Frank-SPrinces

by The Shadowed Princes [lit]

  "I'd have come sooner had I known you were here. Todd seated himself across from Stone, assessing him with wary eyes. It's been a long time, Brock."

  Stone's usual arrogance faded in discomfort. Todd had been the only mon to beat him in the days before the Rebellion; and Stone had given him a grudging respect as a result. But more to the point, he knew that Todd's legend was well deserved. I'd rather you didn't call me that."

  Todd shrugged. Stone then."

  "You've gotten old, Todd. Stone drained his glass and refilled it.

  "And you haven't. They're saying you're yuwenghau. Todd had not credited the rumor that Stone was yuwenghauone of those minor divines and demi-gods who roved the land as divine knights-errantand occasionally as troublemakers. Looking at Stone again after ninety years had passed, seeing that he had not aged and, if anything, grown stronger, Todd rethought his assessment of the rumor.

  "I am. Stone lowered his head. You know what Suleahan did to me? He chained me up. Put me in a mage-locked cage, covered it so that I would not know where they were taking me ... and abandoned me in a desolate spot in the Black Mountains. I pounded on that lock for three days before it finally broke."

  "Ayup. I suggested it. Your father wanted to execute you ... asked me to do it. Don't make me regret talking him out of it."

  "I'm your ally, Todd. Not your enemy."

  "That remains to be seen. Todd's mouth tightened.

  "I suppose."

  "I had no desire to spare you. Tarrant begged me to ... the only time I ever heard him beg ... and it wasn't for himself ... it was for you."

  "I didn't know. Stone stared into his glass for several minutes.

  Todd refused to fill the silences with questions and just watched him.

  "I'm not the mon I was, Todd. I've spent eighty years in the Netherguard atoning for what I did to Fianait and others."

  "Like Clennan Doherty?"

  A smile of rue with a trace of satisfaction touched the edges of Stone's mouth, and lit his eyes. I don't regret what I did to Clennan. He tried to pull a cuckholder's strike on me ... to put a sword through me and Fianait as I was riding her."

  "Doesn't surprise me. Clennan always was the jealous sort ... possessive of things he could not own. After you left, he used his injuries to play on Fianait's sympathies. When the healers said there was too much scar tissue for her to catch one in the belly again; he abandoned the courtship and made a play for Searlait. She rejected him soundly. Todd paused, sidestepped the issue of Stone and Fianait having been brother and sister, and poured a glass of whiskey for himself. Why have you come back?"

  "People came looking for me when Claw became ill. I refused to come home until I met Kady. She appealed to my honor."

  "Have you regained your honor?"

  "If eighty years of atonement can't give that to me, then nothing in creation can."

  "Perhaps."

  Stone's wily arrogance crept back into his face. I've met Kynyr ... or should I say Tarrant?"

  "He looks just like him... Todd settled back in his chair, trying not to show that Stone's change of subject had just hit him where it hurt. He had been Tarrant's guurmondru, a lycan term that incorporated father, brother, mentor, friend, and in some cases, protector. Cahira had been secretly betrothed to Tarrant and pregnant by him at the time of Tarrant's death. Todd had raised Tarrant's bastard son, Branduff, as his own. Thinks a lot like him too. Even Claw noticed. He said it was like having Tarrant back."

  "That's not what I'm talking about. He's Tarrant."

  "It's not possible. Tarrant was rited. His soul was shattered."

  "Kynyr's got only half a soul. I ought to be able to recognize that better than most. My maternal grandfather is Hadjys. I lost what little humanity was left in me and ravaged the villages of the Black Mountains. When Hadjys found me, I was completely insane. He tossed me into the deepest pit of his ninth hell. I was the only living mon amongst the tormented souls, observing their punishments, listening to the tale of their sins and their regrets. I spent nine years in hell. As my sanity returned, I was allowed to ascend to the next level and the next until finally I could breathe the sweet air of Daverana once more. I didn't know about the Rebellion until long after it ended."

  "What's that got to do with saying Kynyr is Tarrant?"

  "There's been rumors among my divine kinsmyn ... that one of the Nine crystalled the pieces of Tarrant's soul."

