Shadow Queen (11 page)

Astrid shot Ethen a puzzled look. He moaned,
holding his leg close. “Damn it, Astrid, kill the bastard!” Quibell
rushed to his side and ripped a long strip of cloth from his cloak.
He wound the rough material tight around Ethen’s leg and hoisted
him up with the help of two other goblins.

“Please! I—I can show you what keeps Alainia
in the sky! I can show its secrets!” He clawed at Astrid’s legs,
howling with sobs.

“I don’t trust him,” said Quibell, his mouth
set in a natural sneer.

“We don’t have to trust him,” said Astrid.
She kicked the miserable Phooka from her boots. “Just follow him.
I’m sure he’ll cooperate with my knife in his back.”

The Phooka flinched at the thought. “Yes, of
course! I am your humble servant!”

“And what of him?” Quibell nodded toward
Ethen. His face had paled and his eyes had dimmed. “We can’t just
drag him along…”

“He needs to be treated. Take him back down
to Limra. Make sure he’s well cared for,” said Astrid. Her heart
ached with guilt.

Quibell nodded and handed Ethen off to the
company of goblins.

“Wait… Astrid!” Ethen’s muddled gaze met
hers. “I can still fight… please, don’t make me go…”

She bent down and gathered the pieces of his
bow. For the first time, she was glad her mask hid the hurt on her
face. “Here,” she said, handing the pieces to a nearby goblin. “He
won’t want to be without it. It was his father’s.”

“Astrid?” He reached out a weak hand.

“Ethen… you have to go,” she said, taking his
hand in her own shaky grasp. “You’ll die if you stay up here.
Besides, you now have enough battle scars to get any girl you
want.”

He coughed a raspy laugh. “You’ll have to
beat them off me, won’t you?”

She smiled, letting go of his trembling hand.
“It’s time to go.”

Ethen nodded as the goblins hoisted him up
and scurried back down the hall.

Quibell broke the silence with a sharp cough.
“We still have business to attend to.”

Astrid shot him a fierce glare. “I’m well
aware,” she said, her voice a growl. “A little forewarning to the
nature of this mission would have been helpful. I didn’t realize
how lightly the word
ambassador
gets thrown around these
days.”

“These people had no intention of
negotiating. It was either kill or be killed. That is the way of
the desert,” said Quibell. He kicked at the Phooka’s haunches. “On
your feet!”

Astrid dug a knife into the Phooka’s
shoulder. “How many other guards are here?”

“Agghhhhhhhhhhhh! Only two now. Agggg—me and
the Captain! I, of course, am no real threat, but Fanger is a beast
to be reckoned with. AHHH!” The words poured from the beast’s mouth
in a slew of painful bursts.

Astrid released her blade and let him cower
against the wall. She turned her gaze toward Quibell. “Do you
believe him?”

Quibell spat at the blubbering beast. “Do we
have a choice? I don’t see any other guards patrolling. If there
had been any, they would have surely heard us by now. And who could
blame them? If I could summon a storm to strike my enemies with
lightening I wouldn’t worry about paying for guards to wander the
halls.”

“Seems valid to me,” said Astrid. She yanked
the Phooka to his feet by his horns. “Show me this secret.”

***

Fryx did not appreciate being thrust into a
volatile situation.

He had owed Bastrick a favor for over two
decades now and of course this was the time the bastard chose to
have it returned.

The massive guard clanked alongside him,
swinging his glinting mace with each step. Fryx only hoped that
Astrid and Quibell were following close behind him.

The guard opened a rounded wooden door and
shoved the dwarve inside. He found himself inside a cavernous
throne room. A crowd of nobles were gathered around the throne.
Their murmurs were hushed at his sudden presence.

Fryx walked toward the throne, parting the
sea of nobles.

They glared down at him in disgust.

“
A dwarve? I didn’t know we had dealings
with
their
kind,”
said a shrewish elf from behind her
fan.

“
Quiet, Camilla! Don’t provoke the
brute!”
Her portly husband pulled her away from the edge of the
crowd.

Fryx flourished a bow before the cowering
couple. They flinched at the unexpected gesture, bringing a smile
to the dwarve’s lips.

“Move, dwarve!” The guard shoved Fryx further
toward the throne.

