The Queen's Viper

by Lesley Donaldson

  Viper ignored him.

  “I am not an animal such as the ones you keep chained at London Towyr to put on display at your whim,” she yelled at Elizabeth. “How dare you reveal our intimate friendship to this charlatan?”

  “Master Dee is my confidant,” Elizabeth retorted, her cheeks aflame through the lead paste. “He, too, foretold my Crown when I was a Mary’s prisoner at the Towyr. Who else except a man of the occult would understand my allegiance to a puissant creature who honours no laws of Church, nor State?”

  Dee fumbled with crystals of various shapes, colours and polished surfaces, trying to see Viper. His pale blue aeir spread out in every possible direction as he jumbled them in his arms.

  “Tell her…” An irregularly shaped crystal toppled from his hands to the floor and splintered into four pieces. He fumbled as he picked up the shards. “Tell her that I, of all men, appreciate the complexity of her nature. If she would share her expertise with me, I will create a wisdom within the British Empire that is illuminated beyond any teachings of any church, to the betterment of mankind.”

  Viper removed her enchantment of concealment with explosive righteousness. She towered over Dee’s crouching body. Elldyr fire roiled from skin so tainted by ire that its eggplant colour neared black. The sage froze.

  “What would thee examine first, Doctor, my body or my fire?” Viper snarled. She roped her elldyr creft around him and hoisted him in the air. He tilted to the left, crystals clutched to his chest. Parchments and small objects stirred in slow motion around the room. Dee’s legs thrashed and he knocked over a vase. The water flooded his writings. Viper’s elldyr creft writhed with intrinsic loathing of the man who sought jurisdiction over her, casting a deep red-fuscia hue on her hair.

  “Seek the fire in my magic and thou shalt be burned!” Viper made the crystals in Dee’s arms reach unbearable temperatures. He tossed them from his scalded hands. The stones floated in the swirling field of debris around him, glowing as white-hot as her fury. The growing magic sucked up the flames of the candles until they snuffed out.

  “Viper, stop!” Lost in the din, Elizabeth’s commanding voice sounded like the kiss of an infant. She held the Parhelion in shaking hands. Even from this distance, the immortal sensed the defensive power of the amulet.

  “I trusted you, Elizabeth, and you forsake me.” Viper wound a tendril of elldyr creft around Elizabeth, careful not to touch the Parhelion. She hooked the back of Elizabeth’s ruff with her magic and pulled the accessory upwards. Elizabeth wasn’t so high that her feet left the floor, but neither was she comfortable. Viper wanted to teach Elizabeth a lesson, and it took the full measure of the immortal’s self-control not to wring Elizabeth’s neck with her own clothes.

  “I appointed Dee as my Noble Intelligentsia that his freedom of any study might one day be of service unto you,” Elizabeth said, pulling the bulky fabric away from her neck before she choked.

  “I thought you knew better the nature of men, as you hath shown in your politics.” Viper knew her targeted words would hurt Elizabeth deeper than the feeble strangulation. “This sorcerer’s interests are no different than the shallow love of your suitors. Mankind seeks to conquer that which they say they honour, be it knowledge, women or gods. He, too, will overmaster you.”

  The runes from Viper’s arms floated above her skin, ready to receive Dee’s life force. The pallor of death threatened Dee as his aeir trickled towards Viper.

  “Blame not the servant of my heart, I entreat you.” Tears carved lines through Elizabeth’s make-up. “You know well enough that am I driven by my heart as much as my head. If you are angry with me, then take up your quarrel with me.”

  Viper studied her friend with questioning eyes. Elizabeth’s stately demeanour had crumbled. Dee’s aeir hovered within Viper’s reach.

  “Viper! Please!”

  Viper shrieked in frustration and liberated her captives. Dee toppled to the ground, alive but unconscious. His aeir floated back into his body. Elizabeth braced herself on a chair with relief, calming her breath. Objects that Viper’s power had churned up fell with a clatter. The room turned completely dark, save for the burning embers of elldyr creft in Viper’s hands and the innocent radiance of the Parhelion.

  In the stillness, Viper heard Elizabeth’s halting voice. “You have my thanks,” she whispered. “I swear unto you, he shall never use this device again, save by my assent.”

