Queen of Abaddon

by Heather Killough-Walden

  Summer would never tell her father as much, but she’d volunteered for the next trek out. It was simply her turn. She was an able body. She was young. She was strong.

  Her single worry was for her father and what would become of him should she not return. Would the others make certain he was fed? That he stayed warm?

  Summer was approaching the draped leathers over the opening to the wood structure that served as their home when she felt the ground vibrate beneath her feet. She stopped and looked down.

  The trembling grew in strength, and small bits of sand began to skitter across the packed dirt. She looked up at the town’s center to find everyone had stopped what they were doing. No one was speaking; all conversation had come to a sudden halt. Every person in the street was frozen in time, each gaze searching.

  And then she heard the sound.

  It was an announcement from Hell, filling the hearts of Warrendale’s war weary citizens with instant and sickening dread. They’d heard the harbinger before, and weathered its consequence the day their lives had come crumbling down or gone up in smoke.

  Summer turned, as if in the thick miasma of a dream, to find them riding like beasts from the abyss, eating up the small dirt path into town beneath hooves that sparked like fire and left a wake of ash. Their cursed breath trailed wisps of smoke, and their eyes burned hot with fevered, nightmarish intent as they thundered toward the battered heart of Warrendale.

  Abaddon’s armies were back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The fire made a snap-hiss sound as Grolsch brought it to life. The flame caught on the third try to light the torch Loki carried. Grolsch put away his flint and steel set and gently took the torch from Loki.

  “Priest, do you still cast spells?” the large ork asked as he held the torch aloft and began looking around.

  Raven recalled the stories Loki told her while they were in Immeloria – of how he and Grolsch had been forced to travel through Nisse underground, among other things. No doubt, this cave was bringing some of those memories back to the ork.

  Loki was silent for a moment. He looked down at his hands, a slightly surprised expression claiming his features. “I don’t know,” he said. “I honestly haven’t tried to cast anything since we landed in the InBetween.”

  Grolsch looked down, frowning. “You don’t know if you have magic?”

  Raven felt the need to defend her brother. “To be fair, Grolsch, you don’t need magic in Immeloria, and we’ve only been out for a day.”

  Grolsch blinked. He straightened, and his expression softened. “A day, eh?” He shook his head. “That’s some luck that we met but a day into your return. I’d say you’ve got some magic in you, whether you know it or not.”

  Raven and Loki exchanged glances. Neither of them had considered the luck it took to run into Grolsch so soon during their quest. Or, at least Raven hadn’t, and if Loki had, he hadn’t said anything about it. Maybe Grolsch was right, and magic had something to do with it.

  “You’d best try castin’ somethin’,” Grolsch suggested. “Just to see what you can do.”

  Loki shook his head. “My magic comes from Magus, and he’s already spreading himself thin.”

  “Loki, you told me that our magic comes from ourselves, and we only give the gods credit for it. Remember?” Raven reminded him. “You said Haledon never gave anyone any healing ability. It was just that those born with healing abilities assumed they came from Haledon, so they worshiped him.”

  Loki swallowed hard. He looked down, placing his hand over his chest, where the medallion rested beneath his tunic shirt.

  Suddenly, Raven understood her brother’s apprehension. “You’re just worried that you won’t have it anymore.” She referred to his power. He was afraid he would no longer possess the abilities he once did, and if he never attempted to use them, he would never know.

  Loki exhaled. There was no argument coming from him.

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Raven said. “But I vote for waiting until we actually need it. I know they’re searching for my magic and it’s possible they’re searching for yours. Why take chances?”

  Grolsch made a deep, throaty sound of agreement. “Fair enough. We’ll wait.” He took a few slow steps down the dark, shadowy path before them, kicking up silt and crunching rocks beneath his massive leather boots. “This way.”

  Raven rolled up the map and tucked it into her quiver alongside her arrows. Then she and Loki followed, walking side by side. Loki leaned over and whispered to Raven. “Why do you think the map led us here?”

  “Maybe the cave has something we need.”

  “But it took us to the ruins, and we didn’t find anything there.”

  “Well… no. Except Grolsch.”

  Grolsch cocked his head to the side ahead of them. “Did you say somethin’?”

  “No,” said Loki. “We’re fine.”

  “I disagree. What you are is trespassing.”

  The three of them came to an abrupt halt at the sound of the voice that whispered its words around them. It slithered, and seemed to come from nowhere and nothing. It was a ghostly voice, filled with breath and invisible substance.

  Raven’s skin pricked into goose bumps, the hair on her arms and neck standing on end.

  “We have a rule about trespassers,” the voice said, or rather voices. Raven realized part of the ghostliness of the voice was that there was more than one.

  “Invite them to dinner.”

  The voices laughed, and Raven started to feel strange. A lightheadedness swept through her; her ears felt stuffed with cotton. “Loki?” she said, reaching out for him as the light from Grolsch’s torch dimmed.

  But she misjudged how far she needed to reach, and she toppled a little as something sharp grazed her left thigh. She hissed in pain before falling back against the hard, bumpy wall. Her hands slapped down upon the rock as the light from the torch was completely extinguished, leaving them in absolute darkness.