Seated upon the black throne was an elf
dressed in flowing white silk. Her young face was smooth with an
eerie calm. She spread her arms in welcome.

“Master Dwarve, so good of you to come. I
hope you’re enjoying Alainia. I know we’re certainly enjoying your
presence here,” said the Queen, her voice smooth as a serpent. He
heard the nobles cackling behind him in the shadows.

“Your majesty, I have come on behalf of the
city of Limra. I have—”

“—Yes, yes, you’ve come to negotiate
peace
,” she said. Her still face soured into a snarl. “I
have no interest in peace. My only interest is
conquest
.”

“So you wish to rule us?” Fryx stared at the
Queen’s features.
I’ve seen a face like that before…

“I wish to rule over everyone,” said the
Queen as she flipped her hair over her bare shoulder. “My demands
are simple.
Serve me or die.
” Her words filled Fryx with
chill dread.
Her eyes… those are Astrid’s eyes…

A sudden laugh floated from the darkness
lingering behind the Queen’s throne. “Really, my darling, you do
have a flair for the dramatic.” A tall, slender elf emerged from
the shadows and perched himself next to the queen. The nobles had
become unnaturally still behind Fryx. He peered over his shoulder
to see their wicked stares melt into hollow gazes. “
Off with
you,
” said the elf, shooing the aristocrats away with his hand.
They turned and filtered from the throne room like sheep.

“I see there’s more than what meets the eye,”
said Fryx. He could feel the dark power emanating from this elf—if
he even
was
an elf.

“Isn’t there always?” He patted the Queen on
the head, dismissing her from her throne. Her eyes glazed over like
the nobles’. She rose from her seat and walked away, disappearing
into the shadows. The monstrous guard followed closely behind. “Now
that the children are gone, the adults can discuss business.”

“Beyond
serve you or die
? I think that
ultimatum was fairly clear.” Fryx felt for his triton hidden
beneath his robes. All it would take was a quick flick of his thumb
and the triton would expand to its full size, ready for blood.

“No, no, not that. Something far more
intriguing. I saw that glint in your eye,” he said, leaning in
closer. “
I know you recognized her
.”

Fryx froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking
about—”

“—Ha! Oh yes, I know far too well.
Luthen
knows all
.” The wicked elf’s laugh burst into the throne room,
echoing throughout the empty space.

Fryx narrowed his eyes, setting his face into
a firm grimace. “Do you really know all? If so, I’m sure you know
that she will be the death of you…”

“
Me
? I have already faced Death. I
have conquered his realm. Even his handmaiden serves me!” He threw
his hands in the air, pointing at a cloaked figure that had formed
out of mist. A vicious silver scythe protruded from the folds of
its cloak. “Wilhelmina! How good of you to join us. Our friend here
has some interesting information he wishes to share.”

“Tell you what
I know
? I thought you
knew all—AGHHH!” Fryx’s body was electrified with pain. His legs
crumpled beneath his body, sending him crashing into the cold
stone.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to do this
the hard way,” said Luthen as he brushed his thick, dark hair from
his face. “Take his soul.”

Wilhelmina threw back her cowl. “Another
soul? You know well enough I cannot bare the weight of
anymore!”

Luthen’s gaze blackened. “
Then what good
are you?
” His hand batted at the air, a motion that lifted
Wilhelmina from her feet and sent her crashing into a wall. She
crumbled against the stone as she faded into the shadows. Luthen
slid from the throne and plucked the weighty scythe from where it
had fallen. He tested its power in his hands. A smile was splayed
across his face. “At last,” he said, glee tickling his voice. “I’ve
lusted for this power for too long.”

Fryx struggled to stand but his legs refused
to budge.

“Now,” said Luthen, “about the girl.” He
twirled the scythe around him as if it weighed nothing. “
Where
is she
?”

Fryx spat at the elf. “Go back to Hell, you
ugly bastard!”

Luthen rolled his eyes as he scrubbed the
spit from his face. “You dwarves are quite disgusting. Even with
all that garb and bobbles, you’re all still made out of the same
gritty, worthless rubble.” He twirled the scythe around his head
and plunged it into Fryx’s chest.

