Amelia was grateful to see Ibris growing larger in the windows of the witchpit. The moon had been named for the god of fall, fire and smithing. The red, iron-rich surface was inhabited by dwarves, who mined for ore. That was smelted into metal and sent up to Ice Palace Sixty-Eight, for sale to the other inhabited moons. Ibris was one of the wealthiest worlds orbiting Junas and Amelia hoped the might of the dwarves would be enough to repel the Dead Queen. She expected to find refuge there.
She also hoped the resident Newt Witches would help her sisters, though she’d always been reluctant to speak with them, for fear of The Book of Newts coming up in conversation. If rumor was true, then The Order of Newts had once owned The Book and they were searching for it. She didn’t want them to take it from her, because she hadn’t learned all she could from it. Great care would have to be taken to ensure it remained hidden.
Twenty minutes later, Starwitch was safely parked in the port’s docking bay, with a three hour wait for the bay to pressurize, during which Amelia and Marta were both rather impatient. Amelia passed the time by finding a good hiding place for The Book, while Marta continued to meditate.
One of the resident Newt Witches that lived in the port climbed the rope ladder of Starwitch, while Amelia gave her a hand for the last portion of the climb.
The woman wore red from head to toe, including a dress under an open-fronted robe, which included a hood. She also wore gloves and a mask. The mask was round and featureless, aside from a pair of eye slits. Amelia met the witch’s gaze and noted she had blue eyes, though she also wore a little red eyeliner, which only added to the woman’s mystique. One errant, brown curl was visible around the edge of the mask. Amelia couldn’t help but notice the witch’s attire was all the exact shade of blood.
She was followed by the Port Commander, Orgic Whitjaw, a dwarf with a bushy, blond beard, that wore a heavy, black coat.
“Thank you for coming.” Amelia bowed to her masked guest.
“I only hope I can be of assistance.” The Newt Witch bowed, in turn, “I’m told one of your sisters is suffering from a necromantic affliction and the other may be dying of withdrawal from pleasure spells that were used for interrogation.”
“Yes.” Amelia nodded.
“I must know the context to help with the necromantic affliction. What happened?”
Amelia told a brief version of the story before she led the way to crew quarters, where both patients waited, explaining the way the Dead Queen had exchanged a piece of her soul for a piece of Marta’s. Amelia didn’t notice, because her back was turned, but the Newt Witch visibly flinched at the mention of the Dead Queen.
Iris still lay in bed, while Marta sat at the small, round table the sisters used for meals. Bones lay on the floor, at her feet. The intensity of the glow from his eyes increased as his suspicious gaze fell upon the red-clad witch, though he made no other move.
Marta looked up as the Newt Witch stepped closer.
She asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Nothing like myself.” Marta admitted, “I’m trying to hold onto who I am, but I’m lost in a sea of another woman’s memories and the more of them I experience, the less like myself I feel.”
The witch produced a small, mythril rod from a pocket, which was marked in runes related to blood, bone and spirit, the three cornerstones of necromancy. Amelia was bothered by the dark magic of the device, but hypothetically, the best way to counter dark magic was with more of the same. The rod was pressed to Marta’s forehead and held there.
“Hold still and try to focus on your own memories.” The witch instructed, “Choose a pleasant one that’s entirely your own and hold yourself in it for as long as you can.”
Amelia sensed a swirling mixture of black magic in the air, as blood, bone and spirit magic mixed. After a short while, the blood and bone portions tapered off, leaving only spirit magic. Everyone was quiet for two full minutes, before the witch stopped whatever she was doing, withdrew the device and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.” She declared, “Your soul and that of the Dead Queen have become hopelessly intertwined. If you’d come to me sooner, I might have been able to help, but the two of you are almost one and the same, at least in spirit.”
Based on the Queen’s extensive knowledge of necromancy, Marta had already known the truth, but she’d hoped for a different answer. Tears freely rolled down her cheeks as the unpleasant news settled in.
