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

by JANRAE FRANK

  The rest of the acolytes spread out around the tiers, following the stone trolls up.

  Kaethreyn glanced about for the others, expecting Sonden to come through next. Instead Clemmerick roared onto the tier, charging down at the trolls. As he passed, he broke off one of the scaffoldings and drove it like a spear through the nearest troll's throat. The creature staggered, clutching at the pole. Clemmerick slammed his fists into the troll's chest, tumbling him, followed him down, and stomped his face in. Shards of bone, bits of gray oozing tissue and blood splattered the ogre, streaking him with gore. The second troll rammed him. Clemmerick grabbed the troll as he fell and the two huge combatants rolled down the tiers to strike the walls at the base, pounding, gouging and kicking.

  The Aroanan priests spilled through next, followed by Sonden, Eliahu, and Josh. Seeing they were outnumbered, the remaining three acolytes turned to flee. Josh spoke a single word of power. Blue flame engulfed the acolytes and they dropped, shrieking and writhing to the floor. Josh turned, gesturing at the troll still grappling with Clemmerick. Blue flame licked out, striking the creature. Clemmerick threw himself backwards, cursing as the troll exploded into flame. The burning troll staggered to the south door, beating frantically at itself. It tore the door off the hinges, flinging it away, and plunged through, hunting in blind desperation for something to put out the flames that were consuming it faster than it could regenerate.

  Clemmerick let it go. He could hear the sounds of battle drawing nearer beyond the south door. He turned away, trudging up the tiers, shouting to Josh, "I think Tag's coming."

  Clemmerick saw that Aejys lay wrapped in Kaethreyn's cloak, her head and shoulders cradled in her ma'aram's arms, a purple stain around her nostrils and lips where Sonden had administered pollendine to dull her pain. Kaethreyn wept, her face pressed against the blood-crusted strings of her daughter's hair. "Aejystrys. Aejystrys, forgive me."

  Aejys stirred weakly, her eyes opening. "Ma'aram?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

  "Aejys, who did this?" Kaethreyn knew; she had seen it; but she wanted to hear the words, half hoping that what she had seen had not been true, that somehow the mirror scene had lied to her. And by the letter of the law, she needed to hear Aejys name her murderer so that Margren could be slain out of hand.

  "My vow."

  "I release you from it."

  "Margren." Finally being able to name her enemy and be believed brought Aejys a measure of peace. Her ma'aram had saved her from mortgiefan. That too gave her peace. It was now all right to die.

  Kaethreyn pressed her cheek to Aejys' head, tears welling again in her eyes as she clutched the shuddering body. Aejys stiffened, then her chest heaved up and sank back as a convulsion rolled through her and she writhed in its grip. She made small whimpering noises far back in her throat. Her eyes blinked rapidly with the struggle to focus; her chest heaved with each gasping effort to breathe.

  "No." A familiar coarse voice spoke, drawing all eyes to the blood splattered dwarf standing on the lowest tier. Tagalong took the tiers at a run to drop to her knees beside her childhood companion. She flicked back Kaethreyn's cloak before anyone could stop her, staring for several seconds at Aejys' wounds before letting the concealing cloth fall. The enormity of what Margren had done felt like a vise around Tagalong's heart and a heavy stone in her mid-section. "Damned puddin' head paladin," Tagalong muttered, fighting back tears, "letten 'em butcher ya like a bloody lamb..."

  "Ta ...uh, uh..." Aejys struggled for the strength to speak. "T ... aaa ... ghhh. Where. Are. You?"

  "Here, Aejys..." Tagalong slipped her hand under Aejys' head, turning it so that the dying paladin could see her.

  "Your ... promise." Aejys groaned, her body went taut, the pain glaze depending in her eyes as another convulsion rolled through her. Sonden reached for his vials to give her more pollendine, cursing silently at how terribly they had tortured her.

  "I'll keep it."

  "It's a good day to die." Aejys' eyes closed. The death magics and her failing body dragged her consciousness down again like dark waters sucking at a drowning man. Her head rolled back and she lay still.

  Tagalong gave a choked cry, turning her face to Sonden. "Is she?"

  Sonden put his fingers on Aejys' neck, searching her body with all of his senses. "Not yet. Soon." His fingers brushed Tagalong's shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

  She shook him loose. "Back off, I don't need yer pity or yer sympathy."