  “Raven!” her brother called out for her. But something was happening in front of her in that darkness. There were scuffling sounds, punctuated by grunts of pain and the thick, smacking noise of flesh striking flesh.

  Raven didn’t dare use her magic; it wasn’t that she was worried about the danger it posed to her disguise, it was that there was no telling who she would hit with it. But Loki seemed to have come to a decision concerning magic himself, because in the next instant, a word of power rang out through the cave tunnel, and a flash of bright white light blinded her.

  For a fraction of a second, Raven’s vision returned, accented by spots here and there that made her think of exploding stars. In that brief moment, she saw several things, all moving quickly.

  Grolsch had dropped the useless torch and now wielded his axe before him, but he held it low, probably worried he would accidentally hit one of his two traveling companions if he started wildly swinging.

  Loki had backed against the far wall across from Raven, and was whispering feverishly, casting up a second spell now that he knew his magic was still there for him. The medallion around his neck had slid out from under his shirt and was glowing.

  All around the three of them, the shadows moved. They slithered and whipped around, having split into separate bodies that moved with terrible swiftness. They writhed with too many limbs, resembling squids made of darkness. At the ends of these tentacle-like ropes of black were what appeared to be hardened points; Raven could see them reflecting Loki’s light, which magically came from nowhere and everywhere in the cave. It must have been a spell of sunlight, for it was also warm. The shadow creatures appeared to loathe the light. They slipped into the deeper, still-there shadows that were made by the standing forms of Raven and her companions.

  A second spike of pain forced a hiss from Raven, and she looked down just in time to see one of those tentacles carve through her shirt and armor to rip a jagged line in her right arm. Blood welled instantly, swimming so quickly to the surface, it
was there fast enough to coat the tentacle. She could now see it had a tooth-like edge, reminiscent of a saw blade.

  “What are they?!” she cried out in frustrated pain, feeling the power in her hands heat up like dry ice. Her vision tinted itself, becoming much more clear in the darkness. Her power was leaking. She was moments away from not only using her magic, but from transforming into “Winter,” her more capable Abaddonian form. Would that give her location away to those who pursued her? Almost certainly, if she maintained it long enough.

  But did she even care at the moment? Anger was surging through her, fed by pain. She clenched her teeth, fighting with her instinct to just make the change and destroy everything around her in a single frigid blast.

  The tentacled shadow creature hovered after slicing her, and gave a shudder. It seemed to consider her anew, encouraged by its coating of her blood. It remained a foot away, half in the light and half out of it. The part of it touched by Loki’s magic spell smoked and steamed, clearly burning in the created sunlight. But it stared out at Raven from a sightless, formless, dark blotch of a head, and Raven had the impression it was trying to decide whether it was worth it to brave the sunlight for another swipe at Raven’s flesh.

  At last, it retreated further into the depths of the tunnel, deciding to play it safe. As it fled, though it possessed no mouth for creating sound, it issued forth a high-pitched keening noise. Raven leapt back as another of the slithering beasts suddenly rushed out from behind Grolsch to take a stab at her. The first shadow squid had liked her blood, indeed, and was calling others in for the feeding.

  Raven saw the air in front of her mouth condense. That was it. She couldn’t hold back her magic any longer.

  She prepared to blast the attacking shadow with a powerful bolt of cold, when a second word of power issued out through the cave – and Loki’s magical light went out.

  Raven ducked out of instinct, hoping the attacking beast would miss her in the fresh darkness. Whether it worked or not, she didn’t know, because the cave entered a supernatural stillness.

  Raven froze where she crouched low, her frosty breath shaking, her mind spinning with pain and indecision. She didn’t recognize the source of the second voice. There was someone else in the cave with them, someone who could cast darkness spells and who, unlike the shadow squid, possessed a mouth to cast them with.

  Every muscle in her body was tensed. She could feel the sleeve of her right arm growing wetter; she was bleeding freely into it. At the same time, the first wound in her thigh began to burn as if by acid. Her fingertips prickled with electricity, and somewhere in the darkness beyond her closed lids, she heard the crackling sound of rime spreading quickly over rock.

  She closed her eyes. Gods, help me, she thought desperately.

  “I must apologize for the Shadra Kin’s treatment of you,” the second voice said. It was a soothing voice, deep and melodic. Something about it felt familiar to Raven, but it wasn’t specific enough that she could place it. It had a quality about it reminiscent of soft blankets or a cat’s purr.

  Raven opened her eyes, expecting to see clearly through her night vision. However, whatever spell had extinguished Loki’s light must have been an unnatural darkness, not at all like night.

  Raven exhaled, and this time, her breath shook less. The ice ceased crackling.

  “They are trained to protect, you see,” the voice continued. “And it’s true you are trespassing.” There was the sound of dirt and loose rubble crunching beneath a boot, then the striking of a flame.

  Raven blinked against the new light, which was more harsh because her eyes had already changed. The stars that threatened her vision earlier were back and brighter. However, she repeatedly blinked, and the dancing lights faded. The cave before her came into focus.

