Robert Newcomb - A March into Darkness

She walked to a consul’s desk and looked down. The man quickly abandoned his work to stand before her. He bowed.

“Fetch me a fresh parchment,” she ordered.

The consul scurried to do his queen’s bidding. He opened one of the many desk drawers, selected a clean sheet, then hurried back. Lowering his head, he offered it up.

Serna took the parchment and walked across the room. By now every consul was watching her. Calling the craft, she caused the parchment to rise into the air.

She stepped closer, then shut her eyes as she recalled the magnificent formula. As the azure calculations started swirling in her mind, she concentrated harder, bringing them to the fore. When she was satisfied that she had summoned the entire formula, she pointed to the parchment. A thin azure bolt leaped from her fingertip to the paper. She opened her eyes.

The blank paper started to smoke as she burned the formula into it. Line after line seared its way into the sheet. When she finished, her small azure bolt disappeared. Smoke drifted lazily toward the open windows. Knowing that the consuls would be eager to view her creation, she looked over at them.

“You may approach,” she said. “Come witness some of the Heretics’ wisdom.”

The consuls quickly left their desks to crowd around her. Some gasped at what they saw. They had never imagined such a complex solution. It was like looking into the minds of the Heretics themselves.

“It is a beautiful thing indeed, Your Grace,” Einar said.

Looking up, Serena saw her lead consul approaching. He smiled at her. She smiled back.

“It is, isn’t it?” she replied. She looked at the lesser consuls. “Leave us,” she said. “Our discussion is not for your ears.”

After bowing, the consuls left the room. Einar read the hovering parchment, his dark eyes eagerly absorbing every nuance.

“Amazing,” he breathed. As he scanned the formula, Serena informed him of her recent communion with the Heretics.

He turned to look into Serena’s eyes. Despite his admiration for the calculations and the reasons for their use, concern showed on his face. Taking a deep breath, he clasped his hands before him.

“Your Grace understands the risks involved when placing this formula into your blood?” he asked. “The Forestallment it will produce will be especially powerful. This could easily bring about your death, to say nothing of the exquisite pain.”

Serena did not answer. Instead, she turned away, and returned to the window, then looked out over the restless sea. She stood there for some time, watching and remembering. When she turned back, her expression had softened. She looked around the Scriptorium, then back at Einar.

“It was not so long ago-in this same room, in fact-that you infused a similar spell into someone’s blood. It was a spell that had also been gifted to us by the Heretics-one that also promised huge gains in our struggle against the Vigors. I’m sure I needn’t remind you further.”

A contrite look came over Einar’s face. “I remember, Your Grace,” he answered. “My only concern was for your welfare.” Yielding to her authority, he bowed.

Einar would never forget the night she had mentioned. At long last, the formula for the index of the Scroll of the Vagaries had been acquired. Once imbued into Wulfgar’s blood, it would grant him the ability to immediately search out and identify any of the thousands of formulas written on the scroll. It had been a huge leap forward in their understanding of the Vagaries.

The Forestallments Wulfgar’s blood carried were a direct result of theEnseterat allowing Einar to imbue the index formula into his blood. He could then choose whatever spells he wished, granting them to his queen. He had done so with great care.

Einar had seen Serena’s blood signature only once-the day that she had miscarried her child. Literally hundreds of Forestallment branches were evident. Coupled with her inordinately high blood quality, she was truly a living force of the craft. He believed that her gifts even surpassed those of Failee, the late First Mistress of the Coven of Sorceresses. Looking into her eyes, he saw the same unsatisfied hunger burning there that had once consumed Wulfgar.

Even so, Einar was hesitant. His similar use of the craft on Wulfgar had taken nearly all night; the intense pain had nearly killed Wulfgar. Worrying Einar even more was the fact that Serena’s blood quality-although inordinately high-was not her late husband’s equal.

Wulfgar’s death had been a horrible shock to them all. Serena’s majestic gifts, and her dead baby girl still lying among those rose petals in the crypt, were all that remained of him. In the end, perhaps the only way to honor Wulfgar’s memory would be to honor his grieving widow’s desires.

Serena had searched Einar’s face with her piercing eyes. “TheEnseterat was your lord and my husband,” she had said quietly. “He was willing to risk all to honor the Heretics’ wishes. Shall I do less?”

“I understand,” Einar had answered. “When would you like to start?”

“Immediately,” she had answered. “Our enemies across the sea do not tarry. Neither shall we.” Her mood suddenly darkening, she looked sternly into his eyes. “But before we begin, I want you to take a solemn vow,” she said.

“Anything, Your Grace. You know that.”

“Should I die this night, promise me that you will continue with our work. To the death, if need be. TheJin’Sai must pay for his crimes.”

Einar had bowed slightly. “I promise,” he had answered, “even unto death.”

The cold sea wind brought her back to the present, and Serena looked around. From her place atop the wall she saw that the sea was even higher now and the clouds thicker, the wind stronger. Even the saucy gulls had scattered, their keen senses telling them that something ominous was brewing. It was time.

She had never felt more alive. Although she had nearly died the night before, the suffering she had endured to accept the formula into her blood had been worth the price. Aside from the mysteries of the craft, she was about to partly rule over the world’s most potent force. She would command nature herself. Even more, she would twist it to suit her needs, creating something never before seen in the world.

The queen of the Vagaries raised her arms. Calling on her new Forestallment, she began employing the craft.

The wind rose mightily, surpassing its earlier ferocity by far. Seawater violently splashed its way up from the shoreline to touch her mourning dress and her skin. Einar also found himself forced to call the craft, simply to avoid being blown off the wall’s guard path. White tentacles of lightning snaked wildly across the sky, their accompanying thunder booming in his ears.

Looking skyward, Serena raised and joined her hands. The dark clouds frantically converged. Raising her hands higher, she caused a single cloud to become even darker. As the wind howled and the lightning flashed, the giant cloud started to spin, whirling itself into a vortex that encompassed the entire nighttime sky.

Einar’s jaw dropped. The huge, spinning cloud was unlike anything he had ever seen. It was so dark and thick that it seemed to have real substance. Serena spread her fingers. A lightning bolt suddenly shot its way directly through the cloud’s center. The massive cloud started spewing rain with tremendous force. It fell heavily, like dripping candle wax might. When the droplets neared the earth they started changing shape, growing in size until they blotted out the night sky. As the first of the things formed, he looked on in wonder.

Each of the drops widened to become a slim, flat oblong. They reminded Einar of another of nature’s creatures, but he couldn’t place them. Then they widened farther at their sides. Slender, graceful tails grew from their rears.