by Mark Eller
“Why?” Elise asked, confused.
“I don’t know,” the spawn replied. “I only know after Jolson escaped Hell Athos became afraid.”
Elise threw the spawn an old shirt. “Cover yourself, and grab what you need. We are leaving the castle.”
The spawn shook her head. “I can’t. I’ll die as soon as I pass beyond the Hell influence permeating this castle. Besides, I’m ordered to do another murder tonight. I’m to strangle you when you sleep.”
Elise paled. Deep within her mind she heard her baby’s remembered cry. “I can’t leave you behind to give warning.”
“I agree.” The spawn moved forward until it stood less than an arm’s reach away. Its ruined face was a composite of horrified determination and abject fear. “Despite everything, I don’t want to die again.”
“I won’t kill you,” Elise promised. She had killed more than one man while she warred in the field, but the thought of murdering this abused creature was more than she could stomach.
“You will.” The spawn swallowed hard. “I didn’t like strangling your son, but I had to follow my orders.”
It gasped, stumbled back, and fell to the floor. A knife hilt protruded from its chest. Elise had no memory of shoving the blade there, but the sheath at her side was empty.
“Find Jolson,” the spawn whispered, and then it died.
A merry laugh filled the room.
“Oh my, how dreadful,” Belthethsia chuckled from the open bedchamber door. “You have murdered your servant.” Her lips curled with wicked satisfaction. “Shocking.”
Startled, Elise half-jumped, and then she rushed to the spawn’s body to pull the knife free, but the blade was stuck between two ribs and would not move.
Belthethsia shook her head. “As the new warden of the castle, I have no choice but to arrest you. I am terribly upset about this, but we have to show the commoners that the laws apply to all people, no matter how high their station.”
“She murdered my son,” Elise accused.
“I ordered her to lie.” Belthethsia chuckled. “Only exceptional spawn are capable of murder. I know of only one who ever has. So sorry.”
A cold rush ran through Elise. “You knew I would murder her.”
“I hoped,” Belthethsia admitted. “I do know you are going to the dungeons— the same as I know your father won’t go to war over a daughter who has murdered her servant.” She smiled. “We won’t tell him the victim wasn’t human.”
****
Feeling grim, Elise wiped the remains of a man’s eyeball off her fingernail and wished she had been put in a solitary cell. Her victim pressed himself against the far wall and cursed her while holding a red-stained hand to his ruined face. All but one of the four other men in her cell regarded her with wary amusement.
“Well,” she asked with feigned indifference, “does anyone else think he can rape a queen?”
“Kill the bitch!” the wounded man demanded.
“You want her dead, you kill her,” a withered, rat-faced man answered. “I want nothing to do with either of them. Besides, you ain’t one of us.”
“I’ll kill the next man who touches my queen,” said the large man who had attempted to defend her. His words were fierce. Elise suspected they would have made a greater impression on the others if he said them with the least confidence. Though large, her erstwhile savior looked to be more of a farmer than a warrior.
She clicked her sharpened nails together to back up the farmer’s threat. Her small act was enough to make the half-blinded man cringe.
“That’s better,” the farmer said, though none of the others had moved. “The queen claims this end of the cell. Don’t come near us.”
“Don’t worry, Dern,” the rat-faced man said with a chuckle. “We won’t.”
Her defender looked to her. “Most of them aren’t bad sorts. All these people, except the one who attacked you, are drovers I hired to haul my village’s salt. Usually I’m a farmer and a village headman.”
“Salt?” Elise asked.
I brought in a wagonload a while back,” Dern said. “Made some good money, so my village put together a bigger load. Several wagons. These drovers happened along when I found myself in a spot of trouble. We brought the salt here, and then they arrested us.”
“You were arrested for bringing salt to Grace?” Elise wondered for a brief moment if she was in the right cell. Was it possible she had been mistakenly put in with weak-minded madmen?
