JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING II

by JANRAE FRANK

  Galee nodded at Bryndel. "Yes, she's still safe to ride, but give her some more, anyway."

  Bryndel raised her head and shoulders, shoved the vial into her mouth so far back the edges pressed her throat and forced her to swallow or choke. She swallowed, too weak to do anything else.

  "Once her belly swells, we're halfway to the goal. Not being Guild, you can't sit the throne, but you will make a fine regent when the mother loses her mind the day after the wedding." And dies in the birthing. Sharani were notoriously fertile, Talons should catch quickly, and Sharani children could be safely delivered up to two months early. Galee knew they had barely a year in which to pull her plot off – the year that Hanadi would be away. Galee turned Talons' arm to find the artery and bit into it as Bryndel mounted her.

  * * * *

  The camp was quiet. Everyone was settling in for the night. A guard was posted around the perimeters. Tagalong sat at the central fire with Laurelyanne. A voice shouting happily in the air above them made them look up.

  A huge hawk circled, crying, "Found you!" The hawk alighted; its form shimmered, changing. A wind-folk courier stood in its place with a large satchel hanging from its shoulder. The being was male, a light tunic covering its feathered body.

  "Messages from Vorgensburg," the courier said, unshouldering the satchel and passing it to Tagalong. "Some are old," he admitted. "Much trouble finding you we have. What a mess. Three tries, each time more to carry. But we deliver! Yes, we do."

  Tagalong pulled out ten letters, three of them addressed to Tamlestari in a hand that she did not recognize. She handed those to Laurelyanne.

  "Would ya take these ta Stari?"

  Laurelyanne nodded. She took the letters and walked off.

  "Mess tent's back there," Tagalong told the courier. "Take a feed and a rest till morning. I'll have letters going back."

  "Very good! Very good!"

  Tagalong opened them all, read just the dates to put them in order, then started to read. The oldest one was from Becca telling them Aejys was alive. The scrawl was childish and some of the words were misspelled, but it gave Tagalong a sense of pride to see that Becca was writing it herself: the woman was fighting for literacy. Tagalong knew by the end of it why Aejys did not write Tamlestari's letters: the paladin's crippled hands could not hold a pen. Josiah had penned the first letter from Aejys to her dictation. That surprised Tagalong because she did not know the sailor could read or write. The writing was sure and finely turned which was even more surprising. But then, she told herself, Josh had been full of surprises every time he drank. The account of Cedarbird's death and the seizure of his properties by Aejys gave her a grim satisfaction.

  "Hey ya," she called to Clemmerick who was just approaching, "Grab Briarmottë and get him here fast. I got somethin' ta tell 'em."

  "Okay, Tag," the ogre replied, doing an about-face and setting off the way he had come. Grymlyken, the pixie captain, rose to peer out of his pocket.

  "I wonder how Fezelbaum is doing?" Grymlyken asked. He had never had to leave Fezelbaum in charge for such a long time before. Yet it had seemed very necessary for him to accompany Josh and Clemmerick to help Aejys. In the battle with the orc army he had helped Clemmerick rescue Tagalong when the orcs had her cornered. He turned invisible with his little cloak and stuck his sword in their feet as a distraction until Clemmerick could lift her into a tree and out of danger. He had spent most of the last few months riding in the ogre's pocket since most of the creatures they went up against were far too large for him to handle. It felt good to be a hero. No pixie had ever – that Grymlyken knew of – been one before. Someday there would be songs sung about his exploits, he was certain: Grymlyken the Pixie Hero.

  "We'll know soon," Clemmerick replied.

  * * * *

  "What news, Tag?" asked Jaqui, coming up to the fire and squatting with her spear leaning against her shoulder.

  "Wait till tha asshole gets here. Then I'll read this part aloud."

  Briarmottë arrived looking distinctly uncomfortable, which made Tagalong wonder what Clemmerick had said to him. On the other hand, he had been looking more and more distressed as the weeks wore on, and the tale of her finding him with the talking-stone made the rounds. His reputation had plummeted. Where many had thought him a simple trade spy at first, they were now seriously considering him a traitor. Tagalong was about to finish him off.

