The Bastard’s Pearl

by Connie Bailey

  Kashyan didn’t slow down. He charged directly at the monster with his sword in front of him. As he came within reach of the thing’s barbed pincers, he reversed his grip on the hilt and sprang high. As he passed to the left of the clacking claws, he slashed downward, severing the insectile forelimbs at the middle joint. He collided with the demon, and the beast staggered back but stayed on its hooves. Kashyan shouted in pain as needle teeth sank into his shoulder. Bringing his sword around, he sliced the creature’s snout and it let go. With a turn of his wrist, he shortened the return arc of the heavy blade and sheared through the demon’s skull from jaw to gnarled scalp. The monster dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, and Kashyan left it where it fell.

  KHOLYA, ALONG with the surviving guards and Black Hawks, entered the temple over the bodies of the Red Monks. Behind him came the high king and the members of the council as well as Kezlath. As they crossed the slate-paved antechamber to the temple, the ground shook and tilted under their feet with a menacing rumble.

  A PUFF of smoky darkness appeared between the altar and the ceiling of the Gate Chamber. It spread rapidly, becoming denser until it was a depthless hole boring straight to the Shadoworld. Sheyn clenched his fists and his teeth, determined not to scream when the monster appeared. Ruthlessly, he clamped down on his panic, calmed his breathing, and slowed the racing beat of his heart.

  “What are you doing?” Chanesh barked. He gazed up at the lightless tunnel, troubled when he saw no sign of his God. “Stop or I’ll cut off your fingers. Then we’ll see if you’re able to grow new ones.”

  Sheyn ignored the threat and concentrated on mastering his emotions the way his fencing master had taught him in another life.

  With a snarl, Chanesh went through the door in the opposite wall and returned with a young man bound in chains. The high priest brought the lad up to the altar and put the knife to his throat. “This is—” Chanesh paused. “Which one are you?” he asked the captive.

  “Moksha,” the young man said dully.

  “Pearl, this is Moksha, and if you don’t stop blocking the Threshold, I’ll use him to finish the ritual.” Chanesh drew the blade against Moksha’s skin, and blood trickled down Moksha’s neck.

  On the other side of the Threshold, Taankh bellowed and thrust a tentacle through the small gap that had opened. Chanesh cut Moksha again, and Sheyn cried out. In a few more moments, the ceiling was a writhing nest of purple-black tentacles with phosphorescent greenish-white suckers. The chamber was fetid with the choking reek of a stagnant swamp full of putrid corpses. Taankh bellowed in triumph, and the Red Temple shook to its foundations.

  “Master!” Chanesh cried out, pushing Moksha away and lifting his arms in worship as more of Taankh’s bulk squeezed through the gap.

  Kashyan burst through the ruined doorway of the chamber and ran at the high priest. Before Chanesh could react, Kashyan ran him through. Pushing the high priest’s body off his blade, Kashyan leaped aside from the whiplash of a tentacle. He swung at the thick limb and lopped off the tip. Dodging the thrashing tentacle, he moved toward the altar, but several more barred his way. Determined to get to Sheyn, he began hacking his way through the ropy limbs.

  Sheyn lost his calm when he sensed Kashyan near, and he yanked desperately at his shackles. Blood ran from gouges in his wrists and ankles, but still he tried to pull free. When he felt a touch on his arm, he froze.

  “I can help you,” Moksha said. Turning his back to the altar, Moksha leaned against it, feeling under the lip for the bolts that fastened the chains to the stone. It was difficult with his hands bound, but he found the metal tongue that released the king bolt. With all his strength, he leaned against the latch, and it flipped over.

  The next time Sheyn pulled on his chains, they slithered through their brackets. The manacles were still attached to him, but he was able to get down from the altar. “How do I free you?” he asked Moksha with his gaze on Kashyan.

  “High Priest Chanesh has the key.”

  Sheyn crawled to the high priest’s body and searched it. He found a key on a chain around Chanesh’s neck and took it along with the amulet before he unlocked the chains that bound Moksha.

  “Thank you,” Moksha said as he sank wearily to the floor and leaned against the altar.

  Sheyn turned away to do what he could to help Kashyan. “Bastard!” he called out. “It looks as though you’ve found a challenge at last.”

