by Mark Eller
Vere leaned forward, a not inconsiderable feat considering his girth. “I’ll not be cuckolded. This child will be ripped from your belly. We’ll be divorced, and you’ll hang the next day. No law of god or man insists I remain married to an adulteress.” He grunted when he leaned further forward. Rolls of fat rippled across his body, and when he bent his neck Elise was unable to see his chin. Looking at her husband, she wanted to weep for what had been lost. On the day of their marriage, Vere had been a trim youth already well known as a hunter and warrior. Eight years had passed since then. She, who had born two live daughters and miscarried four dead sons, was more fit than ever. He, who had done none of those things, had come to this.
“You should have acted the part of a proper woman,” Vere said, “and given in to my will.”
Frowning, Elise wondered when she had become the stronger of the two. She shook her head slowly, denying her husband’s will yet one more time.
“The child is ours,” she said, “attested to by Anothosia and Omitan themselves, as witnessed by more than a dozen of their priests. Furthermore, the goddess has cast her blessing on the fruit of our union. No one shall cause this child harm or order harm to come to it before its birth ‘less they are willing to face Anothosia’s wrath. Go ahead, my husband, kill our child. Hang me, but know you sign your own death warrant when you do, and you ensure the deaths of any others complicit in those murders.”
Red suffused Vere’s face. His eyes narrowed with anger, but then his anger changed into confusion. Turning his head, he met Helace’s accusing eyes. Her eyes, in return, swiveled to fasten on Elise.
“You are a stubborn woman,” Helace said, every trace of little girl coo disappearing from her voice. Her tones were harsh, her inflection sharp, and a growl sounded deep within her throat. “I should murder you now, and then I will be queen. Belsac?”
Shaking his head, Belsac moved into Elise’s view. “Not now. Not under these circumstances. Remember, My Queen, she is an emperor’s daughter. Not only is the Altude Empire ten times the size of our kingdom, it also has the habit of expanding its borders through warfare. Emperor Dade will declare war on your kingdom if his daughter is killed without just cause. We are not yet ready for war. Soon, but not now.”
“Our kingdom,” Elise said pointedly. “Not yours.”
Helace’s eyes were hot ice daggers. “What!”
“This kingdom belongs to my husband and me. You two are merely an advisor and a whore. Vere is king, and I remain queen because Anothosia protects the heir.”
Helace parted her lips to show pointed teeth. “Foolish, foolish child. Did you not know the gods reign in a land only because its ruler says they may? As of today Yernden begins to worship new gods. Powerful gods. The gods of Hell. Less than an hour ago King Vere signed a resolution which accepts Athos and Zorce as Yernden’s future. Before long the worship of any other god will be condemned. Heretic priests will be drawn and quartered. Heretic priestesses will serve in the whore houses. The false temples will be destroyed or turned to new, better purposes.”
A small mewling noise drifted across the throne room. Hearing it, Elise’s heart leapt within her chest. She slowly turned to see Wenda crouched down low, silent tears dripping from her cheeks while she wrapped inadequate arms protectively about her body.
“I forgot about our witness,” Belsac said. “Can’t have people going around spreading rumors and lies, can we?” Coughing, he raised one hand and pointed a finger.
“No, please no,” Wenda pleaded, but her crumbling face said she knew she would gain no pity or compassion here. Straightening, she backed up until she met the closed throne room doors. Once there, she fastened hopeless eyes on Elise. “My Queen! Please don’t let them harm me. I’m your vassal. Protect me.”
“You will not harm her!” Elise ordered.
“Of course not,” Belsac answered, “unless my king orders differently.”
Elise looked to her husband and saw his flaccid manhood exposed. Helace stroked his member gently with two long nailed fingers.
“You want the woman dead, don’t you, my darling?” Helace asked. “You want to make me happy”
“Yes,” Vere answered, closing his eyes. “Oh, yes.”
“You see,” Belsac said, shrugging. “What can I do? The king must be obeyed.”
“Something you should remember,” Helace added.
Turning in a panic, Wenda tried to pull a door open just as Belsac’s fingers morphed into hissing snakeheads.
