JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING BOOK I: MY SISTER'S KEEPER

by JANRAE FRANK

  Fifteen people had died in a two week period, their bodies left in the center of the market square, eyes and throats torn out by something or someone with claws. All of the slain had been from the middle class, the artisans, and minor merchants without enough rank to demand attention singly, but taken together more than enough to create panic. The entire city was frightened and clamoring for action from the city's Baron Annalyn Wrak. But, short of declaring martial law, there was little the Baron could do.

  There had been more deaths than those Talons had left in the square: the Urchins found the bodies of three of Talons' Guildsmyn while scampering through the trash heaps in search of random salvage. Talons buried them in the forest with Birdie, priest-in-training to Dynanna, speaking the rites for the dead. Talons took out the shifters who had taken their place, but she knew their deaths had been too recent for their replacements to be the traitor or traitors she sought. She and Zarim, Birdie's sire, threw the shifters bodies over the walls into the temple grounds, hoping that a priest would Read them revealing the Waejontori taint Lizard swore was there. But they dared not go openly to anyone outside themselves. When no word emerged from the Aroanan temple, Talons looked for other options.

  She had begun keeping one hand under her cloak, claws out, using the runes on them to pick her victims: She could feel them grow warm and then hot in the presence of dark magic.

  "Ma'aram!"

  Talons glanced at the familiar voice and saw Laeth Hornbow, almost as storkish as her ma'aram, pushing though the crowd toward her. Talons let her get closer, felt her claws warm and cursed: had she flexed her claws but once in Wilstryn's home, Wilstryn would be alive; but she had considered it both bad manners and bad judgment to bare her weapons without need in a friend's home. She ducked down an alley, found a spot of deep shadow along the edge of a back building amid a pile of broken, discarded furniture, and shrouded herself.

  Laeth paused in the alley mouth, dropping a hand to her sword then moving deeper into the alley. Every few steps she paused still and catlike, seeming to sniff the air, searching with all her senses for the threat she knew was there. Her blade slid smoothly from the sheath as Talons slipped silently into the light.

  "You're not Wilstryn," Laeth stated coolly. "Who are you? What game is this?"

  Talons smiled, serene, calm and centered. "Who are you?" She shook back her cloak, summoning both claws. "Traitor!"

  The other laughed. A dagger flashed at Talons' midsection. Talons deflected it casually, stepping in, and then darting to the side, her claws raking the shifter's dagger hand, leaving pieces of some fingers hanging from strips of flesh and others severed completely.

  The shifter shrieked, a high-pitched animal noise of pain and rage, striking at Talons like a darting serpent with her blade.

  Talons danced away, sensing each move the shifter made, playing with her. She avoided the blade, letting it come within inches before twisting slightly, catching Laeth on the back of the hand, shredding it, forcing her weapon from useless fingers. She kicked Laeth in the side, slamming her against the wall, and then took her eyes. Laeth dropped into a screaming heap amid the broken furniture, clutching her shredded, bleeding orbs. Talons straddled her, a knee hard in her back, jerking Laeth's head back hard by the hair, exposing her throat. Talons put her claws to Laeth's throat. The runes, burning with white-hot intensity, seared the shifter's flesh wherever they touched.

  "Who are you?" Talons hissed through gritted teeth.

  Laeth laughed, a harsh sound that grated on Talons' ears and sent a shiver prickling over her skin.

  One torn hand, bare white bones showing through the shredded skin, gripped Talons' hand at her throat. Pain seared through the assassin and up her arm as if reaching for her heart. Her vision grayed, yet she could see the creature's skin closing over her bones, the wound sealing up as if it had never been there. Talons felt as if her veins had opened and her life was draining away.

  "Sa'necari!" Talons gasped, reeling. She lost her hold on the creature's hair, the long black locks sliding through fingers that could no longer grip. She tried first to shove her right claw into the sa'necari's throat and then to pull free instead, but the grip on her wrist was like iron. The sa'necari's fangs extended, sinking hard into Talons' wrist. Her claws vanished and her knees gave. Talons struck the ground and lay still. The sa'necari bent over her, nuzzling blindly at her throat, her long pointed tongue finding the artery. As the sa'necari's fangs entered the favored vein, Talons rallied, fighting back from the engulfing darkness. She summoned her claws and shoved instinctively upward with both hands. The rune claws plunged deep in the creature's heart, stopping it instantly. With a shrill, despairing cry, the sa'necari fell dead across the assassin.

