Shadows Of Desire
Blood and Bone

“I replace that I am at a loss on how to handle this situation.” The Queen said. Her eyes were distant and cold. The news of what Lord Killian had done had shocked and distressed her but what was more upsetting was that Luther had confessed everything to his son. The man had become a liability.

“I love him still.” Emilia said, looking down sadly. “But he has threatened my life and the life of our unborn child. I will do what I must to keep my child safe.”

“Do you feel that, given the opportunity, he would attack you again?′

Emilia nodded. “Now that he knows the truth about Rowan’s death. He will not let that pass. He’s mad with wanting vengeance.”

The Queen sighed, rubbing her temples. “Then, he must be dealt with.”

“His father too.” Emilia narrowed her eyes. “He’s knows too much and the bastard can’t seem to keep his mouth closed.”

“The Grand Duke has already been dealt with.” The Queen smiled a wicked smile and looked Emilia in the eye. “He has already fled, presumably back to Grayholm. The coward that he, is fearing for his own life. He thinks once he is out of Basmorte that he is beyond my reach.”

Emilia grinned and her eyes lit up. “What have you done, mother?” She asked, eagerly.

“Let’s just say that his journey will not be an easy one. By now he should be replaceing himself at the mercy of a small gang of cut throats. Such a gilded carriage as his would be too great a temptation to pass up. Unfortunately for Luther Thorn, he will not survive the encounter.”

Emilia giggled as she swirled her wine cup and grinned. “How shrewd you are, mother.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow. “I too will do what I must to protect my child.” She said.

Emilia nearly scoffed at that but even she knew not to risk angering her mother. The Queen was protecting herself. Yes, she loved Emilia, but not enough to put her own life at risk. The Queen always looked out for herself first. She’d throw her own daughter to wolves if she had to. No one was safe.

“So, mother, what is the plan then, for dealing with my poor, mad, husband?”

The Queen thought a moment. A public execution might raise too many questions. He attacked the Princess and should be put to death for such an act of treason but it was the question of why he’d attacked her in the first place. It was bad enough that two of the guards had heard his accusations. If word were to get out that Killian suspected them of murdering not only Rowan but the King as well the council could step in and demand an investigation. It’s hard enough dealing with them over the matter of the runaway slave whom no one could seem to replace.

Dealing with Killian would take some proper care and planning and perhaps some outside help. She tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair then turned to her daughter. “I think it’s time I once again sought the counsel of one outside of Palace dealings. One with insights far greater than my own.”

***

Not many people ventured near the Matatowan mountains. Stories of trolls and Orcs normally kept them at bay, but the mountains were not only known for trolls and Orcs as it had once been home to a great many manner of creatures. Dragons for one used to dominate the mountains from just outside of Basmorte all the way to the sea. No one really knew what happened to them. Some say they were killed, others claim they had been driven out. Another rumor was that they had simply gone into hibernation and were still there, buried deep within the bowls of the mountains, waiting for the time when they would rise up again and dominate the land.

As Queen Caroline made her way along the narrow and dusty road that led into the mountains she wasn’t worried about Dragons or even trolls. Trolls tended to keep to themselves and never came out during the day as the sun would kill them. Turn them to stone to be more precise. Even at night or the wee hours of morning before the sun rose as it was now, they were of little concern to her. Trolls weren’t the brightest of creatures and they were no match for a vampire. The Queen could have easily taken out five on her own and they never usually traveled in large groups.

Orcs were another matter all together. They were smarter and had extensive military training. They were organized and ruled by a King with a nasty temper. They hadn’t bothered the vampire Kingdom in some time, their main enemy were the elves, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t take a lone vampire hostage, especially a Queen. With King Desmond dead, if word had spread to the Orc Kingdom, they might see that as the perfect opportunity to strike, thinking Basmorte was weak without a King. Caroline was willing to take the chance though. Her need to seek advice for her current predicament outweighed the danger she was putting herself into.

Besides, even the Orc King knew enough to stay away from the north west side of the mountains where the stones were covered by black moss and serpent vines snaked along between the crevices of large stones and boulders. Queen Caroline wrapped her hooded cloak tighter around her body, concealing her from anyone who might be watching her. Small, carnivorous shrubs of dried, dead, leaves called sallywiggins scurried past her. A stoque hissed as she passed by it and overhead, carrion crows squawked and cawed as they circled the mountains.