Belsac grunted.
Five winged snakes shot from his hand, flew through the air, and attacked the maid. Wenda screamed when fangs sank into her body, screamed again, and then she dropped to the floor. Moments later, when her body stopped thrashing, the snakes slowly dissolved, disappeared, and Belsac’s hand held five fingers once more.
“Feel fortunate we need a plausible reason for you to die,” Helace said. Beside her, Vere giggled and tried to slide his hand down the top of her blouse. Helace slapped his hand away and resumed her idle stroking. “Belsac, this idiot needs more of his medicine. I’m not in the mood to be crushed under his body yet again.”
“Of course,” Belsac said. “As soon as this interview is over.”
“You aren’t human,” Elise whispered. “Neither of you are.” Sadness welled when her gaze fell upon the prone form of her next to last friend. Until now she had thought she dealt with nothing more than a normal power grab combined with kingly lust. It appeared she had been very wrong.
Belsac’s form shivered, shimmered, and for a brief second she looked at a leather-winged mongrel devil wearing scales.
“Satisfied?” Belsac asked. “Go ahead, play queen until your brat is born. Just remember, Anothosia’s protection will disappear the moment you shit the brat from between your thighs. Then Helace and I will play our own games.”
“I’m leaving now,” Elise said carefully. “I’ve a funeral to arrange.”
“Don’t bother.” Helace’s smile was thin. “We will dispose of the body. I have many hungry friends.”
“I need my medicine,” Vere said, looking around the room, his eyes unfocused and slightly confused. “Does anybody know where it is?”
“I do,” Belsac answered. “I know where all your medicine is located.
* * * *
“Gods! What is it?”
Elise looked upon the courtyard from the obscurity of her chamber window. From her higher vantage the courtyard was curving pathways formed by inlaid mosaic tiles. Gentle gardens of flowers and herbs grew between the pathways, and two couples strolled decorously through the castle’s maze with a lady’s chaperone walking close behind. Outside the maze a scarred and misshapen creature carefully trimmed a sour cherry tree. Gazing down on the creature, Elise was appalled. Though Yernden was often a land of disease and want, Elise had never before seen anyone so hideously scarred.
Despite royal decree, Pol Swordbreaker wrapped his arm protectively around Elise’s shoulders. He was tall, strong, and clean, everything Vere no longer represented. He smelled of assurance, and his sad eyes bled pity. Elise wanted to lean into his embrace, but the dignity of her station and upbringing would not allow it. She did, however, permit his arm to remain.
“It’s a spawn,” Pol said. “They are slaves to most of Hell’s creatures and abused by all. I’ve not seen one yet who doesn’t cringe even from a kind word. The things are so eager to please in order to avoid punishment they’ll do anything, no matter how low.” Tightening his arm around her, he sighed. “I’ve heard the king is replacing all the disappeared castle servants with spawn. They are stupid and slow but also obedient, and their upkeep is almost nothing.”
“But where do they come from?” Elise asked. Try as she would she could not tear her eyes from the misshapen thing. Its motions were clumsy and slow, but the results of its work were most precise. She thought it astonishing something so hideous could create such beauty.
“Your husband now worships Athos and Zorce,”
Pol reminded her. “In payment, the gods of Hell have widened the second passageway from their realm to ours.”
Elise shuddered at the thought of another hellhole outside of the one in Yylse. Was this the one Calto had sought. Probably, which meant the king’s collusion went back months or even years.
She silently cursed. If Vere had listened to her council the Yylse hole would have been sealed beneath several tons of stone long ago. Unfortunately, he had not, and too many of her subjects had suffered because her husband played games. The thought of her husband and king actually bargaining with Hell for servants and influence at the cost of another opened hole was unbearable.
“Please don’t be afraid,” Pol whispered, tightening his arm about her even more. “I’ll protect you with my life.”
Remembering her position and dignity, Elise pulled Pol’s arm away. “My maid is dead, and we are alone. There must be no hint of impropriety.”
“Your chamber door is open,” Pol pointed out, but he stepped several paces away. “No one would dare accuse the queen of being improper when her chamber door is ajar.”