  As Talons' consciousness slid away into darkness a realization came to her: Wilstryn's two eldest daughters, Laeth and Sorrow, had gone to Dragonshead, mapped it, and found their slain brother. The shifters followed them home. The map was true. Margren's people would not have wanted that in Wilstryn's hands, but probably did not know about it. Wilstryn's daughters must have died that same night and been replaced by the shifters: but only after giving the map to Wilstryn. That meant there was one more key shifter to deal with: the one wearing Sorrow Hornbow's form.

  * * * *

  "Now that's a grim tale," Blackbird said, sitting on a ragged over-stuffed chair in Birdie's tower room, shielded by the magics of Dynanna. "So what have you decided 'bout Sorrow? And the other daughters?"

  "I've never tried to take someone alive..." Talons said softly, thoughtfully. "I'm a killer ... I don't take prisoners. We need information. Grandsire needs captives to question. Several I killed were Waejontori. I have guesses. A wrong step would be disaster. For all of us."

  "There are a whole lot of those Golds out there." Birdie added, her voice dropping to an uneasy whisper, "What if there are more sa'necari?" She sat beside the altar, her knees drawn up, and her head resting on them. "You don't want a shifter coming back in your skin."

  "Just so," Talons agreed coolly. "Grandsire will not send anyone into the city until I've cleansed our ranks." Talons played with a dagger, pulling, sheathing, and pulling in a casually preoccupied manner, thinking through the situation, her gesture punctuating each turn of her thoughts. "Too dangerous. Too much magic. When I am the only one of our people left here, then he will send me help."

  "You need some help now and Birdie, here, knows where to get it," Blackbird said. They had had this conversation several times since Talons returned from executing Laeth Hornbow's shifter: Nothing more remained to be said.

  Talons nodded, leaving the dagger sheathed this time. "All right. Count me in."

  Blackbird nodded at Birdie, who rose, beginning the invocation to Dynanna.

  Mist rose around the altar, forming into a small, translucent, slightly misted figure sitting cross-legged before the loot box. The God was not much taller than Birdie, wore a loosely laced vest with no shirt, revealing ample well formed breasts, and brocaded knee pants split three inches on the sides.

  Talons had never before encountered a group of Dynanna worshippers, although the troubles that Dynanna could get folks into – and out of – were both legion and legend. She never expected the God to actually appear; such things being rare to both her experience and knowledge, she half-considered a discrete withdrawal, then, realizing the God was staring straight at her, knew it was too late for that.

  "We need at least one alive, your Sacredness," Birdie said respectfully. "And help taking out the rest."

  Talons stared, uncertain of what action to take, letting her instincts rule. Her stone-killer composure blanked her face; whatever came of this she would deal with.

  "What are you offering me?" Dynanna asked seriously, "Besides lifelong devotion, utter affection and kisses?" She wrapped her arms around the youth, kissing the startled Birdie full on the mouth before pulling back with an impish grin.

  Talons shook her head at this; Dynanna was like no god the assassin h
ad ever heard of. She watched the misted quality depart from Dynanna's face, revealing an upturned pixie nose, high well-formed cheekbones with delicate hollows beneath and full lips that seemed to promise trouble.

  Birdie motioned toward the loot box. "Take whatever you want."

  Dynanna chewed thoughtfully on a corner of her mouth, bending over the box and poking through it, she pulled out a few oddments, sticking them in one of her many voluminous pockets. Then she started staring at Talons again. The God sauntered over, looking the assassin up and down. Talons felt those eyes undressing her boldly and stared coolly back, despite, for the first time in her life, an urge to bolt. Dynanna threw her arms around Talons, settled onto her lap and kissed her soundly. Talons stiffened, the kiss burning on her lips like the touch of the kyndi. According to many priests of many gods, Dynanna's unpredictability and uninhibited impulsiveness made the little trickster potentially one of the most dangerous deities in their world; far beyond her stature as a very minor young god – a yuwenghau. She was also homegrown, one of a tiny handful of Daveranan entities to find full godhead since the advent of the foreign gods who imprisoned the Hellgod, Bellocar, behind the vast Katal Escarpment northeast of Shaurone.

