JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING II

by JANRAE FRANK

  * * * *

  The old house rose up two stories in a graveyard of ruined houses, a section hit once too often by raiders. There might still be people in some of them, derelicts and others who had fallen through the cracks of life, illicit tenants of desperation. Omer always figured he would end up like them when he got old – his father had. Fear of it used to come calling in the utter stillness of the wee hours before dawn, binding his stomach in nauseous twists of panic, suggesting he put a knife to his wrists before he lived too long. Since Aejys found him, those nights had become rarer, but he still had them.

  The house was supposed to be abandoned. It looked that way to Omer. The shutters on the windows were all broken and the front door hung half off its hinges. Wind blown snow was piled deep against the sides. Janine had gone out, pulling in some favors to get him the address while he waited in her chambers. She made him promise not to go in alone. He knew he should have kept it, gone back for at least his buddy Raim, but he had a gut feeling that time was something he did not have. Janine told him that sometimes the bolder of the street children, mostly orphans, went in, and never came out. Dinger did not live in the house, he lived under it. Or so Janine told him.

  Omer went up the front steps, kicking the snow away as he went. He slipped cautiously through the door, which squeaked loudly despite his best efforts. Floorboards creaked and felt ready to give beneath his feet in several places. There was no possibility of walking quietly. He paused, letting his eyes get accustomed to the dark. A loud chorus of chittering began above his head. He looked up to see what seemed like hundreds of gleaming red eyes through holes in the disintegrating ceiling.

  A cold chill ran up his arms. Bats. It's just bats.

  He moved on, past rats nesting in the ruins of an old couch, into the kitchen. At the end of the kitchen he found a stair leading up, but he was looking for something leading down. He walked past them into a hallway. One door to the left opened on a large pantry. An odor of rotting flesh seemed to rise from beneath the floorboards. It had to be fresh to smell so strongly in the cold weather. Omer gagged, pulling the edge of his great cloak around his mouth and nose for a moment just to catch his breath. Then he let it go and knelt. The odor worsened the lower he got. It was definitely coming from beneath the flooring. He pulled out a lucifer and struck it. By its light he found a small hole about the size for a man to put his finger through. The lucifer burned down and he dropped it, stepping on it to be certain it was out. Then he had to let his eyes get used to the dark again while he felt around for the hole.

  Omer found it; opening a trap door revealing a narrow stair. The odor was even worse now. With his every instinct screaming not to, he went down. A candle burned on a long table, giving out a feeble light. Some one lived here – if you could call it living, he added grimly. He turned about and in the thin flickering light made out a long, vaguely human shape lying in a corner. When the person did not move, Omer retrieved the candle and looked closer. It was a woman lying face down and she was very dead. The winter chill had preserved her for the nonce. He turned her over. She had long black hair and a face that might have been pretty if she had been alive. Her dress had been slit open to her knees. He counted six stab wounds in her stomach and chest, crusted with frozen blood. There was no blood on the dress. He parted her thighs and found a thick coating of frozen semen. It could have been a simple rape murder, but a tightening in his gut called it mortgiefan. There should have been more blood.

  I should get out of here, he thought, but went into the next room instead. This room was warmer. There he found sixteen eerily glowing glass tanks, each filled with a foot or more of sand and topped with a heavy wire mesh. He looked closer. Each of them contained a hibernating viper burrowed deep into the sand that he could just barely make out by where the edges of their bodies pressed the glass. All of those he recognized were among the most potently venomous on the continent. Several of them were what he and his fellows called 'ten-steppers' because no one ever got far after being bitten by one. When he got to the last tank he saw that the sand had been disturbed and the viper was missing. He could not explain it, but that empty tank gave him a very bad feeling.

  Okay. I'm going back now. I'll tell Aejys what I've found and return with some friends.

  As he entered the living room, heading for the front door, he heard movement around him. Someone unshielded a lamp, nearly blinding him. "Should you be here?" a mon's voice demanded. By the light he discerned six shapes, all armed: four men and a pair of unfamiliar women dressed in leather and trousers like some of Aejys' household. Around him he heard the scrape of steel clearing leather. When outnumbered, Omer's father had always told him, your best defense is a strong offense followed quickly by running.