“I would,” a voice said from the doorway. Belsac strolled into the room, wearing an affable smile. The smile, however, went no further than his lips. His eyes were dark, flat orbs which studied Elise like he was deciding which herbs would best enhance her flavor. “Have I just caught you alone with another man? Your husband would be most interested. Pol Swordbreaker, leave.”
Elise felt her face turn pale at the cavalier way Belsac ordered people around within her chambers. Furious, she imagined what it would feel like to run a foot of steel through the advisor’s neck. Her hand twitched, wanting to reach for the sword she could not wear, aching for the reassuring touch of steal, but in this battle her only weapons were an iron will and words.
“Stay,” she ordered her friend, demanding his obedience with a long steady gaze.
Much to her amazement Pol slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry. I have to go. He is the king’s advisor.”
“I am your queen,” she insisted, but one look at his pale face told her his bold words a few moments earlier were nothing but a sycophant’s lies. “I order you to stay.”
“He’ll kill me. At most, all you’ll give me are a few stripes. I‘m sorry, Milady.” After throwing her an apologetic glance, Pol hurried out, closing the chamber door behind him.
With him went a small chunk of Elise’s heart. She had lost yet one more person who claimed to be her friend. Firming her resolve until it became almost as powerful as her courage, she squared her shoulders and turned her attention back to the king’s advisor.
Ignoring her, Belsac ran a long finger along the gentle contours of the doorway’s molding. He studied his fingertip carefully, as if he were checking for mites or dust. Shaking his head, he looked back to Elise, wearing a slight frown.
“The king wants a divorce,” he said. “Forget Anothosia’s blessing. Claim another as the child’s father and we’ll let you live. In fact, we’ll give you gold equal to twice your dowry and a safe exile to any land you choose. You can even take Swordbreaker with you as your lover. Vere won’t complain. All he wants is to be free.”
“He’ll never be free so long as you ply him with your drugs!” Elise snapped.
Belsac shook his head sadly. “Helace is a very demanding woman. I’m afraid Vere needs a certain drug in order to— perform— but there are so many side-effects he needs other drugs to maintain what remains of his mind. He hasn’t much time, Elise. A few months. A year. Two. He’ll be dead before long, and he’ll die still tied to a woman he doesn’t love. Be merciful. Give him his freedom.”
“My husband is free to play with his whore,” Elise said bitterly. “He is free to leave his throne and abdicate his power to whomever he desires, but he will not be free of me. I was traded by my father for political favors. I did not want to come to this poor land, but I did, and I did become queen. I have a duty to my new people which supplants any desire or need for gold and physical security. My father’s honor, and my own, demand I fulfill my obligations, even onto death. I will not abandon my people to your care.”
Nodding agreeably, Belsac grinned and raised a hand. “I hoped you would say that, but the king insisted I try to speak reason with you. Tell me, did you know some bites leave no marks?”
Elise’s heart stilled when his fingers became winged snakes. She fought to make her face a mask but knew she failed. “You wouldn’t dare,”
“Oh, yes,” Belsac said, “I would.”
Five winged snakes shot through the air. She flinched back from their darting forms and refused to scream when wind from their beating wings stirred her hair. Fanged mouths set in multihued heads surrounded her as the five Hell-cursed snakes hissed and dripped venom around her body and head. Yet, their spitting venom somehow struck the floor while missing her person. Acrid smoke rose from the tainted floor, filling her head with vile fumes that made her senses reel and her knees weak. Flailing wildly, she struck out, but the snakes were too fast, too agile. She did nothing but miss.
Belsac chuckled dryly when she finally accepted defeat and held still.
“Decide,” he said. “Death or exile.”
Elise tried to swallow with a suddenly dry mouth and wished she were allowed to carry at least a knife. With a knife she might have injured one of the snakes. “My honor is worth more than my life. I will not abdicate my responsibilities. I choose death.”
“Very well.” Belsac gestured with his fingerless hand.
