JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING II

by JANRAE FRANK

  Hoon's loins quickened in response to her sucking. It took every ounce of will power to resist climbing on top of her, entering her. When he pulled her loose, he licked his blood from her mouth to erase the evidence of his betrayal. He glanced at the way that Mephistis and Margren had gone, and seeing they were no longer in sight, decided to take his chances. The fullness of his obsession was on him as he opened his pants, climbing on top of her. His expression burned with the fierce joy of triumph as he pushed past the gates of the body he had lusted for so long. His heart beat rapidly, pumping stolen blood into his continually reviving veins. Aejys turned her face away, disgusted by the way her body responded to his.

  "Open your mind to me," he murmured, nuzzling her breasts, his thrusts going deeper and harder. "Let me take away the pain."

  "No." A long breath shuddered through her as she decided she would not make this easier on herself – as if that would mitigate the stain she could already feel in the center of her being, the desolation of sacrificing the last shreds of her honor. She writhed hungrily beneath him, her pelvis lifting in response to his movement. She could not stop herself: her body had turned traitor. Had her ankles not been tied, she would have wrapped her legs around him to pull him deeper.

  "You will slide easily into death and when you rise I will teach you how to love."

  "No." She wanted him. It made no sense. He represented everything she hated and fought against. Yet her tongue flicked out, running across the wound that had already closed.

  "So stubborn." Hoon knew that she was now his, even if she did not. The moment his blood passed her lips, her body had responded to his because of it. In time she would realize that he owned her, body and soul. But by then it would be too late – she would never be free. He opened another vein a little further up, forcing her to reach for it. Her eyes glazed as her tongue found the blood, moaning softly as the forbidden warmth entered her mouth and ran down her throat. The more she drank, the more she wanted.

  He sank his fangs into her throat again, higher on the same side, close to the brain stem. She whimpered, tears of shame running down her face. When he brought her to the very edge, he would call Mephistis to take mortgiefan, but that would be the last time anyone but he would ever touch her. The mortgiefan of Aejys Rowan would not heal Mephistis – Aejys' soul would not be damaged, Hoon had placed it out of Mephistis' reach – and Margren would get the blame for it. His dead seed erupted inside her. Let Mephistis make what he wanted of that when he slipped his own rod of possession inside her. Hoon no longer cared.

  As consciousness slipped away, Aejys' heart and soul cried out a name into its silence: "Josiah."

  Hoon released her, slipping from her body to stand beside her, running his hands over her. She had only minutes left before the change would be completed. It was time to summon the prince. Fire erupted around Hoon and a ball of power struck him, ripping him away from Aejys. He hit the ground hard rolling, and came to his feet four yards away. A tall mon walked into the light with a longsword in one hand and power in the other: the classic stance of the battlemage. "Abelard!"

  "Get away from her, Hoon."

  "Too late, Abelard. She's dead. Hours dead. Well past raising. Even if you could find a lifemage."

  "You're lying."

  "Am I? Look at her."

  Josiah glanced in spite of himself. He saw her arms clearly, but her face was turned away from him. Her skin was bluish-gray, clearly several hours dead. "Noooooo!"

  "She's mine. I not only killed her, I turned her."

  Hoon heard the sounds of battle on the far side of the camp and knew that Carliff had come. He sprang to Aejys' side, quickly cutting her bonds, bending to gather her up before Josiah could reach him. He had not risked everything in subverting Margren's spell and crossing Mephistis to possess her, only to lose her now to Abelard. In his mind and heart she would always be the woman who had faced him across a battlefield and beaten him; no matter how broken she had become, she could be restored and in a way that would make her completely his.

  A surge of power struck Hoon from behind, knocking him loose from Aejys again.

  "He's mine."

  Dynarien moved warily toward the vampire, the scent of roses wafting across the green. He closed the distance, standing now between Aejys and Hoon. There was no way the vampire could carry her off.

  Hoon hissed. Dynarien. Abelard by himself would be tough, they had always been closely matched. He dared not linger, lest Dynarien see past this altered form to the truth beneath it. He was not ready to fight that one again. "Hell take you both!" Hoon rose into the night, changing into a bat as he moved, and disappeared rapidly.

