by JANRAE FRANK
"You Hell-forsaken idiot!" Galee ran after him, but his long swift stride quickly out-distanced her. By the time she caught up with him at the benches, he had already dispatched one of the students sitting there to call Jysy over. She snatched his arm and he shook her off. "You mustn't do this!" she hissed, not wishing to be loud enough to make a scene. She could see Yukiah at the farthest edge. He had not noticed them yet, but he would if either of them made any sudden movements to draw attention to their presence.
"I will have the sister."
The student returned with Jysy. The Sharani youth's eyes widened when she saw who waited for her there and she started to run, but Lord Wrathscar was too quick for her. He touched her face, met her eyes, and snared her mind. Jysy placed her hand in Wrathscar's and walked away with him, rounding the hedgerow. Yukiah finished with the student pair he was working with and began to walk leisurely in Galee's direction, stopping from time to time with other pairs. He had not noticed Galee yet. The student who had fetched Jysy still stood in spell-shrouded silence before the vampire. Wrathscar had forgotten to release her.
Galee started to panic. If the Guild discovered what Wrathscar had become – and they would if he kept this up – they would know to come after her. It had been centuries since she had lost control of a situation to this degree. Wrathscar was turning all her best-laid plans into a disaster. Yukiah was Jysy's sponsor and he, being a survivor of the last rash of vampiric attacks by Galee's get, would know what to look for. She did not want Yukiah and his secret allies turning their attention in her direction. Yukiah was immune to her powers, thanks to the last yuwenghau to pit her strength against Galee's. Galee had slaughtered that one, but it had been a near thing. Yukiah was nearly to her end of the field. It would not be much longer before he saw her standing there.
Galee snared the student who had fetched Jysy, took her hand, and went off in pursuit of Wrathscar. She dared not leave this girl behind to tell searchers who it was that Jysy had left with. She lost sight of Wrathscar, but she knew where he was going: back to his own apartments where he had murdered Arruth. They crossed the quad swiftly, and plunged through the Great Hall, up the stairs and down the corridor of the West Wing.
She pounded on the door to Wrathscar's apartments, but he did not answer. Galee could hear Jysy crying. "Bellocar's blood," Galee snarled. "I hope he did not drop the damned bar." She dared not make much noise lest she draw the guards standing outside Talons' door further down the corridor. They would ignore many things, but the sound of splintering wood was not one of them. She broke the lock as quietly as possible, using her own and the student's bodies to muffle the sound, and forced the door in a controlled manner: Wrathscar had been too eager to get at the girl to bar it. She entered, dragging the hapless student behind her.
"Sit!" Galee ordered, releasing the student's hand.
The girl obeyed, blank-eyed, and staring at nothing as she settled on the edge of the couch. Galee turned and dropped the bar, hoping no one would notice the broken lock. Then she went into Wrathscar's bedroom.
Lord Wrathscar pinned the thirteen-year-old beneath his bulk, grunting loudly as he forced himself into her with savage thrusts that tore the delicate tissues inside her. Jysy whimpered in tiny animal noises of pain and distress, her small body flopping like an ill-used rag doll with his movements. Galee put her hand on his shoulder and he knocked her away. She grabbed him again and he hit her hard, slamming her into the wall before returning to his rutting. Galee struck hard and slid down to sit for a moment cursing: at Wrathscar, at the situation, and at all the odd turns her plans had been forced to take by Yahni, and finally the yuwenghau. If she fought Wrathscar, the noise would bring guards from four suites down in front of the heir's chambers to investigate. Galee climbed to her feet, approaching Wrathscar warily.
"Don't kill her," Galee hissed at him. "You took enough chances with the first one."
"I want to make this one last," he said, riding Jysy harder. Blood pooled beneath her hips on the sheets. "I will not lose my temper this time."
Galee swore again: he was totally lost in his obsession. There could be no reasoning with him. She fetched the student from the antechamber. Galee saw that Wrathscar had fastened to Jysy's throat. The girl's face had an ashen quality to it. Wrathscar was taking too much blood. Jysy was dying. Galee shoved the student at him. "Take this one. There's more blood in her. That one's nearly empty."
