Queen of the Darkness (3 page)

”If you cast the persuasion spells correctly, there’s no reason they won’t believe it,” Hekatah said with sweet venom.

”There’s nothing wrong with my Craft skills, Priestess,” Dorothea replied with equal venom, turning to face the other woman.

”Your skills didn’t help you elude the spell Sadi wrapped around you, did they?”

”No more than your skills protected you or have helped you reverse the damage.”

Hekatah hissed angrily, and Dorothea turned back to the window, feeling a brief satisfaction at the well-aimed barb.

Seven years ago, Hekatah had tried to gain control of Jaenelle Angelline and eliminate Lucivar Yaslana.

Something had gone wrong with her scheme, and the backlash of that confrontation had stripped away her ability to pass as one of the living, had made her look like a decaying, desiccated corpse. For the first couple of years, she had insisted that all she needed was to consume large quantities of fresh blood in order to restore her body. But the demon-dead were, in a sense, spirits that still had too much psychic power to return to the Darkness and were now housed in dead flesh. While the power lasted and could be renewed, the body could be maintained by consuming blood. But nothing was going to restore Hekatah’s looks. The juice had been wrung out of her dead flesh, and the past seven years had been a slow decay of a body that had died 50,000 years ago.

”They’ll believe the High Lord has been responsible for all the perversion in Terreille,” Hekatah said, coming up behind Dorothea close enough for her reflection to be visible in the window’s night-darkened glass. ”They
want
to believe it. He’s a myth, a terrifying story that has been whispered for thousands of years. And anyone who has doubts about
him
will have no doubts at all about Yaslana and Sadi. The thought of the three of them coming together and having the use of a strong witch as their tool will be enough to unite Terreille against Kaeleer. In the end, it doesn’t matter
why
they join the fight, only that they fight.”

”We’ve gained one reluctant ally this afternoon—Alexandra Angelline, the Queen of Chaillot.”

Dorothea’s lips curled in a vicious smile. ”She was shocked to discover that her younger granddaughter has been under the High Lord’s thumb for all these years, thanks to Daemon Sadi.”

Hekatah frowned. ”She’s a fool, but she isn’t stupid. If she convinces Jaenelle to help her maintain control of Chaillot ...”

Dorothea shook her head. ”She doesn’t believe Jaenelle has any power. I could see it in her eyes. I spun her a little story about women who are reservoirs of raw power—she didn’t believe that either. She can accept that Sadi and the High Lord might have wanted Jaenelle for their own twisted reasons, but she’ll continue to believe what she
wants
to believe about Jaenelle Angelline. Once she gets to Little Terreille, Lord Jorval will be waiting to offer his assistance.
He’ll
never mention that Jaenelle is the Queen of Ebon Askavi. And I doubt Alexandra will believe anything
anyone
at the Hall tells her.”

Hekatah laughed gleefully.

”And I imagine that once she actually meets Prince Saetan Daemon SaDiablo, the High Lord of Hell, she’ll be more than happy to send along any information she thinks will be useful to us.”

”And if he discovers her deceit...” Hekatah shrugged. ”Well, we would have had to get rid of her after the war anyway.”

Dorothea stared at their reflections in the glass. They had been lovely women once. Now Hekatah looked like a corpse that the worms had been feasting on, and she...

Sadi had created some kind of spell to age and twist her body, but he hadn’t done anything to diminish her sexual appetite. The Blood called him the Sadist, but she hadn’t really appreciated the depths of his cruelty. He had known her appetites—how could he not since he’d had to satisfy them when he was young? He had also known the humiliation she would feel when she saw revulsion in the eyes of the males she rode instead of that exciting combination of lust and fear. Now, after her tearful confession, she wouldn’t even be able to indulge in that much.

”You’ve informed your pet Queens that they’ll have to abstain from their more—imaginative—pleasures for the time being?” Hekatah asked.

”I’ve told them,” Dorothea replied irritably. ”Whether they
will
restrain themselves is difficult to say.”

”Any who indulge will have to be eliminated.”

”And how do we explain
that
?

