Janrae Frank - [Lycan Blood 02] - Fireborn Law

by Fireborn Law [lit]

  Three needles with half-moon heads protruded from Kynyr's left arm.

  Inoculation?

  Malthus drew one from Kynyr's arm and pocketed it before placing two fingers on his chest to Read him. The poison had made a mess of the bastard prince, as Malthus had known it would. The new blend was much stronger than what he had used on Nikko. It puzzled Malthus that Kynyr had not died within an hour of being shot. He expanded his search of Kynyr's bio-alchemy and sensed the traces of a countering agent that Malthus could not identify. He had believed that nothing less than the Sapphire Elixir of Idyn which was nearly impossible to acquire could have counteracted his new blend. Malthus decided to send the needle to his mother to see if she and her bio-alchemists could identify what had been used on it.

  It would be a simple matter to finish Kynyr off, a small thrust of power into his heart that would leave no residue, and no one would be the wiser. Malthus inserted a needle of darkest energy into Kynyr's body. The unconscious guardsmon shuddered but did not waken. Malthus increased the strength of his intrusion gradually, feeling Kynyr's heartbeats turn irregular, struggling.

  Almost done. Just a little bit more.

  "What are you doing in here? Get away from him."

  Malthus jerked his hand from Kynyr's chest, and turned to see Kady Wiggins standing in the doorway. "As you wish. We're old friends, you know."

  "You certainly are not. You nearly came to blows in my Dad's tavern often enough."

  Kady Wiggins wore a shapeless black shirt and pants that did little to conceal the finer points of her voluptuous body. A broad leather belt cinched her waist. Two long fighting knives hung from the belt, sheaths strapped to her thighs for an easy pull. Malthus wondered what she was playing at dressed like that. There was no possibility that anyone would assume her to be a threat, considering how often her legs had been forcibly opened. Malthus had heard various dogs bragging about it.

  "You're Hereward's daughter the slut."

  Malthus stalked toward her, expecting her to flee. Instead, she stood her ground. His hand shot out. His fingers brushed her cheek and he lunged for her mind only to slam up against the strongest wards he had encountered in years. Malthus knew he could break them, but it would take hours of concentrated effort hours he did not have right then. Perhaps I should turn Preece loose on her. He'd enjoy that.

  "Get out of here. The parlor is that way." Kady pointed down the hall with a preemptory gestured. "Go on."

  "As you wish." Malthus headed for the parlor, having to work to keep his pace calm. If Cahira had set that ward, then she was stronger than any lycan mage he had yet encountered and he had killed several in his laboratories. Baroucha might be right in insisting that Cahira was a threat that should be removed.

  Eideard's open coffin sat in the center of the parlor, grave offerings spread across him. Malthus felt conspicuous as all eyes turned toward him. The furniture had been moved back along the walls where more than a dozen lycans spread themselves across the chairs and the floor, while others stood around or leaned against the walls. Six lycans stood lined up at the coffin; one by one they left their grave gifts in the coffin and bestowed the kiss of farewell on Eideard's cold face. Cooley sat on the lap of a large, red-haired lycan of late years. When the cub saw Malthus, he nestled deeper against Todd Sinclair.

  "He's here," Cooley murmured, pressing his face into Todd's shoulder.

  Malthus recognized some of the faces from having seen them drinking at the Difficult Horse, however, they were not wolves of his acquaintance, and he had no names to put with the faces. He could almost taste the suspicion in the room and knew that he needed to do something to turn matters around before suspicion turned to anger and they all attacked him simply for being the only non-lycan there.

  He strode up to Todd, reached in his pocket and brought out two gold coins. "Merissa and I would like to contribute to the cost of the funeral and wake."

  "Ayup. Sure you would." Todd's eyes narrowed as he tightened his arm around Cooley. "Your people killed him."

  Malthus sucked in a breath as he saw several of the lycans sprout fur. "My people?"

  "You're human, aren't you?"

  "Well yes."

  "You've made no secret your sire was sa'necari."

  "Where are you going with this?" Malthus' necromantic senses reeled beneath the vibrations of rage filling the room. "What has my father got to do with this?"

  "Then your people killed him. Eideard never had a chance. They shot him down in cold blood."