  Sonden rocked back on his heels, saying nothing. He glanced about at the mixed units pouring into the chamber, seeing Valdren rangers, a blood bear, a black woman with a spear, dozens of myn in mixed livery, some Odaren, others in Aejys' blue surcoats with the ouroborus, and climbing the tiers at their head came an Euzadi woman with a huge shadow hound walking at her side. "Shardith," he murmured astonished, he had heard of the Shardith, the women of the nomads who bonded with the great shadow hounds. It was a tribute to Aejys' leadership that she had brought such a disparate group together and held it so.

  Brundarad sniffed at Aejys' body, nosed back the blue cloak. A quivering noise began far down in his hairy throat, building in a weird crescendo of grief unlike anything the high priest had heard before. It chilled him.

  Hanadi's expression was grim and hard as she squatted beside Tagalong. "I feared this from the moment she was taken." Hanadi's hand caressed the top of the Shadow Hound's head. "Go, Brundarad. Hunt. Bring gifts of blood to our mourning." Brundarad's grieving noise changed to a savage growl, he turned away, disappearing into the corridors. Hanadi's lieutenants, Golethyn and Vardric crouched beside her. "A good mon has been slain," she told them, "I want her avenged. Take two prisoners for questioning, Golethyn. Bring me any papers you find. Wipe the rest out. Kill all of them. Every living thing." Then Hanadi stood, surveying the troops. "Death to traitors! Crush the infamy!" Hanadi shouted angrily.

  The units pouring into the chamber of hecatomb echoed the Euzadi Guildsmon's words, clanging swords on shields.

  Tagalong snarled, "Vengeance. Paybacks are a bitch."

  "Margren may have gone back to the castle," Kaethreyn said.

  Tagalong turned, spitting full in Kaethreyn's face. "Ya killed her."

  Kaethreyn wiped her face off, accepting Tagalong's rage because she knew it came from a grief as deep as her own. "Margren did this..."

  "Naw," Tagalong snarled savagely. "She just put the blade in, ya killed her with yer fuckin' vow. Ya tied her hands and hung her out ta die."

  "I am going to kill Margren," Kaethreyn promised as if that made up for the mistakes she had made that had cost her the lives of her daughter and grandchild and would soon claim the life of her younger daughter also.

  "Not if I find her first." Tagalong stood, drawing her weapons. "We're gonna purge Dragonshead," she shouted to the units spread around the base of the tiers and they shouted back: "Death to traitors! Crush the infamy."

  Tagalong charged down the tiers and slammed through the north door with Hanadi and their units following on her heels.

  * * * *

  The black and crimson robed acolytes and initiates moved in silent procession through the dark tunnels without need of torches or candles, their amaranthine orbs glowing softly. Isranon trailed them, he had barely had time to fall in behind them as they escaped. Two of them carried a litter bearing Mephistis while a third walked beside him letting the prince suck blood from his wrist. When the acolyte stumbled, Mephistis motioned him away. The acolyte moved into the line as another moved to take his place, drawing a runed dagger to open the vein in his wrist and continue feeding their lord back to health.

  Mephistis shook his head at the acolyte. "Bodramet," he called.

  The initiate leading the procession dropped back to his master's side. He was a large mon, his jet-black hair slicked down into a dozen small braids at the base of his head. "Yes, My Prince?"

  "You must get Margren out of the castle before someone kills her."

  Bodramet nodded. "And if
she is already dead?"

  Mephistis' mouth tightened, his eyes hooding. "Bring her body. She will rise." But it would not be the same. The sweet, human aliveness of her would be gone; there would be no more children between them; the undead could not give life. One of his acolytes had seen Juldrid fall to the arrows of a Valdren ranger – his unborn child was dead with her. He comforted himself with the certainty that Aejys had finished dying, that while her followers had saved Shaurone, they had lost their leader.

  * * * *

  Clemmerick tucked the cloak securely around Aejys as he lifted her tenderly from Kaethreyn's arms. Something in the way she felt made him turn to the high priest, "Sonden ... she's gone."

