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

by JANRAE FRANK

  Margren frowned and broke the other hand. Aejys fainted.

  * * * *

  Talons woke Blackbird in the wee hours of the morning, her face a stony mask despite her urgent tone. "Margren has taken Aejys. I'm going to Dragonshead."

  "Hell shitting damnation!" Blackbird started awake. The bedclothes slid down around her waist as she sat up. "You're still in rocky shape, Talons. That isn't the smart thing to do."

  Talons smiled thinly. "Life has rarely given me choices, my friend."

  "Then take one of the girls with you." Blackbird swung her feet over the bed, reaching for her clothes that lay across a chair near the nightstand beside the bed. She realized with a jolt that she had reached with her right hand. In the weeks since Paunys dosed her with Dynanna's elixir she had begun gradually getting some feeling back in her fingers, but to actually reach without thought was more than she had ever hoped for.

  "What's wrong?" Talons asked.

  "Not wrong. Right. I just moved my hand and arm!"

  A small true smile touched Talons' face, and then disappeared. "That is a miracle, my friend. Now wish one for me." She turned, heading for the door.

  "Wait. Take one of the girls."

  "No," Talons answered without turning. "There are people heading for Dragonshead already. I don't want your girls seen with me. For their sake. Their safety." Then she was out the door and gone before Blackbird could rise to follow her.

  With her shadow cape pulled close around her, Talons slipped out of the city unnoticed. Dawn broke as she reached the forest beyond the walls. In a secluded spot, far from any eyes that might watch, she pulled a whistle from her pocket. She blew a single high long note, waiting for three heartbeats before blowing it again. A high shriek responded. Talons raised her head. A saddled gryphon spiraled down toward her. Her grandsire had sent Little Bit to her once he knew that Armaten was clear of Golds.

  "You weren't thinking of doing this alone, now were you?" A sweet male tenor asked.

  The scent of roses caught her as she spun to face him, claws out. "Dynarien."

  The yuwenghau smiled with pleasure. "So you figured out who I am?"

  "The Rose Warrior." Her voice was cool, almost casual as she sheathed her claws. "You died back when Shaurone was still a scattered group of squabbling tribes with a common tongue. You and Tros Willodarusson were chasing Waejonan. He got both of you. Willodarus cursed Waejonan for your deaths. That's why Waejontor's forests teem with life, nearly all of it deadly. I asked my grandsire. His priests told him."

  "Very good," Dynarien gave her a courtly bow, his midnight blue cloak sliding around his left shoulder. "So, going alone?"

  "Not if you want to come."

  Dynarien's smile widened. "I must admit a selfish interest. My sister wants the contents of the soul vault."

  "Your sister..."

  "Uh uh," he wagged a friendly finger at her. "If you have not figured out the true nature of my bond with Dynanna, I am not going to tell you."

  "So be it." Talons mounted first and Dynarien sat pillion behind her. She snapped the reins and they rose into the sky, making for Dragonshead. As they reached the bluffs Talons saw the ruins, which had been standing when she visited them months past, strewn in rubble beneath them. "What in Seven Hells?"

  "Hell had nothing to do with it," Dynarien said pleasantly. "One of Dynanna's experiments with captured souls was the reincarnation of Josiah Abelard."

  Talons glanced sharply at Dynarien. "The Mage Master?"

  "Same."

  "He did this..."

  "Yes."

  Talons sent the gryphon spiraling down into a wooded area near the edge of the bluffs.

  Dynarien alighted, turning to help Talons dismount he put his hands on her waist.

  Talons went completely still, staring pointedly at his hands. "Remove them now or I'll see if gods bleed."

  Dynarien raised an eyebrow questioningly as he dropped his hands and stepped back. "As you wish. You are angry with me?"

  "I just realized what you did to Birdie." Talons' voice was cold, utterly without feeling, her face was still, betraying nothing. "No. I've seen the way her hands drift to her stomach. She's pregnant. You shoved one of those reclaimed souls inside her."

  Dynarien gave her a long appraising look. "Yes. She carries a heroic soul, fit to do battle with the darkness."

  "She is just thirteen."

  Dynarien's face flushed and he turned his back to Talons. "It was not rape. I have never forced a woman."

