XXXV. THE ABYSS LOOKS INTO ME

  Maleah glanced over her shoulder towards the southeastern horizon. It was just as empty and flat as the rest of Sorn in this light forsaken part of the world, but she felt an odd sensation, like a current dancing up her spine; one that emanated from that direction. The chill winds whipped up tiny shards of ice from hard snow, and she ducked back into the derelict hunter’s sod shack, angrily shaking free the dirt and ice shards from her tangled hair.

  The old hunters' sod shack offered a moderate defense against the strong gales that tended to rip across open prairie and was not so cramped as Leila and Zuri’s wagon. Yet the earthen walls did little to dampen the winds, eerie howls or dull the cold that bled into the very marrow. There was nothing, save brown grasses and icy mounds of snow, snow that would often melt and refreeze in the span of an hour. Spring was a truly hellish time in northern Sorn.

  “Leila says get a fire started.”

  Maleah swore and glared over her shoulder. She would have thought that after sharing bed space in that weird wagon of theirs would have softened that smart-ass attitude of his.

  Maleah kicked at the soggy turf underfoot, and unspoken how do you figure on her tongue. “Then fetch me some wood.”

  Zuri dumped an armload of twigs at the door. “Hurry up, its fucking freezing. Some of us actually work around here.”

  Maleah blew her tongue at him, and Zuri shook his head in disgust before walking away. He had an unmerited air of severity about him that she found infuriating on a very personal level. Perhaps it was because of his eyes, boys with golden eyes were always troublesome. She sighed and threw together some tinder out of pocket lint and straw that looked dry enough to catch a spark. The “wood” was another issue, it was little more than a bundle of twigs and reeds.

  Maleah struck a piece of flint against her short sword until a spark caught on her tinder nest. She threw down her tools and blew a soft breath on the embers, in an attempt to coax a flame from them, and watched in delight as a flame grew before her very eyes. Her excitement was short lived however, as the hungry ember quickly devoured its meal of twigs and sapling branches.

  “Shit…” Maleah threw more scraps of timber into the hungry flame, “Oi! We need more wood!”

  After several moments with no reply, and the last of the scraps consumed, Maleah turned around to call for Zuri again. She nearly fell over in shock and surprise upon meeting the stoic gaze of a young girl with piercing golden eyes.

  “Fuck me!” Maleah shouted as she leapt to her feet, bumping her head on the low ceiling. “Where did you come from.”

  The girl continued to stare at her, her golden eyes like a wolf that had just awoken, holding a gravitas well beyond her years. She silently regarded Maleah for several moments, sending shivers down the cavalier’s spine. Maleah tightly gripped the handle to her sword, and slowly inched her way around the child towards the door.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” Maleah raised voice trembled with nerves as she inched her blade from its scabbard. “You’re creeping me the fuck out.”

  The girl continued to watch Maleah for several moments, finally breaking the tense encounter with a wide yawn. Maleah relaxed slightly and inched towards the girl. She was thin, to the point of being emaciated, but otherwise a very pretty child. Her eyes were almost too big for her face, with golden iris’ like the moon, Aurum. Her hair was a jumble of black curls with various debris caught in the snare. The tattered dress was far too little fabric to offer any protection from the cold, and her bare feet were caked in mud and covered in cuts.

  “What are you doing?” Zuri growled.

  Maleah felt her heart leap up into her chest. “Dawn’s light Zuri!”

  “That things obviously a demon.” He casually gestured at the child with a scrap of wood, “You should kill it before it casts a spell.”

  The girl pointed to Zuri, and he ducked out of the doorway with a startled gasp.

  “Your eyes are like me.” The girl said in a childish monotone.

  Maleah was surprised that the child spoke in Xanavien, though her accent was not one she had ever heard before. “Where did you come from?”

  The girl pointed to the south. “From a stone house far from here.”

  Rassvette stepped past Zuri and set down a bundle of rotted wood planks. “I found an old crate half buried behind the shack, hopefully it burns.”