  Grief showed on the gentle priest's face, as he touched her, finding nothing more than a swiftly cooling body. "She's at peace now." He sketched the Aroanan rune, saying a quick, simple prayer for the dead: There would be time later, if they survived, for a longer rite. He considered the way that Clemmerick had so carefully wrapped her, and then used his own cloak to cover her face and upper body.

  Josh called everyone who remained onto the two top tiers, took a long swig from his bottle, and in a flash of blue light transported them all back to Kaethreyn's study.

  Clemmerick let out a deep, shuddering unhappy sigh, cradling Aejys like an infant. As he turned to face the room, the cloak came away from her face. Clemmerick froze, swallowing back another heavy sigh before looking at her to straighten the cloak. No sign of the agony in which she died showed on her face – she looked as if she simply slept. That eased the big ogre's heart a little. He pressed his cheek to hers before replacing the cloak. His body shook repeatedly with huge shuddering sighs that were only a heartbeat away from resounding sobs.

  Eliahu stood at Clemmerick's left, the lines of his face deep with anguish, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He leaned heavily on CallThunder, transformed by grief from a young man into a very old one. We tried hard to keep you safe, Aejys. We tried so hard! Forgive us.

  Three ha'taren sat in chairs turned to view the mirrors, two in Odaren white, and one in Rowan blue. They came to their feet as the company materialized in the room. The Rowanslea ha'taren dropped to one knee before Kaethreyn. "We watched. Margrenan has betrayed us all."

  "Yes," Kaethreyn answered, her face a grim, unreadable mask. Her heart had turned to stone and her stomach felt hollow. Margren always seemed so fragile and delicate, so in need of protection and reassurance that Kaethreyn had given her everything she asked for – no matter how extreme those demands were. But Aejys? Aejys had been her pride and joy – even when she ran away. It had made Kaethreyn angry at first, but as word of Aejys' deeds, especially in destroying the great wyrm filtered back, Kaethreyn could only be that much more proud of her. She had hoped that refusing to let them take Laeoli out of the realm would force Aejys to come home and she could talk her into staying – forgive me. Forgive me what I have done in my pride and arrogance. I will give you your vengeance and your soul will rest, Aejys. I swear it. "Margren must die. I gave her life and I will take it from her. Come with me."

  "Wait," Sonden said. "Let me touch each person we meet. There are shifters in Margren's ranks, sa'necari, a myriad of dangers and deceptions."

  At Kaethreyn's nod, he touched each of the three ha'taren, confirming their humanity, watching for the tiny telltale changes in their bodies that would signal a lie, as Kaethreyn demanded they state their loyalties.

  That done, one of the Odaren's ha'taren spoke up, "Margren has ordered a celebratory breakfast and sent for every noble in the castle."

  Kaethreyn's eyebrow arched in suspicion. "To celebrate the Lion of Rowanslea's death," she hissed bitterly.

  "She did not say," said the second white clad ha'taren. "But most are not going."

  "Geoa Odaren?"

  "She went. Said someone had to keep an eye on Margren."

  Kaethreyn gave a curt nod. "Then we best get there quickly, the Odaren could be in danger."

  She strode through the door. Forty-odd people gathered outside in the hallway, waiting for Kaethreyn's return: soldiers, knights, ha'taren, servants, and assorted nobles. Word of what chanced within the study walls had quietly gone out and Kaethreyn's followers had come. Sonden quickly verified their humanity and loyalties. Then they moved on, marching toward the Great Hall where Margren presided over her twisted celebration. They passed others, Sonden checking them all. Any one who failed his test or tried to flee were quickly and efficiently killed.

  Nearly one hundred people poured into the Great Hall behind Kaethreyn. Enough tables to seat over a hundred were set out and piled with food, but less than thirty people were actually there. Six of those people wore Odaren livery.

  Clemmerick moved to the nearest trestle table, sweeping it clear in a single move. He laid Aejys tenderly upon the table, and then turned a look of such savage rage and hate on Margren that even a stone troll would have flinched.

  Margren came to her feet, her face twisted in fury. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, gesturing at the crowd.

  Kaethreyn stalked up the line of tables. She slammed the high table out of her way, sent it tumbling to the side, forcing several knights and guests to spring to their feet and scramble backwards.

  "The Lion of Rowanslea is slain," Sonden pitched his voice so that all could hear. "Dragonshead has fallen." He flicked back the cloaks covering her so that all present could see the terrible wounds and evidence of torture.

