Gloriana's Masque

by Eleanor Burns

  “Quite probably, Milord, but I do not believe they intended to go through with it,” answered Gloriana, calmly, and much to Kasimir’s relief. “The Senate will soon learn the true meaning of justice, but these two are most definitely not our enemies. I am gratified, though, to see how much you care for my well-being. It helps me to forgive you,” she added, somewhat pointedly, and waited for him to reply. There was a loaded pause, during which Kasimir saw Lycon’s face go from bemusement, to realisation, to something not entirely unlike remorse, at which point he finally spoke, sounding as uncomfortable as the secretary had ever heard him.

  “Look, I … I should not … That is to say, it was not my place to send the Incursion Fleet out raiding without seeking your permission. I though it was in the best interests of your people … but I should have thought of your honour first. It was not mine to play fast and loose with. Nevertheless,” he added, vehemently, as he rallied his spirits from the extreme discomfort of apologising, “I must protest at this treatment. I have been loyal to you, Your Highness, and sending these dogs of yours to waylay me is a poor show of–”

  “Yes, do stop prodding my guests, Hermylla,” ordered Gloriana, whereupon the guards finally put up their weapons. “They are both most welcome, and you and your comrades should be preparing for the ritual, in any case.” Upon this command, the guards behind them began to disrobe, but Kasimir was now beyond embarrassment, deep in his troubled thoughts. Although he could not deny there was some temptation in the Queen’s unconditional ‘offer,’ pessimism was still his guiding instinct. She couldn’t even control a pack of mercenaries, but she thinks she can control the power of the ancients? No way is this going to end well … “Come along, boys,” she said, almost playfully, as she led the way across the cavern floor. “There’s something I’d like to show you. I believe this will interest you especially, Lord Kasimir. May I call you Elwin?”

  “As Your Highness prefers,” he replied, courteously if listlessly, as he and Lycon followed her, past the ancient circle and to the edge of the hewn shelf. It was about ten metres high, to judge from the vague and shifting shadows of the rocky floor below, and the wavering torchlight offered only a very limited view of the cavern ahead, which was soon lost in total darkness. As he came close to the edge, Kasimir briefly feared for his balance, as he felt himself tilting forwards. Thinking that the floor there had to be sloped, he quickly took a step backwards, and found that the sense of forward momentum left him. However, as he looked down, he saw that the floor continued to be completely smooth and level right up to the very edge of the precipice. The wind then, it has to be, he thought, but immediately dismissed that as an even weaker explanation. For although there was a strong, cold breeze, it was full in his face.

  “Do be careful, Elwin,” advised Gloriana. “You feel it, I can see. Now, if you’d care to pass me your livery collar. It’s not as if you’ll have need of it in the future, in any case.”

  That much at least is a certainty, though Kasimir, resignedly, as he took off his metal chain of office and handed it to the Queen. Holding it in one hand, with the anvil and phoenix medallion dangling below, she extended her arm, until her hand reached out over the edge of the precipice. What little that then happened was, if somewhat undramatic, at least impossible. The medallion, instead of hanging straight down, seemed to bend further outwards, only slightly, but as if drawn by the same mysterious pull that had upset his own balance.

  “You see it?” asked Gloriana, triumphantly.

  “Could be magnetism … maybe,” suggested Kasimir, with little conviction. “Some strong lodestone deposit in these rocks.”

  “And since when did gold-plated copper become ferromagnetic? I approve of scepticism – it is the indispensable tool of every scientist – but it won’t serve you well here, I’m afraid. We stand at the edge of what we think of as reality, and completely out of our depth. Even me … I gather you have read my journal,” she declared, her tone unoffended and almost jovial, as she withdrew her hand and turned back to him. “I hope you found it enjoyable, and informative.”

  “I, err, found it a bit out of my depth as well,” he admitted, awkwardly, “but do I gather you’re alluding to this Darkshift thing?”