Elise refused to close her eyes. She had been trained to face any situation, no matter how ugly, with her eyes looking forward and her shoulders firm. Around her, the snakes darted in. Their breath brushed against her face. Venom dripping fangs touched her skin— and then a sheet of light burst around her.
Five charred corpses fell to the floor.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Elise curled her lips into a thin smile. Her one hope of salvation had come through. “Anothosia protects. You can offer me no harm while I carry this child, and once his heir is born my husband will throw your worthless carcasses on top of the traitor’s wall.”
Frowning, Belsac stared at his fingerless hand. When he looked at her, his eyes oozed hate. “It will take months for new fingers to grow, and they’ll be only fingers. You have killed my snakes, girl, and stolen one of my most potent weapons. For that, your end will be unpleasant.”
Turning, he strode to the chamber door and jerked it open. Pol waited outside.
“Don’t kill him,” Elise ordered the advisor, but she need not have bothered. Belsac gave her friend not one glance.
Pol looked at the charred snakes, at Elise, and looked ready to cry. “I’m sorry, My Queen. I cannot disobey the king’s orders— not until I’m ready to leave his kingdom in exile. If you come with me, I will defy the gods, but until you decide to join me, I’m helpless to give you succor. Dear Elise, I wish there was something I could do.”
“There is,” Elise said evenly. “I need to train. There are some things I need to kill, and I’ve anger to burn.”
* * * *
When Elise and Pol reached the armory, they had no difficulty getting in unnoticed. Nobody wandered the hallways. Elise opened the heavy oak door, slipped through, gestured for Pol to follow, and quickly swung it closed. Unlike her habit during their previous training sessions, she slid its locking bar into place. With her maid dead, no one remained who would give her warning of the king or his minions approaching.
Without saying a word they walked to the armory wall where the weapons and shields were hung. Ignoring her shield, Elise pulled down a practice knife and a thin, blunt bladed sword. When she turned around, she discovered Pol remained unarmed
“We need to talk.” Pol’s tentative smile was both infectious and unsure. He pulled the weapons from Elise’s hands and dropped them to the floor. Shifting on uneasy feet for a moment, he quickly kissed her lips. Releasing a nervous laugh, he took a step back.
E
lise touched her lips with a fingertip. The sensation of his unreturned kiss had been somewhat unsettling and rather nice. It had been a very long time since she had been kissed. The last time Vere kissed her had been after the birth of their first daughter.
“There,” Pol said. “Even if it means my head, I’m glad it’s done. My Queen, I have loved you since I saw your first procession. I worked for three years just to reach your side.”
“But you are barely a boy,” Elise protested, lowering her hand from her lips.
“Only seven years separate us. There is a greater span between you and the king.” He desperately grasped her hands. “Please, Milady, tell me there is hope. I’ve spent countless nights tossing restlessly for thoughts of you. I ache for the touch of your hand. My lips burn for your kiss. Even a word of hope would be a balm for my heart. Come away with me, beloved. Come away with me and I’ll show you more of the world than you could ever imagine while stuck here within these walls, glued to the ungrateful responsibilities of your station.”
“I have a husband,” Elise gently reminded. Her lips still tingled from his kiss. A softness she hadn’t felt for several years touched her heart.
“He has a mistress,” Pol said eagerly. “He doesn’t love you nearly as much as I. You are still a young woman, beloved. You are filled with energy and life. You need a passionate man who will love you and protect you, not a fat man who wants you dead.”
Elise shook her head slowly, sadly. Churning emotions filled her, embarrassment mixed with royal outrage and compassion along with a touch of desire. On the surface Pol was almost her ideal mate. He was strong, skilled, and knowledgeable about things she might never know. He was urbane, owned wit, and his body showed many signs of hard usage. In short, he was the type of man her father admired, and she was her father’s daughter in more ways than one. Yes, she was lonely. Her pregnancy and circumstance had made her vulnerable to a husband and king who saw her only as an encumbrance. Yes, she did need someone with strength to stand beside her. She needed someone she could depend on no matter what the challenge, and she desperately wanted to know at least once what it was like to be loved. Unfortunately, Pol was not the man she needed.