Conquests and Crowns

by S E Meliers

  Whilst she had dispatched her two, her companions had been busy. Where there had been twelve Hallows, two nobles, a man servant and a maid, there now stood five Hallows. The tables, the rushes, and the walls ran red with gore. It never ceased to amaze her how much blood a person contained, how far it could spread. Bodies and bits scattered like a butcher’s offcuts. A spilt pitcher of ale puddled on a table top, dripping in a slow splat splat splat into a puddle of blood that ran pink from the dilution. ‘Good work,’ she wiped her sword clean. ‘Bar the doors behind me and clean this place up,’ she clasped Chain on the shoulder as she passed him, ‘Come with me,’ she said to him.

  She heard the bar fall on the Hall door behind them as they entered the shadowy halls. The arterial walkways were all generously wide, and all designed with pillars against the inner wall behind which the floor was recessed providing a shadowy space an arm length in depth. What this space was meant to be, she did not know, but the castle occupants seemed to have adapted it as a setting by which to plot, spy and fornicate, so naturally the Hallows used it to commit murder. The castle servants refused to go into this space to clean, quite understandably considering some of the activities that took place there, therefore it was also a space filled with dust, refuse, and spider webs. This night, it was a main thoroughfare.

  As they followed the hall into the centre of the castle, they passed several Hallows with whom they exchanged signals, and a noble man screwing a maid in the shadows. This latter pairing were so caught up in their pleasure the passage of several Hallows seemed to go un-noticed. ‘Looks like fun,’ Chain murmured. Rogue exchanged a grin with him. ‘Though we are not without our own entertainment, this night,’ he added. They reached their destination, and he took guard position as she picked the lock.

  The door swung open into a chamber unlit by even a window opening. The occupant, alerted by the sounds of the lock being picked perhaps, or by some inner warning, launched herself at them. Rogue caught an elbow to the jaw and tasted blood, before she struck back with two deft punches and a kick that forced her enemy back into the darkness of the room. Chain followed behind, and after a moment where there were too many arms and legs involved in the tussle, he managed to garrotte their prey. For a long time there was a struggle, grunts from Chain as he was pummelled by heels and elbows, and then the strength ebbed and hands clawed for the arrow string that cut into her throat. Finally, she went limp.

  ‘Dead?’ Rogue asked.

  ‘Dead,’ he confirmed. ‘But, fvccant she fought it.’

  ‘She was a good Hallow,’ Rogue acknowledged.

  ‘Yes, a shame,’ he agreed. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘Indeed.’

  They closed the door behind them and continued, passing another couple of Hallows as they went. It was a busy night for those allied to Rogue, but the activity was welcome and purposeful, the players were motivated, and thus the night was vividly alive with the nocturnal battle of life, death, and power. ‘A good night for murder,’ Athame commented as they passed by. Rogue grinned a demon’s grin.

  As they passed the quarters which Patience and her family occupied, Patience stepped out into the hall. Her long hair was braided down her back, and she was clad in a billowy white nightgown. She clutched her sleeping daughter in her arms; the baby, more of a child then a baby now, was getting too big for her to carry and it was a struggle for the Lady to close the door. She paused, stunned and alarmed by their presence in the hall, an oddly domestic vision for this night. ‘Joy was restless,’ she said irrelevantly. ‘I have only just got her back to sleep and was returning her to her chamber.’

  Rogue opened the door to Lady’s own chamber. ‘It would perhaps be best if you kept her with you tonight, my Lady, if she is restless. It is not a good night to be out traversing the halls.’ She could see Patience wanted to know what was afoot, but in a wise move, the Lady stilled her enquiry and retreated meekly into her room. Rogue closed the door firmly behind her.

  Beyond the Lady’s chamber, they paused. ‘I will wait here,’ Chain murmured slipping deeper into the shadows. Rogue nodded, and knocked on the chamber door. After a moment, she pushed it open. The chamber within was well lit by candles and the moonlight spilled in through the open shutter windows. At the window, Star waited, gazing out into the night.

  ‘Star,’ Rogue greeted softly.

  ‘It is tonight, then?’ Star replied as softly. ‘It is a beautiful night. The air smells of promise.’

  ‘Yes, it is a good night,’ Rogue agreed, drawing closer.

