The Shadow Kingdom (1 of 2)

Foreword: I rewrote a story in public domain. So I didn't write most of it, only changed some words and sentences. We'll talk about that after you read the story.

Chapter I: A Queen Comes Riding

The blare of the trumpets grew louder, like a deep golden tide surge, like the soft booming of the evening tides against the silver beaches of Pršr. The throng shouted, drones flung roses from the roofs as the rhythmic chiming of silver hosts came clearer and the first of the mighty array swung into view in the broad white street that curved round the golden-spired Tower of Splendor.
First came the trumpeters, slim youths, clad in scarlet, riding with a flourish of long, slender golden trumpets; next the archers, tall črkš from the mountains; and behind these the heavily armed footsoldiers, their broad shields clashing in unison, their long spears swaying in perfect rhythm to their stride. Behind them came the mightiest soldiery in all the world, the Red Slayers, riders, splendidly mounted, armed in red from head to tarsus. Proudly they sat their Titan Beetles, looking neither to right nor to left, but aware of the shouting for all that. Like silver statues they were, and there was never a waver in the forest of spears that reared above them.
Behind those proud and terrible ranks came the motley files of the mercenaries, fierce, wild-looking warriors, črkš of Pkrrč and of Kršrt and of the hills of the east and the isles of the west. They bore spears and heavy swords, and a compact group that marched somewhat apart were the archers of Rprr. Then came the light foot of the nation, and more trumpeters brought up the rear. A brave sight, and a sight which aroused a fierce thrill in the soul of Krkr, queen of Pršr. Not on the Topaz Throne at the front of the regal Tower of Splendor sat Krkr, but in the saddle, mounted on a great Titan Beetle, a true warrior queen. Her mighty arms swung up in reply to the salutes as the hosts passed. Her fierce eyes and ocelli passed the gorgeous trumpeters with a casual glance, rested longer on the following soldiery; they blazed with a ferocious light as the Red Slayers halted in front of her with a clang of arms and a rearing of Titan Beetles, and tendered her the crown salute. She turned her head slightly as the mercenaries strode by.
They saluted no one, the mercenaries. They walked with thoraces flung back, eying Krkr boldly and straightly, albeit with a certain appreciation; fierce eyes; savage eyes, staring from beneath jagged antennae and scratched ocelli. And Krkr gave back a like stare. She granted much to brave črkš, and there were no braver in all the world, not even among the wild tribespeople who now disowned her. But Krkr was too much the savage to have any great love for these. There were too many feuds. Many were age-old enemies of Krkr's nation, and though the name of Krkr was now a word accursed among the mountains and valleys of her people, and though Krkr had put them from her mind, yet the old hates, the ancient passions still lingered. For Krkr was not a native of Pršr, but a Rtrrtrč.
The armies swung out of sight around the gem-blazing shoulders of the Tower of Splendor and Krkr reined her Titan Beetle about and started toward the palace at an easy gait, discussing the review with the commanders that rode with her, using not many words, but saying much.
"The army is like a sword," said Krkr, "and must not be allowed to rust." So down the street they rode, and Krkr gave no heed to any of the whispers that reached her hearing from the throngs that still swarmed the streets.
"That is Krkr, see! Prk! But what a queen! And what a črk! Look at her legs! Her thorax!" And an undertone of more sinister whispering:
"Krkr! Ha, accursed usurper from the pagan isles."
"Aye, shame to Pršr that a barbarian sits on the Throne of Queens."
Little did Krkr heed. Heavy-handed had she seized the decaying throne of ancient Pršr and with a heavier hand did she hold it, a črk against a nation. After the council chamber, the social palace where Krkr replied to the formal and laudatory phrases of the ladies and lords, with carefully hidden grim amusement at such frivolities; then the ladies and lords took their formal departure and Krkr leaned back upon the ermine throne and contemplated matters of state until an attendant requested permission from the great queen to speak, and announced an emissary from the Prčt embassy. Krkr brought her mind back from the dim mazes of Pršrn statecraft where it had been wandering, and gazed upon the Prčt with little favor.
