Chaos Queen--Fear the Stars (Chaos Queen 4)

by Christopher Husberg

  “The rumors,” Blackwood said, clearing her throat, “say that the Odenites and tiellans planned the attack together, so that the Odenites could then show their power and gain the favor of the people. People are refusing the Odenites’ help because they claim not to buy the ruse.”

  “They think the Odenites planned the attack?” Karina asked, her voice rising with incredulity.

  “The theory is not completely unfounded,” Lothgarde said.

  Carrieri stared at Lothgarde accusingly. One thing was certain: The people wouldn’t know about the Odenites’ connection to the tiellans—unless that information had been leaked.

  The question was, why?

  39

  Odenite Camp, outside Triah

  “WHAT?” JANE ASKED. “WHY do you keep looking at me like that?”

  She had woken Cinzia by dropping a knapsack on her bed not ten minutes ago, with the unusually sunny declaration that it was a lovely day, and they should go for a walk.

  “You are hiding something from me,” Cinzia replied. “I can tell.” She had not felt this free with Jane since… Goddess, since before they left Tinska, surely.

  Jane rolled her eyes. “I’m not hiding anything from you. I really think we need a break, after everything we’ve seen.” She grew more serious. “And I want a few moments alone with my sister. It has been too long, Cinzia. Now come on, if you don’t hurry up we won’t get there in time.”

  “In time for what?”

  But Jane was already walking out the door, and Cinzia had no choice but to follow.

  “Have fun, girls,” their mother, Pascia, said as they passed the campfire she was tending outside their family’s group of tents.

  “Mother knows where we’re going?” Cinzia muttered. “Have you told the entire camp except me?”

  “She suggested it, actually, but I agreed with her. This seems like something we both need,” Jane said.

  “I prepared some food and water for you in that knapsack. You can argue between the two of you who gets to carry it,” Pascia said with a sly grin.

  “There will not be an argument,” Cinzia muttered. “This is Jane’s idea, so she will be carrying it. End of story.”

  Jane did not object, and Cinzia felt an unexpected wave of nostalgia. They had all been so busy with the Odenite movement, with taking care of the people in their charge— and Cinzia with her own secret life—that she had hardly felt connected to any of them recently.

  Cinzia paused, turning to take in the family scene. Her mother and sisters, knitting by the morning fire. A little further off, Eward was teaching Ader how to chop wood.

  She had missed so much of this, lately.

  “Are you coming?”

  Jane was waiting for her, knapsack on her back. Cinzia took one more glance at her family, then followed her sister out of the camp.

  * * *

  They followed a small trail in the direction of the Wild Cliffs, on the southern side of Triah. More than an hour later, by Cinzia’s count, they stopped to refill their water skins from a spring. The hem of Cinzia’s dress had been stained a dark brown from the dust, dirt, and mud of the trail.

  “I know this place,” Jane whispered. “We’re almost there.”

  She led the way into a meadow. The tall grass was running to seed. Cinzia ran her hands along the top of the gilded blades. They whispered dryly against her skin, occasionally with a sharp, scratching accent. It was an unusually sunny day; Cinzia had the feeling it was the season’s last go at warmth before another long winter. The brightness of the sun above her mixed with the chill of a strong breeze, fluttering her dress about her legs. To her right the meadow ended abruptly at a steep cliff. From where Cinzia stood, the grass seemed to end and then immediately give way to ocean.

  “We’re here,” Jane said, her voice full with satisfaction. “It took a little longer than I expected, but I think we still made it in time.”

  Cinzia walked hesitantly to the edge of the cliff, the grass scratching against her legs. Her hair gusted in front of her face, her skirt flapping against her thighs. Here the grass grew in patches and in carved depressions along the rock face. A few paces beyond where she stood, the vegetation ended completely, revealing a small scar of rock. Beneath her was nothing but the foaming ocean.

  As she looked down, an old fear rose within her. She remembered a night in Izet, the snow around her as she stood on the roof of an inn. A dagger in her hand, and the feeling that it would be easy—welcome, even—to plunge it into her chest.