  A tentacle rippled across the floor in front of Sheyn, too big to jump over. He wrapped his fingers around the chain dangling from his wrist and lashed at the tentacle.

  “Again!”

  Sheyn flinched at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the tentacle. In another moment, a slim young man with vivid red hair was at his side, cutting at the tentacle with a dagger. Sheyn caught a flash of aquamarine eyes as the stranger slashed at a feeler that reared up between them.

  “I’m Djeyd,” he shouted. “How do you feel? Are you weak?”

  “Aside from these chains, I’m well.”

  “Good. We need to keep Taankh from emerging completely. The only reason we’re still alive is that he can’t see into this realm yet.”

  “Kashyan,” Sheyn gasped.

  “Stay here! Kashyan will be fine for a few minutes.” Djeyd stomped on a small tentacle, and it went wriggling off. “They don’t seem to be attacking you anymore,” he observed.

  Sheyn pointed to the necklace wrapped around his hand. “I took this from the high priest. I think it’s some sort of—”

  “It’s an amulet that identifies you as a Servant,” Djeyd said. “Clever of you. Now, come with me.”

  Leaping over and dodging around flailing tentacles, the daaksim reached the stone table against the wall. Djeyd searched the objects atop the table and took up a scroll. After unwinding it, he read the words written there.

  “Memorize this,” Djeyd said as he handed the scroll to Sheyn. “While the Savaani prince distracts Taankh, you will chant the spell of closing.”

  “And that will get rid of… that thing?”

  “We may hope.” Djeyd’s pale gaze fixed on Sheyn’s. “If Taankh succeeds in fully entering this world, he will lay waste to it. Demons will roam freely, butchering any living thing they find. And when they run out of prey here, they’ll look to other lands. We must stop this.”

  Sheyn looked at the scroll and frowned. He was familiar with the script and could sound out the words, but he had no idea what they meant. “I’ll try my best,” he said at last.

  “Go back to the altar,” Djeyd said. “And be ready when I give the signal.”

  “Wait! What signal?” Sheyn called as Djeyd moved toward Kashyan.

  “I’ll shout at you to start the chant.”

  Sheyn bit his lip as he watched Kashyan sever a tentacle as thick as a tree trunk and leap back from the spray of black blood. Every instinct screamed at him to go to his beloved, but he believed Djeyd’s words. He could save Kashyan, or he could save the world. It wasn’t an easy choice, but he knew what he had to do.

  Abruptly, Sheyn pulled the amulet over his head and shouted to Kashyan. “Bastard! Catch!”

  Kashyan ducked under a tentacle, saw Sheyn toss the necklace, and caught it in his left hand. Immediately, the tentacles ceased attacking him and thrashed about aimlessly. With a fierce grin, he began chopping the waving limbs into pieces as he waded toward their source.

  Taankh emitted a whistling wail of pain and lashed his tentacles wildly as he redoubled his efforts to cross the Threshold. After losing three more limbs, he drew his tentacles up and tried to gain some purchase against the domed ceiling of the chamber.

  “Now!” Djeyd shouted. “Begin the chant!”

  Standing on the altar, Sheyn spoke the first line of the incantation.

  “Louder!” Djeyd called out.

  Sheyn took a deep breath and spoke the next line. He raised his voice and fixed his eyes on the hideous bulk of the God of Death as though
aiming his words like stones. As he intoned the third line, his voice took on a measured cadence dictated by the syllables themselves. The fourth line flowed from his lips, and he fancied he could feel the words stacking up like bricks to bar Taankh’s access.

  Wisps of steam rose from Taankh’s hide, and the ear-piercing wail cut off to be replaced by a burbling gobble. Smaller tentacles began to melt and drop off. Taankh stopped halfway through the Gate and let out a roar of frustrated rage and defiance. Lashing blindly, one of his arms brushed against Sheyn. Recognizing the aura of a daaksi, the tentacle threw a loop around Sheyn’s ankle and pulled. Sheyn’s words broke off on a yelp of alarm as he was dragged off the altar.

  “Keep chanting!” Djeyd shouted.

