by A R R Ash
*
As soon as his voice quieted, King H’shu’s body began to fade, subtly at first, then more markedly, losing substance and becoming transparent. Lyan and the encircling guards stopped, enrapt by the transformation; slowly, they became aware that they could discern objects on the far side of where his body once stood. In mere moments, H’shu’s once material form was a vaporous, formless mist.
Although no current of air blew to influence its course, the mist moved, volitionally, toward the far wall, where it found a small aperture behind a tapestry. That aperture, too small for even a child to pass, was the vestige of an age when fires were lit in the castle for light and warmth. Into the black space the mist floated, proceeding upward through the flue, which would vent somewhere above the keep. The mist passed several side passages, seeking egress.
Before it could escape through the far end, however, it found patches of silver lining the walls and its path barred by an argent barrier within the flue. The mist that was King H’shu recoiled from the caustic metal. Before it could reverse and seek egress through one of the side passages, a matching barrier beneath it flipped upward, trapping the mist within a box of silver.
*
The side duct, in which Shayala’s agent had been ordered to wait, had been expanded to allow a strigoi to fit within. When he saw the wisp of vapor pass, he reached a gloved hand into the flue to close the hinged lower surface, which fit snugly into a lip, and fastened the latch to prevent the box from falling open.
He reversed from the duct and, in a passage parallel to the flue, climbed a set of steel rungs to a similar duct above the box. Gripping a handle, he detached the clasps holding the box in place and lifted it from the flue, then placed it within a leather sheath.
With his prize, the agent descended, hastening through the keep’s corridors and hallways to the audience chamber, into which the guards granted him immediate access. With the pride of a task completed, he strode toward Shayala, knelt, and presented to her the ensheathed prison that held a king.
*
Shayala accepted the box without her usual grace as she fought to prevent any of her inner exuberance from revealing itself in her expression. Once in possession of the little silver prison, she walked purposefully to the dais and ascended its steps. At its height, she turned and surveyed the silent, expectant faces arrayed toward her.
“This,” she said, raising the sheathed box before her, “contains the mist-form of King H’shu.”
The buzz of surprise and disbelief spread throughout the chamber. Above the drone rose the pained wailing of Princess H’shu and the enraged bellow of Captain Goy’ul.
During the shock that had overcome the chamber, Goy’ul grabbed the blade from the guard nearest him and charged the dais. He slashed one soldier who tried to block his path and impaled another. Servants and lesser nobility yelped and leapt away, though Goy’ul wasted them no attention. He crossed only half the distance to the dais before being surrounded by members of the castle guard.
“Yield,” commanded a stark-faced guard carrying a battle axe with a serrated blade. His hostile tone suggested that he hoped Goy’ul would do no such thing.
Goy’ul lunged, allowing his initial thrust to be blocked, only to swing his sword around and sever the guard’s wrist. He managed to wound two more guards before being subdued. While several guards kept him prone, a blade across his neck and his face pressed against the shale tiles, he was roughly manacled and his gorget removed.
Shayala observed the incident without concern. Once calm returned, Shayala addressed the chamber. “Court H’shu and Court Shayala now stand united, a single Court to span the North. The sovereign of the Basalt Throne now sits in fealty to the Skeletal Throne, no longer seat to a king or queen…but to an empress.”
The response began sporadically and uncertainly. Unprecedented events had followed in such succession that those observing were left numbed to any further momentous occurrences. Yet with building ferment, those with the most to gain—Duchess Sashal, Corvyne, the lesser nobility of Court Shayala—raised their voices in shouts of “Empress Shayala!”
Like a building avalanche of acclaim, others took up the call until only the conspirators and the strigoi of Court H’shu remained silent. One other did not join in the celebration: spy marshal Lyan, intent upon her unceasing duties, gave a respectful bow to Shayala before heading for the door.