  He looked up to see Maleah with her hand on her sword and Zuri hiding by the door frame. He gave both a perplexed look before he spotted the girl standing in the corner, and leapt back in surprise.

  “Dawn's light!”

  “That’s what I said.” Maleah muttered.

  The struggling fire finally consumed the last of its meager fuel, and fizzled out with a tiny puff of black smoke. The girl turned to the pile of ash and held out her hand. A small red symbol flashed over her palm, and a rather large flame shot out to hover over the remains of the previous. Maleah whistled as Rassvette made the sign of the dawn, backing himself into a corner.

  The girl's stomach grumbled loudly in the ensuing silence. “Do you have any food?”

* * *

  The child ate like a woman starved, devouring an entire hare and half a pot of rice by herself. She was a curious child, covered in scars and open, festering wounds that took Rassvette most of the afternoon to mend. The girl was also incredibly quiet, not saying more than a handful of words during the course of the evening. Even so, Maleah felt pity for the child, she had a look of utter loneliness about her; one that likely went above and beyond the child’s limited comprehension of such a complex emotion. Then there were her eyes, golden and hungry, like an animal. They were eyes familiar to Maleah, and utterly baffling at the same time. There was no way the child was Xanavien, not out here in the wilds of Sorn.

  The wind howled outside their humble shack, sending dirt and debris blowing through the open hole that was the door. Leila swore as Maleah shook the dirt from her hair, scooting further into the corner. They had tried to shield the doorway with the wagon, but it seemed to do little against the raging winds that tore across the prairie like icy blades.

  “Monk, go check on the horses.” Leila commanded as she shook the dirt from her skirt.

  Rassvette tossed a bone into the fire that hovered over the floor. “What for?”

  “If their blankets flew off and they die of cold, I’ll be strapping you to the harness, now go check the horses.”

  Rassvette grumbled, but stood to do as he was bid nonetheless. Zuri sat in the corner opposite of Maleah and the child, watching the girl intently as he oiled the mechanism on his crossbow. He had been adamant about killing the child and had even swayed his sister and Rassvette to some degree. While admittedly odd to find a child in the middle of nowhere, Maleah was certain she was just that, a child.

  Leila tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked the child over once again. “So, are we taking this thing with us?”

  Maleah shrugged, watching the child intently as she ate. “I suppose.”

  “And where exactly are we going?” Zuri grumbled, the concern etched in his face betraying his attempts at gruff indifference.

  Maleah rolled her eyes and drew her knees up to her chest. “You can go where you please.”

  They had had this conversation several times over since they left Auld Ferrons. Rassvette, Leila, and Zuri all wanted to go to Marquez, but she knew there was nothing there for her. Whatever that light to the north had been, Maleah knew her brother was responsible, or at the very least involved in some way. That was where her destination lay, to put an end to his madness or die in the process, not holed up in some castle.

  “We aren’t leaving you to wander here alone Maleah.” Leila said. “You’ll die.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Zuri muttered under his breath.

  “I’ll go with you.” The child said as she wiped the grease from her face.

  Maleah smiled and rubbed the girls head. “See? I won’t be alone.”

  Leila frowned and shot the child a disapproving stare. “We don’t even know who or what this child is. Where did she come from? Why is she here alone?”

  Zuri cocked and uncocked the crossbow, working the grease into the mechanism. “And who taught her to use magic?”

  “My mother taught me.” The girl said flatly. “She’s a witch, like me.”

  “And who is your mother?” Leila pressed.

  The girl bowed her head. “I am not supposed to say; her name is power.”

  Leila exchanged a baffled look with Maleah at the girl’s cryptic reply. Maleah shrugged and shook more dirt from her hair.

  “Did she leave you here?” Leila asked cautiously. “Is she coming back?”

  The girl shook her head and cracked open a bone to suck out the marrow. “No, she left me in the basement, but the man in the blue flames told me to follow him, so I did.”