  Star did not look at her. ‘Are you sure, Spider?’ she asked wistfully. ‘Are you really sure that this is the way it has to be?’ Star looked so young tonight, Rogue thought, her milky skin aglow with moonlight and her golden hair backlit by candlelight. They were of the same age however Rogue knew she had never looked that young.

  ‘There is no surety, my dear one,’ Rogue replied. ‘I am trying to change the course of the river by moving pebbles. Sometimes I succeed, and it changes ever so slightly its destination, but then another pebble shifts, and the flow reverts back to where it was.’

  ‘Then how can you be so determined that your actions are right?’ Star demanded. It was an old argument. They had been friends since very early in their training as Hallows; sisters, in all but blood. ‘Perhaps you are wrong, and they are right. You are but one and they are many. Maybe there is a greater reason for what they do. You are so young to this world and this purpose in comparison to them; it is arrogant to think to interfere. Maybe it is just destiny.’

  ‘Destiny,’ Rogue sneered. ‘Destiny is the excuse of tyrants to do what would otherwise be found morally repulsive, and the excuse of the weak-minded not to intervene. I see it, Star. I see it, and it frightens me, and I think that I have been given the gift to see what will be for a reason. That maybe I have also been given a choice. I can meekly stand by and allow it to happen, or I can do my best to change it, to make a world that in my perhaps limited experience I feel would be a better place.’

  ‘You have never been meek,’ Star smiled, with sadness, ‘and shy from your beliefs.’

  ‘I should hope not.’

  They stood shoulder to shoulder in silence watching the night sky. An owl called mournfully, a blot in the sky. In the courtyard below the window, a nocturnal rodent of some type shimmied up a tree, setting the leaves to whispering their secrets. It was a night of magic and change. Right now, Rogue thought, across Shoethal and Rhyndel alike, her Hallows crept through the darkness moving pebbles with murder. She could almost feel the flow of the water of time changing. It was the biggest move she had made so far. She hoped it would the biggest required of her. Tonight, Hallows and Priests died.

  ‘Will you not change your mind?’ she begged of her friend.

  Star smiled, closed lips, and shook her head. ‘I do not think you fight a battle you can win, my soul-sister. I think you do more harm than good. It is, as the saying goes: Water’s living strength first shows when obstacles it’s natural course oppose. Move your pebbles, but time will flow to its destined result. I cannot back you on this, I cannot aid you.’

  ‘Shade and light,’ Rogue whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ Star acknowledged. ‘If I am not with you, I am against you. So,’ she faced Rogue fully for the first time. ‘I am prepared. I will not fight you. I accept that this must be; that this is my time to drift into the night of life.’

  ‘I cannot kill you,’ Rogue said.

  ‘You do not need to, my friend,’ Star replied softly. ‘Just leave the bottle, and it will be done.’

  ‘It will not hurt,’ Rogue placed the vial onto the window sill.

  ‘It will not hurt me,’ Star placed her hand on Rogue’s cheek. ‘Be at ease, my sister. If you have any belief in the Monad, you know that we will meet again.’

  Rogue kissed her forehead. ‘Do you want me to stay?’

  ‘No,’ Star uncapped the lid and lifted it to her lips with a small salute. She threw it back in a single sho
t, before placing the vial carefully back on the sill. ‘I think I will just stand here,’ she said with a serene smile. ‘And watch the night.’ She did not turn to watch Rogue leave; she did not turn as Rogue closed the door.

  For a moment, in the hallway, Rogue was still, but her heart pounded a heavy hammer against her ribs. Something wet caught on her upper lip, and her tongue, investigating, tasted salt. She wiped her cheek against her shoulder, sniffed, and carried on. Ten steps down the hall, Chain joined her from the shadowy alcove. He did not say a word.

  They crossed hallways, down stairwells, and through courtyards, until they reached the bowels of the castle. Down, down, down. They followed the path she had taken most recently with Gallant and Patience, into the dungeons. They did not go into the chamber that the Priest’s used for torture, but instead followed a path that led into a strange circular chamber. Within this chamber was another chamber build of stone, with a small but heavy iron door. Two Hallows, standing guard on the door, nodded and opened the door for Rogue.

  She had to bend a little to enter the small circular room. Inside, the walls were blackened and heavy with soot, the floor ankle deep with ash. Ten of the highest ranking Priests stood bound to a wooden frame, the stamen of a strange flower of wood and kindling. ‘Where is Gallant?’ she demanded of them.