Wrathscar lifted his bloody mouth, grabbed the student, and rolled off Jysy. Galee snatched Jysy and went out the window. It was growing dark. She hoped that when the guards had tired of waiting for her they had executed Edouina and Dynarien. She slunk through the shadows beneath the trees with Jysy slung over her shoulder, reached the outer edge of the library and threw Jysy into some bushes.
* * * *
Osterbridge sat on the benches, ostensibly to watch the older students work out, but actually he was watching Isen. On more than one occasion she had sent him sprawling in the dirt when he sparred with her, and on his recommendation, Yukiah had jumped her from fighting classes with the middle students to the advanced group. The switch did not even slow her down. Isen was well on her way to becoming one of their youngest graduates ever. Osterbridge suspected that Isen was trying to break Talons' record, which meant that she would have to graduate well before she turned sixteen. His growing admiration for the youth only deepened his love for her. For all of that, there was something about Isen that brought out his protective streak and that was where it all went wrong. He wanted to protect her from everything in the world, including his own desires; and yet his body reacted to her nearness with such intensity that it was all he could do to keep his hands off her.
When it got to be too much for him to handle, he went to Yukiah. The armsmaster thought they were a good match, and kept reassuring Osterbridge that there was nothing wrong with his feelings for Isen, going so far as to suggest that bedding her would be good for both of them. Yukiah believed that sex might actually ground Isen more firmly in her body, and make the trance state less likely to happen. The armsmaster, also, thought she was mature enough to handle a sexual relationship. So far, however, Osterbridge's conscience had limited him to holding hands and a few chaste kisses.
Isen finished her workout and came bouncing over to him, sweating and breathing hard. She threw herself onto the bench and leaned against him. "So what do you think?"
"I think you're wonderful."
Isen reached back and flicked him on the nose. "I'm talking about my workout."
"You did real well, Isen. But that trance state you slide into could cause problems."
"That's what Yukiah says. I'll work on it. Can we walk back to the palace with Jimi and Jysy? I'd like to go to that end of the Cloverleaf."
"Were you thinking about that special little café?"
"Yes, I was. I see Jimi, but–" Her gaze swept across the grounds and she frowned suddenly.
Osterbridge tensed. He knew how her gifts worked. When she focused on something, she never missed anything. "What is it?"
"Jysy. There's Jimi and he's supposed to walk Jysy home like he always does. But Jysy's not on the field."
Osterbridge spotted Yukiah, and rose to his feet, grabbing Isen by the hand. "Come on, let's tell Yukiah."
Together they ran across the Training Grounds to Yukiah, who was working with a young pair.
"Yukiah, Jysy's missing."
The armsmaster stopped and turned. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," said Isen. "I know every face on the field and none of them are Jysy."
"Where's Jimi? They were supposed to leave together." Yukiah pivoted and scanned for the young rogue.
"There." Osterbridge pointed Jimi out near the equestrian ring.
Concern flushed Yukiah's face and he rubbed the scar on his neck uneasily. He cupped his hands around his mouth to help his voice carry, and shouted, "Everyone! Come here! Assemble!"
Word passed swiftly through shouted commands to every corner
of the Training Grounds, from the Stalking Grounds to the Equestrian Ring, and everything in between. The students and teachers gathered.
Once Yukiah had all of their attention, he shouted, "Jysy's missing."
The armsmaster told them off into small groups and dispersed them across the compound to search, just as he had the day they lost Arruth.
Osterbridge gripped Isen's hand tightly as they started off to look. "Stay with me. Don't you dare try to go off on your own, like you did that night we found Arruth."
Isen looked up at his worried face, solemn-eyed. "I promise."
They reached the steps of the library and Osterbridge stopped, gripping her shoulders. He stared into her face for several breaths. "If anything happened to you, Isen, I don't know how I'd live."
"I know." She squirmed slightly.
"You do anything rash, and I'll turn you over my knee and spank the holy hell out of you," he growled. Then he kissed her thoroughly, before continuing their search for Jysy.
* * * *
Her weakness humiliated Talons, but she could not stop crying. "They took them away, Cass. Just before you came. They spellcorded him so he could not escape."