  * * * *

  "She's been dead for hours..." Josiah said, unable to mask the pain in his voice. The wounds in her body did not look serious enough to have killed her – how did she die?

  Dynarien ignored him, taking her wrist and Read her, his expression saddening. "She isn't dead." He lightly touched the embedded hilt and knew exactly what was happening to her and why.

  "But the color of her skin."

  Dynarien moved her head to the other side. Josiah saw the fang marks and his heart fell. "Hoon. I'll destroy him," Josiah growled.

  "She is not exactly dying either, she's changing. That thing is pushing her directly from life into undeath. Even had Hoon not bled her to the edge, she would still be like this. He merely hastened the process. The hilt is doing this. Even if we could tear it from her body, it would take a piece of her heart with it. It would merely complete the process. There is nothing we can do."

  Josiah knelt, brushed the long black hair from her face, and kissed her.

  "Don't, Josiah. Move away from her, she's dangerous."

  Josiah did not move. "What do you mean?"

  "Hoon did not lie. There's a vampire's blood in her." Dynarien brushed his fingers through the blood coating her mouth, showing Josiah. "This isn't her blood. She is minutes away from completing the change. She could awaken and turn on you."

  "Aejys would not do that."

  "She isn't Aejys anymore. Move away. I'm going to end this. You don't want to watch." Dynarien drew his sword. Talons arrived and put the gem in Aejys' mouth.

  Dynarien gave her a questioning look.

  "Hadjys has requested on behalf of Aroana."

  "You're sending her to hell?"

  "No. To safety." Then she pulled Josiah away and he did not resist, turning instead into the assassin's arms, burying his face in her shoulder.

  Dynarien laid the blade against Aejys' throat, brought it up two-handed and then down with all his strength. Cold, powerful hands closed on Dynarien's arms, arresting the sword's descent an inch from Aejys' neck.

  "She still lives," a hollow voice said.

  Josiah and Talons turned to stare. The huge lich king towered over the yuwenghau, imprisoning his arms. Carliff was gaunt, dried out skin like old yellowed leather pulled tight over his fleshless bones. He wore a golden crown and armor, a tattered crimson cloak that had once been rich velvet, hung from his shoulders.

  "She cannot be helped," Dynarien protested. "She's changing as we speak. I need to do this."

  "She is Aejystrys Rowan?"

  "Yes."

  "Sheath your sword. I will stop the change."

  Dynarien nodded, relaxing his arms. Carliff released him and Dynarien returned the sword to his shoulder.

  Carliff knelt, passing his hand over her body with a word of power spoken so softly no one could make it out. A web of black lines appeared over her flesh, radiating from the embedded hilt. Carliff pulled them out, severing them at the hilt with an obsidian blade. As each strand came free, Aejys' flesh lost the undead hue. The chill of undeath left her and her body grew warm again. "Now you must do your part, Abelard. Cast Shared Life. Give her back the blood she has lost."

  Josiah grabbed Aejys' arm to start the spell and Carliff touched him. Josiah winced at the coldness of Carliff's hands. "She needs stronger blood," the lich said. "Give her
Dynarien's. And some from that little fellow. She is the last of the Rowans. Hoon must not have her."

  "Me?" Pieface protested. "Why me?"

  "Can that be done?" Josiah said.

  "Yes. Dynarien, grip her arm. Josiah put your hand over Dynarien's and cast your spell. The lifemages made certain adaptations from your discovery of Shared Life. This is one."

  Carliff read Aejys as the transfer was made, watching the blood bring her back from the edge, watched it dance in her veins with the intensity of Dynarien's power. "Enough. You must not weaken him."

  Josiah ended the spell and Dynarien withdrew his hand.

  "Now the little one."

  "Why me? This is scary. You know what happens when I get scared."

  Dynarien stroked his tousled red hair. "Come on, Pieface. It won't hurt."

  "Promise?"

  "On my honor."

  Pieface looked uncertain, but he placed his hand on Aejys' arm, closing his eyes tightly.

  Josiah repeated the spell.