  “Very good, dear Elwin, but I’m sure you do yourself an injustice. No doubt you understood enough to know that this ritual circle – this mandala, as the people of Vedavarsha call these devices – is little enough in and of itself. An instruction manual … or a control panel perhaps, but nothing more. It hints at certain rituals and invocations: the spells and meditations required to tap into the true source of power, which lies out there,” she said, gesturing into the inky depths of the cavern. “The temple is invisible, of course, just like every structure in the Darkshift, and you could walk through it without even noticing, if the vargs in the cavern would be polite enough to ignore you. Moreover, it has effectively been dead for centuries. The meridian lines that connected it to other such structures have degraded with time, or perhaps been sabotaged. I, however, found a way to boost the signal,” she explained, proudly although as matter-of-factly as if she had been discussing an improved design for telegraph lines. “Its power is now such that it exerts a noticeable influence on this reality, albeit only a subtle gravitational effect. Be grateful that it is not in this reality, or that force would be so great as to suck us all in like a cosmic whirlpool. The temple is now fully energised, and ready to receive instructions. I could, if I wished, tell it to unleash storms and floods, to raise volcanoes, to shake Lyssagrad to its foundations, to turn every farming commune into a dust bowl, to spread plagues, poison rivers … It all depends on the attitude one brings to the ritual, the mental energy one gives it to work with. My bitterest memories would, I think, give it ample fuel for destruction … but all I intend to do, in fact, is to give the people of the world a gift that they have been denied for too long: to become as we are, and as all were intended to be. Neither the priests nor the Senate had any right to hoard that blessing for their chosen few. Any of the new Alvere who wish to acknowledge me as their ruler will be most welcome. As for the rest, as long as they leave my people in peace, I am happy for them to control their own destinies, although I do wish them every joy in deposing those lying psychopaths who presently rule them. Of course, the fall of the three great powers and the end of their continual rivalries and conflicts will be a setback to science. The military did fund my research handsomely, I must admit,” she added, both guiltily and wistfully. “Still, I think nature will be grateful for the respite. In any case, the more of the ancient sciences we can rediscover, the more we will realise that all of our achievements … all of my achievements as well, alas, were obsolete even before we conceived of them. A golden age is a hard-won thing, My Lords, but we will never have a better opportunity for one.”

  She talks a good case, thought Kasimir, doubtfully, but so does any senator worth his salt, and we know how much faith we can place in their assertions. Not that he thought her their moral equivalent, but naiveté could be even worse than cruelty when it came to handling weapons of mass destruction. Before he could challenge her, however, Lycon spoke up, gravely.

  “So it’s true, then? You really mean to go through with this madness? I thought the idea was to get your revenge on the Lucinians and rule over the bastards. Not to reward them all. Respectfully, Your Highness, I might have known your kindness would be the death of us.”

  “‘Would you not rather be hated yet feared and respected by real men, than loved by broken-spirited, mindlessly obedient cattle,’ Milord?” asked Gloriana. “Your words, yet would you have me replace one tyranny with another? The Senate has wronged us all, and their own people too, but fate will soon deal with them. I will not avenge myself upon their innocent victims. It would make no difference. Without the bureaucracy and brute force of the Republic to constrain them, Alvenheim and Brythenedd will both have scope to become great again, so I have not reneged on our plan, Milord. As for your loyalty to me �
� it is not forgotten, by any means. The Queen of Alvenheim will, before long, be the ruler of a large and prosperous realm, and you may ask what you will of her.”

  “I see … and does that include her hand?” asked Lycon, with an offhanded nonchalance that Kasimir did not think made for a particularly appealing marriage proposal, although it did elicit a laugh from Gloriana, albeit a fairly short and sad one.

  “I thought you might … I was forewarned,” she explained, in response to his puzzled expression. “Saskia let me in on your thoughts, I’m afraid.”

  “Did she? I always did loathe telepaths. Nothing personal,” he added, insincerely, to Kasimir, who cared not a whit.