  Todd sprouted hair along his arms and down the sides of his clean-shaven face. His lips curled back from his fangs and he snarled. Give me the truth. I can see the lie in your eyes, Stone. I know you too well."

  "You won't like it, but it won't change the fact that Kynyr is Tarrant."

  "Say it."

  "When Carneades Iagaris rited Tarrant, he bound a soul crystal into his mouth before starting the rite. He collected all the surviving pieces, intending to place them on a hellblade."

  "Damn."

  "I'm not finished. Have you ever wondered why Dynanna took such an interest in you?"

  "She stumbled on me at Kinsdale Wood. Tarrant had been captured by the Waejontori and their sa'necari masters at Kinsdale Wood, where Todd had been left for dead by his fleeing compatriots. Dynanna found him and nursed him back to health. He felt indebted to her.

  "Every bit of good fortune that has followed you around since that day can be traced to her. Shortly after you left her care, she chanced upon another of the sa'necari soul vaults she loves to raid."

  "But his soul shattered ... The Bloody Sa'necari doomed Tarrant to wander the world in torment."

  "Usually, when someone attempts to bring back a shattered soul, the infant dies soon after birth, or dies in the womb. However, Dyna has found ways to achieve such births successfullyin most cases. The key seems to be bringing them back into their own lineages or the one they were born into. Possibly it's because the broken soul has an easier time bonding with those genetics."

  "Assuming that you're right, Stone. Why give the father's soul to his own son to sire? Especially a son who had no direct connection to the rest of the family?"

  Stone leaned his elbows on the table, his voice taking on an earnest tone, determined to convince Todd. At the time, everyone was saying that Aisha was too old to conceive another child. No one expected her to produce Merissa two years later. I'm kweigeyl ... by my own choice. Better sterility than risk siring a monster. Bran was the only option. The pieces of Tarrant's soul would have kept breaking into smaller and smaller fragments over time until they were an insubstantial dust of memories scattered through the void. So Dyna must have been desperate to bring him back while she could still count on a high probability of success."

  "But why bring him back at all? Todd persisted in his disbelief.

  "That's simple. Because you loved him, Dyna gave you a second chance to be there for him."

  The hybrid state faded from Todd as he listened. Gods, I want to believe you."

  "Tell me, did Branduff meet a little old peddler? Did she give him something that looks like this? Stone reached into his pocket and brought out a flat clear stone with crimson threads in its depths. It hung from a white gold chain.

  Todd straightened and stared. In Creeya. He helped this crone whose wagon wheel had gotten caught in a pothole. She asked him what his heart's desire was and he told her he wanted a son. He already had three daughters and no sons. She gave him one of those things. Called it a good luck charm. She told him to wear it when he made love to Ulicia and that it would get him a son. The family teased him incessantly over it. What is it?"

  "Soul crystal. Only three groups use them. The sa'necari, the taladrim, and the Guild. This one is empty."

  "Kynyr..."

  "Is Tarrant. Tell me. Has she given him a sword?"

  "Yes. Ladyfaith."

  Stone's mouth twisted with rue and he chuckled. Appropriate. Ladyfaith is the sister blade to Spiritdancer. He'll need it to get the rest of his soul back."

  Todd looked thunderstruck as it all s
ank in, and the hope of his own personal redemption kindled in his heart. The first word he learned to say was my name. The moment that Ulicia would set him on the floor as an infant, Kynyr would make a beeline for me, saying my name. My name. I never understood why he did not say ma or da first. Todd's eyes searched the ceiling, putting more pieces together. He told me that Brigit's ghost has appeared to him several times. He thought she must have confused him with Tarrant because she called him her prince."

  "Dynanna is fond of bringing back powerful myn who have no love for the sa'necari."

  "She's done this before?"

  "Many times. Eldarion Havenrain is back. So is Josiah Abelard. She brought him back twice now."

  "Abelard is back? I thought it had to be from his own direct lineage in accordance with the curse."

  "The owner of a mage shop traded Josiah something he wanted in exchange for several well-filled seed crystals. She used one to bring him back as her son. The others were sold along with certificates of paternity."

  Joy faded from Todd's eyes. Ladyfaith is no good to Kynyr. You've seen how crippled he is."

  "Miracles have been known to happen."

