JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING II

by JANRAE FRANK

  "Mephistis Coleth de Waejonan, Prince of Waejontor."

  Skree's eyes hooded. "So ... that is why I could not hold him alone. His power is great and terrible. He is the strongest of them." He shook himself, then stared at Josiah, the sarcasm returning to his voice. "And you say you will stop him? You? A wasted drunkard with no training."

  "I will stop him," Josiah repeated, calm and unflinching before the sea-mage's contempt.

  "How?"

  "Because..." Josiah hesitated, reaching into his pocket for the flask of whiskey there. He took a long drag from the bottle. "Because I am ... was Josiah Abelard."

  Skree grabbed Josiah, shoved him to the floor, and Read him. He saw instantly the roaring fire of power in the sot's core, greater than anything the sea-mage had ever encountered, but also the way it was twisted and damaged. "Say it again."

  Josiah lay unresisting, allowing the sea-mage to see everything. "I am Josiah Abelard."

  Skree saw the truth in Josiah's body then and released him. "This is not possible. Abelard was murdered, his soul stolen. Even our people know this thing."

  "I don't know how it is or why it is, just that it is."

  "I will only help you if you teach me his spells."

  "I only know them when I'm drunk," Josiah protested, holding Taun's warnings in the back of his mind: the drink was killing him. "I am only Josiah when I am sufficiently drunk. I am Josh when I am sober." This was not always so. I fully awakened tonight.

  "Then you will drink and I will learn."

  "No," Taun pushed between them. "If he continues to drink, he will die."

  Skree shrugged. "If this sa'necari is who this one says, then I will not be able to stop him again without those spells. If he does not drink, the paladin will die."

  "And if he drinks, then he will die."

  "It is his choice, little seal." Skree locked eyes with Josiah again. "Which is it?"

  "I don't want her to die." Josiah's eyes hooded and his lips tightened.

  Skree rose, moving to sit beside the bed. "The choice is made."

  "No," Taun said. "No! Skree, please, there must be another way."

  "Then find it quickly. Tomorrow, sot, we begin."

  Taun fled the room.

  * * * *

  Skree Read Aejys. The damage to her body was not as bad as he had first feared. The connection between the ha'taren and the sa'necari remained in place: they had managed to temporarily disrupt it, but not sever it; so far as Skree knew only a lifemage could sever it. Perhaps he could set up some kind of shield to mitigate if not completely block the sa'necari from reaching her. His anger fading, Skree began to regret upsetting Taun, but his mate had to understand – after all the years they had been together – how little the life of a drunkard landsmon meant to him.

  Josh had left. Becca was sitting in the parlor. Skree joined her at the table, settling into a chair directly opposite from her. An open bottle of good brandy sat in the middle, the cork desultorily in place. Two snifters bracketed the bottle, Becca held another snifter containing a double portion, using both hands together to compensate for her violent shaking.

  "First time you have ever faced dark magic?" The sea-mage asked, not unkindly.

  Becca nodded. She sloshed some brandy on her face as she managed to down nearly half the snifter in a gulp. She grimaced, lowering the snifter to the table, then pulled a bit of cloth from her pocket to wipe her face. "Never been so scared in my life."

  "I have seen folk handle it worse."

  "Worse? I balled up and hid under the table."

  "You could have bolted and let those tendrils out into the rest of the building. My seals would only have held so long as none of us touched the door or windows."

  "Oh, shit!" Becca's eyes widened, and she reached for the snifter, refilling it and polishing the contents off in a single go. "Talk about something else. I don't want to think about what happened. None of it."

  "So be it," Skree agreed. "Tell me about Josh. I cannot make an informed decision without knowing more. Taun is very unhappy with me. So maybe I'll look for another way to handle this."

  When Becca finished describing what had happened to Josh's family and how he was found and adopted by a sailor out of Vorgensburg, Skree looked thoughtful. "How old is he?"

  "I don't know for certain. Not yet thirty, maybe not much past twenty. I don't know. He looks much older. Too much drink will do that and he started drinking heavily while just a child."

