JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING III

by JANRAE FRANK

  Gauze covered one eye and a long tear had been stitched from its corner to the top of his lip. He lifted his hand, running it along the stitching carefully and then touched his nose, which had been packed with something like plaster to hold the broken pieces in place.

  "Am I alive?" he whispered softly. "Or undead?"

  He heard people moving in the room and tried to turn on his side. Pain shot through him and he gave it up. His ribs were tightly bound and a calf splinted, as was his other arm and fingers. He vaguely remembered someone stomping on that hand. He turned his head instead and saw that a large, round table stood nearby, heavily laden with vials, jars, tiny chains, potions, herbs, and glowing jewelry. He took the latter to be talismans of some kind. In the middle sat a tray. Strange creatures and odd humans passed silently through, leaving their offering in it. Then he noticed that a string of bright stones in auroraic patterns wrapped his wrist, shimmering with power. That had to be what held him together, held him to life, but did he want this life without a god?

  A mon in long sky-blue robes noticed that his eyes were open and came to him. "Finally you wake. You have been in coma for six days."

  "I am alive?"

  "Yes, prince, you are alive."

  "Where am I?" Each word tired him, yet he felt driven to ask.

  "You are still in Creeya. A star room in the secure annex to the Guild Wing."

  The mon dropped his eyes from the blue robed healer's face. "Who am I?"

  The healer took his wrist and Read him before answering. "You are Yukiah St. Jon Dulac, Prince of the Blood." He watched Yukiah's hand go again to the spot above the bandages on his ribs to touch the place the godmark should have been. "Hadjys withdrew from you so that Kalirion could reach out to you. You were raised. But their powers brushed together and your soul nearly shattered. There are still cracks in it. But we are striving to heal those. Your body also is very fragile. Its physical essence split in half. That too we work upon. The half that died has been buried. The half that lives, we struggle to give substance to once more."

  With his naming, Yukiah's memories began to return in fragments. "You are not Guild."

  "That I am not. I am Kalirioni, a mender and spirit-worker from the Great Plains, summoned with some of my brethren to tend you."

  Isen's face floated through Yukiah's mind with a sharp poignancy. "My daughter?"

  "The marriage has been consummated. You should rest again." The Kalirioni priest-healer brought a draught of blue liquid over and helped Yukiah to drink it before lowering him to the bed again. "When you are well enough for visitors, I will bring her. For the nonce, we dare not allow anyone through the auric shields we have set over you to hold your soul and body together. Nor can we allow visitors to tire you."

  Yukiah closed his eyes and found it easy to slide back into the warm nothingness from which he had briefly emerged. He did not know that Dynarien had challenged the Nine Elder Gods to save him.

  The yuwenghau, although he might balk in calmer moments when his conscience and clearer thought was in full charge, always plunged in without thinking when the need was upon him. He had demanded the nethergod release the soul of his last scion of the lineage of his sacred kings. Kalirion made pact with Hadjys. They sent Yukiah's soul into Dynarien's body to hold it, and then Kalirion entered Dynarien and made the yuwenghau his own also. They had nearly shattered Dynarien and Yukiah both. But then it was done.

  The courage of both young myn had touched the divines and aid had been pouring in for days afterward, it was only to be hoped whether it would prove enough and in time. The night of Yukiah's death had been a Night of God Rage and the anger that had ridden in upon the divine winds continued to simmer. The evil one would be discovered and destroyed by their knights and paladins.

  * * * *

  Galee's messenger climbed to the top of the half fallen spire, shoving rubble from the stairs, climbing over chunks of stone too heavy even for it to move. Until the night of the god strikes a week ago this had been its nest. It emerged into the night beneath a full moon that bathed the shattered roof in silvery glow. It still nested here, but it was far less happy and had begun to look for another home. The shifter's pillows had been beaten by rain and weather. He moved more of them under the remainder of the roof before preparing to set off with the newest message from his mistress. Galee wanted to bring more of her troops into the city, to make certain that those lords loyal to her would bring the entirety of their forces and not just the numbers they had originally planned upon. That was when he noticed the cat. Galee's messenger expanded to his full devil bat size, sensing there was something more than met the eye to this creature. The cat was large, easily thirty pounds or more, tiger striped, a deep almost blood red and black. The messenger towered over it.