  She was close to the cliff’s edge, now. So close. One step, and everything could end.

  Another gust of wind whipped against her cheeks, her clothing. Someone grabbed her arm, and Cinzia flinched, taking a step back.

  Jane pulled her from the edge. “What is wrong with you? I take you all the way up here and then you scare all holiness out of me? What were you thinking?”

  What had she been thinking? What in the Sfaera would ever possess her to go anywhere near the edge of a cliff? She looked over her shoulder, shuddering. She did not relish the idea of going out there again.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. The waves rolled gently far below. She tore her eyes away. “You said earlier you know this place?”

  “I have never been here before, but I’ve seen it in a vision.” Jane’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if there were no room for interpretation or argument. And, Cinzia supposed, at this point there was not. How many times had Jane suggested they do something because of a vision, dream, or direct communication with Canta herself, to have the thing eventually work out, more or less, to everyone’s good?

  Her sister looked almost regal, standing here above the ocean, the wind in her hair. In that moment, Cinzia made a decision. She could almost sense Canta’s Heart, in its pouch at her belt, glowing with anticipation.

  “I have something to tell you, Jane.”

  Goddess, where to begin?

  Jane’s eyes met hers, and for a moment the two remained silent, the wind whipping between them, but their eyes still and fixed.

  “I thought you might.”

  Cinzia started with Luceraf. She told Jane how she had allowed the Daemon to occupy her mind in exchange for freeing Knot from the Black Matron’s prison.

  Jane didn’t interrupt. Her eyes widened in surprise at first, but she eventually began to nod slightly now and again, and Cinzia began to wonder whether Jane already knew about her relationship with Luceraf.

  “This is why I have not been able to translate,” Cinzia said eventually, quoting the Codex: “Any communication with one of the Nine is an abomination, and all those who interact in any way with the Nine are lost.”

  “I had wondered, but had not wanted to say anything.”

  “So you did not know, then?”

  “Canta does not grant me omniscience, Cinzia, much as I would appreciate such a gift. But I knew something was wrong with my sister.” Her face changed slightly, and she whispered, “Is the Daemon listening to us speak?”

  Cinzia shook her head quickly. “I have only given you half the story. Luceraf is no longer with me, thank the Goddess. I knew I had to separate myself from the Daemon, but I hoped, too, to come across something that might help me understand how to defeat the Nine.”

  “You always seem to be grasping at that hope,” Jane said flatly. “That was what got you connected with Luceraf in the first place, apparently.”

  Cinzia felt the color rush to her cheeks, but continued anyway. She told Jane of the team she had assembled: Knot, Astrid, Nayome, the Beldam, Code—and the two he recruited, Alain and Morayne.

  Jane’s eyes truly did widen at this, and her mouth fell open in shock. “You met with the Beldam? And a Cantic Crucible?”

  “Nayome is the woman who came to Navone,” she said.

  “I remember the name. She was responsible for Nara’s death.”

  Cinzia bowed her head. “Nara was dear to me too. But Nayome was my best connection to the Denomination. And she believed
me when I told her about Luceraf and the imminent threat of the Daemons.”

  “And she agreed to help you?”

  Cinzia stared at Jane, her jaw set. “Yes, she agreed to help me, Jane. Is that so difficult to believe? Even with me being a disciple in a new Church directly opposing theirs, and with a Daemon in my head… oh all right, fine, maybe it is difficult to believe. But I knew Nayome at the seminary. We were friends, years ago, before all this.”

  She went on to tell Jane the rest of the adventure, holding back only some parts of her conversation with the Essera, and the choice she’d been offered. And, finally, Cinzia told Jane about the gemstone. The Heart of Canta, her experience in the Void, and how she expelled the Daemon from her body through the stone. Again, she withheld some details; telling Jane that she used her own blood to expel Luceraf did not seem right.

  When she finished, Jane had a wide smile on her face.

  “Jane?” Cinzia asked. “I have not broken you, have I?”