  “Don’t be too quick to judge her, Milord, or at least know that you may have occasion to thank her,” replied Gloriana. “She gave me time to think about my own desires, and I know that you are a practical man, and even if you weren’t I am certainly not the kind of person to inspire love in anyone … but we are friends, are we not? To be wedded to a friend, even as a matter of political convenience, is still more than I once dared to hope for, so if that is what you truly wish–”

  “Hold on. That’s what she told you?” asked Lycon, with displeasure. “In that case, I might have to add a few of her body-parts to my wish list … but for the record, I think you ought to know how I really–”

  “Your Highness!” interrupted one of the guards, urgently. “Someone’s coming down the stairs.” That was all the news the rest of the naked celebrants needed to make a dash for their abandoned armour and obsidian blades, but the warning had come too late as moments later the new arrivals stormed into the crypt. They were Brython soldiers, some of them in dirty and disorderly greys, others in mismatched and equally dirty civilian attire, and all of them brandishing either firearms or crossbows. Among their number was Lord Corin, looking unusually happy, although no more pleasant than he ever did, and close on his heels came Saskia, looking sick, anxious, and guilty. Everyone held their peace for several seconds, but Kasimir’s mind was talkative enough, albeit mainly in permutations of the phrase Now we’re fucked …

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – TAINTED OFFERING

  Gloriana was the first to break the silence, which she did with impressive dignity, Kasimir thought, for a person with an entire armoury of ranged weapons trained upon her naked body.

  “You dare to disturb our sacred devotions?” she opened, sounding quite convincing in her offended innocence, although Kasimir wondered why she even bothered. It was obvious enough that Saskia had, whether willingly or by force, sold her out. “What means this, Milord? Even had you not been under orders to remove yourself and these ruffians of yours from Kadar Ydril, were you not aware that there is never, and I mean never an appropriate time to burst in unannounced on your queen while she is naked?”

  “It suits you better,” answered Corin, eyeing her up and down with a sickening leer. “Gives me something else to look at than that damn ugly mask, and whatever in the Abysm you’ve got underneath it.”

  “At present, that would be an angry scowl. I ask again: why are you still here, Lord Corin? The Convocation and I ordered your departure, yet here you are, interrupting a sacred rite. What business could be so important– ?”

  “‘Sacred rite,’ is it?” interrupted Corin, his sneer eloquently conveying just how plausible Gloriana was not being. “Sure it is … and as it so happens we were on our way: half a day’s ride or thereabouts from Falkraine’s Corridor, when this old crone caught up with us and told us we’d do well to return at once. She claimed you and Lycon had been just waiting for your chance to betray us all, and we ought to slap you both in chains and haul you back to Brythenedd while we had the chance. I’ve still a good mind to do that to him, or maybe just stick him with a crossbow bolt and chuck his carcass to the vargs,” declared Corin, while Lycon just stood and stared back, disdainfully but warily. Either he was short of a suitably witty comeback or, more likely, of an immediate death wish. “As for you, though … maybe I’ll have to rethink that one. I really did underestimate you, I have to admit,” added Corin, almost humbly. “I’d got this fixed idea you and that old bastard were just going to sell us out to your Lucinian friends, or some such commonplace piece of treachery, but as for this … Your voice carries well up those stairs, lady. What was it you were saying, now? A weapon that can unleash storms and floods, raise volcanoes, shake Lyssagrad to its foundations, spread plagues, poison rivers? Fair play to you, Your Highness, that’s really getting one over us. Seems like you’d have gotten away with it too, but for your chatty priestess friend. Can’t confess fuck all to the clergy these days and expect them to keep it a secret, eh?”

  “You betrayed me?” asked Gloriana to Saskia, in a scathing, hollow-toned hiss of condemnation that actually made the priestess cringe in shame. “You are so jealous for power that you would conspire with this barbarian to supplant me?”

  “Jealousy doesn’t come into it,” protested Saskia, although with a half-hearted air. “I did it for our people. Not that we have much to lose, but you would have risked it all with your wild ambitions. Someone had to put an end to it.”

  “And you trusted him? Do I take it your telepathy has deserted you along with your honour and your senses?”