  "What did you do to Kynyr? Todd eyed Stone closely, trying to perceive whether there had been harm or aid behind his statement.

  "How much lore do you have?"

  "My wife is a mage."

  Mages were rare among the lycans. When they did produce a mage, they were rarely above first level, able to do only small magics. Pandeena and Kady were among the rarest of the rare; the former a battlemage and the latter a pan-elementalist.

  "Shared Life ... done wrong."

  "Who was the donor?"

  "Myself."

  Dread mingled with hope in Todd's heart. What if you've made him a monster? Have you considered that?"

  "I think it's worth the risk, Todd. Most of the changes will not be clear until his soul is healed. You do want to see him walk again, don't you?"

  "It depends upon what the price is, Stone. Some prices aren't worth paying."

  * * * *

  Cooley Blackwood headed for Darmyk's treehouse at his first opportunity since returning to Wolffgard. He had a present for the boy that Jennifer Sherbourne, Stone's Master of Mages, had made at Cooley's request. The eleven-year-old cub looked closer to nine because of his small height and stature, but he carried himself as confidentially as an adult. His long, white at the edge of blond, hair hung in a tail down his back. The only thing that he had inherited from his Waejontori mother was his velvet brown eyes. He wore a pair of lycan fighting knives strapped to his thighs and he knew how to use them well, having killed three myn in the last six months; one of them to save Rory, and later two thieves that had tried to rob him on the road to Three Stones. His late father, a military courier, had taught Cooley to fight with a knife from the moment he could hold one steady in his hand.

  Ten-year-old Rory Scott trailed after him, looking like a scamp despite the shoes and new clothes that Cahira Sinclair had bought him. He had a snub nose, a sprinkling of freckles, reddish brown hair that never stayed combed for long, and azure eyes that glinted with mischief. The citizens of Wolffgard considered him the town sneak because he always knew what was going on and showed up in unlikely places.

  "You sure we ought to go there? Malthus threatened to tan our arses if we stepped onto the grounds again."

  "He's got no more rights than a rolled john, Cooley scoffed. He had been reared in a brothel, where his mother Silkie was the madam, until he was ten. Last summer he had been sent to live with Kynyr Maguire following the murder of his military courier father, Cullen Blackwood, in hopes of being safe there. He had become Todd Sinclair's youngest student.

  "You're not afraid of him, Cooley? Hamish trailed them. Rory's brother would not turn nine until spring. He had the same scruffy hair as Rory, but his eyes were more green than azure.

  The Scott cubs hesitated at the edge of the property, eyeing the guards on duty. One of them was hulking Gorgarty Burr. No one liked Gorgarty Burr, and more than a few were afraid of the big guardsmon who was too quick with his fists and not overly bright.

  Cooley strode into the yard as if he owned the place. Rory and Hamish exchanged uneasy glances. Then Hamish shrugged and trotted to overtake Cooley.

  Gorgarty let out a loud guffaw when he saw them and stepped in front of Cooley. Well, if it ain't the slut's son. Your ma let you watch it?"

  Cooley gave the big guardsmon a tight-lipped look filled with cocksure attitude. You'd stick it inna mud hole if you thought it'd suck."

  "Why you little..."

  Gorgarty made a grab at Cooley. The cub ducked and sidled out of reach.

  "Touch the young master and I will kill you. Iswara appeared out of the trees, his hand resting upon his tulwar. He carried a wicked kandjarli dagger with a thrice-curved blade thrust through his sash, and wore a heavy coat that flared at the waist with long slits front and back for riding. His brown matte skin and luminous black eyes in a face suggestive of his feline nature set him apart from the lycans as much as his outland clothing.

  Cooley snickered. He had known from the first that Iswara was shadowing him. Over the weeks of their journey in search of a lawgiver for Wolffgard, the cub had developed an instinct for knowing when Iswara was about.

  Gorgarty straightened and glared at the newcomer. He's just a smart arsed son of a slut."

  "Another word and I will open your gullet to see what spills out. Iswara drew his blade. You are insulting Prince Cooley Blackwood."

  "That cub ain't a prince."

  "His highness is the grandson of the late Prince Shintar of Waejontor. I am his bodyguard."

