The Queen's Viper Read online

  “I can’t believe that the sentinels let us go,” he replied, wiping dirt from Clare’s face after she helped him stand. “I thought you were dead. I’m glad that I’m wrong.” Viper rolled her eyes when the youths embraced.

  A gust of wind from the Sisters urged them in the direction of the Millennium footbridge. Viper pulled Dhillon and Clare apart before he could plant a kiss on the girl’s cheek.

  “We must not dally,” she said sharply. “The Sisters warned that someone else searches for the Sage’s Glass. They must speak of Annys.” With a brisk step, Viper headed back upriver to the pedestrian bridge, dragging Dhillon by the scruff of his collar. Graeme and Clare followed as close as they could.

  “What Sisters?” Dhillon endeavoured in earnest to keep step with Viper. “What glass?” Viper stared ahead with determination. “What sage?”

  Clare fought to keep her hair under control in the updraft. “There are two immortals like Viper down there!” she said, loud enough that both Viper and Dhillon heard her. “And their magic… phenomenal! They said to search for something called Mort Lake Glass.” Viper reached the footbridge and let go of Dhillon. Clare and Graeme caught up, panting.

  “OMG!” Clare burst out. “I just realized… the Sisters… it’s their voices I heard all my life. Two together, speaking in riddles.” She glanced back towards the Sisters’ home with longing. “When I was underground, I felt so comfortable, that their oddity didn’t even register.”

  “What did they say?” asked Dhillon and Graeme simultaneously.

  “The Medway holds the beginning. At the midway, find the end,” Clare answered. “Does that mean anything to either of you?”

  Graeme said, “The beginning of what? This river is the Medway. I believe it starts at the High Heath and ends at the Thames Estuary.” He ran a calloused hand through his hair. “And where’s the midway? If that’s a riddle, it’s beyond my ken.”

  “Mort Lake is nowhere near the Medway,” Dhillon said and pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “Maybe it means we begin searching from this point on the river. That would make the Medway the beginning of our quest, and our destination is midway between here and one of the ends of the river. We could split up. We’ll cover ground better that way.” He winked at Clare. “That’s a good pun, eh, because we’ll be searching water.”

  Viper patted Dhillon’s head like she had seen humans pet their dogs for good behaviour. “Thy suggestion is worth a merit weightier than thy paltry joke. We head north, together. I do not trust that a humaine can withstand Annys’ influence. Clare, with thy device, inform Owain of our route.” The group started across the bridge towards the van they’d left in a movie theatre parking lot on the far bank.

  Clare activated the two-way communication in her auditory processors. “Owain? Are you there?” She waited for a response. The group reached the mid-point of the bridge. Clare’s face became greyer than the clouds. She grabbed the railing and steadied herself. “He’s not answering. And…”

  “What is it?” Graeme asked, slightly ahead of them.

  Viper tensed. She read the violence in Clare’s agonized face before the girl explained.

  “I heard,” Clare swallowed, tears in her frightened eyes, “gun shots.” Dhillon squeezed her shoulder. Her next words sent a chill through Viper’s heart.

  “Owain is being attacked.”

  16: Magic at Hampton

  September 29th, 1561.

  Hampton Palace.

  King Henry himself had not thrown a grander feast. Vast quantities of meats cooked with rare spices bespoke England’s wealth in the Great Hall at Hampton Court. Elizabeth packed the grandest hall of Hampton Palace with her favourite stuffed foods and equally puffed up Ambassadors. Little did the courtiers know that the St. Michaelmas celebration whetted Viper’s appetite more than it did theirs, as their collective humaine aeir flourished in Elizabeth’s company.

  The Daoine Tor skulked in the rising candle smoke drifting amid the broad timbers of the carved hammerbeam ceiling. Her glamour hid her from the humaines. From time to time she descended among them to let the wisp of someone’s aeir waft over her. She didn’t dare sample the intoxicating energy, or the humaines, and Elizabeth, would see her.

  Besides, she was woefully underdressed for a ball. Viper wore a pale yellow smock she plundered from a field where it had been left to bleach in the sun. The linen undergarment hung to her shins, her legs and feet bare. Elizabeth draped the finest of fabrics upon herself and her attendants, and she expected the same of Viper. The immortal didn’t care about her appearance. No one could see her.

