by Jayden Woods
*
They made their way into the hallway and beyond it. Sean followed Picard’s lead, for he had trouble seeing straight. He wanted to rip the lenses out of his eyes. He wanted to tear off these foolish clothes and don his Wolven suit. Then he wanted to kill anyone and everyone who got in his way.
Only one thing kept him from doing so. For underneath the rage, underneath the flow of destructive power flowing through him, he desired something different than killing. He wanted Princess Fayr. And if he killed Prince Kyne, or Picard, without planning carefully enough ...
“Here we are.” Picard had brought them to the Fountain Foyer, full of spraying water and ridiculous statues. But more importantly, no people lurked in earshot. Picard stopped and turned to face him. “Now Sean. Are you well?”
Sean didn’t respond.
“You don’t look so good.”
Sean glared at him, breathing raggedly through clenched teeth.
“Your lenses are wearing a bit thin, I think. A little red’s showing through. Or perhaps it’s my imagination. You want to kill Prince Kyne, don’t you?” The name alone made Sean flinch. “I understand. I am sorry about that. But you have to understand, I can’t let you do that until you give me something useful.”
“You fucking worm,” snarled Sean. “This wouldn’t be an issue if you hadn’t made me swear an oath. Do you aim to torture me?”
Picard made a strange expression, twisted with mock sadness and unrestrained glee. “Well, I assure you that wasn’t my direct goal, at least.”
“Are you torturing that girl in your room?”
“I don’t like the word torture,” said Picard. “It’s more like an experiment.”
“Are you raping her? What?”
“No.” Picard sighed. “Even if I wanted to ... she just doesn’t interest me enough, I suppose.”
Sean grabbed Picard’s tunic and shook him hard. An uncanny strength filled his limbs. He could have lifted the archon from the earth and not broken a sweat. He leaned close and hissed, “When this is over ...”
The archon trembled in his grip, but the gleam never left his eyes. “You’d be wise not to threaten me, Sean. Not when the princess herself asked the khan to bring you to her in chains.”
“What?”
“Fayr knows a Wolven is probably out to get her. She knows my father might be able to catch him. And so she asked him to do so. He is considering.”
Sean drew back completely. He didn’t like things to get this complicated. Why couldn’t it just stay simple? “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to remember I am the mediator here. I am your friend so long as you remain mine. And I do like being your friend, Sean. Did you take care of that Chief Darius like I asked you to? I am very, very pleased.”
“What?” Sean’s head hurt. “Do you think I killed him?”
Picard’s face fell. “Didn’t you?”
Sean growled with rage and shoved the archon away from him. “That has nothing to do with this!”
“Oh, well, I would disagree. But in any case, I can see you’re overwhelmed. Let’s get back to the basics. Kyne.”
Sean grabbed a statue and scraped his nails against the stone.
“Have you learned anything from him or not?”
“Yes.” Sean took a deep, rattling breath. “Yes. He wears a key around his neck.”
“A key?”
“I think it’s the key to the dungeon.”
“Oh. Oh yes, I see.” Picard’s cheeks bulged as he restrained his delight. He turned and started pacing. “Oh this is very good. Very good news, Sean. I think he may know how to do it, after all.”
“Do what?”
“MAKE SAFRA!” Picard’s grin vanished almost as quickly as it came. He turned to face the Wolven and a new tone entered his voice: anger. “You fucking fool, do you even remember why I hired you? What the fuck is wrong with you? Is it the safra? Are you taking your Discipline?” He reached up with his gloved hand and jabbed Sean in the forehead. “Don’t tell me the safra gets to you, too!”
Sean stared back at him. And something in his eyes made Picard retreat.
“Or perhaps it’s Belazar?” Picard’s soft throat rippled with a gulp. “Yes, that is my fault. Well then, let’s not keep him waiting for any longer than necessary. We have two very big pieces of the puzzle, Sean. You know—or suspect, quite rightfully—that Kyne wears the key to the dungeons around his neck. I hear that his father did the same thing. It’s hardly even a mystery that the Haze comes from the dungeons; it’s obvious enough to anyone with two eyes, at least. So we know where to go. And as for what to do, I suspect Kyne holds the key for that as well—in the figurative sense, of course. I heard him say something tonight, something very interesting. He said something bad would happen to us if we stayed in Dearen against the princess’s wishes. Then he said: Krenzi u morde.”
Sean went very still.
“You said the same thing, didn’t you, Sean? You said it in your oath to Belazar. I will never forget it. What language was that? What does it mean?”
Sean shrugged helplessly. “I think the language is called Norsidian.”
“Then where is ... Norsidia?”
“Who the hell knows? I saw the name on a book of my father’s. The whole book was in that language. We didn’t understand most of it. We only knew what parts we needed to say, and when.”
“Damn it, Sean, you don’t know the meaning of the words?”
Sean was quiet for a moment. He considered carefully. “I can guess, though I can’t explain why. When I swear the oath they make a certain sense to me, even though I’ve never heard them translated.”
“Then what do they mean?”
Sean closed his eyes and concentrated. He couldn’t translate the words using reason. Only through feeling. “Cross the line into death.”
“ ‘Cross the line’?” Picard sighed heavily. “I’m not sure I understand, but even if I did, I’m not sure it would help us.”
“It’s important,” said Sean. “I’m not sure why, but it is. Krenzi ... crossing the line ... I think it means crossing a very important boundary. It’s something that shouldn’t be crossed. The death is not ... normal. The word death doesn’t quite cover it. It is ... nonexistence. It is ...” A cold feeling churned in his belly, and he opened his eyes immediately. “It is oblivion.”
“Well, while that is all very fascinating—and I say that sincerely—I don’t think it helps us, as I suspected. No matter. What matters is that Kyne knows the words, and like you, he got them from somewhere. Now we just need to figure out what else he knows.”
Thunder grumbled in the distance. Sean’s skin tickled. He looked at his hand and saw sprinkles of rain across his knuckles, which he had rested near an aperture.
“Damn it,” said Picard. “I hate rain.”
Sean closed his fist tight and gnashed his teeth.
“How shall we do this?” said Picard. “Whatever we do, it must be tonight. There’s a chance Princess Fayr will ship us all out tomorrow. Perhaps we’ll go get Prince Kyne together? We’ll have a little chat, the three of us.”
“No,” said Sean, trembling. He didn’t know how to do this, but he knew that Picard’s plan led to a very bad ending. “I’m going to talk to someone else, first.”
“Who?”
“His sister.”
Picard sputtered with laughter. “The princess! Good luck with that, Sean the suitor. She won’t even pay attention to my father, you know. In fact she even snubbed him when ...”
Sean didn’t hear the rest, for he was already on his way.