  The mourners gathered around Todd and Malthus, growling. Malthus saw that some of them had their blades out. The two gold coins fell from Malthus' hand as he backed towards the door.

  Cooley whimpered. Todd patted the cub on the back. "Quiet. The mutherin' Thomas is not going to bother you."

  Todd threw the racial slur in Malthus' face without anger in his tone.

  "I had nothing to do with it."

  "Ayup. That's what you all say. Liars all."

  Malthus knew that they would be on him at any moment. There were too many to fight. The lycans would rip him apart.

  "What's going on here?" Caimbeul came through the door. He was the only one in the room that matched Todd Sinclair for size. The lawgiver's gaze swept the room, sized the situation up in a flash, and he stepped between Malthus and the others.

  "He's a human," a lycan snarled. "Humans killed Eideard."

  Caimbeul fixed that one with a glance. "I know you, Ezra. You work at the mill."

  Ezra gave a quick nod. "Yup."

  "So you want to kill this mon because he's human? Atreius Ivanstern is downstairs, come to pay his respects. Are you going to kill Atreius because he's human?"

  "What's Atreius got ta do with it?"

  "My point exactly. What's Malthus done besides being born the wrong race?"

  "But"

  Caimbeul shook his head at Ezra and then wagged his finger at the room. "You know the law. Malthus was working at the Sanctuary Refugee Camp when Eideard was attacked. He was helping our people. His wife is downstairs. You all know Merissa."

  Todd cuddled Cooley and remained silent.

  "Malthus has not broken our laws. He has as much right to live in our village as anyone else. Let him be." Caimbeul scanned the room. "If you still wish to kill him, then you'll have to go through me."

  First one and then another returned to their places around the room. Caimbeul took Malthus by the arm and walked him out the door. "Go downstairs and stay with your wife. They're less likely to bother you with her at your side."

  "My thanks."

  "I don't need your thanks for doing my job, and I don't want them either. I don't like you, Malthus. But until you break our laws, there's nothing I can do to you. When you do, I'll be there. Count on it. You're going to get more trouble than you can handle." Caimbeul turned and went back into the parlor.

  * * * *

  From the doorway of the shop, Kady watched them load Eideard's coffin into the back of a wagon and drape it with a black cloth. Todd drove with Cahira and Cooley on the seat beside him. It seemed as if the entire village had turned out to follow the coffin to the little cemetery behind the Willodarian Shrine. When the procession turned the corner onto Main Street and passed out of Kady's sight, she closed the door and locked it.

  Kady went upstairs to the kitchen, checked the wood in the stove, and set the kettle on the fire. She gathered the plates and glasses from the parlor onto a wooden serving tray and carried them back into the kitchen where she settled them into a pan of water to soak. By then steam had begun to pour from the kettle's spout. She filled a ball with tea, placed it in a cup, and covered it with hot water.

  Settling into a chair with her cup of tea, Kady sifted through the events of the day and remembered chasing Malthus out of Kynyr's room. Something strange had happened or been about to happen. The way he had stood there, bent over Kynyr with his fingers on the wounded mon's chest, bothered Kady. It had looked somehow predatory. Furthermore, sh
e had sensed something indescribable that felt like a gathering of ice in her stomach and a tickle of chill along her arms. Kady had had feelings like that before, but never known what to make of them. She resolved to discuss those sensations with Cahira.

  Abruptly, Kady abandoned her tea and went to check on Kynyr, wanting to make certain that he was all right. She intended to talk to Todd about Malthus' odd behavior. Kady was just eighteen years old and had been waiting tables in her father's tavern since she was twelve. She had enjoyed the interaction with the young males who spent many a late afternoon there; learned to be wary; yet never realized just how much of their restraint toward her had come from her father's protection until he withdrew it.

  Then she had discovered the rotting underside of lycan society, the young wolves who did not care how they got their bone into a young bitch, so long as they did. Where once she had thought there was honor among her people, she began to see fear and that fear made her weak.

  "Fear only fear." Kady muttered one of the proverbs that Todd was constantly shoving at her, and thrust her fear back. "It'll be an icy day in high summer before I let another of them part my legs."

