First Lord's Fury

CHAPTER 47

Isana meant to stay awake all night, but found she couldn’t. The continuous, unchanging lighting of the hive had made it impossible for her body to be certain whether it was night or day. She had slept fitfully, here and there, for what she suspected had been two weeks. Here, at the end, when she most needed to be alert, she found sleep creeping up on her—and by the time she realized what it was up to, it was too late to do anything about it.

She started awake with a small jerk, and swept her gaze silently around the hive without moving her head, careful to do nothing else to draw attention to herself.

All was quiet. The vord Queen stood in the alcove in that awful old gown, staring steadily up into the green light, her long white hair spilling in a fine sheet down her back and over her breasts. She paid no attention to Isana, though that was hardly unusual.

Still…

Something was different. Something she could neither identify nor define pressed upon Isana’s senses. A shiver went down her spine.

There was death in the air.

Invidia entered the hive. The burned woman looked exhausted. She strode across the hive with a nod in the Queen’s direction and was ignored as thoroughly as Isana had been.

Invidia walked straight to Isana and crouched. A slight motion of one finger and a tightening of the pressure around Isana’s eardrums warned her that there was a very small, very subtle windcrafting in effect.

Invidia wanted this to be a private conversation.

“In moments,” Invidia whispered, her back to the Queen, “things will change.”

Isana’s eyes widened. She glanced past Invidia to the Queen and nodded very slightly.

“She’s hearing something different than I’m saying,” Invidia said. “So far as she is concerned, I am gloating over your predicament.”

Isana schooled her expression and made no motion, watching Invidia’s face.

“Tell me what and where this cure is,” Invidia said. “And I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to take you and Araris out alive.”

Isana studied her quietly, then asked, “And if I do not?”

One of her eyelids twitched. “Neither of you will get out of here alive, Isana. Not without my help.”

Isana took a slow breath. It had worked—at least, she had given Invidia enough hope that she had taken action of some kind, perhaps during her un-supervised scouting mission the day before. Isana felt her heart begin to pound. Had she truly gone to the High Lords?

“Once I give them to you,” Isana whispered, “what is to stop you from seeing to our deaths?”

“I told you. My word.”

Isana met her eyes and felt a swift, brief stab of pity for the woman as she slowly shook her head. “You don’t have that anymore, Invidia. You cannot give me what you do not have.”

Invida stared at Isana without expression. Then she said, “What would you have of me, then?”

“Your sword,” Isana said calmly.

Invidia’s head tilted slightly. “Why? You’re hardly a threat, Isana, even armed.”

“If I have it, you don’t,” Isana said.

The burned woman’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Does it matter?” Isana asked. “You said there isn’t much time. After any sort of battle, your cure won’t be left whole. Do you really have time to debate with me? Do you have any choice?”

Invidia pressed her lips together. Then she started unbuckling her sword, and said, “A certain amount of drama will be required.”

“The means in question is a mushroomlike growth found in hives like this one,” Isana said. “The Marat call it the Blessing of Night. Unlike most fungus, it apparently has thorns. I would look for it concealed around the edges of the pool or within the Queen’s alcove.”

Invidia took her sword, in its scabbard, in hand, and asked, “How is it used?”

“Eaten, according to Octavian, or squeezed, and its juices applied to wounds.”

Invidia stared at her for a moment. Then she frowned, and said, slowly, “I cannot tell if you are lying to me.”

“Things are never true because we want them to be, Invidia,” Isana said. “Or because we don’t want them to be. They simply are.”

Her spine stiffened. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“That it is not surprising someone who has so thoroughly deceived herself about the truth can’t recognize it when it is spoken to her.”

Invidia’s face turned cold. She drew back her hand and struck Isana’s face with her palm. Quick, sharp pain expanded and dissipated almost immediately, leaving a harsh tingling in Isana’s cheek. As the blow landed, the windcrafting concealing their speech vanished.