  < I will take the message, > the cat sent.

  "Ohoh!" the messenger laughed. "Catkin! I think you are my lunch!"

  The cat's form shimmered, changed, and grew becoming six hundred pounds of rage. "Wrong. Shivari. Tigerkin." Then the cousin to the catkin was on the messenger and blood soon filled the spire.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  TRANSFORMATIONS

  Leeza decided that fewer questions would be asked crossing the grounds, than taking the underground route. She left the palace and discovered that the grounds were darker than she anticipated. Autumn was in the air and the grounds seemed oddly changed from the last time she had crossed with Channadar before he was attacked in the gryphonspire. But then everything felt different without the sheltering presence of the Chosen around her. She missed them, even as she told herself it was for the best and she was glad to be free of them. And that brought tears to shame her pride. She became aware of things she had paid no notice of in their company. The quad had never been so quiet, so strung with unseen threat. She could taste it. In years past there had always been people about, even at this hour – students mostly, but some of the palace staff, guests, and nobility. Creeya was lovely in the fall. The lamps were lit, throwing a golden glow along the walks. She walked faster, wanting to reach the temple quickly. A rustling in the bushes brought a glance from the corners of her eyes, yet she did not slow. She had lost her edge with three years of soft living, but she was not stupid. Then came a growling.

  "Where the hell are the guards? They should be making rounds," Leeza muttered.

  A slurred voice said, "Meat," and a heavy weight landed on her back, staggering her. First she screamed and then she cursed, dropping the useless staff and going for the blades to catch it under the chin as it bit for her neck and got her shoulder instead.

  * * * *

  Dynarien heard the scream, dragging himself from his bed in the temple to look from the window. The pale hair of the mon being attacked by lesser bloods made her look sylvan, possibly one of the Fae. She had her blades out, fighting desperately as the lesser bloods surrounded her. He still hurt terribly, but adrenaline rushed through him, and he forced his way past it. He was healing rapidly under Eshraf's ministrations and the herbs that had been sent from his sister – Dynanna always worried about him. Rage roared up. He summoned his weapons and armor, Jumping into the midst of it. These creatures would pay a price for attacking his grandsire's folk.

  * * * *

  For an instant, Leeza thought it was Tiderider and the Fae who had arrived to her rescue when she caught the first flash of red-gold hair and bright armor in the lamplight. Then she realized she had never seen this mon before. Not even the Fae with their flashing fans could fight like this one; he was like a god in golden armor and it ended before it was begun. The fragrance of roses swept the grounds and roses lay everywhere, littering the ground in a thick carpet. He had to be a god. And then she recognized him from their single meeting and knew who he was. He was the heir's yuwenghau: Dynarien Willodarusson. The Rose Warrior.

  "Are you all right, little Fae?" he asked, in a sweet, yet masculine tenor.

  "Oh, but I'm not a Fae, I'm just a firefly – I mean, I don't know what I am
anymore." Her eyes filled with tears.

  When Dynarien saw all the sadness and confusion it touched him. "You could use some tea and sympathy. That's what my mother calls it. My sister doesn't like me taking people to our garden, but I think she'll understand. Take my hand." Dynarien extended his hand and Leeza placed hers into his. Her whole body tingled for an instant and then she found herself standing in a garden in glorious spring filled with fruiting trees and berry bushes, an artificial pool in the middle, and standing on the far end a quaint cottage that was larger on the inside than the outside.

  Dynarien indicated the soft grass beside the pool. "Sit, be comfortable."

  * * * *

  Galee passed the golden coins into the servant's hands. Pallon was one of her greedier pawns, but very efficient and dependable. "You and your crew will be serving at that party the Lords Kjarten are hosting in the northeast wing?"