  Kady lit a lamp and went into Kynyr's room. His eyes were open, staring into the gathering darkness. Her heart skipped a beat. Kynyr was so pale and still that he looked dead. She put the lamp on the nightstand and brushed her fingers along his cheek, a lump forming in her throat.

  Kynyr stirred at her touch, and tried to sit, only to fall back on the bed.

  Relief flooded her. She wanted to touch him, hold him, kiss him, anything to reassure herself that her champion was going to live. Kady pulled a chair up and settled into it, stroking his face in touches as light as feathers.

  His eyes glistened and his cheeks were wet. His voice was harsh and raspy. "Kady?"

  "Yeah, it's me." She squeezed his hand.

  "I'm home?" His hand went to his chest, fingers curling into a fist as he ground them into his muscles over his heart. "I dreamed someone thrust a blade into my heart." Kynyr paused between words with gasps, sucking air in jerky pulls. "My chest hurts."

  Malthus. Malthus hurt him. I know he did. But how? Kady's gaze swept over the labels of the bottles clustered on the night stand. "I'll get you something for it."

  Kynyr's fingers drifted to the catgut stitches, an edge of horror entering his voice. "They opened me up."

  "Hush. Nothing's missing, Kynyr. They didn't get that far." Her eyes softened with concern. Moving the bottles around, Kady located the Fire Poppy milk and poured a measure into the dosing glass as Cahira had shown her.

  "How'd I get here?"

  "Pandeena. She's a mage of some kind." She ran her fingers through the wealth of ginger hair spread across the pillow like a golden halo where the lamplight touched it, combing the sweat-drenched locks away from Kynyr's face.

  "They killed my friends Finn he could have got away, but he came back for me. They shot him."

  The grief in his voice, so thick and heavy, pounded the strings of her heart like a hammer. "He's alive, Kynyr. Finn's alive. So's Ramsey."

  "Eideard?"

  "They buried him today."

  The tears worsened and a long, keening note shivered from Kynyr's throat so like the wild cousins that goose-pimples broke out on Kady's arms. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and cradled him like a child, his face pressed against her breasts. His arms went around her waist and he clung to her.

  "It's my fault. It's my own damned fault."

  "That's not what Todd says, Kynyr. You were outnumbered six to one."

  "I keep seeing them fall, Kady." A frantic note entered Kynyr's voice. "I keep seeing them fall and there's nothing I can do. Nothing at all. I was in command. I should have gods help me."

  "It's not your fault." Kady brought the glass of poppy milk to Kynyr's lips. "That's the pain talking. I can see it in your eyes. Drink this and you'll feel better."

  Kynyr turned his head away, burying his face between her breasts. "What is it?"

  "Fire poppy."

  "I don't want it."

  The right corner of Kady's mouth twisted in annoyance. "You're punishing yourself and that's wrong."

  "It's my fault."

  "I'm not going round and round with you about this, Kynyr. Either drink this or I'm going to smack you silly."

  Kynyr lifted an eyebrow. "Now you sound like the Dreaded Horde."

  "The what?"

  "My sisters and Finn's the Dreaded Horde. Bossy bitches."

  "Are you going to drink it? Or am I going to smack you?" She poised a threatening hand where he could see it.

  "I drink it." He favored her with a wan smile.

  Kady put the glass to his lips again and this time he drank. She disengaged his arms, gentle yet firm, and lowered him to the bed, then straightened the sheets around him. Kady's face came close to his and, impulsively, she kissed his lips in a brief chaste brush.

  Kynyr tangled his fingers in her hair as he began to feel the drug. "You're beautiful."

  "Don't be silly." Kady pulled away him. "Pandeena's beautiful. I'm not."

  "I love you, Kady. I want you."

  She felt his forehead. "You're either feverish or it's the poppy milk."

  "Kiss me again. Please, Kady, kisssss..." His eyes closed as the drug pulled him under.