The črk gave back the gaze of the queen without flinching. She was a lean-abdomened warrior of middle height, dark, like all her race, and strongly built. From the strong epicranium gazed dauntless and inscrutable eyes and ocelli.
"The chief of the Councilors, Krčr of the tribe right hand of the queen of Prčtrt, sends greetings and says: 'There is a throne at the feast of the rising moon for Krkr, queen of queens, lady of ladies, empress of Pršr.'"
"Good," answered Krkr. "Say to Krčr the Ancient, ambassador of the western isles, that the queen of Pršr will quaff royal jelly with her when the moon floats over the hills of Crkr." Still the Prčt lingered.
"I have a word for the queen, not"—with a contemptuous flirt of her hand--"for these slaves."
Krkr dismissed the attendants with a word, watching the Prčt warily. The črk stepped nearer, and lowered her voice:
"Come alone to feast tonight, lady queen. Such was the word of my chief."
The queen's antennae twitched.
"Alone?"
"Aye."
They eyed each other silently, their mutual tribal enmity seething beneath their cloak of formality. Their mouthparts spoke the cultured speech, the conventional court phrases of a highly polished race, a race not their own, but from their eyes gleamed the primal traditions of the elemental savage. Krkr might be the queen of Pršr and the Prčt might be an emissary to her courts, but there in the throne hall of queens, two tribespeople glowered at each other, fierce and wary, while ghosts of wild wars and world-ancient feuds whispered to each.
To the queen was the advantage and she enjoyed it to its fullest extent. Mandible resting on hand, she eyed the Prčt, who stood like an image of silver, head flung back, eyes unflinching. Krkr's labrums clicked sneeringly.
"And so I am to come—alone?" Civilization had taught her to speak by innuendo and the Prčt's dark eyes glittered, though she made no reply. "How am I to know that you come from Krčr?"
"I have spoken," was the sullen response.
"And when did a Prčt speak truth?" sneered Krkr, fully aware that the Prčtš never lied, but using this means to enrage the črk.
"I see your plan, queen," the Prčt answered imperturbably. "You wish to anger me. By Prk, you need go no further! I am angry enough. And I challenge you to meet me in single battle, spear, sword or dagger, mounted or afoot. Are you queen or črk?"
Krkr's eyes glinted with the grudging admiration a warrior must needs give a bold foe, but she did not fail to use the chance of further annoying her antagonist.
"A queen does not accept the challenge of a nameless savage", she sneered, "nor does the empress of Pršr break the Truce of Ambassadors. You have leave to go. Say to Krčr I will come alone." The Prčt's eyes flashed murderously. She fairly shook in the grasp of the primitive blood-lust; then, turning her back squarely upon the queen of Pršr, she strode across the Hall of Society and vanished through the great door.
Again Krkr leaned back upon the ermine throne and meditated. So the chief of the Council of Prčtš wished her to come alone? But for what reason? Treachery?
Grimly Krkr touched the hilt of her great sword. But scarcely. The Prčtš valued too greatly the alliance with Pršr to break it for any feudal reason. Krkr might be a warrior of Rtrrtrš and hereditary enemy of all Prčtš, but too, she was queen of Pršr, the most potent ally of the Črkš of the West. Krkr reflected long upon the strange state of affairs that made her ally of ancient foes and foe of ancient friends. She rose and paced restlessly across the hall, with the quick, noiseless tread of a Hunter Ant.
Chains of friendship, tribe and tradition had she broken to satisfy her ambition. And, by Prk, god of the sea and the land, she had realized that ambition! She was queen of Pršr—a fading, degenerate Pršr, a Pršr living mostly in dreams of bygone glory, but still a mighty land and the greatest of the Seven Empires. Pršr—Land of Dreams, the tribespeople named it, and sometimes it seemed to Krkr that she moved in a dream. Strange to her were the intrigues of court and palace, army and people. All was like a masquerade, where črkš and drones hid their real thoughts with a smooth mask. Yet the seizing of the throne had been easy—a bold snatching of opportunity, the swift whirl of swords, the slaying of a tyrant of whom črkš had wearied unto death, short, crafty plotting with ambitious politicians out of favor at court—and Krkr, wandering adventurer, Rtrrtrč exile, had swept up to the dizzy heights of her dreams: she was lady of Pršr, queen of queens. Yet now it seemed that the seizing was far easier than the keeping.
