A Queen Among Crows: Book One of Empire's End

by M. S. Linsenmayer

  I loved the smell of burning rats in the morning. It smelled like revenge.

  The British did this to me once, in New Orleans. A strong queen can hold out a few deaths at a time, in any battle there would be losses, but all this burning at once? Oh, this would hurt. Each death, each fire, like one more nail driven through the skin. If she survived, my enemy would never ever forget it.

  If she survived.

  A squeal of brakes as the trucks rolled around us, trying to stop. Men began to fall out of them, taking in the carnage. The ground quaked slightly, as Captain Alessandro pushed his way through his men to us.

  More green lightning, silver crashes and gunfire.

  "Captain" I said " Can the fire or rats hurt you? We need a path into the castle"

  "No" He began to take off his Jacket, and ripped a sleeve off, rolling it around his face. "Although the smoke can."

  "I shall go ahead, make a break and open the wall... Armsman" He continued to an older enlisted man " follow with the trucks. Rig out the snow plows, those will clear a way through the mess. What defense remains will most likely be near the western tower, it is the highest and most fortified. Head there first, the Grand Duke would, if he could."

  The Captain then charged forward, slowly, but massively, like an angry bull elephant, each thunderous footfall sinking several inches into the ground, smashing any living rats in his way to so much jelly and paste.

  The rest of us piled into the trucks to follow.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Queen Takes Castle

  Interlude:

  The Modern house or Romanov began with the death of the last male Romanov ruler, Peter the II, in 1730. The Russian Imperial throne then went into disarray and confusion with political infighting, assassinations, and coupe attempts resulting in Peter's Illegitimate daughter Elizabeth Petrovna taking the throne in 1741.

  Empress Elizabeth the First soon proved herself a capable leader, securing her position both militarily and diplomatically; she capitalized on this by signing several important treaties culminating with the Second Treaty of Amsterdam, ending the twelve years war with victory for the Russian Alliance and promises of regular tribute to be paid to the empire from the Atlantic States.

  Part of that tribute was the person of Princess Sophie Friederike Auguste von Anhalt-Zerbst-Dornburg, a minor princess of the Prussian Royal Family of Anhalt. While of noble birth, her immediate family was of lesser note, with little wealth. The princess was quite gifted however, being both intelligent and a Bishop with a strong talent for the Electrical Forces. Empress Elizabeth’s purpose for bringing the princess to Russia was to marry her to her nephew and heir, Grand Duke Karl Peter Ulrich, thus breeding the Princess's talents into the royal family.

  The plan worked too well. While it did succeed in producing talented heirs- both children of the union, Grand Duke Aleksandr Mikhail and Grand Duchess Yelisaveta Annastasia proved strongly talented, Princess Sophie herself grew difficult to control. She took the name Princess and Grand Duchess Catherine, in order to make herself appear more Russian to her subjects.

  Catherine began a quiet campaign to win the loyalty and devotion of her new peoples; alms for the poor, banquets and entertainments for the rich, the funding of schools and universities. Her direct and personal intervention at the battle of Memen in 1756 won her both the loyalty of the Russian army and the nickname 'The Winter Queen'. While these actions gave her a firm popular base, the discovery in 1760 on how to use technology obtained from the Mongolian Impact to industrialize the Gunnlöð Formula and thus make life extension both plausible and reliable- for the right price- gave Catherine an unshakable economic and political base.

  In 1761, in exchange for promises of eternal youth, Elizabeth retired to her personal palace outside St Petersburg. Grand Duke Karl attempted his own play, but was out powered, and forced to retire in permanent internal exile to his Palace in Germany,

  Princess and Grand Duchess Catherine crowned herself Autocrat of the empire on January 5th, 1762, and has ruled since then, expanding her grip to include Western Europe, Southern and Central Africa, All of Asia excepting India, and portions of South America, Indonesia and Antarctica. It is the largest empire in human history, over twice the size of that of Genghis Khan.

