JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING III

by JANRAE FRANK

  "She's a god-marked paladin," Jimi said, addressing the others, his eyes touching each in turn. "They can't turn her, but they can still feed on her or even kill her."

  A roar of outrage submerged the cross talk as the knights reacted to his words.

  "I can't stay," Jysy said abruptly. "I have to find Dynarien, and get back to her. Think about what I've told you. Talk to the Patriarch. Some of the female knights need to be with her at all times. Arruth and I can't handle this alone."

  Isen sprang up and ran to Jysy, catching her hand before she could get away. "If there is anything I can do, ask."

  Jysy smiled thanks and fled back to her errands. No, she and her sister definitely could not handle it alone, and the strange, listless way Arruth had been acting for the last two months – when she was not erupting into rages – made it even harder. Ordinarily Jysy would have had a serious discussion concerning these changes with her oldest sister Birdie, who always seemed to know how to handle a crisis; but Birdie was somewhere between Vallimrah and gods-knew-where, on her way to her new home in Rowanhart on the far northwest coast. And her second choice, Talons, was too caught up in her own present difficulties for Jysy to even consider asking for help. Arruth refused to discuss what was bothering her. Jysy had no one to talk to.

  * * * *

  Dynarien sat on the floor across from Yukiah with his legs drawn up. Students and a handful of instructors filled the outer parlor of Talon's apartment. Alora answered a knock at the door, and found Philomea, Milady, and Ambrose standing there. None of the trio offered to step inside. Isen bent forward to see them better, studying them intently.

  Milady smiled at the gathering, but only Philomea peeked inside. "We were hoping that Talons and my brother would join us at the Music Chamber, but I see you've quite a crowd."

  "Yes, we do," Alora replied stiffly.

  Yukiah rose, going to stand behind her. "Lady Milady, Lord Ambrose? There's something you want?"

  "Nothing at all, really," Ambrose said, eyeing Dynarien over Yukiah's shoulder. "I see Eshraf's new mage is here. Do you fence, young one?"

  Dynarien joined Yukiah at the door, looking at them over the armsmaster's shoulder. "Yes."

  "Come down to the grounds some time, allow me to test your mettle, young mon." Ambrose gave him a courtly smile. Much smaller than Dynarien, lithe and agile, Ambrose had pale blue eyes, a weak babyish chin and a full lower lip that jutted over the upper. His gaze darted around them to take in as many faces as he could before the two myn blocked him entirely.

  "You don't have to, Dynarien," Yukiah said so quickly that Dynarien frowned suspiciously.

  Dynarien's expression melted into an impish smile. "Oh, I don't mind."

  Talons had risen and moved closer to the door to hear, Alora at her side. Bryndel came last and tried to see around them.

  "Now, perhaps?" Ambrose asked. "I've quite run out of things to occupy me and it would be relief from my boredom."

  "A pleasure," Dynarien responded.

  "I'll get my cloak and come with you." Yukiah scented trouble. Although smaller, Ambrose had a dangerous reputation for accidents and was a skilled hand. The only one Yukiah believed could match the mon was himself. He glanced at Dynarien whose smile had widened.

  Yukiah wondered again at what made Eshraf believe in Dynarien so strongly. The young mon was an odd mix, alternately naïve and confident. Yukiah never felt certain how to read him. The crowd in Talons' rooms walked out together to the training grounds, and spread over the benches and lawn to watch the show. Philomea promptly hauled her brother to their side to root for Ambrose. Bryndel went with his feet dragging. A couple of students set off after blunted work out weapons, but returned to find that both myn had already produced their own. Yukiah had not noticed where Dynarien's had come from and that puzzled the armsmaster.

  Dynarien had a golden blade, definitely a practice once since it had not been given an edge, but entirely too expensive for the average mon. It had even Ambrose looking at it with envy. Dynarien tied his hair back. Talons, sitting on a bench with Alora, smiled at the goings on and Yukiah stood by them.

  "I am certain Ambrose means trouble for your friend with this," Yukiah told Talons. "I'll call it off if it gets rough."

  Talons gave the armsmaster a small secret smile. "I'd worry about Ambrose, myself. You haven't seen Dynarien fight. I have. In fact, old friend," she grinned. "I'd place odds in his favor even if he went a round with you."