Hekatah made an impatient sound. ”Obviously they, too, have been under the High Lord’s spell. Your gallant struggle to free yourself from his power also freed a number of your Sisters, but, unfortunately, not all of them. All it will take is one or two of them being killed for the others to understand the message and behave properly.”

”And after we’ve won?”

”After we’ve won, we can do whatever we damn well please. We’ll rule the Realms, Dorothea. Not just Terreille, but
all
of them—Terreille, Kaeleer, and Hell.”

Wanting to savor that possibility, Dorothea didn’t say anything for several minutes. Then finally, reluctantly, she asked, ”Do you really think that fear of the High Lord will be enough to start a war? Do you really think this will work?”

What was left of Hekatah’s lips pulled back in a terrible smile. ”It worked the last time.”

6 / Kaeleer

The Queen of Arachna settled next to the shoulder of the weary, golden-haired woman who leaned against a flat-sided boulder.

Is bad?the large golden spider asked in her soft voice.

Jaenelle Angelline brushed her hair away from her face and sighed. Her haunted sapphire eyes narrowed a little against the early-morning sunlight as she once again studied the delicate strands of the tangled web that she’d woven during the night. ”Yes, it’s bad. A war is coming. A war between the Realms.”

Can stop?

Jaenelle shook her head slowly. ”No. No one can stop it.”

The spider shifted uneasily. The air around the woman tasted of sadness—and a growing, cold rage.
The
two-legs have fought before. Is more bad this time?

”You may look.”

Accepting the formal invitation, the Arachnian Queen opened her mind to the dreams and visions in the large tangled web Jaenelle had spun between a boulder and a nearby tree.

So much death. So much pain and sorrow. And a creeping taint that soiled the ones remaining.

Pulling back from the dreams and visions, she studied the web itself and noticed two odd things. One was the delicate silver ring set with an Ebony Jewel that had been placed in the center of the web. A Jewel chip was rarely woven into a tangled web because the magic that shaped those webs was powerful—and dangerous—enough, and this particular Jewel belonged to Jaenelle, who was Witch, the living myth, dreams made flesh. The other odd thing was the triangle. Many threads were connected to that ring, but overlying them were three threads that formed a triangle around it.

Intrigued, the spider continued to study the web. She had seen that triangle before. Strength, passion, courage. Loyalty, honor, love. She could almost taste the male tang in those threads.

”If Kaeleer accepts Terreille’s challenge and goes to war,” Jaenelle said softly, ”it will destroy the Blood in both Realms. All the Blood. Even the kindred.”

Some will live. It is always so.

”Not this time. Oh, there will be some who will physically survive the war, but...” Jaenelle’s voice broke.

She took a deep breath. ”All of my Sisters, all of my friends will be gone. All of the Queens will be gone.

All of the Warlord Princes.”

Aw
.

”There will be no Queens left to heal the land, no Queens left to hold the Blood together. The slaughter will continue until there’s no one left to slaughter. The witches will be as barren as the land. The gift of power that had been given to us so long ago will be the final weapon that destroys us. If Kaeleer goes to war with Terreille.”

Must fight,the spider said.
Must stop creeping taint.

Jaenelle smiled bitterly. ”War won’t stop it. I know who nurtured the seeds, and if eliminating Dorothea and Hekatah would stop this from coming, I’d destroy them right now. But it wouldn’t stop anything, not anymore. It would only delay it, and that would be worse. This is the right place and the right time to cleanse that taint out of the Blood.”

You speak paths that go no place,the spider scolded.
You say can’t fight but must fight. You
confused? Maybe you read web wrong.

Jaenelle turned her head toward the spider, a dryly amused look on her face. ”And where did I learn to weave a tangled web? If I’m not reading it right, maybe I wasn’t taught correctly.”

The spider used Craft to make a harsh, buzzing sound that indicated severe disapproval.
Not fault of
teaching spider if little spider pay more attention to catching fly than doing lesson.

Jaenelle’s silvery, velvet-coated laugh filled the air. ”I never once tried to catch a fly. And I
did
pay attention to the teaching spider. After all, she
was
the Dream Weavers’ Queen at the time.”

The Arachnian Queen resettled herself, somewhat mollified.

Jaenelle’s humor faded as she turned her sapphire eyes back to the web. ”Terreille will go to war.”