  "Absolutely. We're setting up now." Pallon smiled slipping the coins discreetly into his pockets.

  "You'll inform me of what is discussed and who attends? All that is important to me? Who leans in which direction? Who bends over?"

  Pallon laughed. "That's what I get paid for."

  "Yes, it is." Galee smiled. "I will see you tomorrow when you arrive to help me move a few pieces of furniture?"

  "Absolutely, My Lady. That's me. Good, old, dependable Pallon."

  Galee swept out of the room and Pallon headed for a closet. A chill ran up his spine as he touched the knob and he shivered. For an instant he did not want to open the door and then he decided that was plain silly. So he opened it. There in the back he made out a dim form huddled down among the brooms. Pallon heard soft sobbing. "Who's there? Are you all right?"

  "I'm frightened. I looked out the window into the garden and I saw something that frightened me."

  The figure was tall, but it was a little girl's voice. That was when he realized it must be a Sharani girl, they tended to be tall. "Come out and I'll have a look with you. I'm sure there's nothing to be afraid of. It's broad daylight. Nothing bad happens in the daylight. Ghosts and monsters only come out at night."

  The girl put her hand in his and it was cold. Pallon frowned. Granted the autumn chill was in the air and she was not wearing much, but he suspected she was either sick or very, very frightened to be this cold.

  "You should be wearing something warmer. You're cold." He walked to the window with her.

  Pallon pressed his face against the glass as the girl pointed at a far corner. "You have to open it," she told him. "To really see it, you have to open it."

  He opened the window and leaned forward a bit. Then Arruth shoved him out. Pallon screamed as his body fell through space and impaled his chest on the spindle of a spire where it convulsed, twitched, and twisted until it finally settled, limbs splayed out like a broken doll. Arruth's form misted again into insubstantiality and fled laughing through the palace. "Queen takes pawn! Queen takes pawn!"

  * * * *

  Settling cross-legged beside Leeza, Dynarien summoned fruit, cheese, juice, and wine. He told her about Talons as a way of encouraging her to talk about Channadar and when he had heard her story, tried to explain about his grandsire's folk. "All the sylvans play games on humans."

  "All of them? All!"

  "Except for the Badree Nym, yes. And I guess the Nym play with them. Sometimes it backfires. About forty years ago the Valdren lost a half-breed prince. They spent twenty years searching for the child, a young female. A Sharani Saer'ajan had found the child and raised her as her own. However, because the sylvans have a policy called 'don't tell the humans', they never told the Sharani what it was they were hunting through their lands for and never found the child. The child grew up to become a Sharani hero, set off on an important quest, turned up in Donyanon and was found to everyone's astonishment."

  "Kalestari."

  "It was a little more complicated than that, but you get the idea."

  "So Channadar meant everything he has been saying."

  "Yes, the Faery are the most clever players of all. Very intense. Had he known about the child, he would have changed the game. He must have believed that one of his own is untrustworthy or perhaps even a traitor."

  A look of sorrow and regret came to Leeza's face. "Juna."

  "That's sad. Too much human blood – or maybe not. Waejonan was sylvan." Dynarien's face darkened and then he shook it off. "If you truly love him as I love Talons, you will go to him."

  "You're right. I'll go back."

  "First, let me get you some things to even the odds." Dynarien started snapping his fingers, first came an ivory horn. "This is the Horn of Sephree of the Streams. She was one of my sisters and the first of the Faery. Those to whom it speaks always answer its call. The Dark Ones cannot hear it. I would give it three sharp blasts; blow the Fear, Fire, and Foes if you know it. Should wake the entire compound up. I don't advise that for just anyone, but I'd make an exception in your case. Forget those blades, these are better. Kenda'ryl and runed for undead slaying." Another snap of his fingers and two golden gilt blades appeared beside him. Leeza drew hers and laid them on the ground as he extended these strange new blades to her. She accepted them, sliding them into the sheaths at her sides.

