You have been marked by it. Place your hand here—,” she indicates a spot, “—and the veil will part.”

  I glance at Lorne and Sute. The Forsaken Sisters are silent.

  “Bind her,” I say to them.

  Morgan has only enough time for an appalled expression to come over her face. The blue glow erupts around the two witches, and they wrap her in weaves of Air. At the same time, they cut off all her access to the Elemental Forces.

  I give Morgan an apologetic smile. “It’s wise to take precautions,” I tell her. “You taught me that.”

  She sniffs but does not say anything in protest.

  I walk up to the partition. I reach out and touch my hand to the designated spot on the wall.

  Nothing happens. I wait.

  My body is tense. From memory of that awful vision or from anticipation of seeing what lies beyond, I don’t know.

  But it’s not a comfortable feeling to stand outside the wards. I believe that is the very crux of it.

  I eye Morgan as I keep my hand on the rock. It’s cold beneath my skin.

  After another thirty seconds I pull away. “It’s not working.”

  “Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Morgan asks sweetly. “You have to channel Spirit for the way to reveal itself.”

  “Spirit,” I mutter. “In what way?”

  “I would show you, but your precautions…”

  I wave at her to shut her up. “I’m not letting you use the Elemental Forces.”

  “Then you’ll have to discover the proper weave for yourself.”

  “Dammit, Morgan, this isn’t a game,” I snap. “We’ve already lost hours with Allura’s probe.”

  “Maybe if you would begin to trust me—”

  I cut her off with a harsh laugh. “The more often you bring that up, the more likely I am to throw you in the silver cells and keep you there for decades. I don’t give a damn what the Sisters agreed to with you. Either you help me now, or your current limited freedom will become a distant, treasured memory, for the remainder of your life.”

  She stares at me, absolutely defiant.

  I look right into her eyes and advance on her. “If you saw the things I saw in my vision, you would not be stalling,” I say in a dark tone. “You spent your whole life building up The Haven. Would you like to see it fall?” I stop half an inch in front of her and lower my voice. “I intend to prevent the destruction I saw, but if you stand in my way, now or ever, I will have no problem at all eliminating you—much as you tried to eliminate me.”

  I’m looking for any reactionary sign in her eyes. It takes a few moments, but then I see it: the smallest flicker of doubt.

  “You really saw something bad,” she says.

  “I saw catastrophe and utter ruin,” I tell her. “The sort that makes the Convicted battle seem like a playground joke. I will stop it. I will also crush all who get in my way.”

  She looks at me with great consideration.

  “I believe you have your heart in the right place,” she says finally. “And I am sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you. I had to be sure you were the one. I feel… a maternal protection… for the well being of our sanctuary. It is not empty pride. To give up something I spent my whole life building, just because of some prophecy uttered by a witch centuries ago…” she trails off. “Forgive me. I am growing sentimental.” She inclines her head toward the wall. “Anyway, I know it will take time to earn back your trust. Give me access to a trickle of Spirit and I will show you what you have to do.”

  I nod to the Forsaken Sisters. They let up the bounds. Morgan slowly, cautiously reaches for the fifth Elemental Force. She handles it gently, smoothly, making the weaves come together in an elaborate pattern for me to replicate.

  “Like that,” she says. “But bigger. Many times bigger. It will open the way.”

  “Okay,” I say. Then, to the Sisters: “Block her off again.”

  The Sisters do as they’re asked.

  And then I face the wall and open myself to the Elements. I reach for the invisible one, the one apart from the rest. I do it all on faith, knowing that it will be there when I call but unable to sense or see it beforehand.

  Spirit fills me. My body soars. I push away the ecstasy and focus on replicating the patterns Morgan showed me.

  The weaves fall into place easily. I feed more power into them. The circular pattern shifts and embeds itself into the wall in a perfect fit.

  “Now reach out and touch it,” Morgan says.

  I do. As soon as my palm makes contact, the entire wall rushes away, like a great curtain suddenly being swept back.

  A magnificent room the likes of which I’ve never seen before is revealed before me.

  It is a treasure room. That is the only way to describe it. No bigger than the inside of my apartments, but filled to the brim with all sorts of valuables.

  Shelves line both sid
es. There are stacks of gold on the left. The shelves are overflowing with it. Interspersed with the precious metal are all sorts of gems - rubies, sapphires, even diamonds.

  On the right, are many, many perfectly preserved scrolls. I sense a sort of protective spell cast over them that keeps them intact. Other shelves are lined with books, and the thick leather covers remind me in no uncertain terms of The Book of the Dead.

  I give a small shiver at the memory of summoning the Narwhark.

  There are waist-high platforms scattered around the room holding beautiful marble sculptures. Nothing about them gives me any impression of any additional special characteristics other than the supreme mastery of the artists who made them. A few paintings are hung on the walls, but when I try to look at any of them directly the colors shift and blur, obscuring whatever the object is.

  And beyond all that, on the far side of the room, is a row of blue, glowing crystals—exactly like I saw in The Paths.

  “I present to you, your dowry,” Morgan says.

  I take a few steps into the room. The feel of secret knowledge is intoxicating. I look at the gold figurines, the gem-encrusted objects, the scrolls, and the books. I reach down and run a hand along the gold coins filling a richly decorated chest. I scoop a few up and examine them, then drop them back down from whence they came.

  My eyes, my body, my whole being, however, is drawn to the crystals on the other side.

  I feel them pulsating with an undeniable energy. They do not give that sort of resonance in The Paths.

  “How did you get these here?” I ask absently, floating toward them in awe.

  “It wasn’t easy,” Morgan confides. “You cannot just cast a portal and carry them out. But those crystals, my Queen, are the key to your rule.”

  I turn back to her. “Tell me what you mean.”

  “The throne torrial is supremely powerful, yes. But it alone cannot sustain the flood of energy needed to keep the wards erect. The making of new torrials has been lost to us. Some believe the secret died with the witches who built The Paths. Some say the crystals there were their final gift to their kind, because they knew that the constantly-increasing power of torrials would eventually create weapons capable of annihilating the whole world.”