The Forgotten Queen

by Matt Glicksman

  Sundancer leaned against the wall. "Real enough. You have the title. You have the scarf. You have the bed."

  "No offense, but why do you need to be here? What's wrong with sleeping in a bed next door?"

  "Your safety is my responsibility. I take that very seriously."

  Millan moved to the window. "But why? Do you really think I'm in some sort of danger? I'm a nobody."

  "None of that matters. I promised the Prima I'd keep you safe. End of story."

  Silence fell within the room as Millan stared out the window. Wisps of fire leaped into the air before rejoining their kin on the pyre. A man broke away from the group surrounding the fire and approached the inn. At first, Millan paid him no attention, but then the priest realized this man was watching him in the window. As they locked eyes, Millan thought there was something familiar about his face, his red hair. Slowly, his hands descended into his robe as he followed the breadcrumbs of his memories. As his hands reached the depths of his pockets, Millan's heart gave pause. They were empty. In a fit of panic, he threw the black coat onto the bed and frantically searched his pockets.

  "What are you doing?" Sundancer asked.

  "It's gone! It's not possible, but it's gone!" Millan turned his pockets inside out.

  "What's gone?"

  "Could it have fallen out? I know I had it in the carriage. Where could it be?"

  "Millan, what's gone?"

  "The star, Don Skully's star. It's gone. I had it, I know I had it. Maybe it fell on the ground?" Millan snatched the black coat, threw it over his shoulders, and sprinted out the door.

  "Millan!" Sundancer shouted, but the Nesinu priest had no plans to stop. He had lost that which was most precious to him, and he needed to retrieve it at any cost. His eyes scanned the ground as he retraced his steps, through the inn and back outside into the frigid night.

  "Where is it?" he asked himself, praying he would find it resting peacefully on the ground. A hand spun him around, and even in the limited light from the nearby fire, he could see the gravity in Sundancer's eyes.

  "Don't ever run off like that again," she scolded.

  "But I was just—"

  "Millan, I'm serious. If you're missing something, we'll look for it together. But don't ever leave my side."

  The priest shivered, but not from the cold air. "What do you know? Is my life really in danger?"

  "This is not the place to discuss this," Sundancer whispered. "But after what happened to you yesterday, we can't take any chances."

  Millan's recollection of the previous day was still blurry. "The deathroot."

  The bloodseeker nodded.

  "Wait a minute. That's it. Yesterday. That guy who was just outside the window. I met him yesterday."

  "What guy?"

  Millan looked around in the hopes of spotting him. "There was a guy who was part of the caravan. I think he's a watcher."

  "And he was outside your window?" Sundancer asked.

  "Not, right outside, but he was in the thoroughfare staring at me. Yeah, I can sort of see him now. We were in a restaurant. What was his name? A something." Millan gasped. "There he is."

  In the opposite direction of the bonfire, the silhouette of a man slinked behind one of the houses.

  "Are you certain?" Sundancer asked.

  There was doubt in his mind, but it was the only lead they had, and so Millan bent the truth. "Almost positive. I'm also pretty sure the man I met yesterday was a thief, and proud of it."

  "Stay close."

  Millan obeyed as the pair jogged to where the man was last seen.

  Sundancer pressed her back to the wall and peered around the corner. "He's headed into the stables," she whispered.

  "If their stables are anything like ours were, there's only one entrance. He'll be trapped."

  "Doesn't look like anyone's working, either, which means he'll also be alone. Stay behind me."

  As they emerged from the corner, Millan struggled to pull the man's name from his memory. "Aks. Aks," he murmured.

  "Aksilacarn," Sundancer said with disdain.

  Millan stepped out from behind his bodyguard to find the man leaning against the entrance to the stables and sporting a smug grin.

  Aksil bowed. "Lady Sundancer. It's good to see you."

  As they closed the gap, the bloodseeker struck the thief with a right hook and sent him to the ground. Before he could recover, Sundancer grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back. "It's good to see you, too, Aksil."

  The thief rubbed his cheek with his free hand. "Well, this has taken a bit of an unpleasant turn."