“Is there nothing you can do for me?” She asked.
The witch sighed, “Embrace your own feelings, especially your tears. Eschew rage and jealousy. From every story I’ve heard, the Queen is a remorseless creature of spite and malice, to her core, so you must embrace anything and everything that is opposite to that, whether it belongs to you, or not.”
“So, be everything that she isn’t?”
“That’s a start, but you have to go further. There’s two sides to every coin, a negative to every positive. In a battle of souls, the strongest always wins, but the two sides must remain opposite, lest she that started the battle win by default. You must embrace her memories, without embracing her negative emotions.
“Regardless, you must crush her spirit, face to face, then kill her. If anyone else kills her, she’s likely to become a vengeful ghost, with a penchant for consuming living souls.”
Marta shook her head, in disbelief, but nodded, “Thank you. That certainly clarifies things for me. The Queen isn’t sure how I might win, because no one has ever beaten her. I just wish it wasn’t such a tall order.”
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The Newt Witch nodded, “Take the best of her for yourself and abandon the worst of yourself. Be the best that you can be. If you can, forgive her. Fight her with compassion and love.”
Marta bowed her head, “Thank you.”
Anna Brack, the Newt Witch, was grateful she wore a mask, because her expression beneath it would have betrayed the hopelessness she felt regarding Marta’s current plight. She was going to lose her soul, one way or another, unless the Queen was killed, which seemed like too much to expect of the Blackwell sisters.
In point of fact, Anna was terrified to know she was in the same room as three witches that had defeated the Dead Queen,without killing her, because in so doing, they’d painted a target on their own backs. It only made things worse that they’d also stolen the Queen’s dog.
Anna had no desire to shut the Blackwell sisters out, but she had to think of the bigger picture. Instructions from The Order of Newts were clear: the Dead Queen was far too dangerous to oppose and it was best to take no direct action in such matters. However, that awful declaration would have to wait, because Anna had one more patient to see to.
Ironically, the Order knew Amelia had The Book of Newts, because they’d been watching her rather closely. If Amelia publicly admitted to owning it, that would change everything, because the Order had originally been established to serve the Book’s owner. Unfortunately, they’d gotten complacent and forgotten The Book’s persistent desire for greater knowledge, leading it to arrange its own escape.
As the chosen owner, Amelia would have been given the full support of the Order, but she had to openly admit to possessing The Book, which she seemed disinclined to do. If she ever spoke that truth, she would be immediately made Matron of the Order. Nonetheless, nothing could be done for the sisters, so long as Amelia refused to admit she had The Book.
If only she knew, then the full strength of the entire Order might have been organized to come down on the Dead Queen like a ton a bricks. It would have been a bloody battle with an uncertain outcome, but it would have been in service to The Book’s owner. To Anna’s way of thinking, it would be better to fight and die for Amelia, than to allow The Book to fall into pirate hands, yet again, a state of affairs that had persisted for about a thousand years, prior to Amelia receiving it. The Order refused to follow a pirate, because that could only lead to total anarchy.
Iris looked up at the red-clad witch as the woman knelt and placed the little necromantic rod on her forehead. The metal of it felt cool and pleasant.
Iris muttered, “Iris Blackwell, Specialist, L-F-7-5-9-0-2.”
She wasn’t in pain, because her name, rank and serial number was keeping her in a hypnotic state, but she couldn’t do much for the sweating, fever, chills, trembling fits and nausea.
“And you?” The Newt Witch asked.
“I’m dying.” Iris admitted, because she was the most skilled doctor of the three sisters and knew exactly how screwed she was.
“Yes, but there’s hope for you.” The witch withdrew the little mythril device and stood up, facing Amelia and Marta, before she asked, “Are either of you able to use blood magic?”
Marta raised a hand, “I learned it from my connection to the Dead Queen.”
“You’ll have to use it on Iris. Wait until she’s at the brink of death, then use the same pleasure magic on her that got her into this state, but give her only enough to keep her alive. Keep doing so, until she’s out of the woods. It may take three or four brushes with death to carry her through this.”