  "As will the effects of the rite that burns out the magic. Especially the rite. I have seen twenty year olds who looked closer to fifty after suffering those effects since childhood. That is why my own people, when forced to it, sever the connections to the magic centers rather than burn it out." Skree paused for a moment, reflecting, and then changed the subject. "There was a small colony of landsmyn on one of the outer islands. We traded with them, adopted them. A mage couple with a small son lived there. Highly regarded by my people. Then one day we came to the island, found everyone slain and their son missing. I was the one who first detected the scent of sa'necari. Dolphins spoke of two ships, but could not tell me which had carried the necromancer or even which ship had taken the boy or where either of them had gone."

  "You think he might be Josh?"

  "I am beginning to. His name was Josiah. The child lisped and said his name as 'Joish'. The name Josh could be a corruption of that. His mother was a descendant of Josiah Abelard and it has been prophesied that the mage master's soul would one day be freed and he would be reborn into his own line with the fullness of his power and knowledge."

  Becca nodded. She was beginning to feel the liquor and her violent shaking had subsided into small intermittent tremors. "So Josh is the mage-master."

  "Yes. What I want to know now is how he came to be so damaged."

  When Becca had finished with that part of the tale, Skree sat in thoughtful silence for a long time. "Did he say who had done this?"

  "No. But he was only about seven. He might never have known the mon's name."

  "Is there anyone who might know the mon's name?"

  "Branch. The old shaman seems to know more about Vorgensburg than even its long time residents, the descendants of the original families. Cedarbird, incidentally, is one of those descendants through his mother."

  "Then I will speak to Branch."

  * * * *

  Skree threw on a heavy bearskin cloak over his robes, pulling the deep hood down over his face to conceal it. Cold did not bother him, but he did not want to draw unwanted attention from the landsmyn he passed.

  "You think Josh is Josiah Stormbird?"

  "Possibly. That would lend credence to his claim of being Abelard." Skree slipped his hands into deep-cuffed gloves of supple black leather, concealing the last exposed parts of his green-scaled skin.

  "Then you would have to treat him more gently, would you not?" Taun sounded relieved, eager.

  "If he's my god-son, yes." And if he is, I'll find the one who damaged him and feed him to the sharks a bit at a time. He visualized hanging the mon alive from a ships' prow by a line, with his feet skimming the water as sharks and orcas leaped to take bites out of him. Skree would summon plenty of sharks and orcas and then laugh at the man's screams.

  Skree left their rooms, heading down the long hall and turning to the right, away from the common room. He took the old servant's stair in the back, down to the courtyard, and went out into the streets. It was getting dark and few people were abroad. The wind came up. Skree was young for a triton, barely at the end of his first century. His friendship with Tori Stormbird, Josiah's father, had been intense and passionate though not sexual. Tori had had shape-shifting gifts that allowed him to become a dolphin or small whale, and they explored the seas together for a decade, reveling in the sheer adventure. Tori had introduced Skree to Taun and stood as best mon at their handfasting. Skree returned the favor when Tori wed Merann Abelard. Since he would never have children of his own, Skree had embraced god-f
atherhood with relish. He had gone to the inner islands for a present for the boy's fifth birthday when the raiders struck. The sea-mage returned to find Tori and Merann murdered with their entire village and the boy stolen. He had smelled sa'necari and, when he could not track the boy, feared he had been taken for a rite of death magic. For a time he was nearly insane with grief and rage, blaming all landsmyn for Tori's death and the boy's disappearance. Taun's abiding love pulled him out of it. When the nerien started his pilgrimage along the coast Skree had secretly hoped that this time he would find the clues he had missed years before. Now it looked as if his efforts had been rewarded.

  He opened the gate in the low pole fence surrounding the dozen plank houses of the small Kwaklahmyn trading enclave, causing the bells hung about it to ring loudly. A tall pole wrought in strange animal shapes and faces stood before the largest house. The carven beak of a huge bird, the eyes and features depicted in heavy lines of black, filled in with white and a rusty red, thrust out over the door of the main-house. The snow had been shoveled and the ground was clear except for a few scattered patches. He felt the first small inquisitive tickle of mind touch before he even had the gate closed. The door on the main house opened, and a young mon wrapped in a sealskin cloak beckoned to him.

