JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING II

by JANRAE FRANK

  "No," Becca answered. "I've brought you the rest of the story."

  "Well?" Aejys frowned, worry settling around her heart. Who else had she lost? Tag? Clemmerick? Oh, Gods, please not Tamlestari and the children! "Who else did I lose?"

  Josh sighed heavily, and then spoke without lifting his head. "Margren and your ma'aram are dead."

  "Both of them." Aejys felt stunned, her stomach empty and hollow as a dark pit. It was not as bad as she had feared and yet... She had such intensely mixed feelings toward her ma'aram. Her eyes dropped to the heavy quilted comforter, tracing the pattern of its deep red and orange Vorgeni circles within circles. All her anger and bitterness toward Kaethreyn drained away. She remembered better times with her ma'aram, before Margren had created a wedge between them with her jealous insecurities, insisting that Aejys intended her harm when in fact it was the other way around, forcing Kaethreyn to demand that vow of her which had ultimately cost the lives of her two halaefs and their child. Kaethreyn's mortal flaw had been to love too deeply and without wisdom. Now she would never know what it was she had seen in her ma'aram's face – never know if she had been loved. "Ma'aram, I'm sorry. Forgive me." She lifted her eyes again. "How did it happen?"

  Josh looked less miserable, but still very uncomfortable, having apparently gotten the worst of it out. At least he was no longer staring at his hands. "Uh, when you ... when you..." he could not say the word, could barely let himself acknowledge the fact that for a little while Aejys had been dead and struggled for a different one. "When she ... lost you. She killed Margren with the same blade she – Margren hurt you with. Margren's retainer killed Kaethreyn and Geoa Odaren killed that retainer. I cast Revelation, setting the mark of the dragon on all who supported Margren and Mephistis. Everyone in the castle and the city."

  "Did anyone take Margren's head and heart?" Aejys' voice went flat, distant as she tried not to look directly at a nightmare.

  "Don't know." Josh said softly, thinking hard.

  "Then she could have risen." Aejys prodded gently, her tone quiet: Josh looked stressed enough to bolt and she did not want that. And if she has risen, I'm going after her. She and Mephistis will pay for my family's deaths.

  "Risen?" questioned Becca, sending Aejys a startled glance.

  "As necari, their undead form."

  Becca shivered, going a shade paler. "There's just a little more to the story," she said, returning the subject to where they left off before Aejys started inquiring further about Margren. Becca did not want to think about undead anything, just knowing such things existed made her skin crawl. "Josh?"

  Josh nodded. "After they left me alone with you, the ghosts came out. They showed me how to restart your heart and breathing, then they mended those stomach wounds."

  "That's why I'm alive, not undead."

  Josh nodded.

  "Josh," Becca asked. "How many ghosts?"

  "Nine."

  "Aejys, remember those rings, those lifemage rings? There were nine of them. I don't know why, but I think it's important. Taun says there are no lifemages left. That the sa'necari killed them all."

  "Genocide."

  Becca nodded. "That's what Taun called it."

  "Tradition has it that the lifemages held the key to destroying vast armies of the undead. They, alone, had the power to undo the death magics of the sa'necari. If they are all gone, then this entire world could already be doomed. But if there is any other way to stop those bloody necromancers, then I swear by My God, I'll find it."

  Aejys bolted upright shaking her splinted hands at the heavens in rage, cursing her sister in a long string of vile epithets and dark promises for her part in the destruction of the lifemages, for the deaths of her daughter and her halaefs, for the death of her ma'aram. When her rage began to flag and the accompanying adrenaline rush started to crash, exhaustion and a crescendo of agony swept through her: she had pushed herself too far, too soon. She dropped back against the pillows, pale and breathing hard, her heart racing.

  "Josh," Becca grabbed the sot. "Get Taun, quickly."

  * * * *

  Taun's mouth drew up in an unhappy frown as he laid Aejys' wrist back on the bed. He glanced at Becca and Josh, who had retreated to the window seat when he arrived, for support as he told Aejys, "You need to rest. Those wounds are barely over a week old and you've got them bleeding again." He poured four fingers of holadil into a small glass.