  "Really? I have to disagree. Give it back to him. Now."

  "I think you have the wrong idea here."

  "Do I?"

  "Ow! Ow! Ow!" the thief whisper-shouted.

  Millan couldn't see what the bloodseeker was doing, but the pain expressed in Aksil's face jumped considerably. The thief's free hand darted into his pocket, and he threw the star at the priest's feet.

  "I knew it." Millan scooped up the conduit.

  "What should we do with him?" Sundancer asked.

  "Turn him in. But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get some answers first. Why did you steal this from me?"

  "I didn't." Aksil yelped in pain. "I'm serious. I'm telling you the truth. I didn't steal it from you."

  Millan squatted down so he was at eye level with the thief. "You were just caught red-handed. Why would you lie?"

  "I'm not…I'm not lying. If Sunny would be so kind as to release my arm, I'd be happy to explain."

  "Your arm stays," Sundancer stated plainly. "And don't get familiar with me."

  "Fine, Lady Sundancer. The person who actually stole your star was Don Layola. She's a suspected member of the Brotherhood. I took it from her so I could return it to you."

  Millan scoffed. "I don't even know what to say to such a ridiculous story."

  "Listen. I wanted you to follow me. That's why I stood outside your window. It's why I led you here to the stables. So I could give the star back, and we could talk away from prying eyes."

  "If that's true, why didn't you just give me the star from the beginning?"

  "Before or after Sun—sorry, Lady Sundancer—clocked me across the face? I have to say, this is not how I imagined this going."

  Millan nodded to the bloodseeker. "I think you can let him go."

  Sundancer released her hold. "Tell us everything."

  The thief rolled into a sitting position and massaged his shoulder. "I don't know everything, and the longer we're away from the group, the more suspicious it'll seem. We should speak after everyone goes to sleep."

  "Fine," Millan said. "You obviously know which room I'm in. But tell me this. Assuming I believe you, how did you know Don Layola stole the star?"

  "I was watching her. You were distracted by the phoenix display while she adjusted your coat."

  "But why would she steal it? How did she even know I had it?"

  Askil shrugged. "I told you I don't know everything. But, be very careful around her. We'll talk later."

  Chapter 14

  Eriph opened his eyes and studied the faintly illuminated stone tiles above his head. Ever since he had arrived in Alovajj, he found himself waking up before dawn. He had been assured by Mortis that this was simply an adjustment to living in the city of demons. Eriph swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up. Despite being awake so early, he felt well rested. He rubbed his eyes as he stood and walked to the small window. The whole city lay before him, and he marveled at the Wall of Light that protected it.

  Eriph's stomach shifted and made a most unappealing sound. He tried to calm it with a little rub, but his stomach was persistent. Every other morning, Eriph had remained in his room until breakfast, but today, he couldn't wait. He snatched a leather tie from the nearby table and left the room.

  As he walked down the quiet halls, he brushed his hair back with his fingers and tied it into a tail. He was still adjusting to the feel of his pl
ain cloth shirt and pants since he no longer wore the robe of Candelux. They did little to keep him warm as the halls became quite chilly when the sun went down. Eriph exited the wing of the palace designated for Founder Mortis and entered a great hall, which acted as a nexus to other areas. From there, he could explore a different founder's wing, check out the throne room, or more importantly, get to the main dining area. As he reached the dining hall, Eriph spotted a soft glow coming from the kitchen, located on the opposite side of the room. He quickened his steps, quietly hoping someone was around who could get him some food.

  When he arrived at the threshold, Eriph noticed a large man standing over a cooking fire. The man wore a bright-green robe with interwoven pink lines that seemed to wrap around his whole body. Over the flames hovered a grill, and Eriph involuntarily sniffed the air, catching a whiff that forced him to breathe deeper. Saliva flooded his mouth. Not wishing to startle the cook, Eriph circled around and approached from the side.

  The large man looked up and smiled. His teeth were an incredible white, lit up by the fire.

  "What are you cooking?" Eriph asked. "It smells amazing."

  "Chicken. Hungry?"

  "Actually, yes, but I don't want to impose. I can always find something else to eat."