  Yukiah raised an eyebrow at her. "Scamp! Are you saying I'm getting old?"

  Talons lowered her head, glancing at her hands to cover her amusement. When she raised her head again, her smile had been replaced by a radiant joy and faith in Dynarien. "No. I'm saying he's that good."

  "I'll be careful not to hurt you too much," Dynarien told Ambrose. "Two out of three?"

  Ambrose glared at him. "I'm one of the finest blades in Havensword. In all of Creeya."

  "Was," Talons said softly.

  Yukiah shot a quick glance at Talons. "What?"

  "Was," she repeated. "So long as Dynarien is here, he's the finest swordsmon in all of Creeya."

  Yukiah gave the order to begin and swiftly decided that he had never seen anyone like Dynarien, anyone at all.

  Dynarien opened with his blade lowered. Ambrose started high. The blades flashed back and forth, dancing in the light, striving to force or find an opening. Dynarien struck with a twist that landed on Ambrose's hands, knocked his sword aside, and hit him in the stomach just below the sternum.

  "Touch!" Yukiah called it.

  Ambrose glared.

  Dynarien grinned as they took stances again, waiting for Yukiah to give the order to begin. This time he used a circular motion, left foot planted in front of him. Ambrose's face tightened in concentration as he made several feints from each side. Dynarien was faster and read his movements, blocking and then lunging. Once more he struck Ambrose under the sternum.

  Ambrose gave a shriek of rage and stepped back. Instantly, Milady and Philomea were at his side, casting nasty glances at Dynarien and making soothing comments to Ambrose. They left in high dudgeon, leaving Bryndel looking uncertain of whether to follow them or remain with Talons and the others. Then he darted after his sister.

  "You're right, Talons," Yukiah admitted, watching the students swarm Dynarien. "He's the best I've ever seen."

  Only a single student had remained close to Yukiah and Talons. Isen moved near to Yukiah, watching him intently until he left. Only then did she fall into step with the others.

  * * * *

  "Takhalme," Mohanja Raam sighed. He had been patiently arguing with his beloved master for nearly an hour; he had served in the Guild for more than twenty years and had believed he knew Takhalme Gee well. "I cannot believe what you are doing to Talons."

  A small black cat curled up beneath Takhalme's chair, apparently asleep, except that from time to time its ears would twitch and the tip of its tail would flick back and forth as if annoyed by what it heard. Mohanja scarcely recognized this room, it had become so changed. One tapestry kept drawing his eyes back, a scene of six naked women butchering a bull in the middle of a forest glade, woven in dark colors except for the women's flesh, which was very pale. It disturbed him. A tapestried scene of St. Orijyn executing the demon-king, Tohmranu, had hung there since Mohanja was a boy and now it was gone. Galee had replaced all the old tapestries of saints and heroes. She had replaced even those in the Council Chambers. The room felt dark. Hanadi, where are you? I need you. I cannot stop these changes of Galee's alone.

  "I am not doing anything that is not necessary for the sake of the state, Mohanja, understand me, my friend." Takhalme pulled his heavy robe more tightly around him, leaning closer to the fire. High up in the mountains of the far north it always seemed cold at night, even in the spring, and Takhalme had more trouble than ever keeping warm and he was always tired of late. The healers could find no explanation for it. They did say that his blood seemed thinner, but that c
ould be that he was just getting old.

  "The vampire wounds..."

  "She is faking them to delay the marriage," Takhalme snapped irritably. "She does not want to marry Bryndel."

  "She's pregnant. Why would she want to delay the marriage? And the drugs in her system. There's an implication of poison."

  "There's been nothing found in her body. Sharani can't be poisoned."

  "Takhalme, hear what you're saying. Please hear what you're saying, my lord."

  "I insisted she sleep with Bryndel. I had to know that the bi-kyndi would not prevent a pregnancy. So that I could then try something else. So I could then send again to Ishla's temple. I had to know that my line had not been extinguished when the rest of my grandchildren died."

  "Takhalme..." Mohanja extended his hands in a gesture that bordered on pleading.

  "No. I don't wish to talk anymore. I know what I'm doing, even if you do not. My mind is absolutely clear. Help me to bed, Mohanja. I am tired."