  “He was sincere … at first,” she answered, sheepishly. “Our people mean nothing to him. He would have taken his vengeance out on you and Lycon only, and left Alvenheim for richer pickings. Until, that is, he heard you boasting about the power you hoped to conjure from this wretched circle,” she added, managing to sound reproachful even in the depths of her own guilty conscience. “Had you been able to resist the urge to flaunt your accursed cleverness in front of the Lucinians, only you and your co-conspirators need have suffered. Now we must all pay for your–”

  “Rothulf, take the screeching harpy out and wring her neck,” Corin ordered, to one of the least savoury-looking of his band of thugs. “The Queen and I have some serious shit to discuss, and I can’t even hear myself think.”

  You’d imagine that would be a relief, Kasimir silently quipped, wisely keeping the thought to himself, along with any ideas of heroic intervention as Corin’s underling seized Saskia by the arm. Summary execution was an ugly business, but in her case it was hard to feel too much regret: at least not enough to come before self-preservation. He was not overly surprised, however, when Gloriana interceded.

  “Wait!” she commanded, so authoritatively that the underling stopped in his tracks. “For pity’s sake, Lord Corin, she’s no threat to you. If you hope to parley with me, you would do well not to open negotiations by slaughtering my people.”

  That’s right, let the bastard know he’s got all the leverage he needs, thought Kasimir, cynically, but from his vantage point at the far side of the rocky shelf, he caught sight of something that very slightly raised his hopes. Corin’s ill-trained bandits were focusing most of their attention upon Gloriana herself, with little to spare for the crowd of naked, unarmed celebrants. While most of the Alvere were frozen in apparently helpless panic, he glimpsed a few of them silently slipping away to the edges of the chamber, out of the torchlight. Although they were close to invisible in the shadows, he could faintly perceive them stealthily edging their way around the cavern, encircling the unaware intruders. Unarmed and unarmoured as they all were, Kasimir thought that even the element of surprise would lend the Alvere only slim odds of mounting a non-suicidal ambush, but they might if nothing else buy time for the canny and lucky few to make their escape in the chaos, so he played along with the ruse and quickly turned his eyes back to Corin. The sealord’s warped grin of satisfaction was a detestable enough sight, but it was better to endure it than to draw needless attention to the would-be ambushers.

  “I thought as much,” gloated Corin, reprieving Saskia’s death sentence with a curt gesture. “You may talk tough enough round a conference table, but when it comes down to the real business of war you’re as soft as any woman. Well don’t worry, Your Highness. As
long as you’re a sensible girl and work this magic of yours for me only, I’ll spare your people. As for Lucinia, though … I think it’s high time we sent them a suitable reply for that niggardly peace settlement they tried to palm us off with. Nothing too extreme … Erupt a volcano under Lyssagrad, maybe? Send a few plagues of locusts to ravage the farming communes? Just a little something to show our appreciation. Maybe then they’ll think again about trying to buy off proud eorls and warriors with their fork-tongued apologies and their fancy modern trinkets.”

  “You understand battle, Lord Corin, but this is a weapon beyond your understanding,” explained Gloriana, either in a vain appeal to his rational side, or more likely in a bid for more time. “In truth, it is beyond any of our understanding.”

  “As long as you can use it well enough to make my enemies shit themselves, I’m content.”

  “In that case, Milord, I would look to your own smallclothes. If I unleash the power of this temple on that course of destruction, I don’t know that I could ever contain or arrest it. It is no mere lofdreki or pyronade that I can simply deactivate, but a living force. If I awaken it with a new purpose, and that purpose is destruction, it may choose to see that through to the bitter end, and not just for your enemies.” Playing for time or not, this was an appalling enough image for Kasimir, but Corin was unimpressed. The satisfied smirk had evaporated from his face, leaving an impatient snarl, and he drew his pistol and aimed it into the crowd of frightened Alvere, thankfully failing to note that they were now fewer in number.

  “Don’t try and frighten me, woman,” he ordered, while cocking the firing lever. “I’ve offered you and your scum mercy, but know that they mean sod all to me, and I’ve got thousands of them to shoot, break, fuck, and flay my way through before we need even think about blowing off what’s left of your face. Unless you want me to make a start of it right now, I strongly suggest that you–”