The dirt and dust covered path the Queen took soon was replaced by a long set of winding steps that were dug into the hill side, twisting and turning up the side of the mountain. It was a long and tedious climb and more than once Caroline lost her footing, nearly tumbling back down the steps she had already climbed. Finally, after what seemed ages, the Queen reached the top of the stairs and found herself standing outside the mouth of a cave, hidden behind a thin blanket of moss and vines that hung over the entrance like a curtain.

The Queen pushed the curtain of vines to the side and entered the cave. Immediately she put her hand to her face and covered her nose and mouth. To a human, the smell would have been heavy, rancid, and disgusting. To a vampire, it was unbearable. Bones and rotting animal parts littered the floor. Vermin scurried around within the cave and thick webs hung from the ceiling with large, hairy, spiders glaring hungrily at the Queen as she passed by them. Luckily for her the things preferred their food to be living. A vampire was too close to a corpse for their liking. Still, it was unnerving having their black, soulless, eyes boring into her the way they did.

In the center of the cave was a large black pot, large enough to fit a child or small adult, boiling over a good sized fire. The sweltering heat from the fire only made the stench of the cave that more potent and whatever was boiling within the pot had it’s own sickening aroma. Caroline wouldn’t hazard a guess as to what was in the pot. She really didn’t want to know. The last time she had visited, she’d ventured a quick peek into the pot and was greeted by a severed human head with empty eye sockets and it’s mouth gaping opened in a fixed scream. She had jumped back, hitting the wall and causing a shelf of ancient books and jars of Sheul only knew what, to come crashing down on her.

This time she gave the boiling pot a wide berth and instead looked around the musty cave for the one she come to speak to. “Raven mocker?” She called out into the poisoned darkness around her. “Agren? It’s Queen Caroline of Basmorte. I need your wisdom. Please come out and speak with me.” The air around her swirled. Shadows crept along the walls and over the floor and the cob webs along the ceiling moved and swayed as if caught by a slight breeze. Something moved past her but the Queen could not see it, only feel it. It felt cold and clammy, like the very hand of death had brushed through her hair and a rancid, stinking breath slithered down her neck.

The Queen shivered. She never felt right about coming to the cave of the Raven Mocker but the old hags guidance was something she desperately needed. “Agren.” The Queen said again, her voice more stern now. “I demand you come out and speak to me.”

“The Queen demands.” A voice, shrill and inhuman came from the darkness. Wicked sounding giggles echoed off the cavern walls.

"What say the Queen?” The voice said again, sounding as though a group of people were whispering instead of just one.

"The Queen commands us.” The voice continued. Hidden within the shadows, it slinked and wriggled, coiling around her. Caroline spun around, trying to replace the source of her tormentor.

“What does the Queen want?" It asked. “Speak!"

“I-I’m in need of your guidance. You told me once that when the King died all of Basmorte would rejoice and finally be free of the King’s tyranny. You told me that my daughter would one day be Queen and we would become unstoppable and that no realm would ever destroy us. Well, now I am Queen and the King is dead but I am faced with a new problem. My daughter’s husband, Lord Killian. He’s gone mad. I think he plots to kill my daughter and maybe myself as well.”

Caroline pulled her hood back as something unseen whipped past her and whispers swirled around her spouting incoherently. She cringed as something that felt like gnarled fingers grazed her cheek. “Please.” She continued with a shaky voice. “What am I to do with Lord Killian?”

“Death.” An icy wind blew past her face and with it brought a child like whisper.

“But, if he dies...”

“His death will mark the beginning of the end." The voice crooned.

“Or the end of the beginning.” A second voice added.

Caroline narrowed her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“The Queen." The voices hissed around her. “The Queen is troubled.”

“Not the Queen for long.” Another, older sounding voice said. It had the creak of an old and worn woman with one foot in the grave.

“What do you mean?” Caroline stammered, turning around to look for the source of the voice.

“Three winds come.” The voice of the crone crowed out from within the darkness.

“The first brings suffering and pain.” The voice of a woman in her prime spoke next. This voice was calm and soothing though there was a hint of sadness behind her words.

“Lies and betrayal.” The three voices murmured in unison.

“The second wind brings change.” A third voice hummed. This one of a young girl, barely out of youth. A child’s voice.

“Change?” Caroline furrowed her brow. “What kind of change? Good change?”

“The Queen knows not." The voices spoke in unison again. ”The Queen sees only what she wants.”

"Tell me!" Caroline demanded. “Tell me what I want to know.”