  "What the hell…” Zuri grumbled. “She either fucking with us or a damn demon.”

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  “Shush.” Leila admonished, though was clearly of the same mind as her brother. “Who is the man? Where is he?”

  The girl shrugged and crunched down on the bone. “I stopped following him when I felt her.”

  “What, me?” Maleah asked, perplexed.

  “You feel familiar.” The girl said and held up her empty bowl. “Is there more?”

  “No.” Zuri's own stomach grumbled as he set down his weapon.

  “Here,” Maleah handed the child a cup with a bit of rice, skin and fat from the hare. “You can finish mine.”

  A hint of a smile crossed the girl’s lips as she took what amounted to little more than scraps. Maleah had no idea what the girl meant when she said she “felt familiar” but couldn’t deny an odd kinship with the girl herself.

  “What’s your name?” Maleah asked.

  The girl paused as she pondered the very straightforward question. “In one of my lessons, a man called me Keres, but mother just called me child, so I think that my name is Child.”

  Leila recoiled with revulsion. “What the hell kind of mother doesn’t name her own daughter?”

  “We’ll call you Keres.” Maleah said definitively. “I think you’ll be better off without finding your mother.”

  Keres shook her head thoughtfully. “No, if she wants to, she will find me.”

  “Greaaat…” Zuri said with overstated sarcasm.

  Keres began to shiver as she shoveled the last of the rice into her mouth with her tiny hands. She still had little more than a sack for a dress, but Zuri had donated her a pair of socks that covered most of her bare legs and feet. Maleah unbuttoned her own coat and splayed her legs in a “v”.

  “Come here.” She said, patting the empty space between her legs. “Have a seat.”

  Keres tilted her head like a wary dog, but eventually crawled over and took a seat between Maleah’s legs. Keres’ eyes went wide and a legitimate smile lit up her face as Maleah encircled her under the coat. Keres turned onto her side and nestled her head on Maleah’s chest as she wrapped a tiny arm around her waist.

  Maleah looked up to Zuri with a smirk. “Some demon this is.”

* * *

  Aislyn wrung out a washcloth in a silver bowl before dabbing the sweat from Odell’s brow. The nuns had brought him back from the worst of his injuries, but he was still rather weak and feverish. She rolled up her sleeve and caressed his slumbering face as a knock came at the door.

  “Your grace…”

  Aislyn dropped the washcloth into the bowl and unpinned her hair. The handmaiden bowed at the waist and pulled the door open wide.

  “They await you in your audience chamber, your highness.”

  Aislyn stood silently and glided across the room, her red gown trailing behind her. She had not changed since yesterday, nor had she reapplied any makeup, but it didn’t matter. Her meeting wasn’t with anyone of any importance.

  The handmaiden closed the door behind her as Aislyn stepped into the ante chamber. She was greeted by those that stood by her in her time of need, Ashe and Hratchouhi with little Aelfric sat on the sofa, Siegrun and Francis carried on a hushed and hurried conversation that abruptly ended upon seeing her, and finally Séverin scolded the mage Senka over tea.

  “What do you mean she didn’t want to?” Séverin demanded.

  Senka shrugged. “She said she was going north. What was I supposed to do? Kidnap her?”

  “Yes.” Séverin hissed.

  “Friends,” Aislyn began, silencing the conversations, “I wish to thank you once again for your support this past week. It means so much to not only me, but the kingdom of Duvachellé as well, and shall not be soon forgotten.” Aislyn turned her sights to Siegrun and Francis. “The two of you in particular were…surprising. Thank you.”

  Francis offered a half smile and loosened his collar. “Not at all your grace, but if you’ve no further need of me, I do have duties to attend to…”

  Aislyn swatted her hand at the Admirals coyness as she approached. “Come now Admiral, no need for modesty. You are all my guests, and I wish to present you with a token of my gratitude.”