  Sheyn began the chant again as he kicked at the tentacle. He saw Kashyan leaping toward him and heard Djeyd yell at Kashyan to keep Taankh at bay. And then Sheyn read the last line.

  The temple shifted with the deep rumble of stone grinding against stone and then settled. Grains of sand sifted down from the ceiling, but they never touched the floor. They were sucked away as all the air in the chamber began to pour out through the widening rip in the Threshold.

  Taankh released Sheyn, and his tentacles stretched as he maintained his foothold in the temple. With a mighty heave, he pushed back against the force that attempted to repel him.

  “Prince Kashyan!” Djeyd shouted, and Kashyan turned from Sheyn to attack Taankh once more. “Pearl! Repeat the chant!”

  Sheyn got to his knees and held up the scroll. In a voice of steel, he chanted the words that flew from his mouth to strike Taankh like spears of molten metal. He was vaguely aware that others had entered the chamber and were moving to help Kashyan, but all his will was set on expelling the writhing horror.

  “It’s working!” Djeyd cried out as Sheyn began the spell again.

  Taankh hung on with all his strength as he was sucked back through the Gate. Kashyan leaped at one of the tentacles braced against the temple wall and slashed it deeply with his sword. The force of the suction doubled suddenly, and Kashyan was dragged across the Threshold with the God of Death.

  “Close it!” Djeyd shouted as he ran to Sheyn. “Say the final words one more time.”

  “As soon as Kashyan is back, I will.”

  “You can’t save him. He’s past the barrier.”

  “I can see him.”

  “Close it now, or risk Taankh’s return.”

  “I won’t. There has to be a way to—”

  “There isn’t.” Djeyd touched Sheyn’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

  Where Djeyd’s flesh touched his, Sheyn felt a peculiar but pleasant warmth. It spread throughout his body, calming him and taking away his sense of urgency. He looked upon the chaos around him with a serene gaze. He had a task to perform, and that was his only concern.

  A voice that rang like a silver bell echoed in Sheyn’s head. “Close the Gate, child.”

  Sheyn fixed his gaze on Kashyan, his heart yearning toward the man he’d come to love. As he watched Kashyan swing his sword at the God of Death, he chanted the words for the last time. Kashyan and Taankh grew smaller and smaller, and the blackness dwindled until it was a smudge against the ceiling. And then it was gone and the chamber was still. Sheyn bowed his head and wept.

  “DJEYD!” HIGH King Djulyan called out. “What happened here?”

  The red-haired daaksi came to stand before his master. “The high priest summoned the God of Death, but fortunately, we managed to send him back. And also, King Kezlath was part of a plot to depose you and take the crown of high king for himself.”

  “Fortunately?” Djulyan repeated. “You want me to believe it was luck that brought you here?”

  “My Goddess brought me here,” Djeyd said. “Call it what you will.” He looked over his shoulder to where Kholya was staring up at the ceiling. “You should say something comforting to him.”

  “Yes, I should.”

  “I’ll see to Pearl.”

  Djulyan nodded and went over to Kholya. He put a hand on Kholya’s shoulder and spoke in a low voice. “It was a very brave thing your brother did.”

  “Is he really gone?” Kholya continued to look up at the spot where Kashyan had disappeared.

  “We may have to question Taankh’s Servants about that, but I feel his absence in my heart.”

  Kholya bowed his head at last. “So do I,” he said hoarsely.

  “He died a hero.”

  “Yes.” Kholya swallowed. “He would like that. I—” He turned toward the sound of Sheyn’s angry voice.

  “No!” Sheyn shouted again as he batted Djeyd’s hand away. He rose to his feet and fixed his dark gaze on the other daaksi. The wetness on his cheeks glimmered in the torchlight as he spoke. “Don’t touch me.”

  “I only meant to offer you comfort.”

  “You can’t—” Sheyn took a shaky breath. “You can’t comfort me. No one can.”

  “You did what was necessary.”

  “I did what you told me to,” Sheyn shouted. “I chanted those words and now Kasha is gone.”

  “He sacrificed himself to save all of us. I know he doesn’t regret it.”

  “No, he doesn’t feel regret. Or sorrow. Or love. Or anything else. He’s gone.” Sheyn clenched his teeth. “And you—you made me kill him.”

