The Count of Castle Rock

Chapter XLV- Dark Queen

All around them, giant ugly misshapen caricatures of wizened women emerge from the gloom. Cackles fill the emptiness of the colossal space. Captain Carlos falls to the ground, tossing and flailing until he rests on his back. He stares up at the ceiling, The Queen's eyes re[lacing his own. Hans breathes in quick bursts like a diver preparing to delve deep. His eyes bulge, switching from his storm cloud grey to The Queen's eyes.

"Leesa," he croaks.

In defiance to the whispers of doubt creeping into her mind, Leesa grabs his hand. In a rush the voices stop as do the tremors in her farmboy's muscles. He meets her gaze and The Queen's blue recedes, his proper eye color stabilizing. Hans takes a deep breath, gripping Leesa's hand tight enough to hurt.

"Someone has taken the time to teach you how to order your thoughts, child," The Queen observes, her voice like sweet poison, inviting yet promising death. "I can see the way your mind fights against my words. I assure you, hardier men have died from less effort on my part." She chuckles and the shadows cackle. "You bear no Marks of Testing... maybe the son of a dabbler? No, you are an apprentice. Yet no master worth his salts would let such a neophyte mageling out of their sight... what a waste."

Shalafaral wriggles her colossal pinky and Captain Carlos releases a massive gasp, like a man starving for air. His chest heaves, his face red from the strain. His eyes begin to return to their normal hue. Done toying with him, the hag has given him his life for the moment. Leesa can't help but feel what remains of the expedition is on borrowed time.

"Who has trained you, young apprentice?" The Queen asks.

There is a shift in the room as much of the gloom and darkness retreats into the walls. The floors are littered with the remains of those unfortunates who had come before them. Bones and armor gone to rust create a carpet of decay. Everywhere Leesa looks, hags lean in, eager to hear the answer. Even Broomag, who has busied herself with poking and prodding Olivia, relents in her desire to know the answer to Shalafaral's question.

Hans clears his throat and answers, "Count Methuen of Castle Rock." Despite the fear that makes his hands shiver and his eyes dart from left to right, he speaks with pride.

The gathered hags react with a collective gasp of surprise. Many turn to The Queen. Some wear looks of shock, others looks of anticipation. Shalafaral, however, laughs. The throaty and seductive sound creates strange echoes off the walls, sounding almost like the squawking birds. Holding Hans's hand made Leesa feel strong and safe, but that feeling quickly erodes under the pressure of that laugh. Leesa realizes that whatever The Queen had done to Hans and Carlos has barely been a taste of her power.

With a laugh, Shalafaral shows she is more powerful and terrible than the expedition could imagine.

"Thueny, is that true?" The Queen's question fills Leesa's veins with ice. "After all of your posturing and oaths to the Wizard's Assembly to never take an apprentice, have you changed your mind?"

Queen Shalafaral moves her long fingers like a puppeteer driving a marionette, dancing them to imaginary music. She raises her hands dramatically and then slowly lowers them. Chains drop down from the darkness above, hitting the ground in a chorus of clanging metal links. Length after length descends, pooling together in a pile of iron at the base of the steps between the expedition and the throne. The sound of a hundred feet of chain drowns out all others, filling the empty space until the last link lands.

The pile stirs then spills away as a figure rises out. Disheveled and harried, Count Methuen is a filthy mess. Clothes stained and soiled, he looks like he hasn't seen a razor or a bath in more than a month. Ugly bruises mar his malnourished form, but under the chains and abuse his arrogance and defiance shines through.