Invidia threw her sword at Isana’s chest. “So pleasant to be lectured by a self-righteous camp whore who has stumbled into power.” She sneered, and Isana felt the lash of Invidia’s hatred against her skin like an unseen riding crop. “If you’re so convinced of your cause, draw it. Challenge me to the juris macto. If you can take me, perhaps you will be allowed to rule a Realm of ashes and graves.”

Isana gathered in the slender sword and held it against her stomach without ever looking up at the burned woman. The fire of her emotions was no act—and Isana knew with a sudden chill that while Invidia may have been manipulated into action against the Queen, she had no intention of letting Isana leave alive. “I never wanted a struggle with you, Invidia. All I ever wanted was for my family to be left in peace.”

“Keep it,” Invidia spat. “In case you change your mind.”

Isana looked past the other woman to the vord Queen. Black, alien eyes had focused upon them both. They stayed there for a long moment, then, without comment, returned to the ceiling above.

Invidia literally spat upon Isana. Then she turned and began walking toward the exit. “There have been no troubles moving enough troops onto the bluffs, I trust?”

The vord Queen ignored her.

Isana felt a horrible suspicion begin to grow in her thoughts. The Queen had said nothing about Invidia’s giving her the weapon. At the very least, she would have expected some sort of comment along the lines of how irrational the act was.

But the Queen said nothing.

Evidently, Invidia had been struck by a similar impression, but she seemed to brush it aside. Her steps slowed for an instant, and she slowed in midstride, perhaps poised on the precipice of some decision. Then her eyes narrowed, and her steps quickened. She went to the hive’s entrance and, with a flick of her hand, sent a ball of stuttering red-and-blue light into the world outside.

The hive exploded into motion and violence.

Isana simply couldn’t believe how fast everything had suddenly become. It seemed that for an instant, she could focus on absolutely everything in her field of vision, all at once, no matter where it was.

The hive’s walls vomited forth a horde of wax spiders, the ones that were constantly in attendance, yet managed to remain all but invisible most of the time. She had expected that. It made their sudden appearance, all leathery, translucent bodies and legs and fangs and gently luminescent eyes no less hideous, no less terrifying—and it certainly made the venom on their fangs no less poisonous. But, at least she had expected them.

She had not expected the four creatures that came dropping neatly out of the ceiling—what looked at first like… she wasn’t sure what. Some kind of bizarre furylamp fixture, perhaps. They were spheres, essentially, with blades of gleaming steel standing out in ridges from the inner surface of each sphere, smoothly beautiful—until the bodies of the forms began to unfold with delicate grace into the long legs of creatures that resembled wax spiders—but which were ten times the size, and whose limbs were graced with blades of what was obviously furycrafted steel.

Vord. Made of steel. Isana felt fairly sure that didn’t bode well for whatever Invidia had planned.

Invidia turned as the initial wave of wax spiders leapt at her. Her hand twitched, as if to move toward her sword, then reversed itself, sweeping in an arc with her fingers spread. Blue-white fire slewed forth in a liquidlike spray from her open hand, splashing upon leaping spiders and clinging to them like hot oil, causing them to curl up into lumps of flaming, withered flesh. In an instant, two dozen of the leaping figures were destroyed—but there were far more than two dozen surging toward the burned woman. She swept one leg easily into the air, kicking a leaping spider aside, and brought her heel and foot straight down with a cry, a furycrafting movement that sent a violent jolt through the earth in a wave that spread out from her foot, knocking small and large spiders alike into one another, sending them tumbling over the floor and bringing dust and gravel falling from the holes in the ceiling where the great spiders had landed.

Except for one. One of the large, bladed spiders had already flung itself into the air before the shock wave could shake it, and two of its bladed legs snapped forward from its body, striking with the speed and precision of serpents.

Even then, the former High Lady was not to be undone. One of her hands moved with impossible speed, her chitin-covered forearm catching the blades, sliding them aside—almost. One of the swordlike limbs plunged through the chitin-armor covering her other arm, and emerged from the back of it in a small fountain of blood.