  “Prince Kashyan was a warrior,” Djeyd said as Kholya came to stand beside Sheyn. “He knew he could die at any time in battle. He accepted that.”

  “That’s true,” Kholya said.

  “I don’t care.” Sheyn looked up as Djulyan put a robe around his shoulders. He looked puzzled and then remembered that he was naked. Pulling the robe around him, he addressed Djeyd again. “Stay away from me.”

  “I can’t do that, Pearl. I must do as my Goddess commands and serve you.”

  “I don’t care about your Goddess unless She can bring Kashyan back to me.”

  “Let me take you out of here,” Kholya said. “Velvet will be glad to see you’re unharmed.”

  “Unharmed?”

  Kholya tensed, cursing his choice of words. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “Come with me, please. I want to be out of this ill-fated place.”

  “You shouldn’t be alone,” Djeyd called after Sheyn.

  “And yet I will,” Sheyn said under his breath as he let Kholya lead him away.

  “LIE DOWN,” Luks said as he pressed a damp cloth to Sheyn’s forehead.

  “I don’t have a fever,” Sheyn said. “I lost the one I love.”

  “You do have a fever,” Luks contradicted gently. He sat on the mattress beside Sheyn and stroked his hair. “I’m sorry about Prince Kashyan.”

  “I want him back,” Sheyn sobbed.

  “Of course you do.” Luks kissed Sheyn’s forehead. “Sleep and forget for a while.”

  “I can’t sleep,” Sheyn said, but in a few minutes, he fell into exhausted slumber.

  Luks lay down next to Sheyn and fell asleep holding his hand.

  Chapter 26

  SHEYN WOKE and knew immediately that something was wrong. He raised his head and looked about but saw no imminent danger. All the sounds that came to his ears were the usual ones. He settled back, closed his eyes, and reached for Kashyan. And then he remembered.

  Kashyan was gone.

  Sheyn felt as though his ribs were caving in and crushing his heart in a shrinking cage of jagged bones. Tears welled up and overflowed, and he clenched his jaw to keep from sobbing. He’d never felt grief like this, and he wasn’t sure he’d survive it. It was not fair that Kashyan had been taken from him just when he’d fallen in love. Sheyn clenched his hands into fists and willed his anguish to become anger. He let his rage at the temple have free rein, and it filled him until he thought he would burst.

  Getting quietly to his feet, he left Luks sleeping and dressed in his most practical clothing. He buckled his sword belt around his waist and walked out of the tent, aware that he was glowing like the full moon. Telling the nervous d
oor guard he needed time alone to mourn, he promised to stay in camp and then headed for the field where the cavalry mounts were pastured.

  One of the men guarding the horses saw Sheyn approaching and hailed him. “Pearl! What are you doing here alone?”

  “Dasha, where are the Black Hawks?”

  Dasha vacillated between his desire to do Pearl a favor and his absolute certainty that a daaksi had no business visiting a barracks. “Why do you ask?” he said finally.

  “Because my lord is dead.”

  Dasha had no answer for this statement. He called over a lower-ranking trooper and turned over his sentry post. “I’ll take you to the Hawks,” he told Sheyn.

  “You have my thanks.” Sheyn gave the young soldier a sideways glance and saw the effect of his words. He would have to remember how susceptible these men were to his unique charm. True, he intended to use any influence he might have to sway the Hawks to his side, but he didn’t want things to get out of hand. He felt confident he could defend his honor with his sword, but the odds changed when an entire cavalry troop was involved. Brusquely, he swept aside these unhelpful thoughts. They had no place in his mission.

  Dasha cleared his throat. “Are you certain you should be out alone?”

  “I’m not alone. I’m with you.” Sheyn felt Dasha’s frustrated anxiety and spoke again. “My lord is dead and from now on, I’ll be alone. However, I’m not going sit in a dark room weeping for the rest of my life. I’m going to honor my lord and make his name known to the world when I avenge him.”

  Dasha was so overcome with admiration for this brave, beautiful boy that he couldn’t speak for several moments. “There is no other like you,” he said when he found his voice.

  “For that, the world may be thankful.”

  “What do you mean? I wish there were more like you. Maybe then I’d—” Dasha stopped speaking abruptly.