  In answer, her sister wrapped her in a long, powerful embrace. Cinzia stood stiffly, then forced herself to relax, melting into Jane’s arms, eventually returning the embrace.

  “You’ve done it, Cinzi! You’ve done it, you’ve done it, you’ve done it!”

  Cinzia patted Jane lightly on the shoulder, not sure what it was she had “done” exactly. When Jane finally released her, she expressed as much.

  “The gemstone!” Jane said, her eyes brighter than Cinzia had seen them in a long, long time. “Canta’s Heart!”

  Cinzia narrowed her eyes. “I’d never heard of the gemstone till I saw it in the Vault. How do you know what it is?”

  “Don’t you remember? The Codex mentions Canta’s Heart,” Jane said excitedly. “As a weapon to be used against the Nine.”

  “It… does?” Cinzia had always been frustrated at the book’s conspicuous lack of information regarding the Nine Daemons. How had she not noticed that part?

  Jane’s smile faded. “I’m afraid I have something to tell you, as well. Since that night you were unable to translate… Canta’s work had to continue, Cinzia. It is not dependent on you or me, and will go on without us if it must. You became so scarce, always gone from the camp, always up to Goddess knew what. And in this case…”

  “You found someone else to translate,” Cinzia said quietly. She had known from the moment she accepted Luceraf’s bargain that she would forfeit some of the power Canta had given her—in this case, her seership. She had been granted the ability to translate the Codex of Elwene; that had been one of the few things she had embraced in all that Jane had ushered in. Then she had lost it.

  “Canta called Elessa to translate the Codex, yes. I am so sorry, Cinzi.”

  The loss ached, but she could not blame Jane.

  “I made the choice,” Cinzia said, “and I have to accept the consequences.”

  “Now that you are free of the Daemon,” Jane said, her voice growing hopeful, “perhaps you can begin to translate with me again.”

  “Perhaps,” Cinzia said, with a smile she did not feel. If you are disappointed you no longer can translate, but no longer want to translate, what exactly is it you want? she asked herself.

  Silence was her only response.

  “You were talking about the Codex,” Cinzia said, changing the subject. “It says something about the gemstone?”

  Jane nodded eagerly. “Do you remember the symbols occurring throughout the Codex?”

  Cinzia nodded. Strange symbols cropped up throughout the book, usually near certain words. The symbols did not translate in Cinzia’s mind; they remained as they were, and they did not look like symbols she recognized in any language, dead or otherwise. But she and Jane had made note of them as they went along, hoping their meaning would become clear at some point.

  “Elwene includes a key for them at the end of her book,” Jane said, speaking quickly, the words tumbling out of her. “They’re endnotes, Cinzi. They clarify, expand, and even in some cases change the meaning of the words in the Codex. I can tell you the exact passage. It was partway through Elwene’s own book, in reference to avatars.

  An avatar is powerful, but he or she can be stopped. Decapitation is said to have worked, but this is often difficult, as the bond with a Daemon physically enhances the avatar. The avatar grows stronger than any human, with skin like stone or steel. An avatar may not fully be under the control of one of the Nine, and might be swayed to break the hold the Daemon has upon him or her. But this is only a theory, and has never been known to happen.

  Cinzia marveled at Jane’s ability to recall passages of the Codex as if she had memorized them. She would have been quite skeptical of such a claim, if she had not heard Jane do it on many occasions, quoting lines they had translated, either recently or distantly, word for word.

  “There was a notation there, a symbol,” Jane said, “at the part saying an avatar might be able to break the hold the Daemon has upon him or her. The section it referenced at the back of the Codex was long, longer than most notes. Here, it is better if I recite it for you.