  Francis swallowed hard and backed up against the wall. “That’s, that’s really not necessary, your grace…”

  “But I say it is.” Aislyn said flatly. “You are my guest, but I am still Queen, Admiral.” Aislyn smiled and tapped him playfully on the chest with the back of her hand. “Now please, join us.”

  Two handmaidens opened the double doors and ushered everyone out onto the main concourse. Aislyn hummed a tune as she led the procession towards the main audience hall. Three more handmaidens silently joined their ranks, flanking the group as they silently made their way down empty hallways lined with painting and busts.

  As they approached the main hall, Aislyn stopped and turned to offer Ashe a concerned smile. “Perhaps it would be best to leave little Aelfric with a nurse for the duration of the ceremony.”

  Ashe shifted the child to her opposite hip. “If my son is nae welcome, then perhaps I should stay behind as well.”

  “Oh no,” Aislyn clarified, “It’s not a matter of being welcome, I just don’t believe it is a proper venue for an infant.”

  Ashe nodded slowly, taking cues from the cold sweat on Francis and silent gestures from Siegrun. “Then perhaps I should wait ootside.”

  Aislyn knit her brow, but nodded in understanding. “Very well,” Aislyn snapped her fingers at one of the handmaidens, “Please escort Lady Ashe to my personal dining hall, we shall join her later for refreshments.”

  The handmaiden nodded and gently ushered a somewhat perplexed Ashe away. Aislyn clapped her hands once and took a deep breath, turning back to her guests. Séverin held a stoic expression, as always, he was far too clever for his own good. Francis however was sweating buckets, himself being a man of some intelligence. Aislyn smiled at the pirate and he turned several shades lighter as the blood drained from his face. Any other time, he would have had a right to be worried, but she was nothing if not true to her word. They were her friends and guests, and she meant to reward them for their loyalty.

  The audience hall erupted into applause as she entered, and Aislyn took note of each face she passed on her way to the throne, her entourage following close behind. Bright spring sunlight filtered down from the glass vaulted ceiling, illuminating the checkered tile path before her. Her court, seventy-five lords and ladies in charge of the various mundanity required for running a kingdom were in their finest, with coats, gowns or breeches in reds and gold to show solidarity with the queen There was the duke of Port Romance, as slimy and cowardly as ever, hiding behind a smooth marble column. Lucien looking the spitting image of a stuck pig, surrounded by his own staff from The Order. Several military commanders and generals that once served her father and then the traitor stood clustered in the wings.

  Aislyn climbed the short flight of steps and took a seat upon her throne, beckoning her entourage to join her upon the dais. She cast her gaze out into the sea of sycophants as the applause slowly puttered out, and silence filled the hall.

  “Why the applause?” Aislyn asked with a bemused expression.

  Her chief advisor, an Earl and notorious bootlicker from Marquez proper, stepped forward and cleared his throat. An old fop of a man, he wore an ostentatious wig to hide the fact his hair had long ago fled his head and turned white from age. Despite the deep crags on his face and sagging flesh that belied his age, he still made a habit of chasing the skirts of those barely out of the cradle.

  “We are just ecstatic that your husband, our king, has safely returned after successfully completing his sacred duties at the tomb of kings.”

  Aislyn laughed, a loud witch's cackle that lasted just long enough to be uncomfortable. Her advisor shrank back as his eyes darted about the hall in confusion, looking for support or a way out. Aislyn wiped a tear from her eye and pointed a delicate finger at the advisor, all mirth gone from her expression.

  “Him first.”

  Before anyone could react, one of the handmaidens ducked out from the shadows and ran a dagger across the advisor’s throat. As the advisor collapsed into a gurgling heap, and realization set in among the other guests, several throwing knives flew out from the shadows and struck the two generals present. A noblewoman screamed as the secretary of treasury was repeatedly gut stabbed by a woman half his size.

  “I lead you to prosperity, I made this city safe when others left it in ruin.” Aislyn propped her head up with her hand as she watched the nobles run about in confusion. “My husband was gone for not even a month, and you already implemented plans to supplant me?”