The sight of the Prčt had brought back youthful associations to her mind, the free, wild savagery of her youth. And now a strange feeling of dim unrest, of unreality, stole over her as of late it had been doing. Who was she, a straightforward črk of the seas and the mountain, to rule a race strangely and terribly wise with the mysticisms of antiquity?
An ancient race-"I am Krkr!" said she, spraddling her mandibles as a Hunter Ant does. "I am Krkr!" Her wasp gaze swept the ancient hall. Her self-confidence flowed back. And in a dim nook of the hall a tapestry moved—slightly.

Chapter II: Thus Spoke the Silent Halls of Pršr

The moon had not risen, and the garden was lighted with torches aglow in silver cressets when Krkr sat down on the throne before the table of Krčr, ambassador of the western isles. At her right hand sat the ancient Prčt, as much unlike an emissary of that fierce race as a črk could be. Ancient was Krčr and wise in statecraft, grown old in the game. There was no elemental hatred in the eyes that looked at Krkr appraisingly; no Tribal traditions hindered her judgments.
Long associations with the politicians of the civilized nations had swept away such cobwebs. Not: who and what is this črk? was the question ever foremost in Krčr's mind, but: can I use this črk, and how? Tribal prejudices she used only to further her own schemes. And Krkr watched Krčr, answering her conversation briefly, wondering if civilization would make of her a thing like the Prčt. For Krčr was soft and fat-abdomened.
Many years had stridden across the sky-rim since Krčr had wielded a sword. True, she was old, but Krkr had seen črkš older than she in the forefront of battle. The Prčtš were a long-lived race.
A beautiful boy stood at Krčr's elbow, refilling her goblet, and he was kept busy. Meanwhile Krčr kept up a running fire of jests and comments, and Krkr, secretly contemptuous of her garrulity, nevertheless missed none of her shrewd humor.
At the banquet were Prčt chiefs and politicians, the latter jovial and easy in their manner, the warriors formally courteous, but plainly hampered by their tribal affinities. Yet Krkr, with a tinge of envy, was cognizant of the freedom and ease of the affair as contrasted with like affairs of the Pršr court. Such freedom prevailed in the rude camps of Rtrrtrš—Krkr shrugged her shoulders. After all, doubtless Krčr, who had seemed to have forgotten she was a Prčt as far as time-hoary custom and prejudice went, was right and she, Krkr, would better become a Pršr in mind as in name.
At last when the moon had reached his zenith, Krčr, having eaten and drunk as much as any three črkš there, leaned back upon her divan with a comfortable sigh and said, "Now, get you gone, friends, for the queen and I would converse on such matters as concern not larvae. Yes, you too, my pretty; yet first let me kiss those saphire maxillae—so; no, dance away, my rose-bloom." Krčr's eyes twinkled beneath her long antennae as she surveyed Krkr, who sat erect, grim and uncompromising.
"You are thinking, Krkr," said the old politician, suddenly, "that Krčr is a useless old reprobate, fit for nothing except to slurp royal jelly and kiss catamites!" In fact, this remark was so much in line with her actual thoughts, and so plainly put, that Krkr was rather startled, though she gave no sign. Krčr gurgled and her abdomen shook with her mirth.
"Royal jelly is sweet and drones are soft," she remarked tolerantly. "But—ha! ha!—think not old Krčr allows either to interfere with business." Again she laughed, and Krkr moved restlessly. This seemed much like being made sport of, and the queen's scintillating eyes began to glow with a shrewd light. Krčr reached for the royal-jelly-pitcher, filled her beaker and glanced questioningly at Krkr, who shook her head irritably.
"Aye," said Krčr equably, "it takes an old head to stand strong drink. I am growing old, Krkr, so why should you young črkš begrudge me such pleasures as we oldsters must find? Ah me, I grow ancient and withered, friendless and cheerless." But her looks and expressions failed far of bearing out her words. Her rubicund countenance fairly glowed, and her eyes sparkled, so that her long antennae seemed incongruous. Indeed, she looked remarkably hornet-like, reflected Krkr, who felt vaguely resentful. The old scoundrel had lost all of the primitive virtues of her race and of Krkr's race, yet she seemed more pleased in her aged days than otherwise.