  I have researched these rumors, and there is indeed some truth to them. One documented instance tells us of the Daemon Samann, who infested his consciousness into that of a young nobleman. When the nobleman’s friends, all heroes, became aware that he could hear a voice inside his head, telling him to do terrible things—he killed many of his own people, once the Daemon came to him—they set off on a quest to find a cure. They had heard of an ancient gemstone called the Heart, and procured this stone for the young man. We know little of the stone, but most accounts agree that it had a reddish hue, and was perhaps egg-shaped. They brought the gem to the nobleman, and a struggle ensued. The moment Samann saw the stone, the nobleman later said, the Daemon broke into a panic. He begged his avatar not to touch the stone, wheedling and threatening by turn, but the nobleman eventually succumbed to his friends’ insistence, and grasped the stone in both hands.

  Three records recount what happened next, but they all differ. One says the nobleman died moments after touching the stone, his face frozen in a mask of horror, both his soul and the Daemon banished into Oblivion. Another states that, after a torturous struggle, the Daemon departed, leaving the avatar an incompetent, drooling facsimile of the man he once was. The final account states that, when the nobleman took the stone in his hands, his eyes closed, and he appeared as if asleep. When he woke, he was free of the Daemon, but still had a tendency toward cruelty, whereas before Samann’s infestation such things had never been in his nature.

  In any case, the incident fascinates me. Such a gemstone, if found, could change the entire course of life on the Sfaera. And, if the power of this gemstone can somehow be used to fight the Daemons themselves, to imprison them or even kill them, then its potential is astounding.

  Cinzia stared at Jane, caught in her own astonishment and growing excitement. She could not believe, first of all, that her sister could possibly recite such a long block of text, seemingly without effort. Jane did not stumble, stutter, or hesitate at any point while relaying Elwene’s note.

  And more importantly, could it be that she might actually be able to use Canta’s Heart to defeat the Nine Daemons?

  “If Luceraf is truly gone, as you say—”

  “She is,” Cinzia said quickly.

  “Well, then, since Luceraf has truly been dispelled from you, to use Elwene’s language, then it seems we can rule out the first two accounts. You seem, more or less, yourself. Would you agree?”

  More or less myself. While she was confident Luceraf was gone, she still felt Luceraf’s absence acutely. She heard the echoes of Luceraf’s voice, on occasion, within the walls of her mind. But revealing such a thing to Jane did not seem wise.

  “I think I am the same, more or less. Perhaps I spent less time with a Daemon than the man Elwene mentions?”

  “Perhaps. Can you tell me what happened? How exactly you expelled her?”

  Again, she felt she ought not to tell Jane abou
t the blood.

  Do not be a fool, Cinzia told herself. This was her sister, after all. This was a woman with a direct link to Canta. So Cinzia put away her hesitancy and described her experience in the Void, including the voice that had instructed her and what it had told her to do.

  Take the dagger.

  Draw your own blood.

  Be rid of the shadow.

  Cinzia shivered, the sound of the voice reverberating within her once more.

  “Whose voice was it?” Jane asked. “Was it male or female? Could you tell?”

  Cinzia thought about it. It had sounded a great deal like Luceraf’s, in a way, but at the same time, it had sounded very different. She had heard a hint of Azael there, too. She would never forget the sound of the Fear Lord’s voice as it came to her, through Kovac, in Izet. The deep sound of crackling fire and flame, burning deep into her mind and into her bones.

  “It sounded like both, at times.”

  Jane frowned. “I do have a hunch as to who it might have been.”

  Cinzia met her sister’s eyes. “Who?”

  “Canta, of course,” Jane said with a smile.

  Canta. The thought had crossed Cinzia’s mind, but would the Goddess—if she truly existed at all—actually deign to speak to a doubter like Cinzia? Who had let her faith dwindle and fade, until a stiff breeze could snuff it out completely?

  “I do not know, Jane…”

  “It must have been, Cinzia. Who else would think it so important to contact you, to tell you how to use the Heart? Who else would have reason to foil the plans of the Nine Daemons? Who else would have the power to speak to you that way, in the Void? To bring you there in the first place?”

  “A great many people could speak to me in the Void,” Cinzia said. “But… you are right, I do not know how I ended up there.” Somehow, the explanation still did not seem right to her.

  “We have to get you back there,” Jane said. “We have to get you back to the Void, and you need to contact that voice again. You need to contact Canta.”