Oracle (11 page)

    
In
Daniella’s
opinion it was more than a little presumptions
for the fat toad to have plopped himself down on her father’s throne, even if
he was the man who would decide the next king. And judging by her rigid
posture, Jana felt much the same. It was perhaps the only time the two women
had ever been in agreeance on anything.

    
“Yes,
your Grace,” Charles said.

    
A muscle
jumped in Richard’s arm and
Daniella
took tighter
hold of him. If only she could keep him composed and under her control this
need not be a disaster. Though she had instructed Mark to kill Charles if
necessary, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t prefer his case simply be dismissed.

    
“By what
right of blood and reason do you seek to place yourself upon the throne above
the Crowned Prince?” the High Priest asked.

    
Charles
rose to his feet to face the question. “I am Lord Charles Ambrose
DeHaviland
, son of Duke
Ulric
of
Columine
and his wife, the Duchess of
Columine
and princess of Hyacinth, the King’s own sister. I stand second in line for the
throne by virtue of my direct descent from the royal blood and linage. Today, I
stand before your Holy Grace, High Priest of The Grand Temple, and her Royal
Highness, Queen Jana of Hyacinth, to proclaim myself rightful heir by intention
of the late King Robert to set aside the Crowned Prince in my favor.”

    
Still,
not a catastrophe. Or so
Daniella
told herself. She’d
suspected her father might have told this secret to his dear friend Duke Victor
and it seemed she was correct, as usual. It would have been better for
Richard’s case had Charles instead questioned his bloodline, as such would have
been impossible to prove. But this...

    
For the
first time, the High Priest took better concern over what was happening before
him than on the bowl of grapes. If he was surprised by Charles’ words, as he
did indeed seem to be, he was the only one.

 
   
“You say the late King Robert intended to
name you heir over his own firstborn son?” the High Priest asked. “What proof
have you of this?”

    
“I hold
such proof.” Victor now rose to his feet as well. “While he yet lived, his
Majesty the King considered me a close confidant. We conversed on this subject
no more than three months before he fell ill.

    
“In the
course of this conversation, the King informed me of his intention to name
Charles his heir. It was only out of consideration for his son he held off so
long as he did. Had he not passed on from this world, he would have made his
choice official by this time.”

    
“And what
reason did the late King Robert give you to explain this desire to disinherit
the Crowned Prince?”

    
Daniella
held her breath, holding out the thin hope Victor
might bring up Robert’s uncertainty concerning Richard’s parentage. It would be
an outrageous claim to be made by someone outside the royal family and might be
enough to have the High Priest dismiss the whole thing then and there.

    
“He
feared Prince Richard too volatile to make a suitable king,” Victor said. “It
takes a cool temper to best look after matters of state. And, if I may presume
to be so bold, I would like to remind your Grace it isn’t unheard of in the
history of Hyacinth for a king to choose a younger son, or indeed even a
nephew, as his heir above his firstborn.”

    
The High
Priest thoughtfully tapped his chin. “It is true the history records speak of
such. And if the late King Robert had made this decision more publically known,
we could better take it under consideration even without an official decree.”
He laid his hand on the throne’s armrest.

    
“However,” he continued, “I’m afraid we cannot make such consideration
on your word alone, Duke Victor. Highly regarded though it may be. Have you any
further proof to offer?”

    
Daniella
was so giddy she could have broken out in dance on
the spot. Charles’ claim was come to nothing after all. Her father might have
spoken to his close friend about such matters, but surely no one else was
trusted enough to merit such confidence. And even if they were, whose word
might the High Priest take over that of the White Knight himself?

    
That
giddy feeling quickly dropped as heavy as a stone in
Daniella’s
stomach when Jana rose to her feet. “If you will not take Duke Victor’s word,
then perhaps you will consider mine.” The queen’s voice was calm and strong as
she spoke.