Fryx felt the cold metal pierce his heart and
wash over his body like icy water. An ethereal mist clung to the
blade. Luthen tugged at it, tearing the soul from his body.

“
Tell me where she is.
” Luthen twisted
the blade, entangling Fryx’s soul.

“AGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Howls burst from Fryx’s
gaping mouth. Pain flooded his capacity for words, leaving him
writhing and speechless on the floor.

“WHERE?” Fury blazed in the elf’s hollow
eyes.

“Here…” Fryx muttered the word. He could feel
the last bits of his soul leaving his mangled body. “I hope she
cuts you to pieces.”

Luthen threw his head back in a fit of wild
laugher. With a jerk, he ripped the final tendrils of soul loose
from Fryx’s body. The soul, with no vessel to hold it, dissolved
into nothingness.

***

Astrid and Quibell followed the Phooka down
winding halls and through hidden doors. With each passing step, her
patience wore thinner.

“How much further?” She prodded him with her
knife.

“Oh! Not too far!” He rubbed his backside as
he winced in pain.

“I’m starting to think he’s leading us in
circles,” said Quibell. “We may have better luck wandering about on
our own.”

“No! The throne room is just this way!” The
Phooka scrambled to a nearby door and pushed it open. Astrid peered
inside over his matted head.

“It seems he was telling the truth after
all,” she said, pushing the Phooka into the vast open space. The
clatter of his hooves echoed in the deserted room.

Quibell’s eyes narrowed. “No—”

The goblin broke into a run across the room.
Startled, Astrid sprinted after him. “Quibell,” she said, “what is
it?”

She stopped short, no longer in need of an
explanation. Fryx lay on his back, eyes wide and skin pale as
Death. Quibell hovered by his side, howling with despair.

A withered old woman slipped out of the
shadows from behind the throne. She held a bucket full of sloshing
sudsy water in her arm. She placed the bucket on the ground and
stared back at Astrid with equal curiosity. “I’m so sorry about
your friend,” she said, her voice distant.

Quibell snarled at her and continued his
lamenting.

“Do you know what happened?” Astrid sounded
empty in her ears. She had never seen a corpse transfixed with such
a look of terror.

The old woman shook her weary head.
“Something terrible. That’s the only thing that happens here…the
sooner you leave, the better it will be for you.”

“No, the Phooka was—”

“—Damn it, girl! You’ve lost him!” Quibell’s
voice was sharp and bitter. He was right, of course. The Phooka had
snuck away the moment their backs had turned.

Astrid ripped her mask from her face and
threw it to the ground. “I’ve had enough of this madness!” She
crushed it beneath her boot with a single stomp.

“Wait… I know you,” said the old woman. She
came close to Astrid, looking deep into her face. “Yes! But why
have you come back? There is nothing left for you here.”

Astrid flinched from the woman’s touch.
“You’re mad.”

“If only,” she said. She beckoned her with a
withered hand. “Come. I will show you.”

Astrid looked to Quibell. He snarled, baring
his needle teeth. She would get no more help from him. “Lead the
way.”

The woman nodded and glided to a small door
behind the throne. Astrid found herself emerging into a darkened
hall. The woman lit a stubby candle and led Astrid further down the
passage. They floated past faded tapestries and piles of haphazard
portraits of long dead elves.

“Here,” she said, blowing the dust from a
large, tattered painting. “Here’s your mother.”

“You
are
mad,” said Astrid. She backed
away from the old woman, ready to run.

“No! Look at her!”

Astrid’s eyes drifted to the elf’s face. She
was beautiful, with long, pale hair that flowed down her shoulders.
Two small girls with dark, smoky hair stood at her side. They were
identical. “I don’t understand,” she said. Astrid felt dark
memories stirring in her mind. “I don’t want to look…”

“You must! You have to remember!”

Astrid swayed on her feet. Whispers from long
ago flooded her consciousness. She felt herself torn between
reality and the confines of her mind—it now took the shape of a
winding hall, lined with doors. She flew past them as the doors
burst open. Fragments of memories erupted into her thoughts. She
hurtled further down the hall toward a menacing, mangled door. It
splintered as her mind crashed onto its surface.

Astrid pulled herself back into her waking
mind and crashed onto the floor. Panting, she rose to her unsteady
feet.