  - excerpt from A Student's Primer of World History, p. 1902, Greenbriar press, New Angel, New Angel

  I have heard many beautiful paeans to the glories of battle in my life. Solemn hymns, tragic operas, patriotic jazz... I have heard it all before. They all lie. They never tell you about having to reach out the window of your truck to wipe splatters of badly cooked remains off your windshield with your sword so your driver can see where the hell they are going while sliding through a small lake of slushed Rattus Norvegicus Au bleu. With occasional human effluence for added extra sausage flavor.

  "I," James said from behind my seat "Want a straw."

  "But Daaaad" One of his daughters chirped up from behind him "We have no lips."

  "If you two do not be silent, I shall vomit all over you." Dame Julie was driving. And green. But mostly driving.

  "That could be tasty too" James laughed.

  Dame Julie began to apply the brakes. It was hard to see though the smoke and ash, but when I smeared the bloody mess out of my own eyes, I could see the remains of the gate house directly in front of us. The Captain was still in front, now clearing the rubble by simply punching it out of his way like a human wrecking ball. Stray surviving rats would throw themselves on him, but he either ignored them or tossed them halfway to the moon.

  "Right then" I said "This may take all day. Time, we do not have. Do we have ropes? The outer wall looks mostly intact, and it cannot be much more than thirty feet. The Captain tosses one of us, we drop the ropes, and then the men go over the hard way."

  "Eryma" Dame Julie said, " If there is another rat horde inside that is suicide."

  " I am betting there won't be... Any Queen has limits, and this has to push them. Rats are not intelligent in their own, and they cannot be trained in any real way. The queen led them here, and told them to attack. She may have some closely bonded rats, like Lois and James to me, but I bet the real attack was by armed men. Lure out the strongest defenders, trap them, cut the lines of communication, bring in the horde to assault the main lines, then hit from the back with a small group of well-armed men. That, is what the inner defenders are facing now. That is how I would have done it."

  "That is how we did do it. Fort Brandt, Virginia. I am still not sure what was funnier, watching them run without pants or watching them panting with the runs." James said.

  "Loperamide in the troops beer rations" I said to Julie's look.

  "Right then, let's do this. Armsman!" Dame Julie bellowed " Get masks, get the rope, I am going to get the Captain. Eryma, can your 'troops' do another bomb run if needed?"

  "Not without more supplies." I said, "And not against all that smoke, they cannot even see their targets, much less breathe in it."

  "Great. So what good are you now?"

  "I have my sword, brains, and a hell of a lot more knowledge about queens than you." I growled back.

  "And me. I am not staying behind." James said.

  "Good." Dame Julie smiled, then lunged, brushing my lips with her own. "For luck.". Her lip gloss tasted like lemons.

  #

  Watching Julie get flung up the wall by the Captain like some curvy fastball was fun. Climbing the rope after her was not. The top of the wall was about two feet across, with ornamental brass spikes and not so ornamental glass shard laid into the stone work. Inside, the gardens were an abattoir of horrors; dead courtiers and servants lay intertwined like lovers with small mounds of rats here and there squirming for leavings. A large hole lay near the center of the garden, blown up from the sewer line below, showed where the enemy had gained entry.

  Whatever frantic defense had been made had fallen, a half dozen bodies in Russian and German uniforms before the doors to the western tower
showed where they had made their stand. In front of them, bodies of more men and women wearing peasant clothes but very strange large black rubber backpacks lay dead in a loose circle.

  "Right, " I said. " They blasted up from the sewers, sent in the rats first, then the troops... We need those backpacks. "

  " Why?" one of the soldiers asked.

  "They all have them, but all their other equipment is random... They are probably hold something, some smell, or chemical, or poison, that the rats hate. Dame Julie, you will hit the doors first... Secure them please. " And with that I jumped off the wall, and ran.

  A wind passed me as I pushed on, trying to keep my breathe in all this smoke. I went around the first pile of rats, they ignored me. I was too close to the second, their heads darted up, I kept on running. Behind me a fall and a scream as one of the men tripped into a swarm.