  Carliff continued to Read her as the blood passed into her. Some of the Badree Nym's power moved into Aejys with the blood, strengthening her in ways that mortal blood could not have done. "Enough."

  Josiah ended the spell.

  "Now the Hadjeeshyn," Carliff gestured at Talons.

  Talons' expressionless, empty face looked at him from her assassin's subtle mask, but inwardly she felt a sliver of startlement that he had recognized her for what she was. She moved to Aejys' side.

  Pieface sidled up to Dynarien and whispered, "She kissed me."

  "She what?"

  "Talons kissed me!" Pieface Winked out as Dynarien made a grab for him.

  Carliff read her again. "Her blood levels are still low, but improved. If your blood, Mage, is compatible with hers, give her just a little. More would be good."

  "Let us help, Lord," a woman said.

  The three rescued villagers approached. Carliff turned to Dynarien. "Read them."

  The villagers and Josiah all gave blood through the spell.

  "My work will not last. The spell will start to spread through her again," Carliff told them when they finished. "She needs the sword." He lifted her in his arms. "I will take her to the mountain, but she must climb it on her own."

  "They'll attack her through the link." Josiah looked about for the amulet, but did not find it.

  Carliff nodded. "Then we must move quickly." He Jumped, leaving them alone.

  Josiah looked around and saw that Talons was gone also. Without Little Bit, there was no way that Josiah could get to the mountain before Aejys started to climb it.

  Undead in Carliff's livery moved about them, taking the heads from their fallen foes so they could not be raised again. The three villagers joined them.

  "He should have waited! She needs the amulet. They'll attack through the link, damn it!" Josiah followed Dynarien to a body hanging from a draining pole. At first he did not recognize her, then he gasped. "Gods! Dree... they got them all. Except me."

  Dynarien cut Dree's body free, stretching her on the ground. He knelt beside her and took the soul gem from his pocket placing it in her mouth. Then he lifted her in his arms and stood. Dynarien stopped talking, he rubbed his face over her like a cat chin marking, murmuring words in a language Josiah did not know. Her corpse shimmered, changed. The little calico cat returned, purring in the young godling's arms.

  Josiah was startled. "She's alive?"

  "Only in cat form," Dynarien told him. "Catkin have not just two forms, but two lives. Like the fireborn. If the body has not been too badly mutilated or deteriorated too much they can be called into the other form. She can never take human form again, but she will live a long time like this. Centuries, barring accident or violence."

  < It isn't your fault, mage. > The cat spoke into Josiah's mind.

  "Dree?"

 

  Josiah reached out and stroked the cat, feeling a little less heartsick. Then he braced Dynarien again. "He should have let us find the amulet first."

  "It might not even exist anymore," Dynarien told him. "Carliff could not wait to find this out. It could be a matter of hours before the spell of the blade comes on her again."

  "Shit! Those bloody sa'necari are going to hit her again." Josiah's eyes closed briefly, his body swaying with pain and exhaustion. His spell had started to fail at last.

  "Yes." Dynarien looked very unhappy. "And should they kill her the change would be instantaneous. A vampire cannot draw the sword. Undead of any kind cannot touch the sword. This is what they have been trying to achieve since Bucharsa, to render her undead. The ultimate eternal torment for a paladin of any stripe. Someone like Aejys makes a very, very powerful undead servant. In some ways Hoon did her a favor. At least as a vampire she would eventually regain her free will after a century or two. Perhaps he thought he could break her before then. She looked close to it when I last saw her."

  Josiah wandered away from him, deep in thought, only half-hearing, fighting his body. "If I find the amulet, can you get it to her?" The pain worsened and his stomach clenched with a wave of sour nausea.

  "No."

  "Can you at least take me there?"

  "No. I can't set foot on that mountain. If I even get near it we'll both be in such trouble it would take ten lifetimes to straighten out. I'm yuwenghau. Nothing more. And a very minor one at that. More to the point, most of the Big Nine regard me and my sister as an aggravation."

  Dree jumped from his arms and raced off into the trees.

  Josiah started after her, but Dynarien stopped him. "Let her go. She knows this valley. She grew up here."

  "Will Aejys reach the sword?"