"I know, I know," Cass said, patting Talons' hand. "Maybe it's for the best. I mean, if they are the vampires, then you're much safer now. And if they are not the vampires, well then, they'll release them tomorrow." Cass went to the dresser where she had left the bottle and glass. She mixed the medicine with the wine and carried it to Talons. "Drink this down and you'll feel better."
Talons drank it, handing her back the glass. "Is Alora out there?"
"Yes."
"Fetch her and then go."
Cass disappeared quickly. Talons struggled hard to think, her mind felt muddy as if each thought had sunk into a morass and become unreachable.
A voice whispered through Talons' mind so deeply she barely heard it. < For the sake of His prayers, remember Her Mark. >
There had to be a way to help them. She had a gut feeling they would not live out the day and her instincts were rarely wrong. But she could not think. Her mind would not clear.
< For the sake of His prayers, remember Her Mark. >
She looked down at her hands, at the fingerless black gloves she never removed except to bathe. It had been months since she summoned forth the silver-chased kenda'ryl rune claws from those gloves. Talons' felt tears run down her face. Even were she to summon them, she doubted her increasingly fragile body would be able to use them. A year ago she would simply have gone after them herself. And now?
< For the sake of His prayers, remember Her Mark. >
Alora sat down beside her. "I don't know what to do." Alora was the only one left with Talons, which meant she could not leave to fetch the knights. Jimi was not due until late afternoon, when his classes finished. The youth felt helpless. She could only hope that Jysy had told Yukiah and that Yukiah would be able to do something.
Tears started down Talons' face again. Her robe had gotten twisted. She struggled to sit up and Alora helped her. Talons pulled at it, trying to get it straight so that it did not constrict her swollen belly. The children had seemed like a good thing at the time, a tool to use against Bryndel and his father. But Talons had never been a gamesmon and it looked like she was losing the gambit and all the people she loved with it.
< For the sake of His prayers, remember Her Mark. >
She yanked angrily at the robe. She had not been out of her rooms in months. Swollen and sick, she had held on because of her two beloved champions and now they were gone. She took it out on the robe, tearing it at the neck in anger, ripping a huge piece away.
< For the sake of His prayers, remember Her Mark. >
"Let me help." Alora lifted her a bit, freed the side of the robe, and, as she finished, noticed the little squiggly scar at the base of Talons' neck, revealed by the torn collar. "What's that mark on your neck?"
"The little question mark thing?" Talons forgot the robe for a moment.
"Yes."
"That's Dynanna's mark. Hadjys and she have a habit of marking each other's paladins. Dynarien says it a link and that Dynanna almost always answers."
< For the sake of His prayers, remember Her Mark. >
Dynanna had marked her first – as a prank in exchange for aiding her against the Gold Ravens, a rogue assassin's Guild operating out of the Rowanslea Mar'ajanate of Shaurone. Jysy's oldest sister, Birdie was a priest of Dynanna; and when Takhalme quarantined Rowanslea, leaving Talons isolated and fighting the Golds alone, Birdie suggested turning to Dynanna for assistance. The mischievous deity answered and bit Talons, leaving that curious little mark. Dynarien had used that mark to call her back to consciousness after the stone troll nearly killed her so that he could get a healing elixir into her, which his sister had stolen from one of the elder gods. The mark had power.
"That's what Jysy and Arruth say – Arruth said that all the time." Alora had to catch herself, trying not to talk about Arruth as if she were alive, when she wasn't. Alora felt responsible for Arruth's death. If I just hadn't forced her to come with me. I thought I knew best and I knew nothing at all.
"She's Dynarien's sister." Talons' face lit suddenly. She pressed two fingers to the mark, calling out, desperately, knowing that emotion enhanced the summons, "Dynanna, Dynanna, Dynanna!"
Alora nearly fainted when three figures materialized in front of them. Dynanna, God of Cussedness, had an upturned pixie nose, high well-formed cheekbones with delicate hollows beneath, full lips that seemed to promise trouble, and an abundance of long red-gold hair. According to many priests of many gods, Dynanna's unpredictability and uninhibited impulsiveness made her potentially one of the most dangerous deities in their world, far beyond her stature as a very minor young god – a yuwenghau. The tales of the trouble she could get people into – and out of – where both legion and legend. She was, also, bulging with twins – by two different gods. Even her sexuality and fertility was a bit perverse. Whatever one might have expected in a deity – Dynanna was not.