  "Loosen up a bit," Dynanna urged, sounding a trifle petulant, her mouth pouting. "You might like it."

  Talons sighed, Dynanna's remark about affection and kisses rotating in her mind, and wrapped her arms around the God, sliding into her embrace.

  "OOH! This is definitely better!" Dynanna kissed Talons expertly, her hands moving along the young assassin's neck, then down into her shirt, opening it. "Twice bitten, third time you die," Dynanna murmured so low Talons was not certain she had heard it. "You don't want this to show," Dynanna added, her eyeteeth lengthened, but with her face pressed into the juncture of Talons' neck and shoulder, no one saw. The godling's teeth entered through the same wound left by the sa'necari. Searing pain filled Talons' body as Dynanna sucked hungrily. The terror of her encounter with the sa'necari, the living embodiment of the undead, mere hours past and screamingly vivid in her mind, Talons' felt herself teetering between panic and madness. Her body no longer answered her will: she could not shove Dynanna away; could not summon her claws and strike; she could not move even to speak or scream. Weakness spread through her, she sensed death's approach, Hadjys ... Hadjys ... my soul ... then her eyes rolled up in her head and she fainted.

  Dynanna lowered her gently to the floor, "Scares hell out of them every time," she murmured, lifting her bloody mouth. Dynanna wiped her mouth on her hand and her hand on Talons' shirt. Birdie gave a shriek, tumbling backwards into the corner, wedging between the wall and the altar.

  "Not as good as a vampire," she said flippantly, "but more thorough than a hickey."

  Blackbird's eyes were wide. "What did you do?" she croaked. She could hear Birdie weeping, wanted to go to her, but the crippled old knight was just too frightened to move, too aware that Dynanna was an immortal and of how far she was from the days when she was whole and strong.

  "Oh, I'm not a vampire or anything." Dynanna shrugged, enjoying the joke even if the others did not. "Just made her think I was. I like doing that to the strong ones. Time it takes'em to faint's a good measure of character. Considering where she got that first set of marks, she's got a whole lot of courage too."

  Birdie crept out to Talons' side, wincing at the still bleeding wound in her neck, she found the pulse point above it: Talons' heart beat as strongly as ever, but Birdie promised to have Lizard read her just to be sure.

  Dynanna knelt, touched the wound: the bleeding stopped. The fang marks were now an odd squiggly scar, almost a silvery question mark: a godmark. "Marked her as mine. I'm not possessive or jealous, understand, so that shouldn't be a problem for her. The Dark Judge isn't a jealous god either," she grinned broadly, "otherwise he'd've been after my ass a millennia ago. I've marked a helluva lot of his." She went momentarily thoughtful. "Course he's marked some of mine... My favorite, Pieface's got both marks... Had a helluva fight with him over that one... we ended up in bed together after... He certainly knows what he's doin' there." The yuwenghau shook herself like a dog shedding water. "We got us three kids ... an' I still won't marry'm. I'm just not the marryin' kind, ya know. Only see each other when we got a mad on ... mostly."

  She reached across Talons' limp body, grasping Birdie by the shoulders, pulling her close. "Ma'aram, you should leave now," Dynanna said.

  Blackbird started to protest.

  Dynanna rounded on her. "This is a very big favor you're asking. I don't normally cross Bellocar this way. Try to stay out of the Big Ten's path, I do. One of them could stomp me into the ground so fast ... but they'd have to catch me first." A shrewd, smug smile stole across her mercurial face, and then she waved at Blackbird. "Go! Scat!"

  Blackbird glanced at Birdie who nodded that she should go. The old knight rose heavily on her good leg and left, closing the door behind her.

  Dynanna pulled Birdie into her arms, feeling the usually bold, sassy youth trembling like an aspen leaf in a hard wind. She kissed the top of Birdie's head, shifting her to arms length. "You've always asked for little favors before, my girl," Dynanna spoke gently, trying to be encouraging. "This is a big one. We're putting both our butts on the line. Bellocar's initiates spent a long time preparing this move. It's a nasty one. His backup plan is even nastier ... this isn't the time to go into that one. Prepared to go all the way?"