Shayala tucked the carceral box under her arm and descended the dais; the remainder of her guard assumed a protective cordon around her. She instructed a guard to summon Voyl and, once the seneschal knelt before her, said, “Munar’s guard is to be confined to the eastern tower, and the remainder of King…of H’shu’s retinue to the northern tower. They need not be mistreated.
“And see that Munar and the other traitorous nobles, including the princess, are prepared for public execution as soon as the next night dawns. All must see the price of treason, and I want there to be no fanciful hope for another miraculous return.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
As he rose to execute the order, Shayala added, “You chose well, Seneschal.”
With a wordless bow of his head, Voyl withdrew.
Shayala next summoned Yata. The waif knelt in nervous anticipation. “Lyan speaks well of you,” Shayala complimented, “and I have been favorably impressed as well.”
Yata swelled with pride, squeaked, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“I have a task for you: Locate for me the body of a fit, tawny, human female warrior, with eyes of taupe and hair of dark brown. She fought with twin kopides and is likely to be found near the staging area beneath the castle.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
As the childlike strigoi withdrew, Shayala found herself famished. And what more satisfying meal than those wretched humans, with which she had been forced to live during her exile, and which necessity had compelled her to treat as equals?
*
As dusk neared, Shayala tossed the body of the human male aside, where it thumped against another. Three other bodies lay about the room; the trickles of their remaining blood dripped upon the granite tiles with a soft ticking. Within a sitting room of her private chamber, she reposed upon a felt-upholstered divan decorated with a scene of aniukhas—aquatic strigoi—from Court Ashquan engaged in a prandial orgy of the marine humans known as tritons. Shayala closed her eyes and lay back her head. As droplets of blood dribbled over the curve and to the underside of her chin, she savored the pleasure of a proper meal after so long among the feral humans.
She had demanded her fare consist of humans from the Silver Blades, for she wanted to savor their fear as well when they learned who had wrought their doom. Her only disappointment was that none of the tribe’s principals had survived the battle.
Across the room, Lyan sat and similarly gorged.
“Keeping H’shu alive is dangerous,” Lyan observed. “His imprisonment could serve to rally his supporters.”
“So could his death,” Shayala countered. “For now, the threat of his death serves me better as leverage. And his survival ties me inextricably to his Court and will be a cause of contention among those who wish to succeed him. Once my power is consolidated, he will be eliminated.”
“Which begs the question, how long can he remain in mist-form? And what state will he be in once released?”
“The Magificer assures me that the silver box will prevent his reversion into a strigoi. As for your latter question, Haluth could not provide an answer. Strigoi of sufficient age to garner such a capacity are rare and powerful enough that one cannot readily experiment on them.”
“I foresee one of three possibilities,” Lyan offered. “His mist-form will indefinitely forestall the onset of hunger. In which case, he could either experience none of its effects after his reversion or be struck by its full force immediately upon his transformation back into a strigoi. Or in the event that mist-form offers no such reprieve, he will suffer its full effects in his current
form. Trapped and maddened.” Lyan’s smile bared her fangs. “I so do hope it is the last.”
A distinctive rap sounded at the door of her main chamber. Shayala looked to Lyan, who dropped the human, rose, and withdrew to the main room. Standing at the center of the chamber, Lyan said, “Enter.”
A guard opened the door and stood aside as Yata entered, cradling a human form. The body’s hair was matted with blood, and the garb soaked in red. Caked red-white foam encrusted the human’s lips and chin. The blood had smeared upon Yata’s slight body. Shayala approached, and even her superlative hearing could scarcely detect the sound of the human’s breathing; its chest barely moved.
Yata knelt and placed the body upon the floor. “Your Majesty, the one?”
Despite the crimson mask, Shayala recognized Aya. She knelt and, raising Aya’s head, bit into her neck, quickly draining the last vestige of life. “Well done. Place her where she can feed in safety when she rises in true life. Alert me when she does.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Yata withdrew with Aya’s lifeless body.
Once the door closed, Shayala turned toward Lyan. “We near the realization of our vengeance upon Court H’shu. The Tribe of Fangs will see its due.”