Invidia cried out, seized the weapon-limb, and tore it free of her arm by dint of pure, furycrafted strength, ducking aside as another half dozen weapons flashed toward her from different directions. She fell back toward the entrance, seized another leaping wax spider, and flung it at the blade-thing with such strength that it was slammed several feet back across the floor, staggering under the impact.

Isana could only remain in place, motionless, hoping to avoid any attention, stunned at the display. Invidia’s power had, for an instant, stemmed the tide of hostile vord.

That instant was all that was required.

Blue-white lightning streaked through the entrance to the hive, twin lances arching around Invidia and converging upon the blade-thing in front of her. They struck in a hideously bright flash of light and a roar of sound that was physically painful. Isana felt the breath sucked from her lungs at the sudden change in air pressure. When she could see again a few seconds later, a blackened patch of ground remained where the first blade-thing had been standing, scorched free of vord and croach alike. Scattered pieces of sharp steel littered the ground, all that remained of the creature.

There was a roar of wind and two armored figures rode in on windstreams, miniature gales that carried them down the incline, growing weaker as they descended into the hive, and let both men land on their feet, blazing swords in hand. One weapon burned with cold blue fire, the other blazed with scarlet heat—High Lords Phrygius and Antillus, respectively, Isana thought.

Once more, wax spiders leapt forward, trilling their cries—but this time they faced master metalcrafters with steel in their hands. Quivering, scorched pieces fell to the floor as the two men strode forward, untouched, through the rain of screaming wax spiders.

“In the alcove!” Invidia cried.

Phrygius spun toward the alcove just in time to raise his blade and intercept the dark weapon of the vord Queen. Her sword, a weapon of gleaming dark green-black chitin, met the blazing steel of the High Lord and flexed with unnatural tensile strength, not so much blocking the weapon outright as catching it and flinging it back. The motion surprised Phrygius, who recovered swiftly, but not before the Queen’s sword had left a deep slice in the steel plates of his lorica, the split steel bubbling with frothing green poison. They exchanged a series of blows too swiftly for Isana to keep track of them, circling around one another, darting through short passes. Neither seemed able to gain an advantage.

The three remaining blade-beasts rushed forward through the crowd of wax spiders at Antillus. He met them boldly—and within seconds found himself driven back. A dozen blades came darting in at him from every angle, and when his sword met one of the beast’s limbs, there was an explosion of scarlet sparks against vord green.

Furycraft. By the furies, Isana thought, these things could use furycraft.

“Placida!” Antillus choked out. His sword became a blur of scarlet light, his steps as light as a dancer’s despite the steel that encased him, as he weaved and dodged before and between the blade-beasts. “Bloody crows, I need a hand here!”

High Lady Placidus Aria darted in from outside the hive, cut several approaching wax spiders from the air without seeming to notice, and sized up the situation with a sweep of her eyes. Her nostrils flared as she tested the air in the hive and apparently found it suitable. She lifted her hand, and a spark leapt from her fingers to kindle into the familiar form of her fury, a fierce, fiery falcon. She gestured with one hand and let out a sharp whistle, and the fire fury streaked forth to slam into one of the blade-beasts fighting Antillus. There was a blast of intense flame no larger than the mouth of a steadholt’s milking pail, but the force of it ripped the blade-beast off of the ground and slammed it into the wall not seven feet from Isana’s head.

Aria lifted her hand again, and the falcon was reborn upon her wrist, its flaming wings already raised and eager to fly. Aria’s mouth lifted into a chill little smile as she sent the thing flashing forth again, and in another roar of intertwined fire and wind embedded the broken remains of a second blade-beast into the far wall of the hive.

“Thank you!” called Raucus in a calm, workmanlike tone, and suddenly shifted his motion, darting forward under the last blade-beast’s weaponry and striking its two foremost limbs from its body where they joined the trunk and were nothing but smooth chitin. The blade-beast recoiled, but Raucous took a spinning, dancelike step forward, to stay in close and build momentum for a thrust of his blade that struck into the unguarded area of the vord’s head and upper body, plunging deep into both. The High Lord’s mouth split into a ferocious, snarling grin, and he let out a sudden cry of effort.