  "Harsh weather to be out in this late, Skree," said Bluewings, Branch's oldest granddaughter. "Grandfather has been waiting for you since early afternoon when he felt your thoughts turn toward him."

  The longhouse had a sod floor with a large brick hearth at the far end as the only adaptation taken from the Vorgeni. Fishing nets, spears, and harpoons hung along the side walls. Woven cedar-bark screens on the second and third tiers – which ran completely around the central chamber – partitioned off sleeping rooms. Ladders connected the tiers. Branch's home was the largest house in the small trading enclave and gatherings were held here.

  Branch sat cross-legged before the hearth, wearing soft, deerskin breeches; a loose-sleeved black shirt and soft boots; smoking his long pipe when Skree entered. The shaman's skin was a shade more brown and less bronze than the Sharani; his lower lip hung away from his teeth, weighted down by a heavy labret. He had broad, high cheekbones, a strong cleft chin, full lips, and large, black, long-lashed eyes – full blood Kwaklahmyn in every way. Bluewings took the sea-mage's cloak, laying it on the wealth of woven pillows that served as a back for the long bench along the wall. The old shaman nodded at a spot of carpeted floor beside him. "You have not visited in two seasons. What brings you now?"

  "I have come for a name." Skree walked over to the spot, but did not sit.

  "One of my people?"

  "I do not know that he is one of yours, old mon, nor do I know that he isn't," Skree spoke harshly. "But you seem to know much about the light and the dark in Vorgensburg. Very little escapes your notice."

  Branch smiled faintly. "I have my sources ... and Raven speaks ever in my ear." He gestured again that Skree should sit beside him. "Sit as a friend or do you now stand as an enemy in my house?"

  "I have had only one friend among the landsmyn and he is dead. Why, when I searched this coast twenty years ago did you not tell me you knew where the Abelard boy was?"

  "Ah! So this is about Josh." Branch lifted his eyes to Skree's, power burning in their depths. "Well, do you sit or do you leave?"

  "I want my answers, old mon."

  "You may sit and receive them or you may leave unanswered. Choose, sea-mage, you stand on sanctified ground."

  Skree did not miss the threat. This small trading village was the seat of the shaman's power and, as proof of his strong connection with his totem, wild ravens nested in the eaves of his house. Grudgingly, the sea-mage settled to his knees beside Branch. "Why did you not tell me?"

  "I had never heard of your kind as spiritfather to a landschild. I had a right to my suspicions, especially when that child is of the Abelard lineage."

  Skree heaved a frustrated sigh: Branch's answer made sense. "And yet you allowed the magic to be burned out of him."

  "I allowed nothing!" Branch snarled in a sudden, uncharacteristic show of anger. "By the time I knew what his adopted father planned it was already too late. I would have stopped him."

  "Then Josh is Tori and Merann's son."

  "Yes."

  Skree felt his throat tighten and sharp pangs of sorrow shot like arrows through his chest. All this time the boy had been here. All this time... He could have wept, but did not allow it. Later, with Taun, where no one else would see it. "Who damaged him?"

  "Is that the name you came for?"

  "Yes."

  "There is an apostate priest of Kalirion living at the south edge of the Bought Ladies Quarter. His name is Dinger. He tends to the needs of three brothels owned by Cedarbird through a proxy company. Dinger has burned the magic out of many children. Cedarbird is frightened of the possibility of mage children being born to his captive women. I cannot go openly against Cedarbird as it would endanger my people, both here and in some of the northern villages. You did not hear this from me. But you and Aejys? Cedarbird fears Aejystrys Rowan."

  "Thank you, old mon," Skree said, pulling a tiny packet of sealskin from a pocket of his robes. "I misjudged you." He pressed the packet into Branch's hand. "Accept my apologies."

  Branch opened it and stared in amazement at seven scarlet pearls, the rarest of the rare, used in works of tremendous magical power. He folded the packet back up and placed it in his own pocket. "Accepted. May Raven whisper wisdom in your ear."