  Omer whipped out his two long knives, and charged the mon nearest the door. The mon lunged with a sword. Omer crossed his knives, catching the attacking blade and forcing it up and away. He disengaged with a twist, shoving one of his knives into the mon's midsection. Omer jerked his blade free, knocked the collapsing mon aside and slammed through the door. He caught sight of the moon as he raced out into the snow: It had to be near closing time at the Cock and Boar. He extended his stride to a ground eating pace, haunted still by the empty tank even though his own logic dictated that he should have been more concerned about the dead mon.

  * * * *

  While Omer visited Janine, Becca set off to see Brother Arlethan. The little schoolroom was located in the converted warehouse next to the Cock and Boar. Most of the warehouse was now dorm style living for the guards and drivers wintering in Vorgensburg, but she had set aside this one small room near the center of the building for the children. It was warmed by a little cast iron stove with a pipe through the roof to take away the smoke, an excellent example of dwarven ingenuity introduced by Tagalong the previous winter, thus making it one of the warmest rooms in the building. Eight children ranging in age from five to twelve sat at little desks with books and slates. They had embraced the chance at learning warmly, at first just because it got them out of half a day's chores and later because they enjoyed it. Brother Arlethan was very good with the children. Their parents cherished the idea of their learning and it increased their gratitude and loyalty to Aejys for giving their children this opportunity.

  The withered old monk with the careworn face and odd hazel, almost true violet, eyes smiled warmly when Becca entered, moving spryly to take her cloak. "What do we say, class?"

  "Good Morning, Master Becca," they replied in unison.

  "Good morning, children," Becca replied. As the monk reached for her cloak, Becca shook her head. "I'll only be a moment. I was wondering if you might have some books for Lord Aejys to read. She's very bored at the moment." At least during the daylight, she added smugly to herself. "Perhaps something on the history of Vorgensburg?"

  "Ah! I have just the thing. And perhaps some classics? I could bring them up later? I haven't had the opportunity to greet her in person."

  "That sounds nice. Having someone as learned as yourself to talk to would be pleasant also, I'm sure."

  "Then I shall come by your office some time after lunch and you will introduce us."

  Becca turned and departed, so she did not see the strange twisted travesty that his smile became. She had never asked him if he had a last name, because none of the monks she had known over the years had gone by one, but he had one. She had just left the children alone again with Arlethan Dinger, apostate priest of Kalirion and agent of Thomas Cedarbird.

  "My, my, my," he murmured so soft that none of the children could hear him, "when opportunity calls, it definitely calls." Then he went back to teaching, feeling the reassuring presence of the little fetish between his sock and the insole, a gift from his master. He could now take out the mages. His creatures would not be rested enough to call on for another day: they were sleeping off their feast at the Kwaklahmyn trading enclave. However, Dinger had other tools.

  * * * *

  Arlethan arr
ived in the second hour past noon wearing his brown robes and the belt of dangling wooden beads carved like leaves interspersed with various dried seeds typical of a Willodarian monk, carrying a worn black satchel of books. She helped him out of his long wool cloak, threw it over her arm, and led him down the hall to Aejys' rooms.

  Aejys lay in bed, looking a bit worn. She started to sit up.

  "No need," Arlethan said quickly. "You need your rest, I'm told. So I'll bring them to you."

  Becca smiled at his thoughtfulness. "Lord Aejys, let me introduce Brother Arlethan. He's the Willodarian I told you about. The one who's teaching the children."

  "We are very fortunate to have you, Brother Arlethan," Aejys said. "The children you have sent up to read have read quite well considering how short a time you have been teaching them, just since early fall I'm told."

  "They are very eager to learn and I am happy to teach." He sat his satchel down beside the chair closest to the fireplace. He pulled out four volumes and carried them over to the table. "This is a history of Vorgensburg," he said, patting the top volume happily. "And there are two more that I'll just leave on the chair. Or will six books over burden you too much?"