  Birdie nodded.

  "When we finish, you will be my first high-rank Sharani Priest. Can you handle that?"

  Birdie nodded again, straightening defiantly. "I can take it."

  The room filled with the intense sweetness of roses from distant shores and ages past. Birdie felt an odd stirring in the center of her being, a longing for something she could not name that seemed mixed of both serenity and quiet joy. As she watched Dynanna's shape misted, faded in and then out again: It was not clear whether she had phased out and this new god in or whether she had become this young male taller than Birdie with long blond hair as thick and wild as a lion's golden mane. The yuwenghau's clothing misted away, showing a narrow waist, broad well developed shoulders and well hung genitals quickly growing erect.

  Birdie knew then what was expected of her: she would give her body to the God, for his pleasure. She shivered, hugging herself, struggling to master the fear crawling through her stomach. At thirteen she was that rare thing for a Sharani: a complete virgin. She had never wanted anyone sexually except Lizard who never seemed to notice her in that way. She had wanted just him and only him since her tenth year when her menses came and brought desire on its heels. She loved Lizard passionately with all of her heart and all of her body. Lizard should have been first. Her promise to the God to give her whatever she wanted in exchange for her intervention, aid, and protection had just taken Birdie's choices away from her. And yet, staring at the pale perfection of the young God's body, she felt a wetness form between her legs, a need she was only half willing to acknowledge even to herself.

  He glanced from Birdie's bed in the corner farthest from the altar, then to the tremendous pile of pillows and cushions spread along the wall between them. Finally he ran his eyes over the sweet curves of Birdie's young body, the round generous apples of her high breasts, the broad flair of her hips and the dark thick thatching between her legs. In a single stride he reached her, scooping her easily into his arms. Birdie trembled hard in his muscle-corded arms, turning her face into the juncture of his chest and shoulder, inhaling the scent of roses that clung to him. He carried her to the pile of cushions, lowering her gently.

  "I'm called Dynarien," the yuwenghau explained. "In my first incarnation I was a prince who died for love." He slid Birdie's shirt up over her head, helping her to free her arms, then stroked Birdie's breasts lightly, teasing her nipples to hardness and drawing a low moan from the youth. "How old are you now?"

  "Thirteen last spring," Birdie murmured softly, finding speech difficult beneath his t
ouch, wanting only to make small animal noises. She unfastened her trousers, sliding them down and opening her legs to him, waiting. He pulled her trousers completely off, tossing them in a far corner.

  "How delicious." He kissed her lips lightly, his tongue teasing and tasting the edges of her mouth. "You Sharani! You are so sexually precocious! Have you had many lovers already?"

  Birdie shook her head, the quivering in her loins growing intense.

  "I want more than just to make love to you, Birdie," Dynarien spoke softly, licking between her breasts. "From this joining you will conceive. Do you want my baby?" Dynarien ran his tongue over Birdie, lingering on her nipples, which hardened again at his touch. "You won't have to kyndi this one if you don't want to."

  "I – I don't know..." Birdie swallowed back a sob; both the God's desire and the intense sensations of her body frightened her for a moment. She had dreamed and fantasized about sex, but not about pregnancy. Despite the sexual precocity of Sharani youths, they rarely became pregnant at thirteen: the kyndi protected them until it was ready to manifest – usually around fifteen when they came of age. Her hand slid down to press her stomach, wondering what it would be like to feel it swelling and as she did her hand brushed his hard maleness. A tingling rush of excitement set her trembling.

  "This is a very special child. I've been looking for someone special to give him to." Dynarien bit her left nipple playfully, bringing small flecks of blood around it.

  Birdie yelped, pushing him back "Not so rough!" she protested, defiance rising past her fears and the desperate longing of her body to feel him inside her.

  Dynarien laughed, kissed her deeply and thoroughly, then began stroking her again. "One of the greatest Valdren heroes. Found his soul in a bottle. He'll keep you and yours very safe. You'll see."

  He bent over her, lowering his weight carefully onto her. The pressure of his body stirred an odd, but not unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her trembling changed to quivering anticipation as she felt his cock pressing lightly, teasingly against the lips of her womanhood.