Chapter One
Madb
In annoyance and generosity, I kill the fly to feed the ants.
I played the DVD message of the zombie queen who called herself May, again. I watched everything about her. Her movements, gestures. I made note of things she mentioned in passing, and explored those areas, mentally digging, searching for who she was, and what she wanted. When the message was done, I played it again, for the twentieth time.
What would May have done if tribute were paid? Where would she be right now? It was three months after her attack — or rather, after her death. Would she be lounging on the deck of her ship, eating pigs and mutton? I didn’t believe so. May was a performer, a puppet master, a creator of deception and persuasion. Tribute would have only been a marker of victory for her. The games would then be just beginning.
"A sower of madness," I whispered.
"My’Lady?" Jason said, by the door.
"Nothing. Just thinking." I told him, then turned the player off. "We’re leaving. Find a carriage, and some clothing for me. Nothing fancy. Something comfortable to travel in, and make sure it goes with boots."
"Um, should I get the doctor?" he asked.
"Why? Are you sick?" I asked, my tone short.
"But, um..."
"Alexis has had three months to poke, prod, measure and siphon out blood as she wished. I’ve done my bit for realm and science. I have a horde of raiders crossing the wastelands looking for a good time. I plan on giving them one." I told him.
I never thought a panther shifter would be so cautious. Jason didn’t blow his nose without two-ply. A better man to have could not be found, however. And he was the perfect counter point for Neale — a wolverine shifter. No caution at all in that one. None. Unfortunately, he was more than able to meet whatever fray he jumped into — without understanding — so he wasn’t likely to learn caution anytime soon either. But he listened to Jason, when Jason said — “wait.”
"Never mind the carriage, get us four fast horses, and pack light. We need to be there before nightfall," I said.
"Yes, my queen. Right away," he said, and left.
My personal guard, all six of them, men who served my mother, were dead. I murdered them. I ate of them. My madness blinded Myriana’s man Bryce, yet he spared me. He could have ended me as easy as breaking a twig between his fingers. He trussed me up, and carried me here instead. Alexis told me he could see again, but was still color blind.
Thank the goddess he was spared darkness for life.
Now, the infecting substance that caused my madness was purged, only the scars and damage remained. My mind still played tricks. I still saw shadows that weren’t there. My thoughts became confusion. None of that mattered. My people needed me. I needed to be there, not here.
"Hi," a voice by the door said. I looked, and there was a shifter, likely third generation but I couldn’t tell his breed.
"Hello?" I replied. Then I recalled him being down in the room this morning when Fenrir was discussing the eminent danger headed my way. "You are Dorian? Yes?"
"Dorian, the gray, at your service," he said with a short bow.
"Are you?" I asked.
"At your service? Yes. Since we’re headed the same way, I thought I would accompany you home. From there, I’m going into the wastes."
"Into the wastes? With what on your mind?" I asked.
"Wine sales. Three wagons worth. A thousand bottles. I’ll be going out there looking for thirsty shifters. I’m sure there will be plenty of them," he said with a laugh.
"In search of opportunity for profit? After the news we heard?" I questioned. There were plenty of profiteers in the wastes. Following raiders and zombie hordes. Picking from the dead, trading in towns. Vultures.
"Searching for my brother, actually. I think it’s time to get him out of whatever he’s messed up his head with, and set him back on course. Pain in my ass, if you’ll pardon the term," he said, while scratching his — term.
Now that I had a chance to study him, I put him at second generation, perhaps even first. I had heard that there were still powerful Shifters like him living with the Tribes, but never met one. He was crass, and ill-mannered, but he was also vibrant and alive. The fires in his eyes, looked fresh and strong. If he were second or first generation, that meant he didn’t actually shift or change. It explained the ropes of muscle in his arms and across his chest, the amount of hair and the jaw shape. And the legs. Goddess, look at those legs!
It also meant that if Beth came over the hill with one of her tanks, she better back up fast and get out of his way. If she thought firing one of her missiles at him was a good idea, she would do well to make a different choice or have that one be her last. This was a creature of war. A god of war.
"Your brother?" I asked.
"Ragnar. I thought the boy would bring him back, but after hearing all this kingdom shit, it sounds like I’ll have to go there. Also, those shifters out there. The unKind shifters. That’s a raw nut in my craw. Might have to do something about them too."
I stood, and approached him. I felt I couldn’t do otherwise. There was nothing about him, out of purpose. Every muscle, and angle of his arms, each layer coiled steel down his thigh, had purpose and were both armor and weapon. If he were a fish he would be a shark. As he was, he was a perfect predator.
"I’m curious," I said, "about the numbers that Fenrir reported. Over four thousand shifters in that community? So many seek the past ways of war and domination?"
"Curious about that myself," he mused, scratching his chin. I wasn’t much into hairy men. Some of the shifters didn’t have body hair, they had fur. Dorian however, while it was everywhere, it was somehow right, and as it should be. Or perhaps I had been locked up in this tower too long.
Then he looked me over, and his nostrils flared briefly. I stopped moving. "Curious about something else too," he said.
"What’s that?" I asked, not meeting his eyes.
"Well, seems that after three months you’re just going to ride back, take command of the lines and fight the horde. Just like that. Just like you didn’t kill your protectors, and eat their hearts and livers. Just jump on the horse and ride, huh?"
A shocking chill went through me. How did he know what I ate?
"I’ve been around for a while," he said. "I don’t know much, not like you. But I know carrion. I know how it thinks. That bitch was carrion. That’s all she was. And she moved into your head, thinking what she pleased, right? Before that happened, you were Madb, Queen of air and darkness. You don’t know it, but I fought many times under you. I was always impressed how the men never faltered. Never second guessed. But here you are, guessing thirds and fourths. Hell, you’re still dreaming evil, and screaming in the night."
I backed away from him, and he stepped forward, rubbing his forearm, looking casual and distracted. "So, my curiosity is- how are you going to pull that off?"
"What do you expect me to do? Just sit here, and let them slaughter my people?"
"That would be better than slaughtering them yourself, but no I don’t expect anything, really," he said.
I was backed up against the wall now. "What are you saying? Slaughter them myself?"
"Well, look at you. You’re hot, and wouldn’t complain at all if I spun you around against that wall and fucked you sideways. You’re terrified I might. You’re afraid of what I might know, and horrified I might be right."
He paused and looked around, "This ain’t a battle field, woman. This is a bedroom, and yet you’re in full retreat with no place to go. Most of your combat teams are shifters. Won’t matter how you sound, or how straight you keep your spine. They’ll smell you, and your confusion and fear. Then they’ll second guess. And then they’ll die."
My thighs were shaking. He wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t wrong about anything. I wanted him to take me, because I wanted to be a woman again. A human woman. Not queen or a hero or a savior or defender. Just a woman. The woman of someone strong. Someone strong enough to take me.
I was terrified too, in all the ways he described.
Looking in his open and honest eyes, the idea of riding into my realm, the returning Queen, felt ludicrous. "What do I do?" My voice cracked. I was close to tears. Helpless.
He looked over his shoulder, to the east, and then to me. "Become a queen again, I guess."
"How?"
"Well, I suppose riding out into the wastes with me and putting those carrion eaters down before they get a chance to arrive at your realm might do the trick."
My eyes narrowed, but more from habit than thought, "And, you know how to do that?"
"Well, I didn’t buy a thousand bottles of double spiked wine and three wagons for nothing, woman," he said. "So, what’s it going to be? Haven’t got all day, and taking the road to your Keep is out of the way. Decide. The Wastes, or the Keep?"