  Her elldyr creft couldn’t conceal the truth from herself, however. Part of her longed to belong to the humaine world and feast with them, not upon them. Viper retreated into the rafters, a secret, unwelcome beggar seeking scraps from the feast.

  Elizabeth’s Court dined upon spit-roasted boar glazed with pear, ground pepper and rosemary, accompanied by clove and honey spiced wine. Dogs sniffed the ground for crumbs of the rabbit and current tarts favoured by the Ambassador of France. Stubble goose packed with a whole quail, then dressed in swan feathers, swam abed mounds of mashed carrots, braised leeks and savory. Dancing, minstrels and dramatic performances separated the ten courses in the Autumnal festivities.

  The most sought after morsel was Elizabeth. Throughout the day, Viper watched courtiers prowl around the twenty-seven year old queen like feral animals. Men hoped for her favour and women vied for her love. Elizabeth danced, laughed and flirted with her Court with ceaseless energy until the smallest hours of the night.

  Only Elizabeth, her chosen guards, a smattering of servants and a group of minstrels remained. Elizabeth raised the hem of her cloth-of-gold gown and jauntily sauntered to the minstrels. Emeralds and pearls in geometric patterns bedecked the dress. A wired veil of sheer silk protruded from shoulder to shoulder, held away from her torso as it cascaded down her back. Small amethysts winked in the upper portions of the see-through fabric and in upright points on the wire. They swayed when she moved. The sheer partlet across her breasts had a wide slit in the middle, closed by an amethyst pin at her neck. Elizabeth was a celestial goddess among mortals.

  “Come now,” Elizabeth said to the musicians, “can you not play an extra ditty for your queen?” As her sparkling aeir infused into theirs, the droopy-eyed musicians perked up. The first chords of Three Ravens began and Elizabeth smiled radiantly. She held her fragrant nosegay up to her face with a wistful sniff. The performers sang the down, a down, hey down, hey down, and with a down, derrie, derrie, derrie down, down choruses with a brighter lilt than Viper had heard in London’s taverns. Elizabeth held out her arms to an imaginary partner, twirling to the street tune about a faithful mistress.

  There were three ravens sat on a tree,

  They were as black as black they might be.

  The one of them said to his mate,

  “Where shall we our breakfast take?”

  “Down in yonder green field,

  There lies a Knight slain under his shield,

  His hounds they lie down at his feet,

  So well they can their Master keep,

  His Hawks they fly so eagerly,

  There’s no fowl dare him come nigh.

  Down there comes a fallow Doe,

  As great with young as she might go,

  She lifted up his bloody head,

  And kissed his wounds that were so red.

  She got him up upon her back,

  And carried him to earthen lake.

  She buried him before the prime.

  She was dead herself ere eve’n song time.”

  “God send every gentleman,

  Such hawks, such hounds and such a Leman.”

  Elizabeth clapped her hands. The musicians, now fully energized, asked the queen what song she would have next.

  Viper stretched in her roost, having tortured herself with being so close to Elizabeth and her aeir for long enough. The Daoine Tor summoned her stren
gth. Hanging from the rafter using one hand, she waved the other over the hall. Her elldyr creft eclipsed the room.

  The frilled white cuffs of Elizabeth’s gown reflected the violet glow. The purple magic haze wrapped itself around the minstrels, the servants and Elizabeth’s guards. The humaines slumped to the floor, deep in slumber. Elizabeth stood awake in the middle of the hall. She strode for the main entryway with hasty steps.

  “You hath neglected me for long hours, Elizabeth,” Viper said, half scolding. She lowered herself from the rafters with waves of magic in front of the fleeing mortal.

  “’Tis shorter than the year you hath made me await for your return.” Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest. Any sign of the wistful dancer had vanished.

  When Elizabeth found out about Viper’s role in Lady Dudley’s death, she had lost her temper at Viper and banished the immortal from her sight. Lord Robert was, the entire of last year’s Michaelmas term, accused and judged in court for his potential role in Amy’s death. However, none could be proven. Elizabeth faced similar scrutiny, albeit with less fervor. No humaines suspected the involvement of a creature like the Daoine Tor.