For an instant, light seemed to pour from the joints of the blade-beast, from where its limbs joined its body, then the creature quite literally exploded, the red fire of Antillus’s burning sword expanding into a firecrafter’s sphere within the beast’s body. Pieces flew everywhere, and an instant later, the High Lord of Antillus stood alone, scorched ichor plastered all over his armor. He whipped his head around and winked at Aria.

“Show-off,” Aria sniffed. She turned to Isana, and said, “Isana. Are you well?”

Isana managed a brief and jerky nod. “Aria, this isn’t right!”

“Stay down and out of the way! We’ll talk about Invidia after,” Aria responded, and fell into step with Raucus as he turned to approach the battle in the alcove. The two of them moved lightly up to the edges of the fight, hesitated like a pair of dancers looking for the beat before they stepped onto the crowded floor, then flung themselves into the battle against the vord Queen.

“People!” bellowed a voice from outside—Lord Placida. There was the boom of a nearby firecrafting. “The bitch has called in her pets! Hurry!”

Isana looked up to see Placidus Sandos backing down the incline, step by step, his legs spread widely, anchoring him to the ground like tree trunks. That enormous sword was in his hands—in fact, often he wielded it in a single hand—whipping back and forth. He looked like a man hacking his way through underbrush: black chitinous… parts, for Isana could identify them no more specifically than that, scattered to the floor with each swing. Only in this case, the underbrush proved to be pursuing him. Isana could see a thicket of mantis limbs on the ground above Lord Placida as he backed step by step away from the pressure of the attack.

Isana’s eyes went back to the alcove, where the three Citizens had trapped the vord Queen between them. Blades darted and bodies moved, all almost too quickly to be seen. Each combatant was little more than a blur—the result of windcrafting, it had to be. Sparks raged in blinding clouds. Isana had no idea how the participants could even see through them, much less continue the battle. She tried to scream to them over the chorus of miniature explosions and vord shrieks coming from outside, but to no avail.

Then there was a brassy, metallic scream that cut over everything, shocking the world into an abrupt silence.

Isana’s eyes widened as the battle in the alcove froze in place. The vord Queen stood pinned against one wall, with the hilt of Antillus’s sword standing out from her heart. She let out another scream and swept her sword in a futile slash at the unarmed man, but Aria caught the blow on her own sword in a last, feeble cascade of sparks, and as she did, the cold fire of Phrygius’s sword struck the Queen’s head from her neck.

“No!” Isana screamed. “That—”

Invidia was moving, after having hovered in the background during the whole of the battle. She reached out with one hand, and the scattered bits of steely blade-beast, all around the hive, abruptly rose up from the floor.

“—is not—”

The former High Lady of Aquitaine flicked her hand—and a cloud of broken, deadly blades hurtled toward the alcove, a lethal storm of steel.

“—the true vord Queen!” Isana screamed.

Aria’s head whipped around just as hundreds of bits of razor-sharp flying metal hurtled into the alcove. Her sword flashed up and steel chimed, but no one could have defeated every single threatening blade with nothing more than a sword in hand. Their armor offered some protection, but it was far from perfect.

Antillus managed to lift an arm to shield his face and neck, but Phrygius was too slow. Metal fragments slashed into his face, and Isana saw, with sickening clarity, the way his eyes were sliced from his head. Antillus reeled against the wall, his face bloodied. Scarlet droplets scattered the wall.

The true vord Queen, naked but for her dark cloak, plummeted from the roof of the alcove. The first stroke of her blazing green sword echoed Phrygius’s own strike with sinister irony, and the High Lord’s head flew from his neck. Raucus reached for his sword, trapped in the wall, but the second motion of the Queen’s attack struck his arm from his body at the shoulder. The third strike shattered his armor in a burst of ugly fire, slicing through his body just below his ribs and sweeping almost all the way to his spine. Never stopping, the Queen whirled, her sword describing a deadly arc aimed at Aria’s neck as Raucus crumpled to the floor.