  "No." Aejys shook her head, obstinately. "I must talk to the sea-mage."

  "You need to rest," Taun repeated. "Rest now, talk to Skree later."

  "Now," Aejys insisted, her tone verging on a low growl. "I must speak to him now."

  "A compromise. You take a small swallow of this, not enough to put you out, and I'll get him. Once you've talked, you take the rest."

  "No."

  Taun shook his head ruefully, after a week of caring for his lord, he was beginning to feel more confident and determined in matters of her health, more ready to argue with her. "When it comes to your health, I rank you. Furthermore, Skree is just as obstinate as you are and he will not come here unless I ask him myself. And I am not asking him unless you give in a little bit. Have we a compromise?"

  "Shit." Aejys nodded. "Just a small swallow. Then I want my pipe."

  Taun beamed, holding the glass to her lips. Aejys took that small swallow and turned her face away. "Pipe?"

  "I'll get it," Becca volunteered, exchanging places with Taun.

  * * * *

  Skree arrived a few minutes later, dressed in his long green robes, his hair loose about him. He sat down in the chair nearest the bed, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned closer to Aejys. "Taun tells me you will not rest until we have spoken."

  "Do you have the farsight or scry?"

  Skree's thin lips took a skeptical turn. "Why, landsmon? Whatever could be so important to you that you cannot rest without knowing? Your ill health? Does it frighten you that bad?"

  Aejys scowled at him, saying bluntly, "My sister was sa'necari."

  Skree stiffened visibly, shooting a sharp glance at Taun, reminding him of their conversation three days past. "And what does that make you?"

  "I am ha'taren, a paladin of Aroana." Aejys met his scowl levelly, daring him to dispute that fact. "My sister did this to me." She waved her splinted hands at her face and along her body where clothing concealed the many bandages beneath. "She was the mastermind – or her lover was – of the genocide of the lifemages. I have proof of that."

  "I cannot help you," Skree said, rising. "One of your blood is sa'necari. You admit it."

  "You can let me finish." The force of command was in Aejys' voice, verging on anger. "Hear me out or see this world die." The statement was extreme, but that was how Aejys saw it at that moment.

  Skree flinched, it was widely believed among his people that if left unchecked the sa'necari would slay the very earth itself. "What are you saying?"

  "Margren was slain. I need to know if she's risen, undead. She is the spearhead of an undeclared war against Shaurone. What the sa'necari could not take by force, they now try to take by treachery and subterfuge. If she has risen, then I must find a way to destroy her."

  "You?" Skree sneered. "You can't even stand."

  "I'll heal. It snows deep in Shaurone and deeper still in Waejontor. No one is moving an army before the spring thaw. When they move this time it will be with an army of undead that will simply roll across the living like one of those tidal waves. I will find a way to stop her – stop them both. I'm going to cut her head off and rip her heart out. My family will be avenged. And if I must find another mage to answer my questions, then I will."

  Skree studied the ha'taren, even without rapport he could sense the iron determination radiating from her, and he knew with certainty that she would make good on her promises. "Tonight the moon is full, the tides are high. I will return at midnight and we will see what we can see. For now, rest, listen to Taun." The triton turned, departing the room.

/>   Taun moved to the bedside, raising the unfinished glass of holadil to Aejys' lips. She drank and the warmth of the drug raced swiftly through her, drawing her down into sleep and healing. Taun removed the extra pillows, lowering her to the bed, and covered her with the blankets.

  The nerien settled into a chair and watched her sleep. Even in her weakened state, the Lion of Rowanslea lived up to her legends and Taun knew that she had finally won Skree over.