  “Destroy it, Elizabeth,” Viper replied flatly. “Trust not this zealot. Should he manipulate the magic of Daoine Tor, I fear ’twill be the end of you.”

  “What of you? Will you stay with me?”

  To Viper’s eyes, Elizabeth’s golden aeir infused the room with warmth. Dee’s workshop lay in shambles. It would take him months to organise his study effectively. Viper reached for her friend in apology, then stopped. Elizabeth’s aeir trickled towards Dee and their aeir merged. The man moaned as he stirred from unconsciousness. Elizabeth stumbled over the debris to raise her sage’s head.

  Spite reigned over Viper’s heart. “If I remain with you, then your magician must go.”

  Dabbing Dee’s face with her damask skirt, Elizabeth shook her head. “I cannot in good conscience send him away. What manner of queen would I be to my people if I hath not so well-learned a man in my retinue? I risk all for my kingdom that I would not put my kingdom at risk.”

  “Then so shall we part ways, Faerie Queen.” Viper burned out Dee’s runes in the floor with fire from her hands. “I will seek out the Sisters and join them. Do not expect my return.”

  “I do not give you my leave to go!” Elizabeth ordered Viper as she marched for the exit.

  “I do not take it.”

  Viper left through the door leading to Mort Lake with Elizabeth cradling the head of her sage in a sea of destruction.

  We have trouble

  Explain.

  We were unable 2 find the jewel

  QE knows.

  Agreed. She stepped up the timeline for the device completion

  And?

  She’s using them at the tower

  Then they work.

  Yes. What R UR orders

  Retrieve everything.

  And the asset?

  Srry. Didn’t get a response. What about the asset?

  There are others.

  Kill it if you must.

  21: The Tower of London

  The Tower of London.

  June 5, 2012: late morning.

  The air around Viper smelled of forgotten memories. Royal antiquities choked the room, a large cavern hewn from the bedrock of the River Thames. Leather-bound books rested on drooping shelves. Tracks in the thick dust led to portraits that had been moved beside a glass cabinet to make room for Viper’s cell. She recognized one with a gold-gilded framed carved with Tudor roses that surrounded a black background. Of the figure inside, the immortal made out the edge of an upright, wired, sheer veil, adorned with gold filigree embroidery and black pearls. Other paintings blocked the rest of her view. Fifty feet above her, tourists at the Tower of London photographed nine ravens at the historical attraction. During the night, the military had dragged Viper past the birds and into the bowels of the Tower. The ravens had been hopping about with agitation ever since.

  In Viper’s time, this part of the dungeon held the least respected of the Tower prisoners. She had kept Princess Elizabeth away from the human decay penetrating through the chamber door, the smell of ferric blood indistinguishable from the erosive iron clamps. Heavy chains still wove through two rows of sizeable iron keyholes that pierced the wall. A disused British Army uniform from the Georgian-era hung from an upper rung, floating like a bloodstained ghost. Viper pressed her forehead against the cold bars of her unforgiving cage. LED lights in the ceiling revealed medieval graffiti scratched into the rock. Wide and rough, the carvings captured the last vestiges of the former captives’ existence. If prisoners had died here, the evidence had long since faded.

  Annys’ prison
was a place of the earth, yet not on the Earth. There, Viper felt lost in a void. She had overextended her senses, sorely unsatisfied. She wished for that absence of feeling now. The Daoine Tor’s hands bore mending bruises. She had pummeled her fists upon the broad bars of her cage for hours. The metal did not buckle. Viper’s weakness grew as time passed without feeding. Her skeleton wanted to leap out of her skin and dismantle devices set beyond her reach that amplified her frailty and prevented her escape. The runes on Viper's arms felt like they were going to tear themselves off sluggish limbs.

  The debilitating barrier emitted from four spinning crystals floating above gold and silver boxes, positioned beyond the corners of her cage. Through clear panes set into the sides, she saw gears spin in puzzling rates and directions. Delicate copper wires wound around metallic projections from the top and sides. Electrical arcs spanned the space between the contraptions. The crystals moved so fast that Viper couldn’t define their shape. Energy radiating from them overlapped into a sphere with a honeycomb surface. When Viper reached through the bars and touched this magic, she writhed in pain.