  Tagalong began to read:

  "In the first week of the third month of winter, we were attacked by a group of myn sent by Cedarbird. They were led by a sa'necari called Dinger."

  "Dinger was sa'necari?" Briarmottë exclaimed.

  "Shut up and listen!" She brandished the letter at him and Clemmerick gave him a resounding thump that staggered the young mon.

  The little clearing around the fire was filling up with the curious.

  "Becca laid him out with a book."

  Laughter from those around her who knew Becca made her pause.

  Tagalong read on:

  "Josiah led the attack on Cedarbird the next day. Josiah killed Cedarbird and we seized his properties as recompense. Like it or not, I am now Prince Protector of Vorgensburg as well as King of Rowanhart, our new realm."

  "Josiah?" Briarmottë asked.

  "That's Josh," said Clemmerick.

  Tagalong turned a stern glance on Briarmottë. "Well, whataya think of that?"

  "I don't know ... I..." He broke in humiliation and confusion, fleeing back through the tents, laughter following on his heels.

  "Take it easy on him, Tag," Jaqui said. "You don't want him to do something stupid." She had been quite infatuated with him early on the march to Shaurone; however, as she set after him she looked anything but.

  "What do the rest of them say?" Clemmerick asked and Tagalong handed him all of them except the last one, which she had not finished. Clemmerick caught the troubled expression on Tagalong's face from the corner of his eye and lowered the letters. "What is it?"

  "Shit! This letter's a week old. Says Josiah is Jumping himself, Aejys, and her cousin Dree to Vallimrah, and then they're going into Norendel after a relic – a sword called the Spiritdancer – and Dree's kids. Clemmerick, Aejys can't defend herself, her hands are messed up. What's worse, she doesn't have a cousin Dree. Aejys doesn't have any cousins left. They got wiped out in the war. Ya know anythin' bout a sword called Spiritdancer."

  "My mother wanted me to be a loremaster."

  Tagalong took that to mean 'yes.' "Well, out with it. Why's Aejys doin' a fool thing like this?"

  "There are nine swords, forged by Eldarion Havenrain in the last years of the Age of Renewal. He forged a lot of stuff."

  "Stick to the subject."

  "Well these swords were for the greatest paladins of the Nine. Spiritdancer belongs to Kalirion."

  "Then why's Aejys goin' after it?"

  "Well you stop interrupting?"

  "Yeah, like he says!" Grymlyken popped over the edge of Clemmerick's pocket.

  "Go on."

  "It doesn't matter who wields them. There are a certain criteria for drawing the blades, each one different. They've never been all in play at once. If a paladin of another god draws it then they owe the owner a favor."

  "So how does that apply to Aejys."?

  "Stop that!" Clemmerick finally started to get annoyed. "One more interruption and I'll stop talking."

  "Okay! Okay."

  "Spiritdancer re-creates the one who draws it. Its better than healing in that the wielder is far better than they ever were before. If an old man were to draw it, he'd be young again. The catch is to draw Spiritdancer, you must be wounded and in need. Kalirion's the god of healing, after all, and I guess he wants to..."

  "Holy fuckin' shit! We've got to catch up with them. They're already in Vallimrah. They're probably already headed inta Norendel by now. We gotta stop Aejys from doin' this. I just got her back. I can't lose her now. Shit! When I catch up ta tha idiot I'm gonna beat tha crap outta her. Get everybody up.
We gotta get goin'"

  "Tag, we can't rip everybody up and just take off. We've got settlers and families in the van. Forced march would get us inside Vallimrah late tomorrow. We can leave the settlers, families and the wagons at the first village. Take just what we can put on horses. Then travel at speed until we catch up with Aejys."

  "I dunno. I have a very bad feelin' about all of this."

  "So do I," Laurelyanne sat down beside them. "I took the liberty of calling a council as soon as Tamlestari told me about Aejys' plans."

  "She told her?"

  "Yes. The letter said she did not want to take the chance that the two of you had gone separate ways."

  "I'm here," Blackbird said, limping into the circle and lowering herself to the ground beside them. She was a large, broad woman once heavily muscled, but now going to fat. Her face was battered and scarred, but her eyes still had fire in them. Her voice was as rough as her appearance. The crippled knight spoke for the settlers. She and her halaefs had brought fifteen children with them. Five of those belonged to Blackbird's triad; the others were war orphans she had taken in over the last seven years.