  “I’m Direan,” he said. His ice green eyes moved from hers to take in the wound on her arm. “And you’re bleeding.” Raven noticed his voice was slightly accented, lending it a genteel quality. He smiled a slight but beautiful smile that made Raven’s insides feel strange.

  Those eyes of his were back on hers, holding her easily in their sway. “We’d best tend to that, don’t you think?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Summer’s gaze narrowed on the soldier who held her wrists. “Let – me – go!” she hissed. The soldier, whose face was hidden behind a black metal helm, turned his head away and ignored the request.

  Summer was secretly relieved. A part of her couldn’t believe that she’d had the courage to stand up to him and say anything in the first place. She was fortunate he hadn’t punished her.

  Still, the stubborn part of her gritted her teeth and held her tongue when she was firmly added back into a line of females who had been gathered at the center of Warrendale. She’d only stepped out in order to help another woman who’d stumbled while being placed in the line.

  The woman who’d stumbled had recently gone on a scouting mission, and she’d returned with a leg that was broken in two places. The priests had done as much as they could, but they were relatively young and inexperienced. Her wounds had healed slightly crooked, and walking quickly was a difficult task for her.

  However, the soldiers didn’t seem to care about injuries. Every female between the ages of sixteen and forty was being paraded into the town square. No woman was being spared, regardless of physical health.

  Up ahead, near a yet-uncompleted fountain the men in the village had been constructing, each woman was being stripped down and bodily searched. The reasons for this had not been revealed. Apparently, Tantibus did not feel it necessary to share his reasons. In fact, he hadn’t said a single word.

  He remained at the edge of Warrendale’s center, seated atop his nightmare steed. As always, his face was hidden behind a massive and formidable helm. The air around him appeared somehow darker, as if he existed in a permanent shroud of night.

  But it could at least be said that, as opposed to the destruction Warrendale had been expecting upon hearing the sound of the approaching army, the entire ordeal was being carried out in an orderly, lawful fashion.

  It was apparently the will of Lord Tanith, King of Abaddon. Nearby, a handful of Warrendale’s priests tended to the wounded men who had at first attempted to stop Nisse’s soldiers. At least one was critically injured, but these were not Tantibus’s Night Marchers, and this was not an errand of death. It was obvious the soldiers’ intent was not to kill the villagers, only to search them. As usual, no dissent would be tolerated. That was all.

  The women, in particular, were being treated with strict gentility. Most likely, this was due to the fact that few women were putting up a fight. If you were assured you would come to no physical harm, it was easier to take off your clothes and stand before a searching gaze than to struggle and risk injury.

  Summer hugged herself and, though she knew she shouldn’t, she spared a glance at her father, who stood furious and stiff as a board with a group of the other men. It was good fortune, if it could be called such, that the weather this day was warmer than it had been in the last few days. Of late, it seemed that winter was fast approaching, as snow had begun falling in various areas around the terran realm. Scouts had returned with news of snow drifts and sudden storms.

  It was only early fall; if the pattern continued, the winter season would be upon them before they were prepared, and it would be long and cold, indeed. None of the crops they’d planted would be harvest ready in a mere month’s time….

  Summer occupied her mind with these thoughts, attempting to leave the nervous discomfort of her body as her place in line moved steadily closer to the front.

  “I’m frightened,” the woman behind her said.

  Summer turned just as the woman took hold of her sleeve and clenched it in tight, shaking fists. The woman was perhaps a little older than Summer, or maybe she’d worked more years in the fields around Trimontium. Very light crow’s feet had claimed the outer corners of her light green eyes. She was beautiful, and when she sh
owed her clenched, chattering teeth, they were straight and white.

  The woman was relatively new to Warrendale, but Summer had seen her here and there over the last few days. She thought her name was… “Fyona? Is that right?” Summer asked softly, placing her hand gently atop the other woman’s trembling grip.

  Fyona nodded, just once. “Yes. And you’re S-Summer,” she said, though her eyes were glancing hard and quick at the center fountain ahead. “What do you s-suppose they want with us?” she asked through those clenched teeth.

  “I don’t know,” Summer replied honestly. “But my guess is they’re looking for someone.” She glanced toward the center, where a red-headed woman was now bending to pick up her pile of clothes and hurry to the side so that another could come forward. “Someone female, obviously.” She narrowed her gaze. “Maybe bearing a mark of some kind.”

  “Then we won’t be t-touched,” Fyona managed, though Summer could tell the very thought itself was having a devastating effect on the woman’s nerves.

  “No,” Summer said, with some force. Saying it out loud admittedly made her feel a little better herself. So, she had to bare her body to a stranger. Most of the men in the village possessed enough courtesy to be looking away from the ordeal, turning their backs to spare the women’s honor and pride.

  Knowing the soldiers of Abaddon, the situation could have been much, much worse. Of course, she didn’t know what it was they were looking for. Or what they would do to the woman who possessed it.

  But she didn’t say as much to Fyona. “We’re going to be fine,” she assured her.

  “Move forward,” came a harsh command from beside them. Summer turned around to find that a wide space had suddenly appeared between her and the two remaining women in front of her. She swallowed hard, released Fyona, and stepped forward to fill the gap. She could hear Fyona scuffle along after her.