The Testimony of Her Ladyship Magdelaine Lorma, Ipsissimal Mistress of the Bedchamber
The palace guards were completely unprepared for the attack because the enemy used teleportation. But how? That technology had been kept under the strictest secrecy.
It also meant that our enemies were pure humans, like myself. None of them had the sap of the Nau’gsh, and that had a further meaning. Nobody on Dolparessa was buying any of this. They knew the Archon wasn’t dead. The Convocation of the Forest was not about to drop their leaves and allow a sapling from another galaxy to rule over them.
Tara’s mother, Desada, battlequeen of Kyrae, also called the Terror of Nightside-Elsinore, made me promise that I would never wear a weapon in front of her baby girl. Desada had spent her whole life fighting and wanted something different for her daughter. She wanted Tara to know what it was like to be loved.
Somehow, that happened, but fighting happened too. And Tara wasn’t with me, and there was a perfectly good katana on the wall, the one that Tara’s great-grandfather used to behead the rebellious Earl of Southmarch.
“Put it down, Lady Lorma,” Christolea said. “I know you’re not part of this conspiracy. There’s no sense in losing your life over some sense of misguided loyalty, in a futile act to aid those who have slain your rightful lord and lady.”
Christolea inherited the Blood of the Matriarch. That meant she deserved a considered answer, befitting of her noble status. “I’m afraid, Most Panglorious Bearer of the Blood, that I’m going to have to tell you to fuck yourself.”
I took out four of them before a kick to the ribs made me drop my sword. I was scrambling to my feet when Christolea strode across the strong room, grabbing the Staff from its sacred case. “The end of an Aion,” she announced dramatically. “Initiate Aion.”
“Access denied,” said the Staff. “Current Aion is still in session.”
“What?” fumed Christolea. “I have the blood! You must respond to my command.”
“Ports 80, 127, 418, 1024, 6060 and 7277 are connected. Access denied.”
One of the warriors who accompanied Christolea advanced threateningly. “You lied,” she hissed.
Christolea shook her silver-tressed head in panic. “There’s something wrong,” she said. “The Staff is acting like the former Matriarch is still in contact with it. But as you can see, she clearly is not.”
“Or you’re another pretender, just like Guinnebar,” said a second. I recognized her: Battlequeen Vanthak. “You tried to depose the Matriarch once before. This is just another ploy.”
“No, I swear to you…” But it was too late. Vanthak stooped to retrieve the katana. With a deft flick of her wrist, she separated Christolea from her head. Before the Staff can fall, Vanthak plucked it from the air and handed it to me.
“Our apologies, Lady Lorma,” she said.
“Oho,” I said, gesturing at the room where the still twitching body of Christolea continued to spew out blood over the fine Chalkolo marble. “Do you think you can come in here and make a mess like this and go, without so much as a by-your-leave? Somebody’s going to clean this up!”