Dern scratched his head. “I think so, but I’m not really sure. You see, the two men who run these drovers told me I’d been cheated in my last deal. They said they could do better by maybe ten percent. I said prove it, so they left to do some selling, and then this woman named Belthethsia found us. Met her before when she stole my wagons from me and staked me out on the ground, only to abandon the wagons later without telling anybody why. Anyway, she screamed something about poison and treason and the throne. We were arrested. It might have been because of the salt, but it might have been because those two who set this up did something bad.” He rubbed his chin. “Truth is, I’m not entirely sure I trust them, but like I said, I was in a bad spot. They got me out of it.”
Elise frowned in thought. Her mind went back to dinner, and she remembered something she deemed insignificant at the time. Belthethsia had pushed aside the salt bowl with a gesture of distaste. The gesture seemed strange because Elise had seen hellborn use salt in the past. Was there something different about that particular salt? Was it from Dern’s village?
“I’ll protect you as best I can,” Dern promised, “but I have to sleep sometime. It might be best if we sleep in shifts.”
“But these are your drovers,” Elise protested.
“I don’t know them very well,” Dern admitted. “I’d hate to trust them and then find they killed us in our sleep.”
“It doesn’t matter if they do,” Elise said, resigned. “I hang tomorrow.” She gave Dern a sad smile, and then she stiffened when a double set of thuds sounded outside the cell door.
“Become a bandit, you said,” a male voice whined thinly through the wood. “Have adventures and live large. I swear by Nedross, Harlo, when this little escapade is over we are parting ways. I’m going to throw myself on the mercy of his lordship. I’ll marry Meliandra, and then you’ll never find me wearing anything but silk. You won’t see me wake for the sun until well past noon.”
“Have you found the right key yet?” a stronger voice asked.
“How can I find the right key when you keep nattering on? It’s distracting, Harlo. It doesn’t show the proper amount of— oh— I think this fat one might do the job.”
Elise heard a click, and then the cell door swung open. Flickering torchlight illuminated two men. One, she saw, was tall, aristocratic, and immaculately attired. Not surprising since Ludwig had been something of a mincing dandy before he was outlawed. The other man was shorter, scruffier, and looked much more competent, but then Harlo would have to be since it had been his job since childhood to take care of Ludwig. Elise had never wanted to know either of them well, but she knew the useless pair better than she cared to admit.
“Hello!” Dern burst out. “Harlo! Ludwig!” He looked to Elise. “These are the two I spoke of; the ones who led the drovers.”
“I believe,” said Elise, “that they are brigands more than drovers. The price on Ludwig‘s head has grown rather large since he turned outlaw, and Harlo’s is even larger.”
Dern shook his head. “They dealt honestly with me, and now they’re here for a rescue, so I’ve no choice but to trust them now.”
“Actually,” Harlo said, pointing at the cell’s other occupants. “We are here to rescue our men. You just happen to be in the same cell.”
Elise schooled her face to show respect, though she hated lying, even silently. “May we tag along?”
Harlo shrugged. “I suppose. Especially you, my Lady Queen.”
“Gertunda has been very unhappy with you,�
�� Elise said to Ludwig. “She still threatens to get a divorce.”
Ludwig shuddered. “Please, don’t say her name again. I’ve been trying to forget her for the last three years.”
“Can we get moving before the lady’s tea party arrives for afternoon brunch?” Harlo asked sarcastically.
The rat-faced man rose. He put a hand on the half-blinded man, turned him slightly, and struck out so fast Elise did not see his hand move. The man fell like he had been pole-axed. The attack’s speed and savagery made Elise shudder. She and Dern would have been easy meat to this crew if real trouble had started.
“Stealing is one thing,” Rat-face said. “So’s gambling, whoring, and even murder, but I never had much use for a rapist. My momma was raped. That’s how she come by me.”
Harlo grinned. “Relic, you always were fearsomely fast.”