  * * * *

  "I wish Tag were here," Aejys told Skree, "She knows nearly everyone in the Bought Ladies Quarter." Aejys gave a snort of laughter. "Hell's Bells, she knows nearly everyone who deals on the wrong sides of town, from thieves to assassins. It's a habit that got her disowned by most of her family. She's an Angtraden."

  Skree's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Even I have heard of the Angtraden clan. Then you will help me?"

  "Certainly. I owe you. But even if I did not, my god is greatly angered by those who deliberately damage children. I am oath bound to put a stop to it."

  "I am the only one of my kind in Vorgensburg. Therefore if I go into the quarter asking about him it will be noted and he will either go into hiding or send myn after me. While I can easily handle the latter, it would complicate matters."

  "I realize that. Becca?" Aejys turned to the tavern master sitting beside Skree; the three of them were alone in her rooms.

  "Well, I know for certain that several of our myn spend time in that quarter. Including both Omer and Raim. I could send them in along with two or three others of their choosing if they wished, with the promise of a bonus for finding him."

  "Then I could go in after him," Skree said.

  "No," Aejys shook her head. "I want him brought out. I want to talk to him."

  "But why? There is no doubt of what he did!" Skree bristled.

  "Because," Aejys said with calm authority. "There may be more to it than a simple apostate priest burning the magic out of children. Most, if not all, priests of Kalirion – apostate or not – would have recognized the Abelard heritage. It is too distinctive not to. I don't think it was happenstance that he got hold of Josh. The Abelard heritage frequently includes life magic."

  "His mother, Merann touch-healed. She was not trained, but she could do it. The genocide... This may be far worse than I thought..." Skree fell silent for a time, and then spoke again. "When you are done with him, then he is mine?"

  "Yes."

  "So be it. Now I must find Josh. I want to know if he remembers his parents. I want him to know who I am."

  "Sounds like a plan," Becca chimed.

  Aejys laid back, her face pale from effort and pain. Becca noticed and poured out two fingers of holadil, helping her to drink it.

  * * * *

  When Skree reached Josh's rooms, Taun was waiting with a surprise: He had convinced Josh to shave. With the beard gone, the sot's face dropped ten years. The sea-mage stood in the doorway, staring in
dumbstruck silence at Josh's almost mirror likeness to Tori Stormbird, the high, broad Kwaklahmyn cheekbones, strong jaw and cleft chin. Save for the eyes. He has Merann's eyes. And he must once have had her fair complexion. Had he still harbored any doubts about Josh's identity this would have banished them entirely.

  "Josiah." Skree took a deep breath and crossed the room. After twenty years of searching he had finally found his landschild godson. What he wanted so desperately was finally within reach and yet he felt so uncertain and awkward, totally unlike his usual arrogant self. He knew that after so many years, considering how small Josiah had been when he disappeared, the mon he had become would probably not remember him. That knowledge made him hesitant and unsure when what he wanted so terribly was to embrace and hold him. He had been so hostile and contemptuous on their previous encounters that Josiah had no reason to trust him. Had he ruined it? Had he destroyed the very thing he wanted most before he even realized he had it?

  Josh looked from Taun to Skree and back again, his eyes like a small, trapped animal wanting to bolt before a predator. Sober, he was an entirely different person from the one Skree had encountered previously: reluctant sailor, abused child, very, very lost little boy who had seen his parents murdered, mage child who had had the magic brutally burned from his body. This was a young mon whose spirit had been thoroughly broken and was just hanging on by his fingernails – except when he was drunk and Abelard manifested. Seeing all that in his eyes made Skree ache and behind the ache came a cold icy rage at all who had done this to him.

  "Sit down, Josiah. Please. I'm not going to hurt you. I am very sorry I was ugly with you before."

  Taun nodded at Josh reassuringly. He still looked uncertain, but he sat. "Taun tells me you knew my parents," Josh ventured in a voice almost too soft to hear. "My real parents."

  "We both did. Your father, Tori Stormbird was my best friend. I loved him deeply as a brother. I never had a brother until I met Tori," Skree sucked in a deep breath when he realized he was shaking. "Your mother was Merann Abelard. The kindest, gentlest person I ever knew." He glanced at Taun for reassurance, which the nerien gave him with a smile. Taun and Merann had been very much alike.