Although Lyan appeared composed, Shayala recognized the subtlest suggestion of thrill and elation—the slightest upward curve of the mouth, the faintest trembling of the lips, the exquisite gleam of the eyes—that lay just beneath the surface of her ostensibly placid features.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lyan said, “though it would have been more satisfying to see him meet his end at the hand of his own daughter before we eliminated her.”
“True, but this will suffice.”
“Many will not believe his capture.”
“We will convince them. And once we have firmly established control over Court H’shu, we shall exact vengeance upon the Southern Courts.”
Lyan acknowledged the statement with a nod and a predatory smile, fangs bared.
“Have you had the opportunity to speak with Munar?” Shayala asked.
“He was eagerly forthcoming, Your Majesty. He confirmed that they discovered a technique to overcome a thrall’s obedience.” Lyan paused to let the import of that settle: communications and, thus, Courtly intrigue and warfare would be forever changed. Even if such a technique were not yet widely known, once discovered, it would not long remain unknown.
Lyan continued, “However, he does not know the details of the technique. Only that it involved starving a thrall to near ferality and refeeding it incrementally. He claims Yah’l developed the technique and only he knows the proper concordance of starvation and nourishment.”
Shayala nodded. “And what of the spy marshal?”
“No sign of him, Your Majesty. Of the contingent sent to locate him, there was only a single survivor, the dry-fangs who delivered your message to the southern safe house. She claims they were ambushed before completing their search. It will require some time to carry out a full search of the entirety of the castle’s hidden ways, but I believe he is gone.”
“Perhaps, but we know, firsthand, the disruption a missing spy marshal can cause. Find him, Lyan.”
Lyan gave a deferential nod. “I will bend my agents and resources to locating and eliminating him, Your Majesty.”
Another prescribed knock sounded upon the door.
“Enter,” Shayala said.
Castellan Corvyne and Seneschal Voyl came into the room. “Your Majesty,” both greeted with a bow. They had a hungry look in their eyes, as if their duties had prevented them from taking the time to feed.
Shayala looked from one to the other before asking, “Seneschal?”
“Your Majesty,” Voyl began, “the castle guard has suffered significant losses from the simultaneous attacks by the nosferatu and”—he shook his head in disbelief—“those feral humans of inexplicable strength. Our defenses are severely weakened.”
“Conscript the personal guards of the nobles,” Shayala instructed, “until replacements can be trained for the castle guard. Corvyne will draft an edict. And offer Munar’s guard the option to shift their allegiance. If need be, grant true life to the strongest of the captured feral humans to fill your ranks.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Voyl said. He paused before continuing, hesitatingly, “Your Majesty, one other small item: It concerns justice, so I mention it now. The punishment of Kurl, the strigoi sentenced to a month’s burning for granting true life to a chattel, has ended. Yet with the upheavals that have occurred since his sentencing, his discharge was overlooked.”
With a wave of her hand, Shayala said, “See to his release.” In a fit of generosity, brought about by her achievement of such a thorough victory, she added, “And provide him with a dozen additional chattel.” She turned toward Corvyne.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Voyl said and, understanding he had been dismissed, withdrew from the chamber.
“Count Corvyne,” Shayala said once Voyl was gone.
“Your Majesty,” Corvyne replied, not hiding his smile at her use of his new title.
“Until your replacement as castellan is decided, I have several tasks for you to perform. How many feral humans survived?”
“We are still counting and sorting, Your Majesty,” Corvyne said, “but it seems, perhaps, two thousand. They are currently corralled within the staging area.”
Shayala allowed herself a malicious, triumphant smile. Although the dietary crisis was not averted, the problem had been abated, temporarily. She now controlled access to near all potable humans in the North. “Distribute the survivors among the chattel farms, and begin rationing chattel from among the southern reserves as needed.”
Corvyne nodded his understanding.