  More screams, more rats. One jumped on my leg, I threw it off and kept running. Two more on my back, I kept running. More in front, kick them, keep running. To stop was death.

  Dame Julie emerged from holding one of the rubber bags... It had a nozzle, I saw, she sprayed me with it... Dear gods, the smell, I could feel it even through my mask... Before moving on, spraying rats as she went driving them away from the troops. Several of the men had fallen, I saw. One was never getting up.

  "Grab the bags, and get inside!" I yelled, grabbing one myself. "James, I am so sorry, but I can't carry both this and you."

  "Parkour!" He yelled, hopping up the stairs with short mini flights.

  "Where," Julie asked "Did you get that bird??"

  "Tennessee " I said. "Take the lead please, anyone in peasant clothes probably is not on our side."

  The first fight was short and sweet, they had no idea we were coming behind them, and Dame Julie simply sliced them all to ribbons. The second group had heard the first die, and was warned... They threw pieces of furniture and doors into a break, and took cover behind it, firing down the hall at us as fast as they could reload. Bullets cracked above our heads like angry hornets.

  "Think they will run out of ammo soon?" I asked, in one of the few seconds break.

  "We can't wait. Damn it, for once I need the Captain and he is not here. Can you distract them with your tricks while I charge?" Dame Julie asked.

  "What, charge fifteen or twenty men? It sounds like they may even have a machine gun!"

  "Krupp’s 5mm. The Guards weapons, they must have stolen it."

  " How much ammo did the Guards have?"

  The air grew cold, my hair standing one end.

  "Too much" Julie tensed herself, about to charge.

  "Wait!" I grabbed her arm.

  A strange feeling, something unnatural, then green lightning burnt through the ceiling above us and into the men behind their barricade. Screams, panic, the bullets stopped, more wind, Julie was gone, and pieces of men flew like shuffled cards at a magician's stage.

  I stood up, looked around, bloody hall, sliced and diced men, broken barricade, a crater in the ceiling, still glittering with green sparks, several Russian and German troops crouched to look back at me through it.

  I picked slices of enemy off my clothes. There should be a new name, just for the carnage Dame Julie could cause. Julie Ann fries?

  " Is that it, is it done? "A young girl, barely fifteen if that, wearing a maid's cap, stuck her head down the hole.

  "Yes, and thank you, my lady." I said.

  "I am just a maid" she blushed.

  I looked at her, at her arms, bare, with glowing sigils burning green on them.

  "Duchess" I bowed my head to her, "Yes, it is all over but the cleanup..."

  "No." I snarled. "It is not. Stupid, stupid STUPID!"

  I turned and charged up the stairs. One distraction, two distractions, why not three? One floor, second floor, the Captain said the fourth... There. That door. The top. I kicked it down, James trying to hop up as best as he could behind me.

  Two rats awaited me, both huge, the size of Doberman pinschers. They snarled, their eight-inch fangs large in their crimson mouths. At the end of the hall, in front of a large window, a small dark-haired woman in a peasant costume held a knife to Grand Duke Karl's throat.

  "Stop, or I will kill him" she tightened her grip, bleeding the Grand Duke some.

  I charged, throwing my rubber backpack at one rat and punting the other rat halfway through the ceiling. Where it stuck.

  The Rat Queen slammed the Grand Duke into the wall, freeing her hands to throw her knife at me. I swatted it with my saber. She jerked back, pulling a pistol. I held my arms in front of my face. Twenty feet now.

  The first bullet hit my right shoulder, I staggered, the second missed.

  Ten feet.

  I lunged, sliding into it, my blade piercing her left side.

  She fell, back through the glass window.

  I turned, checked for James, saw him wedging his beak out of the one rat's skull. He hopped to me, spitting as he went, I knelt down and gathered him up before turning to look out the window.

  "Do you think she is dead." I asked.

  "Probably. You would be, from this height. We should check." James spat.