  “Hath a year not cooled your anger, Faerie Queen?” Viper’s sarcasm disguised her pain. She curtseyed grandly, widening the hem of her tattered chemise.

  “Why mock me both with your tone and your state of dress?” Elizabeth threw her nosegay at Viper’s travel-worn feet. “I wear a gown which honours your radiant elldyr creft and, when you finally bring yourself before me, you present yourself a beggar? Hath you no sense of propriety?”

  “I hath seen you wash the feet of beggars at the Royal Maundy before Eastertide. Do I so offend that you would not oblige me of the same respect?”

  Elizabeth softened, but only marginally. “You are cross at how we parted, at what I said unto you.” She tucked her fingers between the partlet and the top of her corset. “I thought you acted with undue haste. You killed Amy without my consent. Robert’s wife was no threat to my crown, only my heart. Surely you know the difference betwixt them.”

  Being queen suited Elizabeth. She commanded with savvy wit while hiding her most sincere feelings. Viper wanted to remind the mortal that she only ruled over humaines. The immortal turned her back on Elizabeth, something a humaine would never do. Elizabeth’s protest drowned in Viper’s wake.

  The immortal strode towards the cushioned throne, set upon a dais at the far end of the hall, as if it belonged to her. “She posed a greater threat than against your heart.” Viper dangled her legs over one ornately carved arm, exposing the length of her purple-skinned legs, then invited Elizabeth to join her with a crooked finger.

  “Explain,” Elizabeth requested, ignoring Viper’s gross violation of protocol. She lowered herself onto the padded stool in front of her seelie wicht.

  Viper leaned close to Elizabeth’s face, her eyes a malachite mist. Elizabeth’s aeir grazed the immortal’s skin. Viper pulled back, unable to formulate her thoughts in the heady life-magic.

  When her head cleared, she continued. “Elizabeth, your rage did not permit my explanation at the time of Lady Dudley’s death. I confess I did set out that morrow to remove Robert’s wife from your lover’s tryst. I would do for you what you could not do for yourself. Yet, I found an evil in Cumnor deeper than humaine jealousy.”

  The memory stirred the acid of unease in Viper’s heart. “There was another of my kind in Amy’s home, a Daoine Tor named Annys. She knew about me, Elizabeth. Unto both of us did she wish a harmful intent, although, for what reason, I cannot guess. Amy was to be the conduit of that grievance.”

  “You did kill Robert’s wife to protect me?” Elizabeth’s aeir wavered.

  “In protecting you, I fear I damned myself,” Viper admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She stepped down from the throne, hoping physical movement would stop her from confessing herself further.

  Amy’s death resulted from the darkness Viper first felt at Woodstock, when she killed the Protestant conspirator, and then again with the Catholic priest in London. The immortal resisted the evil temptation for several weeks after Amy’s murder. She had starved herself intentionally, trying to end her own life. Viper entombed herself in the earth to avoid humaines. She failed. Her ache for humaine aeir, both for sustenance and sport, drove her to London. She would ravage several people in a row, unable to satiate the new emptiness inside of her. Criminals avoided certain alleys in the city for fear of the mysterious, and fatal, illness she wrought. Children were spared her feeding frenzy, only because she experienced immense pain when she attempted to consume their aeir.

  When Elizabeth came to the city during her progression through Southern England, Viper fled for the countryside, unable to admit her gluttony to her friend. At length, the immortal disciplined her bouts of voraciousness, but the hollow sensation remained. Something intangible within her still craved satisfaction.

  “What fool am I to punish you for the love you bear your queen!” Elizabeth buried her head in her hands and sobbed. “Amidst the members of my Court I am, at times, dreadfully lonely. I hath been heart-sickened for your company. Dare I risk your forgiveness?”

  Viper slowly knelt in front Elizabeth, her hand hovering over the woman’s head. “You shall have it, for all time.” The mortal’s aeir bathed Viper’s shaking fingertips. More than ever before, the immortal feared touching Elizabeth. Viper didn’t know if she could stop the impulse to gorge herself on Elizabeth’s entrancing aeir.

  Elizabeth’s relieved smile rivalled the strength in her life-magic. “Then shall we be confidants again, dear Viper, for no other King of England hath known so selfless a protector as I hath in you.” Elizabeth leaned on the throne cushion and leveraged herself, without assistance, into a standing position. “I mean to make amends unto you tonight.”