  "Undue influence then. You're a God, she's a child. With anyone else the kyndi would have prevented her becoming pregnant this young."

  "She agreed to have my child... She is strong. I will visit her again after this child is born to give her another. Perhaps many. Dynanna wishes to bring as many heroes as possible back to fight Bellocar. If this is not done, then Bellocar will find a way to kill this world again."

  Talons fell silent. She could not argue with that point, despite her concern for Birdie. "From this soul vault?"

  "Yes. The soul vault at Dragonshead is the largest that ever existed. Will you help us?"

  "Why do you need me?"

  "Only a human can open the vault. Dynanna's spies have found the vault, but cannot open it."

  "Spies. You have spies inside the citadel?" Her surprise showed in her voice before she could catch herself.

  Dynarien was looking earnestly at her, his expression hopeful. "The catkin. That is how we knew to send Blackbird to rescue you."

  Talons fell silent again, thinking and remembering that day on the bluffs, replaying it and inserting the new pieces. Because the catkin had seen her, her life had been saved... "Yes, I will help you, but only if you swear to give some of those souls to the Guild."

  Dynarien's face lit up with eagerness and pleasure. "Do you want one? I carry three with me now. I could give you a very, very powerful child."

  His long fingers brushed her cheek, sending an electric heat through her, setting her loins tingling. "Shit." Talons retreated, certain that if he kept that up she would be climbing out of her clothes before she could stop herself.

  He reached for her again. "I could give you greater pleasure than any man you have ever known or ever will know."

  "No," Talons said flatly, moving still farther from him. "Just tell me who carries them when the deeds are done so I can find the children."

  "What would you then? Tell your grandsire?"

  "I would keep it to myself, taking a personal interest in the children and their education."

  "One hundred souls," Dynarien offered, adding, "And the touch of your lips."

  "Ten percent and you keep your hands to yourself," Talons shot back at him.

  Dynarien gave a small disappointed shrug. "So be it." Then his face brightened again and he said, "Another time, maybe?"

  "No!"

  * * * *

  It took half a day for Geoa Odaren to see to the burying of her dead, making it early evening when they reached Rowan City. Eliahu no longer pretended to be anything that he was not, riding at the Mar'ajan's side in his full regalia as the High Mage of Winter: He wore a mid-calf robe of a deep blue-violet velvet; black leather boots lined with sheepskin, a cuff turned down to show the violet dyed fleece; and a heavy wolverine fur cloak. The end of CallThunder rested in the lance boot, casting a fine white glow from the tip. Josh rode just behind them with Clemmerick walking beside him.

  The captain of the city guard came down herself when Geoa's banner was first sighted and was waiting for them when they arrived. The mon looked worn and weary in her blue surcoat which was heavily creased from sleeping in it, her face was lined and smudged with sooty streaks where she had simply tried to wipe it off rather than take time to procure water and soap. Geoa Odaren frowned, looking from the captain to the smoke rising in a dozen places – testament to burning buildings and civil unrest.

  "What happens here, Captain?" Geoa asked quietly.

  "That's what our Mar'ajan is ask
ing everyone..."

  "I am here on behalf of the saer'ajan. If you know any more about this, you must tell me now. If it impacts on my mission and you don't tell me, it will go hard on you."

  "Yes, Lord," the captain said with a touch of nervousness in her voice, glancing down the line of troops as if looking for someone. "It seems there are rumors going round that the Ajan Margrenan murdered the Lion of Rowanslea. Any and everyone who has ever done business with her, or is even suspected of having dealt with her, are being hauled from their homes and murdered by vigilantes." She craned her head still farther, her eyes searching Geoa's ranks with an expression of increasing desperation. "She is with you, isn't she?"

  "She?" Geoa asked mildly.

  "The Lion of Rowanslea. She was supposed to be with you."

  So rumor has run ahead of us, Eliahu mused.

  "She was," Geoa told her, a hard edge lining her words. "She was taken by sa'necari yesterday. She may be dead by now. At least that is our fears."

  The captain stared up at Geoa, looking stunned and shaking her head. "We'll never be able to contain the violence. Never."

  "You will do your best, captain." Geoa said sharply.

  "Yeah. Yeah, I will." But she did not sound at all certain that her best would be good enough.