She appeared with her two favorite paladins beside her: Pieface in his leather cap and goggles, pushed up on his head, with his deadly pie pans hanging at his side; Sugar Maple all in black with a pointed hat and a twig broom. They were both fair skinned, heavily freckled and had huge pointed ears. They were Badree Nym, the pariahs of the sylvan races, for although good-hearted and helpful, their magic tended to knock down buildings whenever they were unduly upset or seriously frightened in a random, but powerful, surge of undisciplined power. That did not happen as much with Pieface and Sugar Maple, which was why they were paladins.
"Whooooaaa! You're nearly as round as I am." Dynanna grinned. She sobered, looking closely at Talons, at the gauntness of her face, the dark smudges beneath her eyes. "You don't look so good."
"They're going to kill Dynarien," Talons said desperately.
"He hasn't called me," Dynanna said, flicking her hair back from her face and chewing on the edge of her lip in an off-hand way.
"He can't. Can you find him?"
"Yeah."
"Please, Dynanna, go get him. Now."
Dynanna shrugged. "H'okay." The three of them popped out.
Talons leaned against Alora. She felt nauseous and dizzy. Force of will and anger had kept her going long enough to call Dynanna; but now that the need was gone, weakness overwhelmed her. Darkness narrowed her vision to a tiny point of light in front of her eyes, and she fainted, her head falling onto Alora's shoulders.
* * * *
The guards had marched Edouina and Dynarien to the farthest corner of the Stalking Grounds. They bound them five points: their bound ankles tied to bound their wrists; and a third rope around their necks caught tight just beneath their chins to jerk their heads back with the end secured to their wrists and ankles so that they were on their knees with their spines bowed backwards and their throats exposed. They used the strange cord for all of the bindings on Dynarien. Then all but three withdrew a distance, s
ettled down, and began to throw the bones. A mon of middle height emerged from the trees after watching for a time. He wore an open sided black coat with pockets over a nondescript brown tunic and baggy trousers tucked into polished boots. Two large satchels stuffed to capacity, their wide straps criss-crossing his chest, hung at his sides. He grinned and circled the captives, regarding them speculatively, and for a moment Edouina wondered if this were the mon they had been brought to face – their executioner.
Dynarien exerted all his considerable strength to try and break the spellcord and ropes now that the crossbows were no longer leveled at them. A guard saw this and kicked Dynarien in the stomach. His body reacted by trying to double over, but the ropes prevented it, pulling painfully at his arms and legs, the one around his neck tightened choking him. The guard hit him in the face, drew his belt knife, and used the pommel to strike him again and again. Another joined in. Together they kicked and hit him in an indiscriminate rain of heavy blows. Dynarien bore it in silence, refusing to cry out, which only made them angrier and more savage. The observer tapped one guard on the shoulder and shook his head.
"That's no proper way to treat a yuwenghau," the mon told him. "They're hard to damage."
The other two heard him and stopped hitting Dynarien, coming over to better hear Zarliche's words.
"Now you just listen to the old Master Blood here." He reached in his right satchel, taking out three black rods with crimson runes, passing them around. "You hit him with these and you'll get a better result. I'll add the price to your Mistress' bill. Hit her with them too." He nodded at Edouina. "Shove one up the fun places, if you get my meaning." He winked and walked off.
Edouina felt sickened. Perhaps it would have been better to have tried to run and gotten a bolt in the back... No that would have been perceived as an admission of guilt, which would have made Talons more vulnerable by casting suspicion on all of her defenders, including the knights. Talons, forgive me. I failed you. Remember I loved you.
Dynarien's tormentors got a shuddering, gasping cry of anguish from him when the first runed rod struck and he convulsed. Edouina stiffened, fighting back a growing horror as she watched. Her insides went cold and her mind icy clear. The Rose Warrior, Twice-Born son to the Woodland God, struggled not to give vent to the pain they inflicted and she would not deny his courage by looking away. The myn laughed, discussing his reactions with a dispassionate eye between rounds of inflicting their blows; and when they bored with the game, descended on him with such an intense rain of those heavy strikes that they beat him unconscious. Then they turned on Edouina.