  The thought of more books delighted Aejys. "Six is fine. I'll look at these first and the others later."

  "Do you need me to stay and turn the pages for you?"

  "No," Aejys told him. "I'm starting to get some feeling back in my fingers. I can handle it. Thank you for offering. You must have better things to do than that."

  "As a matter of fact I do, but they would wait if you wished."

  "No. Go on. Just leave the others on the chair as you said."

  "I will. I surely will." He went back to his satchel, pulling out two books and something else which the books and the angle of the chair concealed; something large and tightly coiled which needed the fire's warmth to awaken from it's hibernation. Arlethan knew that Josiah shared her bed and, with any luck, he would be the one to fetch those two books to her. Then he followed Becca out.

  * * * *

  Omer arrived at the Cock and Boar, winded and gasping. He glanced about again to see if he had been followed, failed to see anyone in the light of the street lamps, and went in. Little more than a handful of regulars occupied the common room which was slowly filling up again with members of the household seeking seconds from the day's leftovers, especially the pastries, or a last pint before bed which they got at discount since it was from the tavern stores and not the household's.

  Raim sighted Omer first and rose to greet him with a frown of concern for he could tell that his buddy had been running and wondered from what. Raim's frown increased when he got close to Omer. "What's happening?" He touched a small spattering of bloodstains.

  "Not mine," Omer told him, looking about. "Where's Becca?"

  "In her office. Why?"

  "Come on. I'll tell you both at the same time."

  * * * *

  Aejys enjoyed the book on the history of Vorgensburg. She had not known about its founding by a small band of shipwrecked sailors who washed up on its shores more than a century ago. Taun had shortened the splints a tiny bit when he realized that she was getting some feeling back just so that she could work on turning pages. He still did not know how much or how little strength or use she would get back and was considering, as he had told her, sending for a touch healer or mender that he knew among his own folk. She knew well that only a full lifemage would ever be able to give her back complete use of her hands, but a little use was better than none and she was starting to feel hopeful again.

  Josh had settled on the bed beside her, sliding his arm around her shoulders while she read, listening interestedly to her intermittent remarks on the subject. It took his mind off the horror of that morning. He wondered what was taking Skree so long, for he ached to share his nightmare with Aejys and be comforted as he had been on the bluffs four years ago.

  "There are two more books on that chair," she told him, "I think Brother Arlethan said that at least one of those is on Vorgensburg also. Would you get them?"

  Josh slid out of bed and was half way there when Aejys heard a sound that chilled her blood then sent a rush of adrenaline to warm it again. Certain types of horned vipers, among the most deadly on the continent, had tiny spines in their scales that allowed the scales to be lifted slightly and then they rubbed them together to make a threatening noise when agitated. "Don't move."

  "What is it?" he asked in a hushed voice, looking about.

  "Come back here slowly."

  Then he heard it, started to turn, and hesitated, his heart hammering. He could not flee without knowing where it was. He could not think. Panic held him and all he could do was remember the gutted child falling across the doorway in the little house on the beach.

  Oh gods, no. "Come here. Now," she said in a calm, insistent voice. She saw movement in the chair. Something peered around the edge of the arm. Josh seemed frozen in his tracks. Adrenaline lent her strength and speed; she crossed the room and kicked the chair, spilling two books and the large thick body of a black and scarlet-ringed horned viper onto the floor. It curled quickly and struck at her. She retreated slowly, cautiously facing it, trying to anticipate it. This particular snake was known to chase people. One of the other aspects of Sharani genetics which Ishla Twice-Gendered had played with had been the development of a strong resistance to all but the most potent of natural venoms and poisons, though little to the occult and magical ones. She did not know if it extended to this particular species, for it was not found in Shaurone. But if one of them did get bit, she stood a better chance of surviving it than Josiah.