Lifting a fallen knife, Elise sidestepped the bodies of two guards Harlo and Ludwig had left laying on the floor outside the cell. She wasn’t positive, but she thought they might both be dead. Harlo gestured and then led the way. She followed since she knew the dungeons well enough to know there was only one way out.
They soon reached a branching corridor. Harlo turned left.
“You’re going the wrong way,” Elise instantly said.
“We left an embarrassing number of bodies along the other corridor,” Ludwig explained. “Some of them are bound to be noticed.”
“But there is no other way out.”
Ludwig tugged at a cord hanging around his neck. He pulled a small, naked, fat woman figurine from his shirt’s neckline.
“This castle is built on a hill,” he explained. “The dungeons are only half underground. There’s an outside wall not too far along this way with a bit of a steep slope on the other side.” He jiggled the amulet. “This will take out some window bars for us, one way or another.”
“Don’t you dare bite me,” the amulet ordered. Her voice was high, thin, and very clear.
Elise frowned at the amulet. “I don’t recall you being much good with that thing,”
“I’ve been forced to learn,” Ludwig answered.
The corridor branched two more times before Harlo gestured for them to stop. They stood beneath a barred window set two feet higher than Elise’s head. Looking up, she saw the faint flicker of stars.
Ludwig held the amulet high. “Okay,” he ordered it. “Pull those bars out.”
“Don’t want to,” the amulet answered.
“Nedross!” Ludwig exclaimed. “What now?”
“I’m unhappy,” said the amulet.
Harlo pulled Elise and Dern to the side. “This could take a few minutes. Those two constantly argue. So, what are your plans once you’re free?”
“I suppose I’ll have to find a new market to sell my salt,” Dern said doubtfully. “My village needs the money.”
Harlo snorted. “I wasn’t talking to you, but since you brought the matter up, I did sell off one wagonload. I’ll give you half. That should about equal what you wanted for the entire load.”
“What!”
Harlo grinned. “You were cheated blind the last time you were here, but not half so bad as I was going to cheat you. My Lady. The last time I looked, there weren’t many job opportunities for dethroned queens. I might have an opening for you in my band.”
Elise drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. She knew she would regret her offer. “I’m going to foment revolution against the king. It has to be done if this kingdom is to remain free from both Hell and my father’s ambition.”
Harlo scratched his head. A small shower of dandruff fell. “Why do you want to keep it out of your father’s hands?”
“I am Yernden’s queen,” Elise said firmly. “I will not allow my people to become probationers in their own country, not even to my father.” Biting her lip, she firmed her resolve because she had no choice but to make this offer. “I’ll need leaders, and you were always capable. Will you join me?”
“You forget the price on my head,” Harlo pointed out.
“There is a royal pardon in it,” Elise told him.
Harlo looked thoughtful for a moment, released a startled laugh, and shook his head no. “I’m a thief, not an idiot. People who lead revolts die young.”
Elise ground her teeth and remembered her dead child. She would gladly face any aggravation if it brought her closer to revenge. “Several baronies and at least three dukedoms will be up for grabs by the time our revolution is through. I will give you one of those, and I will make your title hereditary.”
Harlo looked thoughtful. “Ludwig’s father is a baron. A duke outranks a baron.”
“A baron,” Elise said, forcing out a sly smile, “is barely fit to clean a duke’s shoes.”
Harlo‘s eyes glinted. “You just found a general.” He glared toward Ludwig. “Why is the man taking so long?”
“Because he is male,” Elise answered. She strode over to the young wastrel. “Give me that thing.” Grabbing the amulet from his hand, she gave it a jerk. The cord around Ludwig’s neck stretched and then broke.
“Thank you,” Elise said to the astonished man. She smiled at the amulet’s unmoving eyes.
“I’m tired,” the amulet complained.
“So am I,” Elise answered gently, “and I am afraid. The child I bore two days ago was murdered. I am to be hung on the morrow, and if my husband has his way, Yernden will soon be overrun by Hell’s damned.”
