Warrior Queen (Skeleton Key) Read online

  In this situation Bryce decided it was better not to confirm how dumb he was. He had no idea what they were talking about. Or who they were talking about, only that they were at war and it appeared that he had been mistaken for being on the wrong side.

  That didn’t explain the ears. And they didn’t look like they’d been cut in some body modification ceremony. Maybe he’d been abducted by aliens.

  Warrior aliens.

  Female warrior aliens.

  Which made no sense, and was just a little too close to a fantasy he’d once had after watching a sci-fi movie. These women might tie him up, but it would not be for fun times.

  The more rational explanation was that he’d poisoned himself with alcohol and was dead. Which meant that he couldn’t die again…or could he? This wasn’t what he’d been expecting from heaven or hell.

  But if he was seeing the Heavenly, maybe he was about to be let into heaven. In which case he really regretted throwing a pot of piss on the warrior.

  Two

  “I will not surrender my daughter to those barbarians.” Keleti knelt at the table covered in cloth maps. For one, her daughter was not a thing to be surrendered or bargained with, and that the People of the South thought she was wasn’t a good sign. For two, if Keleti weakened, they would think the kingdom weak and they would ask for more and more, and then one day they would all be people of the South with their weird permanent marriage customs that treated women as little more than cows.

  “It isn’t your daughter as much as the magic, Heavenly.” The delegate from a nearby city said.

  “You think I’m not aware of that?” She crossed her arms and rested back on her heels. Around her knelt delegates from other cities in her domain and beyond. “We should’ve known the day we started trading with them that something like this would happen.” That had been when her mother was Queen. The men of the South had refused to trade with women at first. They had tried to buy wives the way one bought livestock. Some women had willingly left with them. Some had returned. Keleti didn’t like the tales they told.

  “They would prefer to fight a king,” another delegate offered.

  “That is their problem.” They were the invaders on her people’s land. They didn’t get to pick who they fought. Telsila was the first walled city to be threatened. A coastal fishing town in her domain had already fallen. Fallen faster than anyone had expected. The army had destroyed it to prove a point as there was no other reason to go after fishers. Keleti had felt the sting of the news. She should have had an army ready to meet the Southerners, but they had caught her by surprise. If the army got past her this time, there would be another Heavenly waiting to fight them. There were no men who could take the form of a hawk. The Queens of the North would protect their people.

  “You could give them a king.” One of her advisors spoke up. He lowered his gaze, but she knew he wasn’t volunteering.

  They’d had this argument before. If she took a consort, the Southerners might think twice. Maybe. But who said that she was ready to take a permanent lover and entrust some of the day to day running of her domain to another? Some days it would be a relief to not do it all on her own.

  “This consort business started the problem.” The Southerners had suggested that she marry one of them to formalize trade and goodwill. But when she realized that she’d be expected to be with only one man for the rest of her life and never participate in the temple rituals, and that he expected to become king not consort, the whole proposal had fallen apart. “No person should have less standing than cattle.”

  There was a round of murmurs and nods from the men and women around her. They had come from all over the North. The Southerners’ army had arrived and moved faster than any of them had expected.

  “And yet we cannot talk sense into them,” another delegate said.

  “They are deaf to reason.” And common sense. It was obvious to all that a child was the mother’s, while the father was usually a mystery. Yet the Southern men thought they could own the child by binding a woman in marriage for life. “And marching steadily closer.”

  “If we give them the magic, would it work?” her favorite priest asked. He had the prettiest eyes, like aquamarine.

  “I don’t know. And I don’t want to find out.” That was why they wanted Driska, her eldest daughter. With Driska they were hoping to breed her like a cow and start their own line of Heavenly hawks, but Driska hadn’t taken her first flight yet. At fifteen she should be starting to show the signs of being a Heavenly…or not. Not every child born to a Heavenly mother had the ability. The gods handed out that gift sparingly.

  And even if Driska showed signs the ritual of first flight, it was not something to be rushed or to be forced into. It didn’t always work. Not everyone could absorb the magic. Not everyone wanted the responsibility that came with it either. Flight was a sign of the divine blood. The farsightedness needed to rule over a vast people, and a way to spread news.

  In this case the news wasn’t good. Her cousin had gone to call up an army and ask the other Queens for help. Messages would flow to the outer reaches of her kingdom, and to her sister, who had gone north to locate new copper mines. Her sister had never wanted to fly or rule. She loved the metal that came out of the earth. However, her cousin had been given the gift and had stepped in to assist—there were always two Heavenlys in a city, but only one Queen. It was always a worry when there was only one person capable of flight. Who would rule if something happened to her? The thought left a bitter taste.

  Her cousin would have to rule until Driska was old enough, assuming Driska wanted that responsibility.

  Keleti glanced around the room. If she had a consort, she’d be able to entrust some of the more basic duties to him while she concentrated on the coming war.

  Until her cousin came back with news, there was only one thing they could do. “We need to prepare for siege and hope that our army will arrive and stain our walls red with Southern blood.”