  The chamber’s solid door opened with the grinding of metal on stone. Four armed guards wearing charcoal black tactical gear marched into the room. Their unit insignia matched that of the armed soldiers who had apprehended Viper at Dugan Mound. They took up a perimeter, guns drawn. Queen Elizabeth II entered with her commanding footfall. With her unadorned head high, she didn’t need a crown to identify her authority. Her periwinkle blue suit-dress starkly contrasted the dingy room. The queen’s face revealed no hint of her intention towards Viper.

  “Prisoner: kneel for Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth,” the ebony-skinned man closest to the queen barked.

  “Thank you, Captain.” The queen raised a small hand, gloved in white cotton. “The usual formalities are not necessary. And, you may lower your rifles as well, I should think.”

  “Ma'am…” the guard started to object. Her piercing gaze cut him off.

  “One thing I am not accustomed to, Captain Ellis, is explaining myself,” Queen Elizabeth said.

  “Yes Ma’am.” Ellis nodded with respect. He lowered his rifle, intense eyes trained on Viper. His aeir concentrated itself around his hands, ready for immediate response. His drive to protect his queen and his duty to obey her battled for dominance. If this man was anything like the soldiers Viper had seen before, he dared not disobey his Commander-in-Chief, even if he disagreed with her decision. He told his team to follow suit.

  Viper smiled at the queen’s subtle dominance. This queen maintained her age better than her historical namesake, but she showed the same strength behind her years. The Monarch hadn’t changed her calm outward expression. Her aeir swirled fiercely. Viper wondered if she’d be able to befriend this royal.

  That hope plummeted when Queen Elizabeth shifted her stern gaze to Viper. “You needn’t smile, creature. I didn’t reproach Captain Ellis for your benefit. I’ve been watching you through the CCTV,” she said, pointing to a wall-mounted camera in the corner of the room. The electronic eye held as solid as the queen’s. “You’re weakened by the apparatus around you. I have no intention of turning it off.”

  “Methinks my apprehension was preordained.” Viper retreated two steps, hands wide in supplication. Her runes cried for attention. She neglected them. “Why hold me captive, Diamond Queen?”

  “There was an unusual incursion at Buckingham Palace yesterday. Thankfully, I was not in the House and my guards performed their duties admirably. Tell me, what do you know about the assault?” The queen pulled off each finger of her gloves with meticulous care. She folded them and laid them on the display case, next to shrouded furniture.

  “Less than thee, to be sure.” Viper grit her teeth with dread. She thought of the safety of her Foundling. At Clare’s last report Owain was at the palace being attacked, perhaps by the queen. If Viper shared her fear over his safety, she’d reveal her weakness. The immortal didn’t know whether or not she could trust this queen.

  “Unmanned car-bombs rammed the front gates of the House,” Queen Elizabeth reported. “A ridiculous strategy, given Buckingham Palace’s front-end security. The building wasn’t breeched, or so we thought. When I returned to my office, something was amiss.”

  The guards stood as stagnant as the uniform hanging on the wall. Viper yearned to drain the soldiers’ aeir, each of whom had a life-magic as diverse as the soldiers appeared the same. She made herself listen to Queen Elizabeth, despite increasing dizziness in the presence of fresh food sources.

  “You see, a grandfather clock stands in my office. Queen Victoria commissioned it to honour her husband, Prince Albert, on the tenth anniversary of his death. Inside, there’s a hidden storage space where I had secured the amulet that morning. The back panel had scratches and a corner had been pried open. The exploding cars were evidently a diversion. Someone desperately wanted what was inside the clock.”

  Viper assumed that the Parhelion had been stolen. “Then I am lost.” Weak magic emitted from her body. She sank against the back wall. The stone’s cold ebbed into her spine and Viper thought she heard the echo of a haunting laugh through the bedrock. “Did thy soldiers find the culprit?”

  She closed her eyes shut and braced for news about Owain, that he had been caught during the raid and held as a prisoner. Scuffling and the quiet exertional grunting of the soldiers reached her ears. Viper imagined Owain being brought into the room, bound to a chair, bruised and bleeding from the tortuous ways humans extracted information from each other. The immortal’s shoulders drooped and her head flopped. The scars she’d seen on Owain the night he recovered her from the Thames spoke of horrors which he wouldn’t. The heaviness in her chest grew. She had once again failed to protect her Foundling.

