JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING II

by JANRAE FRANK

  "They are aware of the Regent's forces," Kalestari told her, enjoying a bowl of wine. "We've had some skirmishes with shifters. Nothing serious yet."

  "I'm sure they suspect," Soren said, "But unless they've scryed us..."

  "Not likely," Dynarien replied. "I've kept the wards up. I haven't felt anyone testing them."

  "Hoon doesn't know about Jumpfree, so he probably thinks we can't get past the lava yet. Now, if we're finished," Aejys said, rising, "I have a few things to take care of." She walked out.

  Dynarien followed her. "Josiah?"

  Aejys nodded, her face tight. "I shouldn't have brought him. The pace we're setting..."

  They reached the healer's wagon and Aejys climbed in first, folding her wings tightly. She knelt beside him, took his hand, and kissed him. Dynarien crouched near the door watching them, thinking, reading the lines of pain in Josiah's face that should not have been there.

  "Aejys, could you leave us alone for a moment, I want to check him over, not just a Reading."

  "All right," Aejys left the wagon.

  Dynarien moved beside Josiah and Read him. "You're not going to tell her, are you?" It was more an accusation than a question.

  "No. I've forbidden Laurelyanne to also. Let her believe I'll get better. So long as I don't overtire myself it will seem like I am. My body was damaged to begin with ... I just finished it off. Please, don't tell her."

  "I won't. You won't see winter solstice, you know that. I doubt you'll make it to autumn."

  "I never liked autumn."

  "I'll talk to my father, see if he has any suggestions."

  "Thank you."

  * * * *

  A group of riders crested a small rise in the distance, hesitated, and then turned tail.

  "Do we go after them, majesty?" Soren asked.

  "No," Aejys answered. "It's time Hoon knew for certain we were here. He'll have to split his forces between the Regent and us now. But I still don't want him to know about the fireborn and Skelly." She turned in the saddle, glancing over her shoulder. "Dynarien, drop the scry wards on the column, but keep them up on the winged ones."

  * * * *

  Hoon stood on the north battlement watching Aejys' troops set up with great interest, just as he had the Regent's army the day before. He paused to wonder how Aejys could have gotten her army across the lava and the blocked gorge. He had lost the bulk of his skeleton army when the volcano exploded, but his elite units of vampires, sa'necari, and revenants were still in the castle. Granted, their numbers were not large compared to the roughly twelve thousand myn the Regent and Aejys fielded around his castle, but the attackers had brought no siege engines of any kind. If they thought to starve him out they were idiots. This was a castle of the undead. They did not need to eat. When they had devoured all the living within the castle, they would simply go out devour their uninvited guests. How incredibly foolish.

  "What do you make of this, Hoon?" Mephistis asked.

  "Not even Abelard can blow holes in the walls."

  "He knocked the ruins at Dragonshead down and shattered pieces of the altar of hecatomb."

  "Margren used a rite of hecatomb, one hundred deaths, to send a mage-storm and vargeis after Aejys. Abelard then combined his power with hers, turned hers back, and hit with both of them. The undead cannot achieve that, so that freakish spell combination cannot be recreated. However, if I had an altar of hecatomb, I might chance it. I will build one someday."

  "And where would you put it?"

  "Minnoras. Tell me, Mephistis, if I could make a death-angel and if, as is claimed, a sa'necari can possess all the powers of the undead, a sa'necari could be created that could then take on the powers of that death-angel. How powerful would that sa'necari then become?"

  Mephistis looked startled. "That sa'necari would become a god."

  "And if that sa'necari was a yuwenghau to begin with?"

  "You are a dangerous dreamer Hoon. And you begin to frighten me." Mephistis turned and left the walls.

  "I would not need to free the Hellgod, I would make a new one."

  * * * *

  "I have no idea what we will find when we crack the outer wall," Aejys said. They held the final meeting in a circle in the center of the camp. Clemmerick, Skelly, Tagalong, and Kalestari grouped to one side; Borian and some of his scouts beside them, representing both the scouts and rangers. Soren and her officers stood with Aejys. Laurelyanne and Dynarien presenting for the handful of Valdren and fireborn mages.

  "Originally the city was called Sweetwillow and the valley is Errilyn," Laurelyanne said.

  "Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Aejys asked.