  Geoa's compliment of twenty knights and six ha'taren rode slowly past the troubled captain and down into the streets toward Castle Rowan at the city's center. Eliahu counted six burned-out houses, two blocks of homes and businesses in charred ruins, and seven bodies still tied to stakes amid the crumbling ashes of the fires that had consumed them and then he simply stopped counting because sick horror had set in and nausea had begun in the pit of his stomach.

  Nearing the castle, they were halted by ten bradae, warrior priests of Aroana dressed for war. The priests wore mail shirts and gleaming breast plates with the Aroanan Rune drawn large upon them, over long blood crimson robes, a color that would never let anyone see them bleed. They carried heavy pikes, crossing them in front of Geoa Odaren's party.

  Geoa signed a halt, dismounting. The nearest priest, a tall grim-faced mon nodded toward a wrought iron gate set between tall white stone crenellated walls. Sonden, High Priest over all the Aroanan temples in Shaurone, came down the flagstoned walk. His ankle length black hair was braided and curled into a coronet atop his head. Like his priests, he wore mail and a breastplate over his somber black robes. The strap of his black medicine satchel crossed his chest from left to right and he carried a runed silver fighting staff.

  "These are troubled times, old friend," he said to Geoa. They embraced briefly, informally.

  "They are indeed." Geoa saw the dark circles beneath his eyes and the troubled light in their dark brown depths.

  "I thought you might have need of me. Where is Aejys?"

  Geoa told him.

  A soul-deep weariness stole across his face with the grief. "I tried everything I could think of – within the boundaries of convention – and failed utterly."

  Geoa pulled the packet that she had been given by Hanadi from her pouch, handing them to him. Sonden glanced at them, and then stared past her, much of the weariness left his face, replaced by pleasure and surprise. Geoa turned to find Josh standing behind her.

  Sonden went to Josh, reaching and then hesitating like a child remembering his manners. "Josiah Abelard! You were Josiah Abelard. Is it all right if I touch you?"

  Josh sucked an uncertain breath as deeply as he could take it before nodding. He had finally found Abelard, the mage who had been chasing him through his dreams, and it was himself. A name rose in his mind and he spoke it, "Sonden. Of course it is." Josh extended his right hand to Sonden, sliding his left into his pocket to rub the stopper of a bottle of whiskey as if it were a magic talisman.

  Sonden grasped Josh's hand firmly, quickly Reading the damage that years of hard drinking had done to the sailor's body. His brow furrowed as he looked into Josh's face, seeing the pain there, then he went just a little deeper: The magic was a roaring fire in Josh's core, as powerful as ever, possibly more so, but strangely twisted in a way that Sonden, in all his incarnations had never seen before.

  Josh abruptly pulled away from Sonden, fleeing back to the horses. He pressed his face against his mount's shoulder, feeling suddenly ashamed of the need rising up in his throat for a taste of the whiskey. "Shit, shit, shit," Josh muttered, dragging the bottle from his pocket. He knew he should have reached for Laurelyanne's brew in his breast pocket instead of the whiskey, but he could not stop himself. He shook hard as he brought the bottle to his lips, sucking the burning liquor down his throat in great gulping swallows. His stomach roiled and for a moment the whiskey seemed ready to come spewing back out. Josh fought to still his heaving stomach. Comforting warmth flooded his veins and muscles as he felt the liquor flow down his throat. His face flushed with rising heat even as calm settled through his mind and body.

  Eliahu had dismounted and come around the horses to check on Josh so he saw the bottle returning to the sot's pocket. He ignored that, touching Josh's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

  Josh nodded, mounting.

  Eliahu looked then to Geoa and Sonden, starting toward them. "What did you do?" he asked Sonden quietly.

  "I did not mean to upset him," Sonden told him. "I did not expect to find the reincarnation of Josiah Abelard in these lands, much less in such a damaged state."

  "Josiah Abelard?" Eliahu breathed the word in shocked incredulity. He remembered the tremendous power Josh had shown in that Valdren cave, seeing the possibility that Sonden was right. "The greatest mage the City of Magic ever produced ... is an alcoholic sailor."

  "With all of his gifts and knowledge intact," Sonden added. "He is not accessing them right, the channels are blocked in places where they should be open and opened in places they should be closed."