  Mohanja's heart felt heavy. He loved the Grand Master like a father. Takhalme had befriended him when he first came to Creeya as a young mon and guided him as he rose through the ranks, but he had changed this last year and sometimes Mohanja did not even know him anymore. The big black mon shouldered his frail lord and helped him from the study into the bedroom, settling him in. The small cat attempted to run in between Mohanja's feet, but the big man was quick and caught him. Mohanja scooped him up, cradling him gently and stroking him.

  "No, no small mon, the Master does not like cats in his bed chamber."

  Mohanja carried the cat downstairs with him, talking to him for a long time. He had a great fondness for cats. His people kept them in multitudes since they killed the venomous serpents and scorpions that got into peoples houses. "I bet you are a fine hunter. Let's get you some cream." He fiddled with the cat's half-length tail, which had clearly been broken at least twice. A name popped into Mohanja's mind and he had no idea where it came from. "Twizzle... Have I heard someone call you that? Twizzle, if you don't belong to anyone else, you can belong to me."

  Twizzle purred.

  * * * *

  The high window opened softly, and she entered quietly as a wraith. Takhalme stirred in the warm half dream between sleep and waking, scarcely noticing when she opened his garments and began to feed. Once sated, she gave him his next set of orders concerning his heir and her allies. It would be handled with a mix of boldness and discretion. If only a way could be found to strike directly at the Patriarch.

  Galee licked the wound to close it, wishing she dared take more blood, but she could not risk killing him yet. She still needed him. Takhalme moaned, begging her silently with his eyes to bite him again. Thirty years ago he had been too strong for her to take, at the height of his faith and powers. He had stopped her get from seizing Creeya. But Takhalme belonged to her now. Soon Creeya would also. Then she would enjoy watching him die.

  The Grand Master pulled weakly at her. Galee smiled. Perhaps just a little more? She bit him again.

  * * * *

  Eshraf kept his midnight meeting small to all appearances, just seven people, and five cats. The heavy drapes had been closed long before anyone, but the cats, arrived. Eshraf used every caution he knew. No one seemed to notice the cats, which made Eshraf smile, since the cats noticed everything. Eshraf brought Mikkal, both for his insights and to take notes on the meeting; Yukiah brought Queiggy the head clerk for the Guild, a wizen old paper shuffler who had not been given a field assignment in over thirty years, yet probably knew more secrets than anyone alive. No one knew what race he came from or even how old he was – it seemed as if he had always been there. Dynarien, Edouina, and Jimi made up the last of the seven; and then there were the cats.

  "First I intend to make a confession of my sins and they do not leave this room because I do not intend to cease committing them." Eshraf surveyed the room with his steady, patient gaze while he stood beside his desk, resting on his knuckles. "Then I will have Mikkal read you some lists I have made and you can add your comments and observations. I am of the opinion that we have two enemies and not one."

  "Sins, Patriarch?" Yukiah asked.

  "Sins. For years I have arbitrarily used my influence in every way possible, to the fullest extent possible to persecute a single group of people simply because of a blind instinct."

  "Who?"

  "Each and every mon, however minor, who supported or worked for Gylorean Galee. Excommunication, blackmail, banning, snubbing, and, in a few cases, murder. Whatever it required to keep them away from the temples. When I get near them, I can feel this – it's indescribable." Eshraf shivered.

  "That's an ill-omened name." Dynarien sounded shocked, even having heard it before from Eshraf he had not completely allowed it to sink in. "What does she look like?"

  "Beautiful. Black hair, nut brown skin."

  Dynarien shook his head. "No. No, that's not her. Galee was fair, beautiful beyond imagining. My father loved her." He sucked in a fortifying breath. "She betrayed us both, helped my cousin murder my betrothed on the night before we were to wed."

  "And now you're wondering if this could be the same woman?" Yukiah asked.

  "My grandsire sealed her in a cave. She should have died there. There is no way she could have gotten out alive."

  "We need to stop this line of questioning," Eshraf said. "We are going in a direction that will reveal something I wish to keep secret for the time being."

  Jimi raised an eyebrow, but none of the adults would say anything, and Yukiah seemed as puzzled as he did. Jimi took another look at the mage, what caught his attention was the fragrance of roses. The youth always favored patchouli and spicier scents, but had heard some of the girls saying they liked the way the mage smelled. He needed to find a roundabout way to see what would please Jysy.