  They all nodded. They all knew this was coming. Some had wanted to leave, but the army was too close and they would be caught. It was safer here. The delegates waited on news from their Queens. They had come to discuss the growing problem, they hadn’t expected such a large army to land and start a war.

  One by one, they left the chamber. No one was happy. Aside from settling some disputes between cities over mining and farming rights, there had been little warfare in recent years. At first the arrival of the Southerners by boat and seeking to trade had been a novelty.

  They had known that the Southerners existed, but had never sought direct contact.

  Refugees from the fishing town told of how the invaders wanted to know about the gift of flight. It was never her they had actually wanted when offering one of theirs to be her consort, but access to the magic and the copper mines and the metal and gems that they traded for.

  The priest touched her arm. “Magic can only be used by those who believe.”

  Keleti nodded. “But any idiot can pick up a weapon and inflict damage.”

  The priest smiled. “We agree then that magic is a weapon and should be used with caution.”

  “You were the one who suggested we hand it over.”

  “Or something that looks like it.” He winked. “The Southerners wouldn’t know the difference if it bit them.”

  “I will not throw fat on the fire.”

  There was a commotion outside in the hallway. Keleti bit back the sigh. Was it too much to ask that she have a few moments with her own thoughts? But she knew the gods preferred action over thought. Intuition over plots.

  She strode over to the door and stopped. One of the central guards was wet and smelled like a latrine. Between them was a man in the strangest clothes Keleti had ever seen.

  “We found this son of the South in the store room.”

  Keleti narrowed her eyes. Had he been in there poisoning the food they would need for what would no doubt be a siege?

  His clothes didn’t lo
ok right. While he wore the odd leg coverings of the south, the rest was wrong. Something else about him was wrong. His eyes were the wrong color and so was his hair. Both were brown. Southerners had blond hair and blue or green eyes. Was he some kind of mixed blood they thought to sneak in? How had he gotten in?

  Her eyes narrowed as they landed on his ears. “He is no Southerner.” He had round ears like a rat. Rats liked store rooms. “So where are you from, Rat?”

  He didn’t answer.

  One of the guards jabbed him in the ribs with a knife. “You answer the Heavenly when you are spoken to.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. He bent over and looked at the ground. Keleti guessed it was some kind of show of respect. When he straightened he kept his eyes down as though he had no right to speak or be in her presence.

  That was even stranger.

  “Speak. I have things to do.” She commanded. Perhaps he was used to being given orders. Maybe he was a runaway slave. She knew that the Southerners were barbaric in many ways.

  “I am from Sydney, Australia.”

  “From the south?”

  He frowned. “It is one of the southern continents.”

  She only knew of one landmass in the south, but she pushed that thought aside. “Why are you here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How did you get into my store room?” Direct questions seemed to be working, so she kept the hard edge in her voice.

  “I don’t know.”

  Maybe he was a slave because he didn’t have all of his wits. She bit back her disgust. Had the Southerners no consideration or care? People like him should be looked after. She couldn’t deal with this right now. She was about to send him away with the priest when he spoke.

  “I was drunk last night. I got home, I think, but when I opened the door I ended up here. I think I might be dead. Is this heaven?”

  Keleti laughed. “If you are dead, then we are all dead.”

  The priest stepped closer. “How did you open the door?”

  The strange man opened up his hand. “I found a key. I used it by accident.”

  “Nothing is by accident.” Keleti looked at the priest. If the Southerners had the magic to open all doors it would be disastrous. “How many more keys are there? Search him.”

  The priest picked up the glass key and examined it. “It has magic.”

  A bunch of other keys was handed over along with some other objects.

  The man groaned as they were taken off him.

  She handed the keys to the priest to examine, then looked at the black rectangle. “What it this?”

  “My cell phone. I was hoping to find some better reception so I could call for help.”

  Keleti frowned. He was no fool. He was some kind of Southern spy. “You can call the army with this?”

  “What army?”

  She gave him a tight smile. “And what are these?”

  They didn’t feel like cloth and the writing was small and uniform and like no letters she’d ever seen—not even in intercepted Southern communications.

  “That is my mail. A power bill and some junk mail.”

  “You have a bill for power?” Did he have to pay for his freedom?

  “Electricity.” He glanced up. His lips parted as he started at the ceiling. “You don’t have electricity, or cell phone coverage.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “If I’m not dead…and I don’t feel dead…I have no idea where I am.” He drew in a breath. “Where am I, exactly?”

  “You are with the Telsila of the northern continent,” the priest said.

  The man glanced over. “But where is that?”

  Keleti glanced at the priest and they beckoned the guards and the man over to the table. She pointed at the two continents. “North, here. South. Where is Australia?”

  The man stared at the maps his gaze flicked over it as if not understanding. “It’s not there. This isn’t my world.” He looked up the priest. “I need the key. I have to get home.”

  Keleti didn’t give her priest a chance to speak. “There will be no going home. I will not have you bringing an army through to the heart of my city.”