“Death.” The voice of the hag said, once more. The darkness and malice in the voice sent shivers down Caroline’s spine. It was eerie and malevolent. Ancient and cold. “The third wind brings death. Death to those who oppose the true Queen.”

Caroline grinned at the crone’s words. “Death to those who oppose me?” That was what Caroline had come to hear. The witch’s prophecy had not changed. With Caroline as Queen, Basmorte would become more powerful than ever. No one could overthrow her and the vampire’s would once again be the most powerful race in all the realms. Emilia would one day be Queen when Caroline decided to abdicate the throne or passed away, and her bloodline would forever rule.

She pulled her hood back up over her head and then reached into her pocket and pulled out three pieces of silver that she tossed on the ground. “I thank you for your council.” She said then turned to leave the cave.

“But, the Queen should beware.” It was the crone who spoke now and Caroline turned to look again into the blackness of the cave,

“Beware? Of what?” She practically laughed at the old witch. “What do I have to fear?”

“The child.” Came the crone’s voice more.

Caroline scowled. “What child?”

The shadows swirled around her once more and as they did they seemed to gather in the center of the cave, growing darker and more menacing as a figure seemed to form before the Queen’s very eyes. As she watched, the Queen saw the shadows form into a long and tattered, black cloak. It was covered in moss and cob webs and from within the cloak she began to see a face take shape. It was a hideous face. Grotesquely twisted and wrinkled with age. The skin of the face was as green as the moss that surrounded the cave and the eyes were as black as coal.

The aged and withered thing before her had a hooked nose and thin lips that curled back over blacked and yellowed teeth. Stringy, gray and white strands of thinning hair fell across the things eyes, hanging down past it’s lips. Caroline could only assume it was a woman because the cloak it wore revealed nothing of it’s body. It moved slowly, it’s bones creaking and cracking as it bent down and scooped up the coins in it gnarled, claw like, hand. It slowly stood up again though it’s back was permanently hunched and it’s entire body seemed contorted as it moved and shambled forward, it’s feet dragging along the cave floor.

It was within inches of Caroline when it opened it’s mouth-a black, hollow, hole of a mouth-and screamed. Caroline put her hands to her ears and cringed away from the monstrous thing. She gagged when the rancid breath of the creature reached her nose and she very nearly vomited on the ground. The creature closed it’s mouth and cackled then slowly reached out it’s withered hand to touch Caroline. Caroline pulled away, disgusted by the very thought of the thing touching her. “What do you want?” Caroline hissed. “I’ve given you your payment.”

“Only to warn you.” The crone coughed and sputtered. Black sludge leaked from her mouth and over her rotting lips.

“Warn me of what?” Caroline asked, moving farther from the old hag and closer to the mouth of the cave.

“The child of tuatha comes to us from far beyond the stars. In night and day he makes his way and carries with him all his scars.”

Out of the darkness another figured emerged. This one a woman, fair complected and beautiful with fire red hair wearing a n emerald chiton. A gold ringlet circled her arm and to her right was a small child, holding the woman’s hand as she clung to her skirts. The child looked to be barely twelve years. A child on the verge of maiden hood. The woman she clung to was clearly her mother.

“At his feet the children of the mound will rise up to take your head. And when the light from the morning sun washes over your body, all that you love shall be dead.” The mother spoke in her same, sad, soothing tones but her eyes were black as pitch and her words were dark and haunting.

The child, an impish looking thing with sickly yellow eyes rimmed in black opened her mouth and out of it came the shrill voice not of a child but a flock of a hundred cawing crows. Blood poured from her mouth and again Caroline heard that ear-splitting, demonic giggle.

"Be warned. ” The crone said again. “If the child breaches the castle walls, you will not survive.”

“What child is this?” Caroline asked, growing more frantic. “The child of the tuatha? The tribes of the Gods? No such child has existed for a thousand years.”

“The child was born of the children of the mound.” The mother said. “And is blessed by the Goddess Morrigu.”

“The children of the mound.” Caroline furrowed her brow and sneered. “The Fae.” She looked to the crone and growled. “I will end the Fae. Not one within the walls of Basmorte shall live!”

“Be warned.” The three spoke in unison as they began to fade back into the darkness. “One who seeks death, shall replace it.”

The shadows slithered away like snakes crawling up the cavern walls and Caroline was again, alone. “No Fae shall be my undoing.” She whispered. “If death they seek, death they shall have.”