Then Kaeleer will war.

”This web shows two paths,” Jaenelle said very quietly.

No,the spider replied firmly.
One web, one vision. That is the way.

”Two paths,” Jaenelle insisted. ”Following the second path, Kaeleer doesn’t go to war with Terreille, and the Queens and Warlord Princes survive to heal and protect the Shadow Realm.”

Then who war with Terreille?

Jaenelle hesitated. ”The Queen of the Darkness.”

But
you
are Queen!

Jaenelle exhaled sharply. ”A war that cleanses the Realms, calls in the debts, takes back the gift of power that was given. There’s a way. There
must
be a way, but the web can’t show me yet because of that.” Her finger pointed to the triangle. ”That’s not the Queen’s triangle.” Her finger traced the left side of the triangle. ”That thread is the High Lord.” She traced the bottom thread. ”And that thread is Lucivar.” Her finger hesitated at the triangle’s right side. ”But that thread isn’t Andulvar. It should be, since he’s the Master of the Guard, but it’s someone else. Someone who isn’t here yet, someone who can guide me to the answers I need to walk that other path.”

The thread not tell you its name?

”It says the mirror is coming. What kind of answer is—” Tensing, Jaenelle scrambled to her knees.

”Daemon,” she whispered.
”Daemon.”

The spider shifted uneasily. Witch had flavored the air with intense pleasure when she had whispered that name— but underneath the pleasure there was a little taste of fear.

”I have to go,” Jaenelle said hurriedly as she leaped to her feet. ”I still need to stop at a couple of kindred Territories before I return to the Hall.” She hesitated, glanced at the spider. ”With your permission, I’d like to keep this one for a while.”

Your webs be welcome among the Weavers of Dreams.

Raising her hand, Jaenelle used Craft to put a protective shield on the tangled web’s threads. She looked back at the spider. ”May the Darkness embrace you, Sister.”

And you, Sister Queen,the spider replied formally.

The Arachnian Queen waited until Jaenelle caught one of the Winds, those psychic pathways through the Darkness, before she used Craft to float gently toward the tangled web.

One web, one vision. That was the way. But when Witch spun a web Using instinct and all of her training, the spider cautiously brushed a leg against a small thread that floated loose from the Ebony ring. The tangled web showed her the second path.

The spider quickly backed away.
No!
she called, sending out her psychic communication thread as far as it would reach.
No!
Not
a second path.
Not
an answer! You not walk this path!

No answer. Not even a flicker from Witch’s powerful mind to indicate that she had heard.

You not walk this path,the spider said again sadly, seeing clearly where that path would end.

Perhaps not. Witch could weave a tangled web better than any other Black Widow, but even Witch couldn’t always sense all the flavors in the threads.

The Arachnian Queen turned back to the web and felt a mild tug. Walking on air, she followed the tug to a thread near the tree-anchored side of the web. Cautiously, she brushed a leg against the thread.

Dog. The brown-and-white dog she had seen in the first web she had spun after the cold season had passed. She had asked Witch to bring the dog, Ladvarian, to the Weavers’ island. She had wanted to see this Warlord—and she had wanted him to see her.

She plucked the Ladvarian thread and felt its vibration run through the web. Many of the threads connected to the Ebony ring—the kindred threads—began to shine brightly.

The human threads shone, too, but not so bright, not so sure. She must remember that. And that triangle...

With her leg still resting on the Ladvarian thread, the spider let her mind sail to the secret cave, the sacred cave in the center of the island. There the Arachnian Queens had gone time after time to listen to dreams—and to weave, thread by thread, the very special webs that bound dreams to flesh, that were the first tangible step in creating Witch.

Small webs. Larger webs. Sometimes only one race, only one kind of dreamer, had dreamed Witch into being. Other times the dreamers had come from different places with different needs that somehow had fit together to become one dream.

When that dream’s time in the flesh was done and it no longer walked the Realms, the Arachnian Queen would respectfully cut the anchor threads that held the web to the cave walls, roll the spidersilk into a ball, deposit it in a niche, and then use Craft to coax crystals to grow over the opening. There were many closed niches, more than the human Blood realized. But then, the kindred had always been far more faithful dreamers.