  Josh took a step back and it darted toward him. Aejys sprang, elbowing him out of the way. He stumbled backwards and hit the floor, then scrambled up, grabbing at a chair. Aejys moved between them. The snake struck, biting quickly and holding on. Aejys cried out at the burning pain, caught it between the palms of her splinted hands, and tore it loose, throwing it. Blood spurted from behind her knee: It had hit an artery and removing the serpent had torn it open a bit. It coiled quickly. She brought her foot down hard enough to break its spine in the middle. Nonetheless it was able to whip its upper body around and sank its fangs into her leg a second time. Once more Aejys ripped it loose, wishing desperately the she had the full use of her hands to grasp a weapon with, and stomped it again, this time catching it behind the head and killing it instantly.

  Aejys staggered as the room seemed to twist around her. Her legs gave and she dropped to her knees, curled up, and pressed her splinted hands around the ugliest of the burning wounds, fully aware that she had gotten the full load of venom. Most of it into the artery behind her knee which continued to bleed heavily. "Shit! Shit! Hell Shitting Damnation! Shit!"

  Josh knelt beside her, his eyes like saucers. "It bit you. How did it get in here?" He felt chilled to the bone: if she had not acted, he would be dead. As things stood, she might soon be.

  "Don't know. Get Taun. I'm going to be sick," she said, and then threw up all over herself and the snake. Considering how quickly the symptoms had shown up, she knew she was in trouble. She pressed the splinted palm of her hand to the artery, trying to slow the bleeding. Blood oozed around and through the splints.

  Josh raced out, returning with Taun, followed closely by Skree, Becca, Raim, and Omer. A crowd formed outside the door.

  Taun dropped to his knees, pressing his fingers around the wound, Reading it quickly. The flesh around the wound had already started to blacken. "This is bad. It's a nerve toxin. Even lifemages have trouble with it. One bite went straight into the artery."

  "Tell me something I don't know," Aejys growled.

  Taun's brow furrowed with worry, he hoped that some of the venom had bled out. "There were some lifemages in Charas working on a universal potion for this kind of thing. But I think they're dead. Without a gate we couldn't get it in time anyway."

  Skree picked the viper up by the tail, examining it. "The Shared Life spell
would not work here." He laid the dead snake on the small table, wondering if Reading its poison's structure would help at all.

  "Was anyone different up here?" Raim asked. "Someone who doesn't usually come up? Or has never been up before?"

  "Brother Arlethan left those books," Aejys said, a trifle unsteady, her vision was blurring and her stomach felt ready to let go again. Lethargy spread through her, bringing a strange, blanketing warmth – almost comforting. The nausea faded.

  "Arlethan?" Omer frowned. "That's Dinger's first name."

  "Shit..." she whispered, her voice growing faint, oddly emotionless in quality in contrast to her words. "We're betrayed." A still, painless clarity slid in – her consciousness seemed to float without anxiety of any kind; and if her body hurt she did not feel it. If this was death, then it was a far easier one than she had feared. Aejys sagged against Taun as the world started to go gray, darkening steadily around the edges until she could no longer see anything; although she could still hear them speaking and moving around her.

  Screams came from the common room amid the sound of breaking chairs and tables. "Cedarbird just made his move. Taun, stay here," Skree said, grimly, pushing through the crowd and racing down the stairs. Raim and Omer followed.

  Josh extended his hand to Taun. "Give me the key."

  Taun pulled the key to Aejys' liquor cabinet from around his neck, tossing it to Josh. Josh went for the Dragonsbreath since it was the strongest and took several long pulls. The power surged within him as Josiah Abelard awakened in his mind.

  "Josiah," Aejys called weakly, feeling him touch her. "Stay alive."

  "I will." He turned and strode out.

  * * * *

  Twenty toughs armed with knives and clubs filled the room, killing the customers as well as the help. Aejys' people and the customers were fighting back, but the floor was already deep in dead, dying, and wounded. Josiah spied Zacham hiding under a table weeping. He grabbed the boy, "Go for help," he said, and with a word of power popped the boy out of the room and into the warehouse where Aejys' caravan guards wintered.