  * * * *

  Aejys' eyes traced the grain in the dark wood ceiling, waiting for midnight and Skree's return. She hated the stillness. In the silence thought and memory became a roar. Nightmares and flashbacks darted through in tiny electric discharges, stinging sharply yet gone before they could be grasped. Sometimes she would cry out and then not know exactly why she had done so. A deep-seated sense of futility and despair hovered about her more often than not. Becca tried to keep her occupied during her waking hours. The company she sent up would help for a bit, but as soon as they left she sank back down into the spiritual miasma. She thought about death a lot: death as release from the shadows in her mind and heart; release from the unending pain in her body: then she would flashback over what it had felt like to die and weep silently in the grip of her inner terrors. Anger was the only emotion strong enough to fully banish them, but she could not hold onto her anger: eventually it dissolved and slipped through her fingers.

  Worry and anger caused her body to fight off the effects of the holadil and wake early. The sea-mage's comment about her weakness haunted her. At her request, Molly had lit the lamp again and left it burning: bright illumination bathed the room. She wished it were as easy to burn away the dark corners of her heart and thoughts. She had been freed of the vow barring her from directly opposing Margren, found her way back to her god and made peace between them, she was again ha'taren, a paladin of Aroana, but at what price? What could she realistically hope to do against her sister with these ruined hands? She stared at the splinted fingers and palms. Without the intervention of a lifemage, and there were none left, those hands would never wield a weapon again. If she did mount an expedition, she would not be able to fight; she would be a burden to them. She had always led her troops, not simply commanded them from the rear, how could she ask them to die for her when she could not share their risks? For the first time in her life she was the one who needed protection, not the one doing the protecting. A wave of bitterness soured her stomach; but it tasted far better than the despair it had pushed aside.

  "Laeoli, Ladonys, Brendorn, Cassana. I will have vengeance. Somehow, someway, I will destroy Margren if she still exists," she growled. "And if she doesn't then I'll go after Mephistis. I'll have his head whether she still exists or not. Where there is a will, there is a way. I will find it. I swear I will find it."

  And then she found herself filling with doubt and shame. Am I still ha'taren? Or is that a lie? Am I lying to myself again? She does not answer to one whose body and soul have the taint of undeath on them. Is mine unclean? If I should die, will I rise and harm those I love most?

  * * * *

  Against Taun's better judgment, Skree moved Aejys from the bed to an overstuffed chair beside it. He placed a small table before her and sat down in the second chair. Skree blew out all the lights except one, which sat on the table beside a large silver bowl with leaping dolphins and mermaids around the rim interspersed with the god Nerindalori's rune. A little light shone through the door from the parlor to which he had temporarily banished Becca, Josh, and Taun. A silver ewer of water, a vial of oil, and a small pair of scissors framed the bowl.

  "You are certain you want to do this, landsmon? You may not like what you see."

  Aejys gave a low hiss. "I know I'm not going to like what I see, but I need to know."

  "So be it. What you see may have already happened, be happening now, or has not happened yet. There is no way to know for certain." Skree poured water into the bowl, added three drops of oil, then made several passes of his hands above it. He turned, cutting a single strand of hair from Aejys' head, adding that into the bowl. The water bubbled and steam rose from it. When it finally settled and the water cleared again, Skree indicated that Aejys should look.

  The first thing she saw was a calico mother cat, nursing two male kittens, one black, the other white. Aejys shook her head, not knowing what to make of that. Then the water in the bowl turned gray, clearing again to show a sword thrust through a gleaming black stone orb sitting on a mountaintop. Again Aejys shook her head, she had no idea what either meant, and Skree offered no illumination. Finally a third scene appeared, a crouching woman bent over a small child in her arms. A chill went through Aejys and she shivered, finding the image inexplicably disturbing. As she watched the woman lifted her head. Now Aejys could see that the child in her lap had her stomach ripped out. The woman had long fangs, blood rimmed her mouth, but her face was unmistakably familiar. Aejys closed her eyes, looking away. "Enough. I have my answer."

  Skree snapped his long fingers and the contents of the bowl vanished. "Your sister?"

  "Yes." Aejys felt her anger at her ma'aram rise again: if it had not been for that vow, the perfidy of Margren would ended long ago when Margren had drawn a knife on her in the High Meadows, she would not now be eating children. Children! "Damn her soul to Hadjys! This will end. I swear by Aroana's sword and shield, horn and willow, by all that is holy and pure, this will end! My life and soul be forfeit if I falter."