  “Whatever your war is, I’m not involved.”

  Keleti was tempted to believe him. He didn’t quite fit. It wasn’t just the way he spoke—the Southerners had different accents—or the way he looked with his odd little rat ears and strange coloring. It was something else.

  Keleti wrinkled her nose as the scent of urine hit her. She glanced at the guard. “Go and get clean, you smell like a tanner.”

  The guard nodded and left.

  The man glanced around as if calculating the odds of escape. Keleti brushed her hand along the curved blade at her hip. It was as long as a hand and she was perfectly capable of gutting an attacker before they realized or had time to gather their spilling intestines. The priest made a similar move. And while his blade was ceremonial, that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to fight.

  “You have to let me go. People at home will realize I’m gone.”

  “That is not my concern.” To the priest she said, “take him to the temple. I will be there soon.”

  Just what she needed a spy, or a stranger in their midst. All she had was a few moments to eat, and to see her children. Now she had to deal with rat-ears.

  Everyone left the chamber. She stood in the silence.

  “Give me the strength not to fly away,” she muttered. Rat-ears could wait.

  She made her way to the kitchens to warn them not to use the main store room until they know nothing had been poisoned. She was given a plate of flat bread filled with meat and vegetables, and then she went and ate while she watched her three children practice their archery. Driska’s target was by far the furthest.

  When her daughter turned, her eyes were gleaming yellow. Keleti’s heart clenched. That was the first sign that a shift was possible. There was no way the invaders were getting her daughter. She needed to find out about that key and what they had planned.

  Three

  Bryce followed the priest through winding corridors, the guard at his back. When people saw him they stepped back. Did they really think he was one of those Southerners? Were the Southerners that dangerous? He was aware that he hadn’t been outside yet. They were still in what he guessed was the palace.

  How big was this place?

  He knew he had no chance of finding a way out on his own. He had to make these people believe that he wasn’t the enemy, but he had no idea how to do that because he didn’t know anything about them or their enemy.

  Every time he blinked he saw the maps of the strange world. Maybe their maps were wrong…or showing a really small area and that was why he didn’t recognize the shapes of the landmasses.

  But when he opened his eyes he saw the priest’s pointed ears, and when he lowered his gaze he saw the skirt with the split sides. Men and women wore exactly the same. The close fitting top and the skirt.

  Bryce was sweating in yesterday’s suit and shirt. His tie was probably at the bar. Maybe. He had no idea. His head was pounding and he could barely swallow his mouth was so dry.

  The priest pushed open a door and they went down a few stairs. Windows high up let in the light. There were unlit lamps on the walls. In from the wall there was a small fire on one side. A glass bowl of water on another. Colored rocks on a third, and on the last side an arrow with feathers hanging from it. Four sides. Four elements.

  This was their sacred space.

  Him being here didn’t feel good.

  Was he going to be sacrificed? He worked at the knots in the rope around his hands. The rope chaffed his skin, yet fear took away the pain. There was no way he was going to stand around and let them slit his throat. However, the only way he could get home was with the key, and the priest had that.

  He obviously wasn’t dead. This was like no afterlife he’d ever heard of. That meant that somehow he’d stepped through a door to somewhere else. And just like on TV, they all spoke En
glish…unless they didn’t and he was only hearing it as English. His brain couldn’t handle that possibility. The idea that he was on another world, or in a different dimension or something was hard enough to hold onto.

  The priest walked around the edge of the sacred space and led him into a smaller room. There was a low table in the middle set with refreshments. Including a jug of water. It took every ounce of will power not to race over and guzzle directly from the ceramic spout. He didn’t have the strength to take his eyes off the jug, or refrain from licking his lips.

  “Sit. Talk.” The priest gestured to one side of the table.

  The guard remained by the door, while the priest sat.

  The idea of drinking was too tempting, so Bryce sat. “Can I have a drink?”

  The priest poured him a cup. Bryce drank it and then held the cup out for more. He drank the second cup while the priest smiled in amusement.

  “You have the desert mouth from too much alcohol.” The priest fingered the glass key.

  “Yes. And the headache to match.” He didn’t want to be sitting here. He wanted to be waking up in his own bed from a truly bizarre dream. He worked at the rope around his wrists. The skin raw and painful in places, and he knew that he wasn’t going to wake up from this. He was awake.

  “That will not kill you.”

  It just felt that way with every heartbeat that thumped the inside of his skull.

  “Tell me about the key.” While the priest’s voice was friendly, there was no warmth in his eyes. Bryce didn’t like being on the wrong side of the table during questioning.

  “I told you. I found it. I didn’t mean to use it.” But he remembered the way it had ended up in his hand as though it had wanted to be used. No, he’d been drunk and clumsy, that was all. “I don’t know anything about it.” He wished he’d left it in the grass for the lawnmower to destroy.

  “You will be in trouble when they find it missing?”

  Bryce shook his head. “I don’t think anyone would believe me if I told them.”