  One of them spat at her. The spittle fell short, at her feet.

  ‘Do you know what this is?’ she asked them.

  ‘The Monad will have you burn for your sins this night, Hallow!’

  ‘Happily,’ she smiled, ‘it is not I that will burn this night, my friends. This chamber is a very interesting find. It goes all the way up through the castle. On the lower floors of the castle, they use this chimney to smoke meat. Smoke, of course, comes from fire, and the fire, ingeniously, is sourced right here, and, considering its location in the dungeons, I suspect that it was not originally designed for the smoking of meat. Or, at least, not meat of that kind. So,’ she bared her teeth. ‘I am feeling generous. The first person to tell me where Gallant is hiding will be freed what is no doubt to be a truly terrible death.’

  There was a silence.

  ‘He is gone,’ one of the younger priests spoke suddenly. ‘He got wind of your uprising, and escaped. He is probably halfway to the Prince by now.’

  ‘Interesting,’ she said. ‘Have I a traitor in my company?’

  The priest looked at her hopelessly – if there was a traitor, he did not know who it was.

  ‘Well,’ she sighed. ‘If that is all the help you can give, I will bid you farewell, gentlemen and ladies. May the Monad be kind.’ There was an outcry as she stepped out the door. ‘Close it up, they have nothing for us.’ One of the Hallows tossed a lit torch onto the kindling. With a sucking whoosh, it caught. The priests began to shriek; the sound muted suddenly as the iron door closed.

  Rogue rolled her neck to release tense muscles in her shoulders. She felt hollow, brittle, and cold, so cold. ‘Find Gallant,’ she said to Chain brusquely, ‘and if he has truly escaped, find me the traitor.’ She left the dungeons, walking with an angry stride. She shook with the intensity of an emotion she couldn’t put a name to. It curdled in her stomach, a horrible weight. In the night dark courtyard, a world of deep and dark shadows and silvery pools of gossamer light, a shadow detached from the shadows around it and met her in a doorway full of yellow torchlight. She turned her face to the sky. A chimney billowed heavy smoke – a declaration of war into the peaceful night.

  ‘It is done,’ Trident confirmed, her face visible in the golden glow. Her nose was bloody.

  ‘Good. Good,’ she said firmly, though she felt as if she would crumble away. She could not let them see her weakness. ‘Well done to all. Now rest; tomorrow should be an interesting day.’ She started through the halls towards her chamber, hesitated, and changed her direction. The door she approached was barred from inside. With an irritated sigh, she went up a flight of stairs and out an unshuttered window, holding precariously to the window ledge whilst she located purchases with the toes of her boots. She crabbed down the wall to the window she required. The shutters were open to let in the cool night air so she swung easily onto the sill and let her eyes adjust to the darkness before sliding her feet to the floor and flowing stealthily across the floor. She shed her clothing like a snakeskin, a breadcrumb trail of cloth to mark her passage, and eased up the bed. The depression of mattress woke them; hands seized and in a dizzying display of prowess, she was on her back, pinned. She did not fight.

  ‘Hmmm,’ was murmured in approval discovering her nakedness, a mouth nuzzling at her neck, sleep warmed skin gliding against her death cold flesh. Against the window light, propping himself up on an elbow, Ash was a dark silhouette his hair greyed by the moonlight (which meant it was Coal exploring her torso with his lips). His face was unreadable, his eyes lost in shadow but his body language was reserved.

  Coal’s mouth was warm on her skin; he did not seem to share his brother’s reservations. But, his touch was deliberately gentle, soothing her as if she were a skittish horse. She ran her nails down his back cruelly, and seized his buttocks with digging fingers, causing him to hiss. ‘Now,’ she said provocatively. ‘Hard and cruel.’ She turned her head and stared hard at Ash, challenging, as he shifted restively, radiating unease. Coal stilled against her and also turned his head to his brother. Across the darkness, they seemed to exchange a communication she could not share.

  ‘No,’ Coal withdrew from her, putting space between their bodies, but it was Ash who spoke.

  She clamped her hands on Coal’s waist and pulled him back. ‘I mean it,’ she demanded harshly.