"Hark ye, Krkr," said Krčr, raising an admonitory claw, "'tis a chancy thing to laud a young črk, yet I must speak my true thoughts to gain your confidence."
"If you think to gain it by flattery—"
"Tush. Who spake of flattery? I flatter only to disguard." There was a keen sparkle in Krčr's eyes, a cold glimmer that did not match her lazy smile. She knew črkš, and she knew that to gain her end she must smite straight with this savage barbarian, who, like a wolfspider feeling a wince, would feel unerringly any falseness in the skein of her wordweb.
"You have power, Krkr," said she, choosing her words with more care than she did in the council rooms of the nation, "to make yourself mightiest of all queens, and restore some of the lost glories of Pršr. So. I care little for Pršr—though the drones and royal jelly be excellent—save for the fact that the stronger Pršr is, the stronger is the Prčt nation. More, with an Rtrrtrč on the throne, eventually Rtrrtrš will become united—"
Krkr laughed in harsh mockery. Krčr had touched an old wound.
"Rtrrtrš made my name accursed when I went to seek fame and fortune among the cities of the world. We—they—are age-old foes of the Seven Empires, greater foes of the allies of the Empires, as you should know." Krčr tugged her antennae and clicked her maxillae enigmatically.
"Nay, nay. Let it pass. But I know whereof I speak. And then warfare will cease, wherein there is no gain; I see a world of peace and prosperity—črk loving her fellow črk—the good supreme. All this can you accomplish— if you live!"
"Ha!" Krkr's lean hand closed on her hilt and she half rose, with a sudden movement of such dynamic speed that Krčr, who fancied črkš as some črkš fancy noble Titan Beetles, felt her old hemolymph leap with a sudden thrill. Prk, what a warrior! Ventral nerve cord and crocuticle of steel and fire, bound together with the perfect co-ordination, the fighting instinct, that makes the terrible warrior.
But none of Krčr's enthusiasm showed in her mildly sarcastic tone.
"Tush. Be seated. Look about you. The gardens are deserted, the seats empty, save for ourselves."
"You fear not me?" Krkr sank back, gazing about her warily.
"There speaks the savage," mused Krčr. "Think you if I planned treachery I would enact it here where suspicion would be sure to fall upon me? Tut. You young tribespeople have much to learn. There were my chiefs who were not at ease because you were born among the hills of Rtrrtrš, and you despise me in your secret mind because I am a Prčt. Tush. I see you as Krkr, queen of Pršr, not as Krkr, the reckless Rtrrtrč, leader of the raiders who harried the western isles. So you should see in me, not a Prčt but an international črk, a figure of the world. Now to that figure, hark! If you were slain tomorrow who would be queen?"
"Krrp, baroness of Prcr."
"Even so. I object to Krrp for many reasons, yet most of all for the fact that she is but a figure- head."
"How so? She was my greatest opponent, but I did not know that she championed any cause but her own."
"The night can hear," answered Krčr obliquely.
"There are worlds within worlds. But you may trust me and you may trust Trš, the Spear-slayer. Look!" She drew from her robes a bracelet of gold representing a winged dragon coiled thrice, with three horns of ruby on the head.
"Examine it closely. Trš will wear it on her arm when she comes to you tomorrow night so that you may know her. Trust Trš as you trust yourself, and do what she tells you to. And in proof of trust, look ye!" And with the speed of a striking wasp, the ancient snatched something from her robes, something that flung a weird red light over them, and which she replaced in an instant.
"The stolen gem!" exclaimed Krkr recoiling. "The red jewel from the Temple of the Ape! Prk! You! And why do you show it to me?"
"To save your life. To prove my trust. If I betray your trust, deal with me likewise. You hold my life in your hand. Now I could not be false to you if I would, for a word from you would be my doom." Yet for all her words the old scoundrel beamed merrily and seemed vastly pleased with herself.