  "Hure!" was all I heard behind me.

  Then a shove.

  Then air.

  Time slowed down.

  Spinning I saw the Grand Duke's face, split in a sick glee.

  James, trying to leap from my arms and fly.

  The smell of burning flesh.

  The ground, solid brick and stone.

  Then I saw nothing at all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Max Miracle

  Part Two

  St. Petersburg, Imperial Russia

  Late October 1908

  #

  Interlude:

  .... About the Gunnlöð Formula, what is known is far more mythology than fact. The name comes from an ancient Scandinavian legend about a giantess who knew the secret of immortality, and how the Germanic god Odin seduced it from her. Based on that, some scholars believe it originated in the fourth through sixth centuries Northern Europe. However, other legends of similar potions can be found in ancient China, Egypt, and Sumerian.

  The formula's oldest written version comes from a 12th century book 'The Testament of Morienus Romanus.'. In it, the recipe is given as boiled mushrooms, aqua vitae, the flowers of the wyrmwood plant picked at full moon, and a liqueur made from distilled human placenta. The other 13th and 14th century versions are similar, with various local food sources substituted for the mushrooms - the Chinese for example calls for a mash of boiled rice- and or fluid sources as needed. The main constants are the human placental tissue and the wyrmwood, although it varies greatly in how it is prepared.

  The original recipe calls for the patient to be submerged in the mixture, however considering the cost of the materials, it is doubtful than anyone other than great nobles could afford such a thing. Other recipes call for droughts to be consumed or a lotion to be made, often with some sort of fat or tallow, and then applied to the injured area.

  As to the effectiveness of this as a cure all, history is replete with testimonies as to its unique abilities; but there are as many horror stories of what can go wrong. Deformities, mutations, disfigurements, even several reports of the patients simply melting.... No one sane would try it, but when faced by certain death, either due to injury, diseases, or simply age, many people attempt what is beyond the sane.

  As to the possibility of using modern medical science to refine and perfect the formula, while a worthy goal, it is not simply a matter of funds; doing so would require enormous numbers of otherwise young and healthy people for experimentation. It would then be a matter of diligence and luck; we could very well end up killing tens of thousands and gain nothing, as well as bankrupt the state for generations to come.

  I cannot recommend such a thing.

  Mikhail Vasilyevich Lomonosov, letters, 1754

  White. White light, white walls, white cotton drapes standing
stiff like wooden boards. White floor, white bed sheets, white hospital gown. I raised my hand, looked at it, I could see it clearly, no blurriness at all, my fingernails were neat and trimmed, my scars- from battle, from years of sword training, from accidents trying to cook enough bacon for an entire flock of hungry crows- all gone. It was the hand of a young woman, not much more than a teen, not an old witch.

  "So, If I am dead, which religion was correct?" I mused aloud.

  "Yog-Slaggoth" Lois stuck her head through the drapes "The Elder tentacled one is coming to dine on us later. Please be properly shaved, greased, and seasoned by five."

  "Lois!" I grabbed her, held her close, looked at her, feathers bright, both eyes intact and clear, she looked young and renewed ... "Lois, what happened?"

  "Merk." Lois said "Not too tight dear, my feathers... James reported, I was a bit too out of it to notice, that after your tumble, the French knight had your body spatula'd off the pavement, into a barrel filled with some strange green goo. She then insisted- at sword point- on putting me in there, and we both got put on a fast train and sent to Russia. Where they took us into some sort of underground factory- they refused to let James or anyone else from the flock in- and did mysterious things, involving lots of electricity. Three days later, we got moved out to this hospital, and here we are. I woke up the day before you."

  "So, the miracle machine can raise the dead." I felt... Strange... About that I decided. Yes, very strange.

  "Or," Lois said "we were both just very badly hurt. I know this was part of the plan for you, dear, but I always planned to grow old with James. Bit tossed about that, although I shan't complain. James does keep making these horrible old man and young girl jokes, however."