  "Pfft, there's plenty. Have a seat." The man gestured to the empty chair close by.

  Eriph grabbed the wooden stool and sat close to the fire. He recognized the pink pattern that wandered over the man's robe. They were vines.

  "You must be Founder Sanarius," Eriph said. Sanarius was the only founder who Eriph had not yet met, not even during his year-long stay to train with Brahawee. It was well known that the pan-mage was a bit of a recluse and shied away from the spotlight.

  "Sanarius is fine."

  "Right. I'm Eriph. Mortis is my sponsor."

  "I know who you are. I was at your sponsorship."

  The priest thought back to the ceremony but had no recollection of the founder being there.

  Sanarius continued in a friendly manner, "Don't worry. There were a lot of people there. I'm pretty sure you didn't see me."

  "Sorry."

  "No apology needed."

  The fire crackled as Sanarius tended to the chicken on the grill. The smell was intoxicating.

  "So, rough night?" Eriph asked.

  Sanarius raised an eyebrow. "No, why do you ask?"

  "Well, the sun isn't up."

  "I'm aware."

  "You're making food alone in the kitchen in the middle of the night."

  The pan-mage smirked. "Right, I get hungry sometimes too. I think that's pretty common."

  "And you always wake up this early?"

  "I've been awake since midnight."

  "Midnight?" Eriph thought about when he had fallen asleep. "You only sleep for, what, three or four hours?"

  "No, eight."

  "That means you fell asleep at four in the afternoon? Were you not feeling well?"

  "I felt fine. What are you suggesting?"

  "Um, nothing. Sorry."

  "Rizen was right. You do apologize a lot." Sanarius gently pulled off a piece of meat from a chicken leg and popped it in his mouth. "Nearly there."

  "Oh, thank the angels!" a voice called from the kitchen entrance. The tone was one of desperation as if the speaker hadn't eaten in days. "For someone who's supposedly so in harmony with nature, you sure know how to cook it well."

  The newcomer fixated on the meat as he dragged a seat for himself toward the fire. His clothing was patchy with random colors. A few bells short of a real court jester. He also lacked the standard hat of the profession that would've covered his dark, curly hair.

  "Is it done?" The newcomer reached for a piece.

  With a quick swat, Sanarius forced the invading hand to retreat.

  "Yow! A simple no would've sufficed, thank you." The stranger held his hand out to Eriph. "You're Eriph, right? I'm Marco. Still getting used to the Wall of Light?"

  "Nice to meet you. And yes, I suppose I am. Mortis told me it might take a couple of weeks."

  "Yeah, maybe longer. Sanarius here hasn't slept right since it turned on."

  The pan-mage giggled. "I sleep just fine."

  "Really? I can never tell if you're just waking up or about to pass out."

  "So, Marco, what do you do in the palace?" Eriph asked.

  "Can't you tell by my clothing?" Marco stood up and proudly displayed his uniform. "I'm the jester and nothing more!" The last bit came with a wink.

  Sanarius's high-pitched laugh didn't seem to fit a man of his size. "Subtle."

  "And your sponsor?" Eriph continued.

  "I don't have one. I'm a lemniscate," Marco explained.

  "Oh, I see. Like Rizen."

  "Sure, like Rizen, like Warbison. We're all just one big happy unsponsored family. Hey, that chicken certainly smells like it's done."

  "Don't rush perfection," Sanarius warned.

  "So, what about you?" Marco asked Eriph. "Still happy you joined the Death Gods?"

  "Yeah, so far. The wealth of knowledge alone is worth it. The amount of information in the library is outstanding. And well-preserved I might add, given the circumstances."

  "Oh, a fellow fan of history. Glad to hear it. I've read most of the books down there, so if you have any questions or want any suggestions, let me know."

  "Well, now that you mention it, I've been mostly reading about Queen Ezmirelda. And, I noticed her statues around the palace. Any idea why the hands were broken off?"

  Marco leaned back and stretched. "Can't help you there. There's nothing about it in any book I've read, so the damage was likely caused by the demons after they took over the city."

  "But only the right hand? And on every statue?"