  "Because, when I was a child, my mother made me promise not to say it until I stood again before the gates. I imagine the only thing you'll find is the undead and their cattle."

  "It will be sword work all the way," Aejys said. "Heavy cavalry first. Infantry next, breaking to the sides. Mages center. Watch out for the sa'necari. Let's hope there's no surprises. We are going straight for the keep. We're all veterans, we know what we're up against."

  "One thing, I'd like to say," Dynarien stepped forward, "I'd like to make myself better known now to the Sharani."

  Tagalong and Clemmerick, who knew what he was going to say, grinned.

  Soren raised an eyebrow. "Going to finally announce that you're a battlemage? It's obvious from the armor and weapons."

  "My name is Dynarien Willodarusson. I am the Rose Warrior. Twice-Born Son of Willodarus and I'm here to beat the shit out those assholes."

  A murmur of "Yuwenghau" ran through the Sharani ranks and then a cheer.

  "Laurelyanne," Aejys said, "Carliff told me that he had an artifact that allowed the undead in his valley to go about in the daylight. Do you think its influence extends to this valley?"

  "No. It was probably intended to allow him to protect his people at all hours."

  "And all you mages and Dynarien. Another consideration. What are the odds that the vampires and undead in this city are all royalty? Able to brave the sunlight?"

  "Remote." Dynarien replied. "They hoard their blood."

  "We torch the city," Aejys said, "And we enter at dawn. I want fire runs, Kalestari, as well as wall crushers. Alert the fireborn and the Regent. Skelly, Clemmerick, go forward at dawn and take the gates down at my signal. Let's get some rest."

  Aejys went to the healer's wagon and climbed into the back. Josiah was sleeping, but he opened his eyes when she sat down.

  "I should not have given in to you," Aejys told him, wagging her finger in his face. "Look how tired you are. And the fever came back."

  Josiah grabbed her finger and nibbled it. "I love you."

  "You don't fight fair. I can't argue with that."

  "I love you." He licked her palm.

  "Keep that up and I'll have to ask the healer if I can move you to my bed for the night."

  "If you'll do all the work."

  "That can be arranged. If you don't mind a face full of feathers."

  "I don't mind."

  * * * *

  Hoon rode back from the city walls to the castle at the city's heart, accompanied by Mephistis, his general, and an assortment of liches, vampires, and sa'necari. He gestured to his general, a tall vampire who was of both his blood and his loins. "You know my mind and my heart, Timon. I am placing complete freedom to act in your hands. Do what you must to protect my city, but especially the keep. I am not the military mon in the family. You are. There are forces at work here I know nothing of. Aejys Rowan is not stupid. I will withdraw for a few days to the Chambers of Rite and Pleasure in the west tower to let my mind relax and roam. Have the seneschal send up enough nibari and full meals to tide me over for a few days. Except for direst emergency I do not wish to be disturbed while I discern a method to make an easy meal of our uninvited guests."

  * * * *

  The great birds spread their magenta wings, the delicate tracery of gold catching the morning light, and took off in
a broad sweep across the sky, circling. The dark claret of their bodies gave way to azure bellies. Sparks danced along the edges of their feathers, streaming as they flew faster, becoming cataracts of flame as they came low along the battlements. The defenders of Hoon's walls cried out in fear and then despair. For the first time in centuries, with the exception of Kalestari, the fireborn flew to war beyond the borders of their own land. Flames engulfed the soldiers on the battlements. Those who managed to flee to the city below fared no better, for the next pass fired the buildings.

  Aejys listened impassively to the screams coming from the city, nodded at Clemmerick and Skelly. She pressed her knees and ankles to her horse, riding behind the huge pair as they attacked the gates. Her mouth was a fine destrier, but the last time she had besieged a city, it had been on her on wynderjyn, Gwyndar. Gods, how she missed that big animal. Margren and Mephistis had cost her nearly everyone and everything she had loved. They were both in there somewhere. When she found them, she would destroy them.