    
“Two days
before my husband took to his bed, he declared to me his intention to make
public decree of his decision to name Lord Charles
DeHaviland
his heir at the end of that week. He’d have done it sooner if not, as Duke
Victor said, for his deep consideration for the Crowned Prince. My husband
chose to speak first with his son on these matters, to spare him shock and
embarrassment.

    
“It is a
terrible misfortune which saw him fall into such a swift and mysterious illness
the eve before he was to make the decree known to all.”

    
Stunned
silence followed this remark. No one could have possibly missed the artfully
hidden innuendo beneath Jana’s words. She dare not make an outright accusation,
but her thinly veiled suggestion was obviously a deliberate attempt to
undermine Richard’s bid for the throne.

    
“Bitch,”
Richard growled. “I swear I’ll slit her--”

    
“Shut
up.”
Daniella
dug her nails into her brother’s arm
and pulled him from the room before he could say or do something to ruin
whatever chance he still had at the crown.

    
Once they
were out in the hall and the door closed behind them, Richard jerked his arm
free from
Daniella’s
grasp and rounded on her. “Why
didn’t you say something? She practically accused me of murdering my father.”

    
“Keep
your voice down,”
Daniella
hissed. “What could I say?
Jana spoke no word which wasn’t truth, nor did she make an open accusation. Had
I spoken up it would only have given credence to her insinuation. As if your
reaction didn’t do well enough. You,” she jabbed him in the chest, “need to
calm yourself.”

    
“What I
need,” Richard clenched and released his fists, “is to smash that bitch’s face
in.”

    
Daniella
rolled her eyes. “Good God Above, will you never
grow up?” She sighed. “Go to your room. I have this all taken care of already.
So long as you don’t do anything stupid.”

    
“You
don’t give me enough credit.”

    
“I give
you all the credit you deserve,” she said. “Now go.”

    
Richard
turned and stomped off down the hall, muttering something decidedly nasty under
his breath as he went.
Daniella
pretended not to
hear. She loitered outside the throne room long enough to give Richard a good
lead before heading to her own room, which was only a few doors up from his.

    
Several
maidservants waited for her in her chambers, but she sent them all away upon
arrival. She had no need of them at the moment. Indeed, she intended to do
something she wanted no audience for.

    
A crystal
ball sat in one corner of her sitting room. To the casual eye it was nothing
but a bauble, rather plain and nondescript to look at. A Magus would have known
better.
Daniella
crossed the room and placed her
hands on either side of the crystal. The imp
Gibli
,
whom she had summoned from the
aether
, had as much as
told her the only way to alter her vision was for Anastasia to die, but still
she had to see.

    
Milky
mist swirled within the heart of the crystal as
Daniella
opened her inner eye to the power of the
aether
.
Since she was a small girl the vision of death meant to fall upon her and her
brother were he not made king had driven her every action. Some things she had
done were terrible and difficult, but for her life she had done them anyway.

    
Something
dark shifted through the mist. It was nothing
Daniella
had ever seen there before. Always, when she looked, the same scene of death
was opened to her. Never clear or certain on the exact manner of death, but
only that death would come.

    
Her
fingers began to tingle in a most unpleasant sort of way. The dark something
was drawing closer to the surface and
Daniella
wanted
no part of it. Something strange was happening. Something out of her control.
And it was simply not tolerable. She sought to close off her inner eye and
break contact, only to find she couldn’t. Whatever the dark form was, it had a
tight hold of her and she could not escape.

    
Panic
welled up in the back of
Daniella’s
throat. She could
neither move nor make a sound, but only stare in mute terror as the form drew
closer and closer. A suggestion of something rippling with black scales slipped
past, and then a single burning red eye stared back at her.

    
For so
long has your mind been blinded by one who would hide the truth from you.
The
booming voice filled up the room. Or perhaps it only filled
Daniella’s
head. She could not be sure.

    
Let me
reveal to you the real future and how it will come to pass.

