Free The Conqueror by Louis Shalako

cotton shift, letting it fall to the
ground. 
    Her body had been shaved, from head to
toe. Her skin burned with the cleanliness of it, shining red in the
glare of the flames when she looked down at herself, suddenly
self-conscious. All she wore were her sandals and a garland of
daisies around her head, her long, fine red hair intertwined and
holding it in place. Her toes were a reminder that she was as human
as anyone in the final analysis. No one was more fallible than the
Queen, for all things rode on her shoulders.
    When I fall, everything
falls.
    The perfumes she wore clogged the nose,
they were so strong, and yet it gave a life to the place, dead and
dark and full of dimly-perceived creeping things that squeaked and
rustled and moved about in the detritus of the cave floor. Even as
she looked dubiously at her sandaled feet, a large beetle, with
sparkling green shimmers on his back, ducked under a dead leaf
which quivered and crackled with barely perceptible
sound. 
    Her entire body had been oiled from
head to foot and most of her hair was tied in a rope that fell
straight down her back. She was white, white from chalk and gypsum
powder. She was chill, and yet thankful that as yet no sweat had
run down and spoiled her perfection.
    There was the High Priestess, eyes as
black as coals, looking solemn as she poured out a cup of blood and
wine. She set that aside on a small, one-legged stick-in table.
Taking a vial slung on a string around her neck, she opened it and
took a pinch of fine, charcoal-grey powder and put it into the
chalice. She then sprinkled the same incense into each flaming
sconce. She took one smaller torch, which had been sticking in the
ground at her feet, and lit it from a wall torch. She brought the
cup to Theodelinda, similarly prepared all in white body chalk, and
the obvious choice to accompany her Queen.
    “ Are you pure of heart?”
Those dark eyes studied first Theodelinda, and then Eleanora.
“Speak now.”
    The woman stepped back, for it was out
of her hands now.
    “ Yes,
Priestess.”
    Those eyes took in Theo.
    “ Yes, Mother. Our hearts
are pure.”
    “ Very well. Listen closely,
for the voices say many things, and not all of them are meant for
you.”
    She eyed Theo strangely for a
moment.
    Eleanora nodded. Theo
nodded. All she had to do was hold the torch, and presumably,
listen to the echoes, which were thought to be dead people speaking
from the other side of the wall of death. Why they would ever want
to come here, to
such a dismal place was a good question, but of course it was
supposedly the door to the underworld. It was a bad idea to laugh
hysterically, thought Theo, but what if I can’t help it? She
couldn’t help but note the thin edge of fear tickling the insides
of her belly. Ellie looked a million times worse, like a rabbit
confronted by the coyote.
    Eleanora was as ready as she was ever
going to get.
    She’d been through this once before, as
a little girl when all females of noble birth were
initiated.
    There were other initiates as well, but
their path was longer and based solely on merit. The woman before
her now was just such a one, purely a commoner and yet with the
most comprehensive mind—and few had ever doubted or questioned her
right to a position that most did not envy and few had ever aspired
to. Eleanora certainly hadn’t.
    “ Drink, my
child.”
    Theo’s eyes were big and round and with
a bit of white showing where it normally shouldn’t.
    Eleanora took the cup from her
cousin.
    Eleanora lifted the stained wooden
chalice, the smell stinging her nose like pure vinegar. The stuff
wasn’t quite as bad as might have been expected, although there was
quite a kick to it. There was even a vaguely dry, burgundy grape
taste somewhere in there. She handed it off to Theo, not even
looking at her. She was looking forward, into the red and black
tunnel before her, ridges of seamed and eroded rock looking putrid
and organic in the flickering and guttering