  Several noblemen shook and rammed the doors in panicked desperation, but they were securely barred from the outside. Three handmaidens ran through the cluster and slit the throats and bellies of all of them. Several lords knelt at the base of the throne, covered in the blood of their peers, and begged for compassion. Aislyn stared each man dead in the eyes as a handmaiden grabbed their hair and ran a dagger across their throats.

  “How quickly you all can mobilize against the legitimate heir yet allow usurpers and king slayers a wide berth to destroy my kingdom unopposed.” Aislyn teased her hair as a lord made a mad dash towards her, small sword at the ready. “Did you people underestimate me because of my age? My gender?”

  With a crazed look of a desperate man, the charging lord raised his blade as he leapt up onto the dais. Just as his foot touched the tile, Séverin leapt between Aislyn and the attacker, flinging a knife into the lord’s chest. Aislyn snapped her fingers, and her handmaidens abruptly broke off their attack, retreating to stand guard around the Queen. What remained were sniveling nobles hiding by the doors or behind pillars. The chamber floor was littered with the dead and smeared with their blood. Curiously, Lucien and his small retinue stood in the same spot as they had at the outset of the purge.

  “I know all of you were involved in some degree.” Aislyn said, breaking the silence. “However, my true concern was eliminating the orchestrators of this little coup. Now stand, and approach your queen.”

   Several nobles continued to cry, clutching their knees to their chest, or slumped, catatonic against a wall. Irritated at their disobedience, Aislyn slammed her fist against the armrest and shot to her feet.

  “I said stand and approach!”

  The nobles nearly came to blows with one another as they struggled to run across the blood slick floor. Several fell and one woman cracked her head upon the tile as she slipped, causing Aislyn to burst into a fit of laughter. Lucien ordered one of his attendants to heal the woman and help her to her feet as he carefully sidestepped the gore and methodically approached the throne. Those assembled before Aislyn were a bunch of nobodies, inconsequential in all regards. The only ones of any consequence were Earl Rembrandt and Lucien. Curiously, the younger son of Lord Nemedial was also present, while his father had always been an incompetent, he did die at the hands of the usurper; she would keep him around for a while longer, hopefully he would be more useful to the court than his father ever was.

  “How does it feel to be spared simply due to your insignificance?” Aislyn mused with a wicked grin. “Séverin,”

  Séverin sheathed his blades and turned to bow. “Your grace?”

  “Did you have plans of returning to Xanavene once this conflict is through?”

  Séverin paused, a flicker of emotion flashing on his otherwise placid face. “I fear there will be no Xanavene to return to your grace, so no, I had no such plans.”

  “Good,” she purred, “I am in need of a Viceroy.”

  Séverin bowed. “It would be an honor to serve you.”

  “Of course it would. Senka.”

  Senka stepped forward, nervously fidgeting with her pipe. “What’s going to happen with all of those bodies?”

  “Why, do you want them?”

  Senka smiled and put the pipe to her lips. “I mean, if you’re just going to throw them away…”

  Aislyn snatched the pipe from her lips. “I require a master of mystic arts in my court, someone to be in charge of the mage staff and advise me on matters of a magical nature. My father foolishly disbanded all mage corps in the kingdom, and I will need help reassembling them.”

  “Are you going to kill me if I say no?” Senka leapt back at the icy glare Aislyn shot her. “It was a joke! Of course I accept.”

  “Lucien, Rembrandt, serve me as you served my father and you shall enjoy the same privileges and comforts.” Both men bowed deeply at the waist, and Aislyn turned to the rest of the survivors. “My friends and great officers shall now retire for lunch. You personally are in charge of cleaning this mess. Should you succeed by the time we return, we can discuss your new positions in my court. Should you fail…”

  “Try to keep the severed limbs with the respective bodies, if you please.” Senka said with barely contained glee. “Do I get an office?”

  “Come.” Aislyn ordered as she descended the stairs. “We’ve much to discuss, and I am quite famished.”