  Geoa's eyes went grim and sad. She thought of Tamlestari, wondering how she could tell her, not just the fact of Aejys' death, but the way of it before someone else did. It would break her heart.

  "You murdered her," Kaethreyn hissed into Margren's face. "How could I have been so blind as to not see what you are?"

  Margren recoiled instinctively before her ma'aram's wrath. "She made me do it. She forced me to do it. She came here to kill me. It was self-defense."

  "You tied her to a pole and tortured her. You gave her to a sa'necari for mortgiefan."

  "I didn't! I didn't!" Margren shrieked.

  "I killed him. He did not get her soul," Kaethreyn's voice was breaking as she spoke. "She died in Clemmerick's arms as we brought her home."

  "Nooooo! Mephistis!" And with just his name, Margren proved her guilt beyond question to everyone present, for there was no one in that room who did not remember the name of the traitor's son, the one who had been born sa'necari. She cringed, weeping brokenly.

  "I disown you. I repudiate you. I hate you." Kaethreyn punctuated each sentence with a wad of spittle in Margren's face.

  She pulled the Blade of Nine Souls with which Margren had murdered Aejys, plunging it into Margren's heart, slamming her against the wall. Chaos erupted as Margren's body slipped to the floor. Kaethreyn left the blade in Margren's chest, drew her belt knife and knelt beside her. She caught hold of Margren's hair and twisted her head back to cut it off and prevent her rising undead. The knight standing nearest to Margren drew her sword with a cry of grief and outrage. She shoved it into Kaethreyn's back with a twist, and then kicked her off the blade, whirling to face the rest of the room. Kaethreyn fell dying across her slain daughter. Geoa Odaren jumped the over-turned high table, her sword engaging the murderer's blade in a brief dance of steel, before driving it into her throat and killing her.

  Josh took another long pull from his whiskey, lifting his hands into the air, the bottle still clutched tightly in his fist, and gave a loud cry. "Within these walls, from highest tower to lowest dungeon, north, south, east, west. All lies now end, all truths revealed."

  Blue light surged through the room, rushed down the corridors, erupted through the castle and its grounds, flowed over the walls and, although Josh had not meant it to, it enveloped the city as well, filling every nook and cranny, down to the smallest mouse hole.

  The clothing on seven of Margren's guests, including the murderer of Kaethreyn, changed to crimson with the dragon and rowan trees emblazoned on it. Dragon brands burned
on their foreheads. Two sets of eyes changed from brown to solid, deepest red-violet: The color of the sa'necari.

  A roar went up as Kaethreyn's followers swept over Margren's people, literally ripping them to pieces. Although no one in the Great Hall could hear it yet, battle ensued throughout the castle and in the city streets.

  Josh quietly climbed onto the table where Aejys lay, he pulled the cloak away from her face, dropping it on the floor as he gathered her in his arms, weeping brokenly and rocking her back and forth. The magic faded from his awareness, his strength and focus deserted him in the grip of grief, leaving him just a mon and very drunk.

  Sonden mounted a table at the farthest end of the Great Hall, shouting to be heard. "Follow me. Death to traitors! Crush the infamy!"

  The angry crowd followed Sonden out, leaving Josh alone with the dead.

  Deep in its maker's stilled heart, the Blade of Nine Souls glowed white. The blade itself shook and began to dissolve. The hilt fell away from the blade, sliding down Margren's body to the floor. A white mist, alive with dancing silver motes of power, snaked across the great hall, pooling beneath the table where Aejys lay.

  "The dead cannot raise the dead," a deep male voice whispered by Josh's ear. "You must help us."

  The startled sot lifted his head to stare dumbfounded at nine glowing ghosts. "Who are you?"

  "Ghosts of the blade. Nine lifemages slain to make it. We retain some power, but it fades quickly. You must start her heart by sending your power through it. You must breathe for you both, blow life into her lungs."

  The mage-ghost's fingers brushed Josh's temples, showing him what was needed and how to do it. Josh shoved away the remaining cloak, placing his left hand over her heart. He sent a surge of power deep into the unmoving organ, again and again. Josh tilted her head back, pinching her nose as he pushed air and power into her lungs. Aejys shuddered beneath his touch, her chest jerked and heaved. Then she breathed on her own.