    
A barrage
of images flashed before
Daniella’s
eyes. Images of a
terrible war and the blasted wasteland it would leave behind. Strange and awful
sights to behold. The vision cleared and the eye returned.
You can prevent
this tragedy. But you must summon me from the
aether
.
Soon
. The eye swirled into darkness and was lost.

    
With the
spell released,
Daniella
stumbled away from the
crystal. She sank to her knees. Her mind whirled with all she had seen. It was
beyond her to know who the voice had meant in referring to the one who was
hiding the truth, but she knew in her heart everything the voice had said,
everything it showed her, was real. As she knew, without having been told, what
sort of being the eye belonged to.

    
“
Archdemon
.”
Daniella
said the
word aloud to see how it would feel on her tongue. A shiver rolled through her.
Her gaze wandered to the dragon tallow candle on its self. She had used the
candle before to summon demons, though until recently only low levels ones. To
call an
archdemon
from the
aether
was nothing she had ever considered. And not only because she was doubtful she
had the power to control such a creature.

    
Calling
forth a demon from the
aether
required a blood
sacrifice. A few drops of the witch’s own for an imp. A goat, or other medium
sized creature, for a nightmare. But for an
archdemon
...
Daniella
shook her head. “I can’t.”

    
Arranging
for her last stepmother’s “accident” and poisoning her father hadn’t been hard
at all. She didn’t like either one of them anyway. But to summon an
archdemon
required the life blood of a loved one. And for
Daniella
that list was exceedingly short.

    
If she
refused, the world would burn. A good sense of self preservation insisted she
must do as the
archdemon
bid, and yet for the first
time in her life, she found herself thinking of someone other than herself.

    
To spill
blood with her own two hands was hard enough, but the blood of someone she
actually cared about? How could she ever make such a choice? Soon, the demon
had said, though not how soon. It would take time for her to come to such a
decision.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

    
Sometimes, gods dream. For
Shirelyn
, such
dreams were of the world above her prison cave. A world of harsh sunlight,
bitter wind, and the twisted skeletons of former grand buildings looming
overhead. Once brimming with life, it was now nothing but a blasted ruin. Like
so many other realms her brothers had destroyed.

    
It was a
fitting dream. One to remind her of why the Cataclysm must come to pass and her
brothers must die. So much wickedness had been wrought by their treachery. She
was the only one who could make it right again.

    
Shirelyn
walked through what was once a vast city of
skyscrapers and paved roads. No living thing moved about her, but she had seen
the first tentative stirring of new life in the far flung corners of this
realm. Perhaps in time this realm would return to what it once was. She
intended to help it be so once she was queen of all.

    
A slight
breeze stirred the hem of her white dress about her ankles. She always wore
white in this dream, rather than her usual denim and leather. Her long, dark
purple hair also was different
 
here, for
it hung loose and flowing rather than in its customary braids.

    
In her
dreams,
Shirelyn
had traveled the width and breadth
of this realm. The only place she could walk beyond the walls of her prison. It
was during such dreams she had gathered the many trinkets which decorated the
cave she called home. For gods could bring things from their dreams into the
waking world.

    
How she
loved those small treasures. The bangles and the rings and such which she wore
always were dear to her. As was every possession she had gathered. They brought
her a closeness to the people who once inhabited this realm. How she wished she
could have known them before they were obliterated.

    
Of all
the lands in this realm, it was this lost city which called most strongly to
her. She knew not why, but perhaps it was due at least in part to her having found
Shush here, half buried in the sand. Shush, who was her most dear and cherished
friend.

    
Often
times when she was here
Shirelyn
would close her eyes
and try to imagine the little girl who loved Shush once upon a time. Sometimes
such thoughts made her laugh. Other times they made her cry. She hoped with all
her heart the little girl and Shush had held tight to each other as their world
came to an end. At least then they would not have been alone.

    
Wind
sighed through the city like a sad lament. This was a haunted place. At times,
Shirelyn
even believed she saw, from the corner of her eye,
the faint specter of one long dead. But whenever she turned to look, nothing
was there. They knew who she was and so they hid from her.