  Rejuvenated with glee, Elizabeth dashed towards her royal apartments like a young child, calling for Viper to chase her. They dashed through the halls of Hampton Palace, Viper racing ahead to waylay any humaines they encountered.

  “I hath,” Elizabeth began when they arrived at the second storey room, “been hoping… for your… arrival…” Panting halted her announcement. Elizabeth untied the side lacing of her corset and her breathing improved. For a moment, Viper saw the reckless teen with remarkable insight whom she’d first met at Chelsea Place. Viper’s heart warmed at the mature woman in front of her. “I hath been hoping for your arrival unto me for some time. Tonight you shall have that which you hath desired these thirteen years.”

  Viper followed Elizabeth into chambers empty of people and brimming with the trappings of royalty. The immortal moved to the fireplace of the first room and stirred coal embers to life with a poker. New wood caught quickly, revealing the warmth of the room.

  A fine porcelain wash-basin and pitcher waited for Elizabeth on a stand beside the hearth. Walnut furniture rested upon a new, thick rug of English wool. Elizabeth continued past her writing desk to a tapestry on the oak panel wall between the rooms of her suite. The hanging depicted a Royal Hunt with men on horseback in pursuit of a unicorn. A maiden with loose red hair barred the men with one hand, within which was a twisting snake. Her other hand stayed low, in deference to the unicorn. The unicorn, wounded and bleeding, touched its horn to the maiden’s fingertip. Leather-collared dogs and monkeys played in the flower-strewn field around the girl.

  Elizabeth lifted a corner of the tapestry, exposing a metal lock, carved like the face of a castle. She inserted a small key into the bridge and lowered the unlocked flap like a drawbridge.

  The immortal couldn’t see past Elizabeth’s elaborate wired veil. “Now you a-rise my curiosity higher than a cock’s song.” Viper heard her friend shift a wooden panel to one side.

  “I hath found your amulet,” Elizabeth said, turning as she presented the glowing talisman.

  Viper blinked in awe. She cautiously extended her hand. Her fingertip grazed the surface of the amulet. A powerful shock ran up her arm. Viper’s
runes ignited, painfully white. She sucked breath through clenched teeth and jerked back her hand.

  The room seemed to spin around Viper and she reeled backwards. She envisioned shining glyphs carved into the rocks of a stone circle. A soft female voice, her foreign words melding together, made Viper feel a morose ache in her chest. Then, a tearing sensation ripped through her torso. After a blinding moment of darkness, Viper saw someone with glyph-scarred arms reach for the amulet. She couldn’t determine if the arm in her patchy memory belonged to her or not. In her mind’s eye, the amulet spun faster, suspended above a second pair of hands. Two additional pairs of hands interlinked beneath. A circular portal opened beyond the reach of the unidentified persons. The portal beguiled her. Viper’s heart broke, the sharpness in her chest far too visceral. She was so close to the object of her desire, unable to touch it either in reality or in her memory.

  Viper’s mind cleared as if she had woken from a dream and couldn’t make out the details. She had fallen to her hands and knees. Elizabeth knelt on the floor nearby, staring at her in confusion.

  “You hath my only hope of redemption,” Viper said, stunned. She rubbed her arms slowly with tremulous hands, her face a carefully constructed mask of serenity. “The amulet hath granted me a vision that unlocks my future as it opens the door unto my past.”

  Viper wanted to seek physical comfort from the woman in front of her, and she might have, were it not for the ominous waves of heat emanating from the amulet in Elizabeth’s lap. “Well hath your aeir made your people prosper, Elizabeth. Hold to thy own self, Faerie Queen. E’en after I travel through the portal which the amulet opens, so shall you remain the truest King of England.”

  “And you my truest friend,” Elizabeth replied with a royal smile.

  Viper led Elizabeth to the Chapel Royal, the quietest room at Hampton. All of the day’s prayers had been said during the Michaelmas feast. Most humaines at Hampton were still asleep, undeterred by the precipitous stirring of wind outside. Beneath the judging eyes of the stained glass saints, Viper ignited tallow candles with a taper. The high sheen in the clay tiles, mahogany pigment accented by ochre shapes, reflected the candles’ luminescence.