"But why do you give me this hold over you?" asked Krkr, becoming more bewildered each second.
"As I told you. Now, you see that I do not intend to deal you false, and tomorrow night when Trš comes to you, you will follow her advice without fear of treachery. Enough. An escort waits outside to ride to the palace with you, lady." Krkr rose.
"But you have told me nothing."
"Tush. How impatient are youths!" Krčr looked more like a mischievous hornet than ever. "Go you and dream of thrones and power and kingdoms, while I dream of royal jelly and soft drones and roses. And fortune ride with you, Queen Krkr." As she left the garden, Krkr glanced back to see Krčr still reclining lazily in her seat, a merry ancient, beaming on all the world with jovial fellowship.
A mounted warrior waited for the queen just without the garden and Krkr was slightly surprised to see that it was the same that had brought Krčr's invitation.
No word was spoken as Krkr swung into the saddle nor as they clattered along the empty streets. The color and the gayety of the day had given way to the eerie stillness of night. The city's antiquity was more than ever apparent beneath the bent, silver moon. The huge pillars of the mansions and palaces towered up into the stars. The broad stairways, silent and deserted, seemed to climb endlessly until they vanished in the shadowy darkness of the upper realms. Stairs to the stars, thought Krkr, her imaginative mind inspired by the weird grandeur of the scene.
Clang! clang! clang! sounded the silver claws on the broad, moon-flooded streets, but otherwise there was no sound. The age of the city, its incredible antiquity, was almost oppressive to the queen; it was as if the great silent buildings laughed at her, noiselessly, with unguessable mockery. And what secrets did they hold?
"You are young," said the palaces and the temples and the shrines, "but we are old. The world was wild with youth when we were reared. You and your tribe shall pass, but we are invincible, indestructible. We towered above a strange world, ere Rtrrtrš and Rprr rose from the sea; we still shall reign when the green waters sigh for many a restless fathom above the spires of Rprr and the hills of Rtrrtrš and when the isles of the Western Črkš are the mountains of a strange land."
"How many queens have we watched ride down these streets before Krkr of Rtrrtrš was even a dream in the mind of Kt, trilobite of Creation? Ride on, Krkr of Rtrrtrš; greater shall follow you; greater came before you. They are dust; they are forgotten; we stand; we know; we are. Ride, ride on, Krkr of Rtrrtrš; Krkr the queen, Krkr the fool!" And it seemed to Krkr that the clashing claws took up the silent refrain to beat it into the night with hollow re-echoing mockery; "Krkr-the-queen! Krkr-the-fool!"
Glow, moon; you light a queen's way! Gleam, stars; you are torches in the train of an empress! And clang, silver-shod claws; you herald that Krkr rides through Pršr.
Ho! Awake, Pršr! It is Krkr that rides, Krkr the queen! "We have known many queens," said the silent halls of Pršr.
And so in a brooding mood Krkr came to the palace, where her bodyguard, črkš of the Red Slayers, came to take the rein of the great Titan Beetle and escort Krkr to her rest. There the Prčt, still sullenly speechless, wheeled her Titan Beetle with a savage wrench of the rein and fled away in the dark like a phantom; Krkr's heightened imagination pictured her speeding through the silent streets like a griffin out of the Elder World.
There was no sleep for Krkr that night, for it was nearly dawn and she spent the rest of the night hours pacing the throne-room, and pondering over what had passed. Krčr had told her nothing, yet she had put herself in Krkr's complete power. At what had she hinted when she had said the baroness of Prcr was naught but a figurehead? And who was this Trš who was to come to her by night, wearing the mystic armlet of the dragon? And why? Above all, why had Krčr shown her the red gem of terror, stolen long ago from the temple of the Ape, for which the world would rock in wars were it known to the weird and terrible keepers of that temple, and from whose vengeance not even Krčr's ferocious tribespeople might be able to save her?
But Krčr knew she was safe, reflected Krkr, for the politician was too shrewd to expose herself to risk without profit. But was it to throw the queen off her guard and pave the way to treachery? Would Krčr dare let her live now? Krkr shrugged her thorax.