  "What is this about?" Borian Silverwing, captain of the Valdren rangers helped Tamlestari to sit next to Clemmerick. He was tall and slender, his long hair a dark auburn with silver streaks. His slanted pine-green eyes, the angle of his cheekbones and his ivory skin reminded Tagalong of Aejys' lost ba'halaef, Brendorn, for they were maternal cousins.

  "I told them," Tamlestari said, "that everyone would hear at the same time." The prince of Vallimrah was very round and heavy, moving awkwardly with the nearness of her time. Her green eyes looked tired and worn. The mischief that once teased about the corners of her mouth was conspicuously absent to those who knew her well – banished by grief and the horrors of war.

  Soren, a gaunt, gray-haired ha'taren who stopped counting her birthdays when she passed one hundred, joined them last. Her granddaughter, Maranya, a young paladin who had been Tamlestari's year mate and consecrated at the same time as the prince, walked at her elbow beside the taciturn senior bradae, Meenaleigh.

  "I saw the courier," Soren said. "So I take it something in those letters is why you called this council?"

  "I think Aejys may be in trouble. She's gone into Norendel after a relic called Spiritdancer," Tagalong said. "I want ta go after her."

  "Count us in," Meenaleigh said.

  Soren nodded agreement.

  "What are you planning to do with my folks?" Blackbird asked.

  "One day's forced march will put us in Vallimrah," Tagalong told them. "Clemmerick suggests we leave you at the first large village until we can come back for you."

  "Sounds all right," Blackbird conceded. "I'll look out for whoever stays behind."

  Tamlestari sat with her hands folded across her stomach, feeling the twins kicking. "I'll stay with Blackbird. I won't endanger the babies."

  "That's the first smart thing I've heard ya say in months," Tagalong replied.

  Borian looked relieved. "I and most of my myn will come with you. You'll need scouts. I've been in Norendel."

  * * * *

  The Grand Master slept. He did not hear his third-story window open from the outside. Galee slipped in. She knelt by the bed, slid her mind into his, and spoke. "Talons will complain about many things. You will not listen. You will override her in all things. Your god has spoken to you in your dreams. Everything she says against myself, Lord Wrathscar, and Bryndel is a lie. Her fears for herself are all lies, and deceptions. She is in no danger. She is promiscuous, and tries to cover it up."

  She opened his shirt and gazed at all the marks she had left on his body over the past months. Good, strong veins were getting hard to find. They tended to collapse after several feedings. She pulled his arm out of the shirt and fastened on the artery near his shoulder. He grew weaker each passing day. Eventually Galee would be forced to space her feedings out more lest she kill him too soon.

  * * * *

  Dynarien spent more than a week convincing Hadjys to grant him a special dispensation that would allow him to freely enter and leave even the most sacred precincts of the Dark Judge's temples. Then he Jumped to the High Temple to discuss the issues relating to Talons with Patriarch Eshraf. He had been dismayed to discover that Talons had never arrived, even though he had left her just outside the doors. In fact, no one had seen her in days, including Arruth and Jysy. So he Jumped into her rooms.

  He found her nestled under the blankets.

  "Talons?" When she did not respond, he shook her. Her head moved limply and her eyes did not open. "Talons!"

  Dynarien threw the covers back. She was nude. There were several small wounds to her breasts and inner thighs, which were also caked with drying male juices as if she had been taken repeatedly, and in quick succession. He felt for a pulse and found it. There was a vampire loose in the palace and it had to be an immensely strong one to have taken a marked paladin of Hadjys. He wrapped her in a blanket, lifted her in his arms, and Jumped into the Patriarch's office.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  STALKING THEIR QUARRY

  Hoon summoned Mephistis, Margren, and Bodramet into his tower room in the late afternoon. The sunlight played across the finely defined features of the vampire lord, liming the edges with gold. The heavy chair with scrollwork arms looked like a throne in which he sat easily with his long-fingered hands draping the ends.