  Eliahu considered that. "Let me walk with you," Eliahu told him, "And I will tell you what little I know about how Josh came to be as you find him."

  * * * *

  "Your mage nearly killed me, Aejys," Margren snarled, the whip in her hand flicked out striking Aejys' bare back, making the lapsed paladin's body jerk at the pain.

  Aejys' back was slowly turning into a bloody ruin. Margren had been beating her for hours. Her hair hung in lank sweat-drenched, blood-crusted strings around her bruised and bleeding face. Stripped to the waist, Aejys hung from the ceiling in chains, arms and feet spread, tight metal bands cutting into her wrists and ankles.

  "That's what you brought him here for? Isn't it? To kill me?" Margren struck her again. "What is his name? His lineage? What school does he follow?" She punctuated each question with a blow of the whip.

  Aejys' consciousness slid away from the agony, there was no place else and no one else left that she could turn to now, so in a distant corner of her mind she began to pray:

  Aroana, God of my Heart,

  To thee I commend my soul,

  My heart and mind,

  And the fullness of my being.

  Oh, Wisdom born of Memory,

  Knowledge gleaned from Forethought,

  Secure me in thy ways,

  Guide me through the fields of Death

  So that my courage will not falter,

  But trust in thy goodness...

  As if she sensed where Aejys' mind had gone, Margren began to shriek wordlessly, striking again and again with increasing violence, the lash cutting deeper and deeper into Aejys' back, the lapsed paladin's body jerking in her bonds with each strike. "I hate you! I hate you!" Margren screamed as she saw Aejys' body sag into unconsciousness.

  A soft, long fingered hand caught the whip, gently but firmly prying it from Margren's hands as he turned her toward him. His lips found Margren's and he kissed her deeply, lingering for several moments on her mouth.

  She pulled back to speak and catch her breath, pressing her blood stained hands to his bare chest. "Mephistis. How long have you been here?"

  "A heartbeat and no more,
my love. Geoa Odaren has entered the city with three of Aejys' people. You must go back to the castle."

  "Which ones? Which ones did she bring?" Margren allowed herself to be led out into the hallway as they spoke.

  "The ogre, the winter mage, and his drunken apprentice."

  "And the mage that hit me?"

  "Margren, I have scryed their camp for weeks now. The only other mage is that Valdren earthmage. None of them have the kind of power that hit Dragonshead three weeks ago. It must have been a fireborn. One that I was not aware of before. After all, my dearest, you attacked Aejys in their realm."

  * * * *

  Aejys' spirit knelt in a field of fragrant grasses, both sweet and sharp, that seemed to stretch to infinity around her. Flowers sprinkled the field in myriad shades of vibrant blues and reds. A deep serenity wrapped around and within her. She felt completely at peace for the first time since childhood. In this place she was ha'taren again, praying with absolute trust and faith, walking the path of ritual in her mind because she had neither tools nor altar.

  "Aejys," a mon's voice called to her, strong yet melodious. "You have returned to me at last."

  Aejys raised her eyes up. "Yes, My Lord."

  The mon was dressed in shining white with a double-bladed axe hanging at one hip and a sword at her other, a shield at her back. Aroana gripped Aejys' shoulders, bringing her to her feet. "Beloved favorite, you are in a place where I cannot go. Just as you were in Bucharsa."

  "I know, Lord. I accept that." Aejys' heart was calm, her nerve steady.

  "Help is coming. But you may die before they can reach you."

  Aejys nodded slowly. "So be it. At least I die with my God in my heart."

  Aroana smiled sadly, kissing Aejys' forehead. "Then your soul will be with me in Haven, beloved favorite." The God kissed Aejys once more. "Now go back to your body," she said and Aejys was whirled away into darkness once more.

  * * * *

  Mephistis walked among the tumbled ruins atop Dragonshead, only the two walls sheltered by the twisted willow tree where he and Margren sometimes met to make love remained standing. The rest was wind-sifted debris, stirring even then in the evening breeze. The mage that hit us... I've never felt such power... What if the stirring in the ether two hours ago was he? Could he have come with Aejys without my sensing him? But how could he have hidden from me? What is he? Who is he?