  The sound stopped and Viper begrudgingly opened her eyes. She beheld a wooden throne, stained black-red, on a metallic platform that had been dragged into the room by the soldiers. They placed the throne in front of her cage. Her Foundling wasn’t in the chair. A tiny smile of relief graced Viper’s lips. The action didn’t go unnoticed.

  “You know this throne?” Queen Elizabeth commented without answering Viper’s previous query. The immortal recognized the Tudor roses carved into the backrest and lower panels of the box seat. The flowers showed evidence of repair. Paint a shade brighter than the rest of the pigment covered nicks in the wood. Wide armrests ended in ball and claw carvings stylized with humanoid hands, one in flames and the other with waves. The chair’s plush crimson cushion, trimmed in gold, showed little signs of wear.

  Viper hastened back to an impassive face. “’Tis a grotesque piece of furniture.” She rolled her eyes into her head as she lied. Viper had seen the throne briefly, among strewn objects she upended from John Dee’s supply wagon before his last visit to Hampton Palace.

  “There’s a superstition about this chair. Whosoever sits in it dies.”

  Viper unexpectedly worried that her Elizabeth had occupied the throne. The immortal compelled herself to stay calm.

  After a pause, the queen continued. “Elizabeth’s successor, James VI found the throne in 1625, during a building project at Richmond Place. He sat in it one time, and died shortly thereafter. His grandson, King Charles II, wanted the throne hidden away, without being damaged. King Charles was very superstitious, and now I understand why. In fact, he’s the king who ordered that ravens with clipped wings will be kept at the Tower, lest the kingdom fall. It’s a tradition maintained to this day.”

  Viper shrugged a shoulder with feigned disinterest. “No doubt those captives are better kept than am I.”

  At first glance, the throne’s carvings suggested elaborate, yet innocent, detail. With further surreptitious examination, Viper noted fine, asymmetrical proportions, as if multiple masters carved the ornamentation. Viper deduced that John Dee himself mastered the final assembly.

  The Tudor roses grew on vines resembling wild brambles. The vegetation intertwined across the backrest. Drips of
dark lacquer hung from its sharp thorns.

  “Let me explain how I found it,” the modern queen said. “In 1992 there was a fire at Windsor Castle that caused £36.5 million in damage.” The queen’s aeir paled at the memory. “One of the destroyed walls revealed a hidden treasury of mysterious items, including this throne. The Castle Museum’s curator wanted to renovate this throne for Windsor’s re-opening. He and his team discovered that the resin on the thorns is made of an exceptionally potent poison. Some became ill because of it.

  “Thankfully, the affected staffers received prompt medical attention. We’ve kept the throne at the Tower to prevent accidental contact. Publically, King Charles II died of uremia. Unpublished records said he was poisoned after he scratched himself on thorns during a fever induced delirium at Windsor, presumably from the throne’s toxin. I image that’s why it was locked away.”

  “What should the death of Kings matter to me?” Viper maintained a disdainful tone, heedless of Captain Ellis’ glare.

  “Do you care about the death of queens?”

  The Monarch tilted the cushion forwards. The letters ER embossed within a Tudor rose, beneath a crown of gold, confirmed Viper’s Elizabeth as the throne’s owner. Viper imagined Elizabeth gasping for breath with her hands at her throat after sitting in the sabotaged throne. The immortal willed her tears into abeyance at the thought of the horrific death.

  “Be that how Elizabeth died?” Viper startled herself with her sincerity. The temperamental, red-headed queen was the first friend Viper had known.

  “No.” Queen Elizabeth paused before she continued, as if deciding whether or not to explain further.

  She did not.

  “Then, why art thou showing me this throne?” Viper’s inwardly-directed hurt evolved into seething outrage. “Is it thy intent to use it to end my life? I would not bet heavily upon thy success.”

  “I want information,” the modern queen replied. “I won’t be caught out. There is too much that I don’t understand about you, or objects related to your past, and what of your world ties into the prophecy. I will not harm you. That being said, I cannot let you roam freely. Recent events in the South of England, namely the earthquake and tornado near Sunninghill, the tidal wave that took out a footbridge in Maidstone, and an abundance of smallpox, make me indisposed to align myself with you.”