  "Are you strong enough to destroy her if she doesn't? She will certainly destroy or turn you if you aren't."

  "I – I don't know." Josiah shuddered, his mind filling with the image of a raging vampiric Aejys. His chest and throat tightened painfully. "Is there anything you can do?"

  "Well, I could get you a horse and point you in the right direction. I can't Jump you there. Another god's temples cannot be entered unless and until the altar is desecrated. Or you get a special dispensation. That entire mountain has been consecrated as a temple. If Kalirion weren't infatuated with my sister, he'd probably rip my head from my shoulders just for moving in that direction. You'd never get there in time to help, though. It's a week's ride at least. I don't advise it."

  "Let me be the judge of that."

  "No. I recommend you go west, back the way you came."

  "I'm not running out on Aejys." His failures hurt. Had he not lost the flask of whiskey in the confusion of that first skirmish they would never have taken Aejys and killed Dree. He thought about her ruined hands that could not hold a weapon. She had depended on him. She had accepted Hoon's blood. There had to be a good reason for that, yet he felt oddly betrayed and guilty at the same time. The color faded from his face and his knees gave.

  Dree came running up and curled against him.

  Dynarien's eyes widened in shock at seeing Josiah sink to the ground. "You're hurt! Why didn't you say something?" The yuwenghau dropped to the earth beside Josiah, reaching for him. He read the mage quickly. How could he have concealed these wounds? What else was he Reading? "What did you do?"

  "Spell..." Josiah sagged against Dynarien. "Spell to ... keep going ... couldn't abandon her."

  "I didn't say you were. That's a dangerous spell. I could have gotten her out." Dynarien settled Josiah on the ground, cradling his head and shoulders. "Look about you," Dynarien swept his arm at the scene. "This is a war. Creation! What did you think you were doing?"

  "Been in ... wars before ... holds no ... no terrors for me. Had to ... get her out." Josiah's eyes glazed, losing their focus. He breathed in shuddering pulls. The color faded still more from his face, turning pasty with bright fever splotches on his cheeks. His head moved restlessly from side to side.

  "Josiah, hold on." Dynarien summoned his backpack and began cleaning
and binding Josiah's wounds. He had no idea what to do to help. The yuwenghau knew a little about tending wounds and the medicinal powers of herbs, but Josiah needed a real healer, preferably a mage. "You're in bad shape."

  "Find ... me ... a horse. I've ... got to ... reach her." Josiah shivered violently, cold sweat pouring down his face. "I ... I've got ... to help her."

  "No. I put you on a horse and those wounds will never close. You'll bleed to death before you ever reach her. That was a dangerous damned spell! You're a fool."

  "I love her... Aejys... Aejys." Josiah's eyes closed. His head rolled back against Dynarien's shoulder and he went still.

  "Creation! What do I do? If I Jump very far with him, the Jump itself could kill him." Dynarien muttered to himself. Then he remembered Tagalong and her army were already in Norendel. They would have healers and mages with them. Dynarien lifted Josiah easily into his arms and stood. Dree leaped onto his shoulder.

  * * * *

  Tagalong and Laurelyanne rode at the head of the column with Soren and Borian. The air shimmered and a mon appeared, carrying another who appeared to be badly wounded. A cat rode on his shoulder. Laurelyanne, riding beside Tagalong, dismounted and approached him. When she got close, she could see the wounded mon's face and, for an instant, did not recognize him without his beard. Then it registered and she turned to the others, shouting "It's Josh! He's hurt."

  She regarded Dynarien for a moment, recognizing something about him but uncertain just what it was. "Do I know you?"

  "I'm Dynarien," he said. It was a good old-fashioned sylvan name, he could have been anyone. The Jump had hurt Josiah further, though far less than riding would have. Dynarien had originally intended to simply leave him with the company and go. But they would need someone with strong talents when they went up against Hoon; and Josiah would not be in any shape to help. He decided to stay. "I'm a mage. A friend to Josiah. He needs help."

  Laurelyanne could see Josiah shivering with chills. She touched his forehead, felt the fever there. Her Reader's gifts were more attuned to mage energies than to healer's craft, but she could sense the rampant damage. "This is bad."