  Clemmerick stood aside, his tree club on his shoulder as the dragon seized the portcullis and worried it back and forth with a creak of stressing steel. Clemmerick bent and stared up under the top of the arch, consulted with Skelly. The dragon took hold and danced back with a twist, throwing all his weight and some momentum into it. The portcullis tore free. With a toothy dragonish grin, Skelly sailed the portcullis into the middle of Hoon's city. Then he stepped back, making an expansive gesture for Clemmerick to proceed. The ogre bent his knees, bounced for a moment to get his center, and stepped into the blow as he swung. The gates splintered. A cheer went up behind him. Skelly dragged the rest of the shards of gate aside and Aejys led the army into what had once been the city of Sweetwillow in the Valley of Errilyn. They could hear the thud of fireborn dropping wall crushers, boulders and trees, on the Regent's side of the city, since she had nothing to equal Skelly and Clemmerick.

  The houses burned around them like dry kindling. Either there had not been many soldiers on the walls or the fireborn had gotten them all or the survivors had fled back into the keep because Aejys met with no armed resistance. What bothered her was no citizenry, either living or undead. The only sound was the crackling of flames as the city burned.

  * * * *

  Laurelyanne's eyes stung. She carried her staff in the lance cup of her saddle, leaning it the crook of her elbow so she could hold her reins in that hand while she wiped a hand across her tearing eyes.

  "If it's the smoke, I can help," Dynarien told her.

  She shook her head and he could see her mouth was drawn tight.

  "It's the city?"

  Laurelyanne nodded. "I'd forgotten about it. When you're as old as I am. When you've as many new hurts accumulated, you tend to forget to remember the older ones–or maybe they seem not to hurt as much in contrast. I forgot to think about it. After all I was just a child. Now I'm an old woman. Whatever happens, I don't ever want to come here again. I don't want to remember. I don't want to live in the past."

  "I understand. It was four millennia before I fell in love again."

  "You're in love?" Laurelyanne managed a smile.

  "Yes." Dynarien grinned. "She's wonderful."

  "Good for you!"

  * * * *

  "I don't like this, wielder," Skelly remarked, stalking at her side. They had left Jumpfree behind with the auxiliaries and a small guard at their camp in case things went wrong. Aejys prayed that whatever had been housed in the city was not right then striking at the camp.

  "This was probably manned by that skeleton army your friend Firefinder destroyed," Clemmerick pointed out.

  "That's a possibility," Aejys agreed.

  "Still, it makes me uneasy," Skelly said again. "I stood beside Emanra in the final collapse of Galeador. It was like this."

  * * * *

  "Margren, please. Don't go out in the garden today," Mephistis pleaded, drawing her into his arms. "I have a bad feeling about all of this. Your sister isn't stupid. Neither is the Regent. They would not have come here if they didn't have a plan in mind. They know this is a city of the dead."

  Margren twisted out of his hands and rolled off the bed, swishing to the wardrobe and shoving her gowns around in irritated movements. "Don't mention my sister. I'll go to the gardens if I want to. Hoon says they can't get into the city. His sa'necari and liches are already preparing a strike at them, just for the pleasure of it. All those idiots have done is bring us twelve thousand full meals."

  "Beloved, please. Aejys was not the most brilliant of the five generals during the war – but she is the best still living. She is daring and resourceful and dangerous. And I fear for you."

  "I said shut up about my sister."

  Mephistis felt the crush of fear in his chest; his mouth and throat go dry. He licked his lips, rising from the bed to capture Margren's arms. "Please, Margren, stay inside where I can protect you."

  "No!" Margren hissed in his face. "I have an assignation in the garden. His member is long and hard and wide. His blood is warm and sweet and bountiful. He lets me take him in the throat. Now get out of my way while I dress! I am tired of you, Mephistis. You bore me. I don't even like the taste of your blood any more."

  "Hoon! You're seeing Hoon in the garden."

  Margren laughed. "Hoon has begun to bore me. I've spent days thinking about the way Hoon looked at Aejys. I watched you both working so hard to kill Aejys. The way you both hungered for her. The way your eyes looked as she climbed the mountain. You're both obsessed with her. You both want to possess her. I'm just a sop. A make-do. A substitute for the real thing. Get out of here!" She whirled, knocking him across the room, then picked up a chair and threw it at him. Mephistis fled.