  Skree had never heard an Aroanan oath before, but he recognized the pattern of an unbreakable ritual vow. "I will not enter your service as Taun has, but henceforth, I am your ally. Whatever aid I can give your cause, ask and you will receive."

  "Then I am in your debt and offer you the same."

  Skree rose, ready to lift her from the chair and return her to the bed.

  "One more thing," Aejys said, and he stopped. "Taun tells me you are a better Reader than he where magic working on the body is concerned."

  "I am a mage as well as a Reader, that makes me sensitive to a broader range of things than Taun."

  Aejys hesitated, screwing up her courage. "The blade that cut me. It was a baneblade, you know what that is?"

  "Yes. It cuts the soul as well as the body. The victims usually rise as undead."

  "The lifemages that helped Josh bring me back could have taken that from me, but I worry that they did not ... did not have enough strength to do that. Can you read such a thing in me?"

  "No. I cannot tell you if your soul is damaged or unclean because it does not involve the conscious use or even simple possession of dark powers. You would need a spiritworker or soul Reader, preferably a priest."

  "There is only one in this area that I know of. The oracle priest of the Willowhorn can tell me. If I should die before the weather and my body will allow me to make the journey, one of you must take my head and heart. Take no chances. Undeath is what I most fear."

  "You have my word." Skree reached out and gripped her arm in acknowledgment of his promise. Then he lifted her from the chair, carrying her back to bed. "Taun will want to Read you again." As he started to leave, he paused a moment and turned back, adding as an afterthought. "For a landsmon, you make a decent master. Taun is not dishonored by being in your service. I approve of you, Aejystrys Rowan."

  * * * *

  Sitting as upright as Taun wanted her to while he changed her bandages made Aejys' stomach hurt. Much of the tenderness had left her back; but her stomach, chest, and shoulder were healing at a much slower rate. Changing the bandages seemed an interminable process and although he was gentle and cautious she could not completely suppress a groan when he touched tender areas or required her to move. Furthermore, the pain was starting to make her nauseous.

  "You are the very first landsmon in over a score of years to really impress Skree. He does not like landsmyn as a rule. He said just a little while ago that your honor is great. Honor, that is something he holds in high regard."

  "Honor, Taun, is a pa
inful thing. Because I honored my vow to my bloodmother, my halaefs and our daughter are dead. Honor is a cage, a prison. If you make a dog sleep in a cage every night, after awhile that cage becomes its den, its home. If one night you leave the door open the dog will still go in there to sleep and you will find it there the next morning. In a sense I am the dog and I still live there, in my cage. I don't know how to live otherwise. You know what Tagalong calls me?"

  "No." Taun shook his head.

  "A 'puddin head paladin' and she's right. She's absolutely right. That's what honor will do to you."

  "I try to do the right thing."

  "It is not the same. If circumstances get too tough, you can back out. You can change your mind. I cannot."

  Taun finished with the last bandage, gesturing that she could lie back against the pillows. He wanted to dispute that, but he could not. He had after all first promised himself that he would stay with his mother's people in the Neridian Isles as a healer, but when his mixed species heritage brought unending disapproval he had fled to the mainland only to find just as much of it among his father's people. In the end Taun had come to Vorgensburg, hoping to find, in this place of many races, acceptance – which he would never have found, even here, had Becca not learned of him and taken him in. All the while Skree honored his declared lifemating with Taun, when it would have been easier for the sea-mage to have gone home than to have borne the suspicions and outright cruelties of the landsmyn. Taun felt suddenly dirty, talking about honor. "I could never–never have it the way you and Skree do." I'm not strong enough.

  "You have ethics," Aejys said, "it is almost the same thing, but maybe better, because when you make a mistake you can go a different direction. When I take a direction, commit myself to an action, I must continue to the end even when I realize later it is the wrong direction."

  "Are you saying you have taken the wrong direction... with this vow?"