Shayala continued, “Any members of H’shu’s retinue who renounce the Basalt Throne and swear allegiance to the Skeletal Throne may return home under diplomatic escort; the others can replace the losses from the mines. Draft a declaration to the same effect: Any noble who pledges fealty may retain title and land. Dispatch envoys to deliver copies to the seat of each domain within the former Court H’shu.”
Although Courtly tradition held that a monarch must be invested by one of equal rank, Lyan knew Shayala would dispense with such a custom as readily as she discarded spent chattel. “They will likely kill the envoys,” Lyan offered.
“If they wish to submit under my heel rather than my caress, so be it. I can be accommodating.”
From an understanding born of a lifelong sisterly bond, Lyan did not doubt Shayala indeed hoped that Court H’shu would resist.
Dramatis Personæ, Majoris et Minoris
Note: Italicized names are human.
Alorn—Baroness of Court Shayala
Aya—Second to Sar-Kyul
Ayora—Warrioress of Duke Munar
Azark—Human agent serving Shayala
Azhum—Emir from the South
Corvyne—Castellan of Castle Ky’lor
Cwarth—Warrior of Duke Munar
Cyuth—Soldier under Lieutenant Thal
Dagroth—Rel’gor’s lieutenant
Dakryr—Warrior of the Moroi Hunters
Dorn—Moroi Hunter sentry
Dyanth—Warrior of the Bloodied Paw tribe
Faylin—Warrior
Fyshar—Member of Ky’lor’s castle guard
Gorel—Male friend of Hyular
Goy’ul—Captain of King H’shu’s guard
Grolin—Influential member of the Scaled Daggers tribe
Halura—Captain of Queen Shayala’s guard
Haluth—Magificer of Court Shayala
Halyr—Baronet of Court Shayala
H’shu—King of Court H’shu
H’shu—Princess of Court H’shu
Hurin—Supporter of Ryz’k
Hyluth—Baronetess of Court Shayala
Hyr—Baron of Court Shayala
Hyshin—Spy Marshal Yah’l’s lieutenant
Hyular—Shayala’s guide of the Moroi Hu
nter’s camp
Jubyra—Emira from the South
Kashin—Member of Ky’lor’s castle guard
Kurl—Strigoi punished by Queen Shayala for creating a thrall
Ky’lor—Castle of Court Shayala
Ky’rin—Soldier under Lieutenant Thal
Laryn—Deceased strigoi who did not leave a will
Lathyr—Courier of Castle Ky’lor
Lohrin—Strigoi who helps Halura
Lyan—Queen Shayala’s spy marshal
Lyuth—Seneschal of Castle Ky’lor
Malthyr—Member of Ky’lor’s castle guard
Munar—Duke of Court Shayala
Nalath—Warrioress of Duke Munar
Nalyr—Member of Queen Shayala’s guard
Navin—Strigoi executed by Queen Shayala for bestiality
Noar—Mortally wounded woman from the Moroi Hunters
Oalin—Warrior of the Silver Blades
Olathyr—Warrior of Duke Munar
Othor—Earl of Court Shayala
R’laryn—Former thrall of Laryn and petitioner during Shayala’s audience
Ralyr—Earlress of Court Shayala
Rel’gor—Chieftain of the Silver Blades
Ronla—Shayala’s thrall
Ronth—Moroi Hunter sentry
Ruln—Soldier under Lieutenant Thal
Ry’al—Soldier under Lieutenant Thal
Ryz’k—Warrior of the Moroi Hunters
Sar-Kyul—Leader of the Moroi Hunters
Sashal—Countess of Court Shayala
Shayala—Queen of Court Shayala
Sho’voth—Captain of the Silver Blades’ archers
Shyar—Warrioress of Duke Munar
Sigryf—Captain of the Silver Blades’ pikemen and infantry
Sulyr—Soldier under Lieutenant Thal
Syuth—Captain of Duke Munar’s guard
Tah’sin—Spy in King H’shu’s guard
Thal—Captain Halura’s lieutenant
Thyse—King who preceded Shayala’s reign
Torin—Lieutenant under Captain Syuth