  Gorgarty glanced around at his companions for support, but the guardsmyn moved away from him. He sucked in a breath and backed down; discretion proving stronger than stupidity at that moment. If you say so."

  Cooley strutted to the treehouse with his growing entourage and climbed the rope ladder without a backward glance.

  Rory gave Cooley a skeptical going over with his eyes. Your ma was a princess?"

  "Yes, she was. Bodi poked his head out of the door of the treehouse and slapped his book. It says so right here."

  As Rory climbed the rope ladder that led into the first floor of the huge treehouse, he caught sight of Ros and Lyrri, Malthus Estrobian's nieces. There's the trouble makers! He stuck his tongue out and made a rude noise at them.

  Hamish sat down on the edge of the flat skirting and waved his feet back and forth. Lyrri had blacked his eye weeks ago in a fistfight in the cemetery. Cooley's a prince and you're not good enough to play with us now."

  The two girls were stronger than they looked and twice as mean. They all knew that Darmyk was afraid of them with good reason, and had begun to snub the girls.

  The entire gang was in the treehouse to Cooley's delight: Sugar Maple, with her dreamy eyes and long marmalade hair; Pieface the carrot top with a pair of pie pans hanging from his belt; Bodi sitting curled up in a chair with his book open on his lap; Drak with his pale skin and inky black hair and a cummerbund around his waist; Frankie, who never seemed quite human; Lilac with her auburn hair and pouches of pennies; and Grymmy with his miniature scythe; as well as Darmyk.

  Sugar Maple tilted her head and smiled at Cooley, patting the spot on the floor beside her. She spooked Cooley at times, never seeming entirely present in her mind, as if her thoughts were drifting across worlds unseen. We are speaking of tacks and chairs. I hear you are a warrior now."

  Cooley put his hands on his blades and swaggered as he joined her, feeling a swell of pride at his adventures. Military courier's gotta know how to fight. And I do. So if anybody bothers you, Sugar, you just tell me."

  She laughed softly and clapped her hands. My champion."

  Cooley settled closer to her and she kissed him on the cheek, sending a bright blush across his face.

  Pieface patted his two silver pie pans hanging on his belt. I'm a paladin. Yes, I am and Talons gave me a big
smackaroni right there!"

  He patted his cheek.

  Lilac leaned forward, a strand of auburn hair slipping across her round face. Hush, that's a secret, Pieface."

  "Nah, Cooley's okay. We can tell him."

  "What about them? She pointed at Rory and Hamish.

  "I can keep a secret. Rory scratched at his nose. I'm better'n Cooley at keeping secrets."

  Sugar Maple's vision seemed to turn inward, her eyes went distant, and then she shook her marmalade hair back. We can tell them."

  "Who gets to do the tattling ... err telling? Bodi leaped off the bed where he had been sitting with Darmyk and paraded in small circles. Me? I can tell it good."

  "No. Sugar Maple gestured. A tree branch snaked into the treehouse through the door. It picked Bodi up and put him back on the bed.

  Cooley blinked and the Scott cubs stared. Muh-magic."

  Sugar Maple gave a slow nod. We're all magic, Cooley. Except for you, Rory, and Hamish."

  "Does your grandma know? Rory asked, recovering.

  The children laughed.

  "Yes, she knows. Sugar Maple gestured again and the tree branch withdrew from the room. That is why she brought us. We are the paladins of Dynanna."

  Cooley put his back against the wall with a whistle of surprise. He knew the old saying well, and could not help muttering it. The trouble the Trickster can get people into and out of is both legion and legend."

  Frankie extended his hand, and as the glamour dropped, Cooley nearly choked in startlement: Frankie was made of living stone.

  Rory then let out a shriek as Grymmy's hood slipped back, revealing a pale, gaunt, almost skeletal face and skin the color of a dead fish's underbelly. Holy shite..."

  "Don't be afraid. Sugar Maple laughed. We're here to help."

  * * * *

  Eight-year-old Ros Estrobian watched the children with a petulant expression. No one ever came to play with her and Lyrri. They all came to play with the nasty boy that had crawled out of a lycan's belly. She could smell death on Darmyk every time she passed him. Her Uncle Malthus had told her he intended to kill the boy once Claw was dead. She felt cheated and deprived, having wanted to kill Darmyk herself.