“I’m sorry about your child,” the amulet said, “but it is already dead.” Its painted lips, Elise saw, did not move. Its surface was marred by the faint impression of human teeth. “I see no reason why I should care about Yernden’s fate. It was the kingdom’s mages who tore me from my beloved oak and put my spirit in this thing. Afterward, they murdered my friend with their axes, and then they burned his remains in their fire pits.” The amulet released a small sob. “An entire world lived inside my tree’s bark. My world had forests and lakes and a sky so blue it made my heart ache. I was beautiful then. I was thin and tall. Young sprites traveled for hundreds of miles for the chance to court me. Now— now allhe sees is this fat wooden thing hanging around his neck. He never sees the real me. Doesn’t even use my name.”
“What is your name?” Elise asked.
The amulet remained silent for a few moments. “Tirelle,” it finally answered. “I am known as Tirelle.”
“Can I have my amulet back?” Ludwig demanded from several feet away. His noble face was marred by a frown. “I have a rescue to finish.”
Elise walked over to him and held out Tirelle. “I’d like you to try an experiment.”
Ludwig grimaced. “I’m in a hurry. I’ve no time for female foolery.”
“And I’ve no time for the japery of men,” Elise snapped. She set the amulet in his hand. “Cup her gently and say ‘Tirelle, would you please remove those bars.’ Then kiss the top of her head.”
“What!”
“It can’t hurt,” Harlo broke in. “Do what she says.”
Ludwig cast his friend a betrayed look. “This is stupid.” He looked at Tirelle and his frown grew deeper. “Tirelle, would you please remove those bars.” He rested embarrassed eyes on Elise. “Satisfied?”
“You forgot to kiss her,” Elise pointed out.
“Oh for the sake of Nedross.” Ludwig raised Tirelle to his lips and kissed the wooden amulet.
“Well,” Tirelle said petulantly, “it’s a start, but you’ll have to learn how to do better. Give me a few moments. This will be energy intensive, and you haven‘t exactly given me much time to recharge lately.”
“How are you going to get this revolution started?” Dern asked.
Running a hand through her hair, Elise gave him a smile she did not feel. “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “I was told to look for a being named Jolson.”
Dern’s face stilled. “I know Jolson.”
“There,” Tirelle’s voice cried out. The bars, and four feet of wall to each
side of them turned to dust. The dust fell to the floor, slid out the new opening, and drifted down the sloping hillside.
Dern caught at Elise’s arm. “Jolson has the blackest soul of anyone I’ve ever met. Don’t trust him. Don’t even look for him.”
“I’m out of here,” Relic, the rat-faces man, said, He led the way out the hole.
Harlo gestured toward the wall’s opening with an eloquent sweep of his hand. “After you, my Queen.”
Elise frowned, thought of her dead child, and knew a shadow of relief because her daughters, at least, were safely fostered out to her father.
I will discover who murdered my son, she promised herself.
“My Queen,” Harlo said again.
“I will use Jolson,” Elise told Dern, “just as I will use any creature Athos fears.” Her frown became deep with resolve, and then she stepped regally through the destroyed wall. “I’ll lose no more children to the monsters.”
* * * *
After they had sex for the third time on a lazy afternoon Mira smiled while Jolson leaned away, studied her naked body, and sighed.
“What is it?” Mira asked, her smile growing. Although Jolson was not her first lover, he was her first since she became…well…almost alive. The sensations he brought her had been both intense and interesting. More than interesting, in fact. Educational, too, Orgasms were something she had seen in her past lovers but had never experienced herself. Before her death she had been a virgin. Afterward, sex had been just one of her many tools for obtaining blood, something she could perform but never feel. So now, after far too long of existing without life, she finally understood what other women meant when they said a man made their toes curl. Hers had recently curled more than a dozen times and the experience had been wonderful. It made her wonder how often they would curl if she became completely alive or had a more involved partner. Jolson had been willing to perform and was acceptably active, but his expression had remained either slightly alarmed or extremely bored the entire time.