  ‘We do not do cruel,’ Coal disapproved, shaking his head.

  The brothers were in accord.

  ‘I do,’ she whispered. (Star by the window, watching the night with dead eyes; smoke on the sky and blood in the rushes.) ‘I do cruel.’

  ‘Are you crying?’ Coal was shaken, turning his head to look at his brother. ‘Light a candle, Ash.’

  ‘No,’ she said sharply, she shoved at him. ‘Get off of me. This was a bad idea. You cannot give me what I need, so I will get it elsewhere.’ She pushed free and made to leave the bed.

  Coal growled and wrestled her back beneath him. ‘Do you seek to destroy us?’ he demanded angrily. ‘You behave as if we are nothing to you. Do you not understand that we love you?’ He was furious, his body tense with it, his voice raw and anguished. She was stunned, and hesitated, but she had pushed too far and he caught her thigh, and dragged it up his waist, pushing into her roughly. ‘There,’ he spat. Her flesh felt raw, and his presence intrusive. ‘Is this what you want?’ His fingers were hard on her thigh; she would have bruises. The hollow feeling was pushed out of her, replaced by hardness and need. She cried out, throwing her head back as he filled her. ‘Look at me,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Look at me. Is this what you need? Is this what you want?’ he withdrew and drove in deep and hard, pushing until she felt he would impale her womb.

  It was on the edge of painful. It was exactly what she deserved. ‘Fvccant,’ she whimpered; he would kill her.

  ‘Careful Coal,’ Ash murmured reprovingly.

  ‘Is it?’ Coal ground out ignoring his brother and slamming into her with increasing speed. ‘Tell me, damn you.’ He released her leg and caught her by the wrists, pulling her unresisting arms above her head and imprisoning them with one hand, the grip so tight the bones in her wrists rubbed and she groaned. ‘Damn you,’ he snarled. He hammered into her with his hips, no longer withdrawing, just driving deeper and deeper to her core.

  She couldn’t recognise her own voice, the cries that tore from her throat. She felt as if she would be rent into two. She felt as if nothing existed but where his flesh met hers. She wished he would kiss her, but could not find the words to ask, her mind empty of everything except the pressure building in her body. She tried to press back up against him, to meet him with her pelvis, but he pressed her too hard into the ma
ttress. She felt as if she was drowning in him. It hurt; and the pain felt wonderful.

  ‘Is it?’ he yelled at her, his voice savage and wild and frightening.

  ‘Yes,’ she screamed back through clenched teeth as her body exploded. ‘Yes.’

  He cried out something unintelligible as he came, and collapsed onto her. She lay, gasping. He had released her wrists at some stage, and she brought her hands down to rest on his shoulders. Her wrists hurt. She felt clean, burnt out, and whole. Clear and clarified. ‘Thank you,’ she said, eyes open. His shoulders shook. He was weeping into her hair. She moved her hands soothingly in circles on his back. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Fvccant,’ Ash said from the darkness. He was distressed.

  She turned her head, nuzzling Coal’s face clear of hair, finding his cheek near his ear, and kissed it. ‘I love you, too,’ she said softly. ‘Both of you.’

  ‘And this is how you decide to announce it?’ Ash was not happy. She reached out a hand, found his in the darkness, and he let her fit her fingers between his. He was angry, bewildered and hurt, and it took a long moment before he closed his fingers over hers.

  She felt at peace. ‘I do some terrible things,’ she said without regret.

  Cinder

  Cinder was furious.

  He snarled his frustration and swept all the documents and paraphernalia from his desktop onto the luxurious carpet spread incongruently on the trampled dirt ground. The tent billowed in the wind, the sheer separations ghostlike. His captains pretended oblivion to the temper tantrum. Recovering himself, he leant back in the ornately carved chair and gestured to a servant to bring him wine.

  ‘Very well,’ he said regretfully. ‘They leave us no choice. We can no longer dally here.’ He listed the reasons to himself again. ‘They have taken our scout at Guarn and will be torturing him for information. Armed with that information, they will know we are currently at an impasse with Lyendar. Lord Honesty is proving less than honest, sending messengers out with peasants and procrastinating about his surrender in the hopes of Guarn coming to his rescue. We need to move decisively, and now. As regretful as it is, I do not believe we can save Lyendar. If it will not bow before us, it must be destroyed.’