Robert Newcomb - A March into Darkness

Levitating from the guard path, Serena floated down to the courtyard. When Actinius reached her side, they started for her personal quarters. As she walked across the outer ward’s tile floor, the Vagaries queen ignored the cries of those still imprisoned in wooden cages. Walking up the majestic steps, she entered the great castle.

Her journey from the Citadel had been quick and uneventful. After overseeing the mooring of her vessels just south of the port city of Eyrie Point, she had hurried on to the Recluse under consular guard. The remaining consuls, Valrenkians, and Vagaries documents that had accompanied her to Parthalon were still trickling into the Recluse.

Walking up the curved staircase, she and Actinius strode down several long hallways before reaching her private quarters. She had purposely taken the refurbished rooms that had once belonged to Failee, and the irony of that choice hadn’t escaped her. The door was partly ajar, telling her that Einar and Reznik had arrived. She and Actinius walked in.

The main room was wonderfully sumptuous. A lovely landscape mural covered every wall. Double stained-glass doors on the room’s opposite side lay open to show a huge balcony overlooking the lake. Several hallways led off from the main room to the bedroom, personal library, washroom, and more. Elegantly carved furniture and brightly patterned rugs graced her view, and evening birds could be heard warbling just beyond the exquisite wrought-iron balcony railing.

But as she entered the room she was overcome by a sadness that even her sumptuous surroundings could not assuage. Had Wulfgar and Clarice lived, she would have occupied these rooms as a proud wife and mother, rather than as a grieving widow whose only child was dead. But soon she would have her revenge. For her, its scent hung in the evening air as distinctly as did that of the hibiscus blossoms lying just beyond the windows.

Einar and Reznik were seated at a large table on the far side of the room. Ignoring them, she left Actinius to walk toward one corner. The familiar pink altar had been brought from the Citadel, and the floor immediately surrounding it was covered with fresh red rose petals.

Like so many times before, she reached through the azure aura surrounding Clarice and touched the child’s cold cheek. After standing that way for several moments she went to sit with her lead consul and Valrenkian. Actinius joined them.

“Your report?” she asked. Knowing that Einar and Reznik were unaware that she had been viewing their experiments from afar, she was eager to learn whether they might try to deceive her, and lie about their progress.

Einar cleared his throat. “As you are aware, Your Grace, we have found Failee’s lost spell. We know that it is the one we need, because we have had some measure of success with our test subjects. But not one has been resurrected sufficiently to regain sustained life. Reznik has augmented the spell with herbs and oils, but it still lacks the potency we need.”

“Is it a matter of not having the right ingredients?” Serena asked Reznik.

The Corporeal shook his head. “I do not think so, mistress,” he answered. “Rather, it is about having enough time. Moreover, I am working in uncharted territory. Usually, an herbmaster has a previous frame of reference to guide him down the right path. With this work there is none. But given enough time, we will find it.”

Serena gave each of her mystics a stern look. “Just because we suspect that the Conclave fleet is destroyed does not mean that you can dawdle,” she warned them. “Xanthus failed. TheJin’Sai has returned to Eutracia. When he learns of the Conclave’s destruction his anger will know no bounds. Although it’s true that he is not trained in the craft, he remains exceedingly dangerous, and many Minion warriors still serve him. ThePon Q’tar clerics are becoming impatient, as am I. We can afford no more delays. You also need to know that I have ordered the total evacuation of the Ghetto. Not only might we need the Ghetto’s additional supplies and inhabitants, but it is far easier to defend one fortress than two. As the people and goods arrive, you will be informed.”

“We understand, Your Grace,” Einar said. “We will redouble our efforts, and go forward as quickly as possible.”

Serena nodded. “Just so,” she said. “Leave me and return to your work. I wish to be alone.”

As the three mystics neared the door, Serena called out Einar’s name. He stopped and watched Reznik and Actinius walk down the hall for a moment; then he turned back.

Einar gave his queen a questioning look. “Yes, Your Grace?” he asked.

“After we are sure of success, you may kill Reznik and all other Valrenkian half-breeds like him,” she said softly. “There will be no room in the new order for those bearing a partial blood signature.”

Einar smiled. “With pleasure,” he answered.

He walked through the door and closed it quietly behind him.

DUVESSA’S HEAVY WINGS WERE TELLING HER THAT SHEwas quickly nearing another point of no return. As her eyes searched the waves, she was thankful for the bright moonlight that shone down. She looked to her right to see Kefira give her a reassuring smile. The other Minion officer’s youth was serving her well, and Duvessa knew that Kefira would be able to continue on after she could not. But that was not an order she would give.

This far to the east, Black Ship wreckage was almost nonexistent. They had seen but one piece-a rather sizable part of a smashed skiff. After briefly resting on it and drinking some water, they had continued on. That had been three hours ago. As Duvessa’s wings grew heavier, so did her heart.

Just then she heard Kefira call out. She snapped her head around to see her companion point into the distance. Duvessa’s heart leapt in her chest as she strained her eyes to find what Kefira was trying to show her. But she became disheartened again as she identified it.

The Citadel, dark and foreboding, lay against the eastern horizon in the twinkling moonlight. From the two warriors’ vantage point, the three moons seemed to float in the night sky directly above it. Had it not been for Kefira’s sharp eyes, they might easily have missed it. Then Duvessa realized that there was something odd about the fortress. Slowing her pace, she held up one hand. Kefira hovered beside her.

“Why are we stopping?” Kefira asked.

“There is something peculiar about the Citadel,” Duvessa answered.

Kefira cast her gaze into the distance. “I don’t understand,” she said. “What do you see that I do not?”

“It’s what Idon’t see,” Duvessa answered.

Suddenly Kefira understood. From what she had been told, at night the Citadel was always brightly illuminated. But this night the great fortress’s walls, turrets, and catwalks were bathed only in moonlight. She quickly realized that it had been something of a miracle for her to discover it at all. She looked back at Duvessa.

“Why is it dark?” she asked.

“There can be only two possibilities,” Duvessa answered. “Either Serena has ordered the Citadel to be abandoned, or she has purposely ordered no lights to shine. My money is on the first reason.”

“But why would she order the place abandoned?” Kefira asked. “It makes no sense.”

“It might if she believes that the fleet was destroyed,” Duvessa said. “Perhaps her supposed victory was only one part of her plan, and another part is to be carried out elsewhere. That would explain much. Whatever the reason, the Conclave must be informed.”

With the discovery of the darkened Citadel, Duvessa suddenly found herself torn between two conflicting choices. The Conclave needed to know about this unexpected development as soon as possible. But the only way to ensure that was to reverse course and abandon her quest for Traax. As she searched her heart, she tried to imagine what her betrothed would have done had their roles been reversed. In the end there was but one answer. She and Kefira would abandon the search.