  Bodramet had never been here before, and stared uncertainly at the pentagram in the center. The pegs were in place at the points of the star as if waiting for a sacrifice to be tied to them. He swallowed nervously. Hoon smiled at him, his fangs fully down, and giving him a hungry look that increased Bodramet's unease.

  Hoon followed his gaze. "Ah, noticing my pretty, are you? This is where your prince has been holding his rites of mortgiefan. Holes in the pentagram carry the blood into tubes that in turn drain into the basins in my laboratory. It is very efficient. I use it myself for other rites, since the undead cannot take mortgiefan."

  "You're planning a rite?" Bodramet asked.

  "Yes."

  "You've chosen the victim?"

  Hoon's smile widened. "Definitely."

  Bodramet squirmed.

  Hoon chuckled, then turned serious, his attention focusing on Mephistis. "My spies tell me that Aejys Rowan and Juldrid have entered Norendel in search of the Spiritdancer. Shall we go after them? It would solve your problems with achieving mortgiefan, my prince."

  Mephistis reacted visibly, his body straightening as he leaned forward in his chair upon the far side of the pentagram. His eyes glittered. "What about Carliff?"

  Hoon made a dismissive gesture. "Carliff and I have been skirmishing for centuries. I am far older and deeper in my powers than the lich king. There are ways to escape his notice – even with an army. I have perfected them."

  Margren shared a glance with Bodramet that Hoon pretended not to notice. They were probably wondering what it would do to their private plans if the prince were suddenly healed. But then, that was not going to happen. Hoon intended to heal Mephistis, but not using the body of Aejystrys Rowan. That body was his.

  "I have long wondered if a sa'necari of sufficient ability were to find his seat of power, could Carliff be taken?" Mephistis asked. "Could he and his armies be enslaved? Margren and I have discussed this before. Juldrid, our na'halaef, was the last living blood of his blood, a descendant of his loins."

  And if you took him, I would be forced to introduce you to Anksha all the sooner. "Yes. My spies tell me there is a blood fountain in the courtyard of his castle. A fount of power, perhaps? Only the living, such as yourself, can wrest a fount of power from the undead."

  "What will it take to get me to the castle?"

  "Two things, my prince, a major assault on Norendel to draw Carliff and his forces away from the castle. Then some way to slip you and a small force past Carliff unnoticed. I think that can be managed."

  "Good."

  "However, th
e first things that must be done is to stop Aejystrys Rowan from drawing the sword. Now the sacrifice."

  Bodramet drew his power to him as they walked toward him. Hoon gave him a strange smile.

  "Did you think we meant to offer you?" Hoon asked. "Not that I would ever hesitate to offer a sa'necari. But we all have other uses for you."

  "Why else have me where you never have before?" Bodramet replied, holding to his power.

  Hoon laughed to see that the haughty sa'necari was not as brave as he pretended. Bodramet would be easily handled in the future. "No, it is another sa'necari I am offering up. One who offended me."

  The vampire went to the door and stuck his head out, calling to his guards. Soon a naked, female sa'necari was brought in. The female's face was bloody and burned from days of torture. Spellcords in puce, ebony and crimson, a standard variety, enclosed each wrist to cut her off from her power.

  Bodramet's breath caught in his constricting throat. It was the one who most often shared his bed.

  "I felt that you should do the honors, Bodramet," Hoon told him, grinning. He enjoyed Bodramet's reaction, considering that this female had been conspiring with him to betray the prince. The only one,who had Hoon's permission to betray the princewas himself.

  The guards tied her down.

  Bodramet hesitated.

  "Ride her into death," Hoon snarled. "Or I will have the prince do you."

  Bodramet obeyed.

  * * * *

  "What I want, Timon," Hoon told his son, pacing before the fireplace that could do little to warm him. "What I want is the best you can assemble here. And I want all of your shifters. Especially the lycans."

  "So you're really going to challenge Carliff? Not simply a little foray?" Timon asked, drinking a glass of traitor's blood.

  "Nothing else will secure me what I want. Aejystrys Rowan will be mine."

  Timon sighed and poured himself another glass. "After all these centuries, you are still obsessed with Mother's blood."

  Hoon rounded on him, his eyes blazing with anger. "I never drank from your mother, any more than you did. But I will have the last of the Rowans as my mate."