  "Hmm. You know, I noticed that as well, but didn't give it much thought. Maybe there was a purpose behind it, and it wasn't just a random act of violence."

  Eriph spotted another figure enter the kitchen. Though the area was poorly illuminated, he recognized Mortis by his hood and oversize left sleeve.

  "Hey, look who it is!" Marco hopped up from his chair and danced toward the newcomer. "Hoo-hoo, hey-hey! What do you say?"

  "Please. It's too early for that," Mortis grumbled. "And, you were supposed to come get me if you found Eriph."

  "Oh yeah. Huh. Well, I found him."

  "Yes, I can see that. Very helpful." Mortis glided past the jester. "Eriph, I stopped by your room, but you weren't there."

  "I wasn't able to sleep. What's going on?"

  "One of our scouts on a critical assignment missed his last two check-ins. We think he may have been captured. Dolore is putting together a small team, and if you're willing to help, I've asked for you to be on it."

  Eriph shrugged. "Sure, I'd be happy to, but I'm no scout."

  "Don't let that concern you. I'll inform her of your participation and allow her to explain your role."

  "Understood. What about the meeting with Candelux today?"

  Mortis dismissively waved his right hand. "Don't worry about that. Shinigami and I will speak with Mashira. You stay focused on this task."

  "Of course."

  "Sunrise is the final check-in for our scout. Meet Dolore in the stables at that time. If she hasn't received word from him, you'll ride out immediately, so make sure you arrive prepared."

  "Prepared?"

  "Dressed, shielded, whatever else you would need for a journey."

  Sanarius cleared his throat. "Meat's done for those who are interested."

  Marco jumped in front of Mortis. "Make way! I call a breast."

  "Will you be joining us?" Sanarius asked Mortis.

  "No, thank you. I'm going back to sleep."

  The jester looked back. "I must say, I'm quite impressed. You're still trying to get your beauty rest?"

  Mortis groaned and walked away from the group as Sanarius stifled a grin.

  Marco's singsongy voice grew louder. "You know, all joking aside, make sure you don't sleep on you
r left side!"

  As Mortis disappeared through the doorway, Marco turned back and was greeted with the chicken piece he had requested. He laughed deviously before taking a bite.

  "What did you mean by that?" Eriph asked.

  The jester spoke with his mouth full. "By what?"

  "Sleeping on his left side. What's the story there?"

  Marco's face turned somber, and his chewing slowed. He shot Sanarius a look before swallowing his food. "No story. What makes you think there's a story?"

  "I've noticed the sleeve, inordinately long. The hood that keeps half his face in the shadows. What's he hiding?"

  "His sleeve is long? Is it? I hadn't noticed."

  "You're joking, right?"

  Marco stared blankly at Eriph. "Me? No."

  "But when he was leaving, you said—"

  "Look, I don't know what you're talking about. If you think something's wrong, maybe you should just ask him yourself."

  The thought had crossed Eriph's mind many times since his arrival, but he feared the topic was too personal to ask directly.

  Before he could respond, Sanarius handed him a chicken leg. "I wouldn't recommend it. Some questions are best left unanswered."

  In the uncomfortable silence, Eriph graciously accepted the food. What was wrong with his sponsor? What was he so ashamed of? Eriph swallowed the morsel in his mouth and tried to shift the topic. "So, I notice you sometimes talk in rhyme to Mortis. Why's that?"

  Marco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and revealed a crooked smile. "Oh, it's a game we play. Well, not so much him. It's my game. He's an unwilling participant."

  Eriph tittered. "You do it just to irritate him?"

  "It's all in good fun. I mean, what are friends for?"

  "Friends? Forgive my frankness, but he seemed really annoyed with you."

  "Please. Mortis is annoyed with everyone. He and I? We're actually best friends."

  Chapter 15

  Erynion trudged through the forest with Flinch by his side. The chains in his hand jingled as the links collided with each step. The morning sun filtered through the treetops, and the demon lord was at ease. He would soon be upon the road to Nolka.

  "All right, Flinch. Same as before. You're going to stay back. Is that understood?"