Aria’s face was cut to bloody ribbons, and one of her eyes was shut with flowing blood. She did not even attempt to block the attack, but threw herself to one side in a roll and came up on her feet, the motion smooth and swift—but not swift enough to prevent the vord Queen from altering the sweep of her blazing sword to slash through the back of Aria’s left thigh. Lady Placida let out a cry as her left leg buckled. She caught herself with her empty hand and began scrambling toward Isana, her leg dragging uselessly. She shook her head left and right, trying to clear her eyes of blood as she went. “Sandos!” she screamed.

The vord Queen’s head snapped toward the entrance, and she made a gesture with one hand. The entire mouth of the hive suddenly fell, as abruptly as if it had been a nail driven down by the blow of a titan’s hammer. One moment it gaped open, showing them Lord Placida’s wild-eyed, panicked face, and the next it was a wall of granite.

Aria continued retreating, until her fingertips touched the hem of Isana’s filthy gown. She swiped at her eyes a few more times, then hoisted herself to lift her sword into an awkward guard position, her left leg hanging lifelessly beneath her.

There was a quiet rustle of sound—and no fewer than eight more blade-beasts dropped from the ceiling all around the vord Queen and slowly rose. Their gently glowing eyes focused on the Alerans, and the vord creations lifted their sword-limbs, ready to strike, as they rustled closer.

“Crows take you,” Aria choked, her voice shaking. “Crows take you, Invidia.”

Invidia stared at the vord Queen from one side, her face bloodless. It made her scars stand out purple and hideous. “I didn’t… I thought that…”

“You thought,” the Queen said, “that you would allow the High Lords to exterminate me. Then you, in turn, would exterminate them—disposing of nearly every Aleran still alive who could match your power.” She shook her head as she looked at Invidia. “Did you think me a fool?”

Invidia licked her lips and took a step back. Blood ran down her wounded arm and dripped to the croach in a quiet, steady patter.

“You have no need to fear me,” the Queen told her. “It is a weakness over which you have no control, Invidia. I simply planned to take your shortcomings into account. It was not difficult to remove a junior queen’s higher functions and reshape her into the lure for the trap. I regard your treachery as a minor shortcoming of character, in the greater scheme.”

Invidia stared at the vord Queen, and whispered, “You aren’t going to kill me?”

“I do not condemn a slive for its venom, a hare for its cowardice, an ox for its stupidity—nor you for your treason. It is simply what you are. There is still a place for you here. If you wish it.”

“Traitor,” hissed Lady Placida.

Invidia bowed her head. She shook silently for a moment.

“Invidia,” Isana said gently, “you don’t have to do this. You can still fight. You can still defeat her. Aria will help you. Sandos will find a way in, soon. And my son is coming. Fight.”

The woman shuddered.

“Isana was not lying about the Blessing of Night,” the Queen said. “Serve me until Alera has been put in order, and I will grant it to you when I release you to rule what remains.”

“When, Invidia?” Isana said urgently, leaning toward her. “When is the price too high? How much innocent blood must be spilled to slake your thirst for power? Fight.”

The Queen looked at Isana, then at the former High Lady. “Choose.” Invidia’s eyes flicked to the two unmoving forms in the alcove, then to Lady Placida. She shuddered, and Isana saw something in her break. Her shoulders slumped. She bowed forward slightly. Though nothing about her changed, her face, Isana thought, suddenly looked ten years older.

Invidia turned to the vord Queen, and said, her voice bitter and weary, “What would you have me do?”

The Queen smiled slightly. Then she gestured with a hand, and a trio of wax spiders came walking over the croach, carrying with them the sword of the fallen Phrygia. They stopped at Invidia’s feet.

“Take the weapon,” the Queen said quietly. “And kill them all.”