  * * * *

  Timon stood on the tower parapet, watching Aejys' troops ride through the burning city. The lesser bloods huddled in the warrens of the sewers and tunnels beneath the city and castle. The fires could not reach them. If he could hold Aejys until nightfall then he could give her a serious contest. The Regent's troops had not yet breeched the south walls. They were not fighting this like any siege he had ever seen before. There were no scaling ladders, no battering rams, and no siege engines. Just those incessant hammering flights of fireborn. He needed to concentrate on Aejystrys Rowan who was actually inside his city. Timon dared not allow her to reach the walls of the keep. The remaining undead who could go out in the daylight were dependant upon the sa'necari who had raised them. If Rowan destroyed the sa'necari, she destroyed their undead in a single blow.

  He chose a small flag from a basket at his side and waved it. A sa'necari on the outer walls of the bailey nodded, lifted his hands, and spoke.

  * * * *

  The stench of rotted flesh hit them an instant before the creatures erupted from the sewers all around them. Aejys and the front line were standing practically on top of one of the sewer entrances. Tagalong's pony went down and the dwarf was thrown, zombies swarming over her. Aejys sprang from her mount, leaving the panicked beast to kick and bite amid the stinking press. She did not need to strike a destroying blow against the undead; the merest glancing touch of Spiritdancer shriveled the desecrated corpses of these lesser dead.

  "Tag!"

  Aejys ripped through the undead, reaching the unmoving dwarf, shouldering her. She had no time to see if her friend still lived or not. She could only hold her and fight on. Nearby she glimpsed Clemmerick stomping zombies into unmoving pools of jellied flesh. Skelly ground the dead with his hind feet while tearing them in half with his fore claws.

  * * * *

  The guard around the mages held firm. Dynarien dismounted, gesturing for the mages to do likewise. Soon he had them circled.

  "They're coming out of the sewers. If we could close the sewers, we could stop anymore from coming up."

  Laurelyanne shook her head. "Nothing grows here. They've killed all the grass and trees. There's nothing for us to work with."

  Dynarien summoned his backpack and when one of the m
ages blinked, he explained, "What's mine comes to me. I summon things, my sister summons people." He knelt and dug through the pack, coming out with a strange brown nut. "It doesn't really like this climate, but I can coax it with a little help."

  "What is it?" one of the fireborn mages asked.

  "It's a banyan tree. It's sacred to my grandsire." Dynarien dug a hole in the ground with his hands, put the nut in, and covered it. He took a skin of water from his pack and watered the nut. "Link with me, focus on the tree and fill the city, collapse the sewers with the roots."

  "Fill the city with a single tree?" Laurelyanne asked, skeptically.

  "Trust me," Dynarien smiled. "This tree is a forest."

  Their awareness centered on the sleeping seed, warm energy tickled it, sang to it. Life stirred and shifted, woke and stretched. Roots spread into the soil, stained and fed to richness with the flesh and blood of the city's countless murdered innocents over five centuries of terror. As death comes from life, life comes from death. The tiny quiescent womb within the seed grew green and stirred more strongly.

  "Father," Dynarien murmured, reaching for his parent with his spirit, "grant us your blessed strength to kindle this small seed from the sacred tree in your garden in Imralon."

  * * * *

  Sitting cross-legged in his garden in Imralon, his back to the central trunk of his favorite banyan tree, Willodarus lifted his shaggy head from his contemplations. He drew his rooted hands from the soil, fingers forming slowly. A columned marble path lined the garden and crossed it in the patterns of his rune, which was almost lost in the forest of a single linked banyan tree.

  "Dynarien," he whispered, his voice like the rustling of leaves in a soft breeze stirring on a summer's night. His son-grandson rarely called to him unless the need was both dire and affecting more lives than just Dynarien's own: the young one was proud in his way. Green light spread through the garden and the trees sang.

  * * * *

  Power. Vibrant green light enveloped the mages, shimmering in a spreading aurora in all the shades of life and growth, peace and joy. The soil sang with memories, answering at first with a cry of terror, the most recent memories emerging first; the years of terror under Hoon's reign; the slow fading of life as more deaths than births occurred until only a small herd of the vampire's conquered human cattle remained. Then joy and sweetness as the older memories stirred: children laughing; people talking; young folks dancing, flirting, teasing; fairs and markets. The earth remembered and found its power. Power joined to power. One mage laughed and another wept. It danced through them. They became not wielders of power, but vessels of the divine and rejoiced.