Iris paused her mantra to ask, “So I have to get worse, before I get better?”
“I’m sorry, but there’s no other way.” The Newt Witch bowed her head, “I wish I had better answers for you.”
“Thank you.” Amelia offered a hand to the Newt Witch.
The red-clad woman shook her head and didn’t take the offered hand, instead sighing, “I’m sorry I have to do this, but the three of you are now persona non grata at all Ice Palaces. You may briefly stop to refuel and take on supplies, but you can stay no longer than three hours. Until you’ve permanently dealt with the Dead Queen, you’re a danger to everyone you come into contact with; not even the might of an Ice Palace will be adequate protection.” She turned to Orgic, “Port Commander Whitjaw, see to their needs, then get them out of here as soon as possible. Any extra expense for their hasty departure is to be paid for out of their accounts.”
The witch pointedly turned away and strode to the doorway, where she waited for Orgic. Amelia felt as if the floor had suddenly vanished away and she was in free-fall! Glancing at Marta only made her feel worse, because she looked even more depressed than Amelia.
Iris gave Amelia a resigned look, then muttered, “We’ll find a way.”
Orgic, who Amelia had considered a friend since the day they’d first met, looked to the floor, his hands clenched with impotent rage.
“Me’s sorry.” The dwarf shed a bitter tear, “Me knows ye were just doing a job at the time, but ye made me so happy ye brought me oranges the last time ye were here and ye has no idea how much that meant to me! As soon as me heard ye fought the pirate queen, me planned to call in every favor me could, to back ye up, but me can’t go against a Newt Witch. No one can, aside from maybe the Dead Queen.” Tears flowed more freely, which was quite rare for a dwarf, “Are ye in need of any supplies? Me’ll see to yer needs with haste.”
“Water.” Amelia quietly admitted, “We need our fuel tanks filled.”
“Anything else?” Orgic was clearly desperate for some option to lend a hand.
Amelia glared at the backside of the Newt Witch, then leaned close to Orgic, to whisper, “Is there anywhere we could go for help?”
“Try Katuna.” He whispered back.
Amelia had never been to Katuna, though she’d once visited Ice Palace One for a delivery, which orbited that moon. Katuna had been named for the goddess of conquest and war, because the people that lived there were extremely militant. Their chief export had always been the finest of swords, particularly an eastern style of blade known as a katana. The Twilight Flame, a prominent merchant house that mostly sold weapons, had its headquarters there.
She nodded, “Any other suggestions?”
“Avoid going anywhere near Nuva. That’s the Queen’s home territory.”
Nuva was a dead moon that had been named for the goddess of the afterlife, which was used primarily as a funerary world. Despite the fact the atmosphere had no oxygen, requiring a mask just to survive, most everyone that died in space was shipped there for burial, as the means to keep common traffic lanes clear of debris. In essence, Nuva was full of graveyards, crypts and entire cities dedicated to the dead. According to rumor, it had once been a lush world, but volcanic activity had blotted out the sun, until all plant life perished.
After a moment’s silence, Orgic quietly added, “Get to Katuna and make yer stand there, but take the scenic route. It might cost me dearly, but me will call in those favors and the Order be-” he cursed, “Me won’t abandon a friend!”
Amelia nodded with gratitude, “Thank you.”
“And don’t ye be worrying about paying for the water.” Orgic winked, “She told me to see to yer needs, after all, an oversight she’ll have to pay for, personally.”
He turned away and followed the red-clad witch out.
“What did he say?” Iris asked, once both of them were out of the ship.
“He was expressing his frustration he couldn’t do more to help us.” Amelia lied, because she was concerned the Queen might be eavesdropping through Marta, then went on, “Since we didn’t find help here, I want to visit a few friends that may help us. I’ve got a few destinations in mind, but first, I think we should visit Black Palace, since the Port Commander still owes us for that little favor we did for him…”