  "Mikkal, start with my findings about Wrathscar's intentions," Eshraf ordered.

  Mikkal began to read. "Takhalme's grandson Asrethamon vanishes on assignment in Larquental. That's seven months ago. A unit of Guildsmyn is sent to investigate. Raiders descend on the city, burning the temple where the records are kept, killing these Guildsmyn. No further word reaches us.

  "I'm from Larquental," Jimi interjected. "Could this be why I've not heard from my family in months?"

  "It is a possibility, Jimi," the Patriarch said. "My guess would be that they have either gone into hiding or..." The Patriarch sighed. "I'm sorry I don't know anything definite about them. I will try to find out."

  Jimi's face hardened into a stoic mask, and he nodded.

  Mikkal began again. "Takhalme's four grandsons, Amyn, Tolan, Myr and Sellyn are hunting when their lodge is destroyed by a convenient avalanche. Five months ago."

  "Avalanches happen. However, this one was extremely convenient," Eshraf said.

  "Galee is sent by the Grand Master for a bi-kyndi blocker to the Temple of Ishla in Larquental. She returns with it. That temple also was subsequently destroyed by raiders – no survivors."

  "Again, too convenient," Yukiah said. "There's no way to prove Galee even went there."

  A small chorus of agreement followed his statement.

  Jimi looked increasingly disturbed and uneasy. It was evident to all that he was thinking of his family.

  Mikkal resumed after waiting to see if anyone wished to discuss this further. "Talons was repeatedly drugged and raped for the purpose of testing the blocker and to get her with child until the Ishlani mage blocked the kyndi."

  "You're certain of that?" Yukiah asked.

  "Dynarien found it in her system. He's the only one sensitive enough to do so," Eshraf stated. "And his word is gold with me. Furthermore, I believe the Wrathscars, with the cooperation of the Grand Master, have been deliberately pursuing a course of breaking her to their will in order to control the throne once she and Bryndel are married. It is a fact that Wrathscar breaks his women and by extension his son's."

  Edouina nodded. "Forcing her into dresses, forcing her
to walk with her hand upon Bryndel's at formal functions, forcing her to put up with even the most outrageous behavior from him. I'd say that's exactly what they're doing, honey. They are also dictating which healer she sees. Solance. But I've put a stop to that."

  "Solance," Mikkal snarled, startling everyone with his vehement hostility. "Wicked, malevolent, execrable little anthropophagite. When I still practiced law, I had him thrown into the dungeons dozens of times before Wrathscar became his patron."

  Eshraf stepped to Mikkal's side, dropping his huge hand on his assistant's thin shoulder. "Enough, Mikkal. We know what Solance is. There is only one last point to be made. Gentlemyn, I also believe that someone for reasons unknown, possibly to prevent the marriage from going through, is poisoning Talons."

  "If she did not go to the temple, then where did she get the blocker?" Jimi asked, leaning forward in his seat, his fingers laced between his knees, his lips tight, his struggle with inner demons written large upon his face.

  "I believe that Solance developed it. His background is arcane, bio-alchemy and mage craft as well as healer," Eshraf said.

  "And in and out of trouble," Mikkal growled. "I've had him up on charges numerous times when I was a barrister. Had Wrathscar not made a pet of him, he'd be rotting in the dungeons still."

  All eyes briefly averted from Mikkal's face as he refused to let it go. Only Eshraf had seen him like this before, and suspected it might be personal.

  "At least five of the ingredients of the formula, the one the catkins stole, were things we could not identify," Eshraf told them.

  Yukiah blinked. "Catkins?"

  "Yes, I should have introduced the rest of our allies, Yukiah. We are going to give our vampire a serious fight. Lo'Ah, if you please."

  The pearl gray male stretched, yawned, and changed.

  Yukiah, to his credit, managed not to jump. He accepted the furry hand and grasped it. Then Lo'Ah leaned in and chin-marked him.

  "I am Lo'Ah, Shaman to the Crimson Yarn Tribe. The four queens, who serve a certain yuwenghau who has come here in disguise to aid you, have placed their forces under my command. We have infiltrated the ranks of the palace cats and are scattered among them."