  She checked his vital signs and tucked him in better. Then Kady kissed him on the forehead. "Silly male."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A DAY OF CHANGES

  Malthus rode north to keep his rendezvous with Egidius and finalize his plans for destroying another section of Claw's lands to satisfy his bargain with Brandrahoon. Eighty three years ago, Malthus' paternal ancestor, Lord Carneades Iagaris had destroyed the Lycan Rebellion of 997 and personally rited Claw Redhand's twin sons, Logan and Tarrant, as part of an elaborate execution in which more than a dozen lycan chieftains and their sons perished. Thirty years ago, the Sharani swept into Waejontor led by the Lionhawk of Danae and, aided by lycan treacheries, overran three-quarters of the realm over the space of roughly fifteen years. The surviving sa'necari nobility had been driven into the remotest reaches of the Eiralyskali Mountains.

  Brandrahoon had promised Malthus the lands and titles of his father, Lord Feodras Iagaris, in exchange for destroying the Redhand family and subjugating Clan Red Wolf. Until his meeting with Queen Tomyrilen and Lord Brandrahoon, Malthus had never dreamed that what he felt was his due had any hope of becoming a reality. Now he could almost taste it.

  The elimination of Shaurone's lycan allies now entered its final phases. The queen had agents insinuated in the villages and lands of each of the Nine Great Clans and four of the smaller ones. In every major city where lycans lived among the humans and sa'necari, the queen's forces under Brandrahoon were quietly rounding them up, and moving them to detention centers located deep in the territories that had been reclaimed from their Sharani occupiers.

  After riding for two hours, Malthus caught a flash of orange moving among the branches high above him. More and more of his watchers began to come out of hiding. Imps scampered through the brush and briars, through the trees on every side of him, leaping like wizened orange-skinned monkeys. The imp-warlord Gahni had worked with Malthus many times over the years. Yet it had taken substantial promises of food, gold, and booty to persuade Gahni to bring his people from the West Bank of the Hillora to Waejontor.

  By the time he reached the caves, Gahni would have sent messengers on to Egidius' encampment about his approach, and Egidius would be waiting at the caves for him.

  The trees gave way steadily, thinning into a rocky fell. As Malthus horse topped the first treeless rise, he saw the northern border of Claws lands, the Place of Boulders. Huge rocks, which had fallen from the mountains rising above it, broke up the landscape like the remains of a giants scattered toys. It looked like a good place for an ambush and Malthus rode cautiously through them.

  He arrived at the caves, and dismounted. One cave, half-conceale
d by an overhang of thick moss and brush, had two stone tables in front of it: a bleeding table and a table for the tools of the rites. A twelve-year-old lycan cub lay shackled to the table on his belly. Malthus raised a speculative eyebrow as he ran his fingers over the still warm corpse; grasped the wealth of rufous hair now matted with blood and turned the dead cub's head to view its face. That one had been a fine looking cub that would have brought a fair price at the slave markets. A twist of irritation curled through Malthus. He counted fifteen wounds in the cub's corpse and gritted his teeth: of all the sa'necari under his current command, only Egidius and Laetus practiced the esoteric form of mortgiefan called the Fifteen Piercings.

  Egidius emerged from the cave with a bottle of wine, which he waved at Malthus. "It's a decent vintage for lycan homebrew. Come inside and have some."

  "That cub was worth at least two hundred gold. Don't waste them." Malthus scowled at Egidius. "Furthermore, you were supposed to wait for me to make my picks from the newest batch of captives."

  "I thought you were going to come sooner." Egidius placed his bottle on the bleeding table beside the corpse's neck, stuck his fingers into a large wound, and pulled them out coated with the thick goo of congealing blood. He sucked the blood off his fingers.

  "I got away as soon as I could. I'm not as free now that I'm living in the manor." Malthus watched Egidius repeatedly sticking his fingers into the wounds and licking them off, growing more and more irritated by his friend's insouciance.

  Egidius leered. "Enjoying your bitch now that you've married her?"

  Malthus's stomach growled and he realized that he was hungry. He imitated Egidius and began snacking on the corpse's coagulating blood. The image of Merissa's nude body, legs opened wide to receive him, flashed through Malthus' mind, and mellowed his mood. "As a matter of fact, I am. The chieftain wants a lycan heir so badly, that he has no problem when I keep her on her back all day with her legs spread."

  Egidius shook his head, wiped his fingers on his pants leg, and then ran his hands through his hair. "I still don't understand why you'd want to marry one of them."