  Dynarien thought for a moment. Leeza was beautiful and he could see why Channadar loved her. Her nearness made his body react despite his wish that it wouldn't. Before he encountered Talons he would have had someone like Leeza on the ground beneath him in a flash, caring not one whit who she belonged to, and probably have filled her belly as quickly as he had Talons' if he wasn't careful. He sighed. "When all of this is done, I'll take you to visit my mother, she could teach you to dance on Channadar's head and all the rest of theirs. In fact, just whisper in Tiderider's ear that you've scheduled dancing lessons with Mariko-Who-Dances-With-Sprites and watch for his reaction."

  "Who is she?"

  "The Queen of Imralon. My mother."

  Night became day and then night again in the world beyond Dynarien's garden while they spoke. Dynarien periodically summoned more gifts for her. He deliberately filled her thoughts to confusion with stories and old lore. He fed her strange fruits, odd meats, and many cheeses, both sweet and sharp. To wash the food down, Dynarien brewed her wondrous drinks such as the one that was layers of thick black and orange but when stirred turned an iridescent light blue.

  "What's that?"

  "My sister, the God of Cussedness, calls it Be Careful What You Wish For. The ingredients are a single fruit stolen from each of the gardens of the Nine." He laughed as she sipped it, quickly changing the subject enough to prevent her asking why Dynanna had called it that. "Grandsire was so angry when he found that she had taken half his tree, that he caught and spanked her, locked her in the dungeons. I was passing her cookies through the bars that time."

  "Have you ever gotten locked up?" Leeza liked it and drank every last bit.

  Dynarien laughed. "The time I glued her hair to the tree I thought Grandsire was never going to let me out. And he spanked me until I couldn't sit down. So there I squatted, for three days, with Dynanna passing me cookies."

  Finally he returned her to Ishladrim Castle, left her in the Great Central Hall, and vanished.

  * * * *

  Leeza drew every eye in the Great Central Hall as she walked across it, but no one stopped to speak to her, even those who knew her well. She tensed when she saw Lord Wrathscar glance up at her. He was sitting with Galee and Lord Naren in one of the clusters of chairs. Leeza expected him to come after her, seeing her alone, but he only blinked and rubbed his eyes as if unsure of what he was seeing. So she walked on.

  She passed Sha and Aramyn on the stairs. "Hello, Sha," she said and walked on.

  "Do I know you?" Sha called after her in a tone of puzzlement.

  Leeza quickened her step as she headed for the stairs to the third floor, wondering at Sha's question and suddenly afraid to go back. Surely her disguise was not so great that Sha would not know her? Her
skin prickled on her arms. Something was going on and she was almost afraid to find out. Leeza reached the third floor and ran down the hallway toward the isolated star room that the Fae lived in.

  She heard the first sounds of fighting as she entered the outer hall of the star room and looked up to see hordes of creatures emerging from the upstairs rooms where they had no doubt been butchering the servants. The Chosen had anticipated an attack and moved their lord and the fireflies – including Juna's harem into the meeting hall. She clapped the horn to her lips, blowing three sharp blasts.

  The door to the meeting hall burst open and Channadar stumbled toward her, his Chosen trying valiantly to keep themselves between him and vampires and other creatures that had burst into it as well. He stared at her in confusion.

  "Channadar! Tiderider, look out they're everywhere!" Leeza shouted.

  "Leeza? Leeza!" Channadar's crippled arm hung useless; he had a single fan out and there was blood along the edge.

  Leeza pulled a handful of tiny glass globes from her pockets that Dynarien had given her which he called 'beast repellent,' and tossed them into the thickest group of vampires on the stairs, a crowd that had not yet reached the Chosen since she did not want any of it getting on her own people. A bright green gas and liquid splash came out as the glass broke. "Badree Nym!" Leeza shouted. "Have some Nym, you shits!"

  The Lemyari screamed, tumbling from the stairs, clawing at themselves and rolling frantically as the "beast repellant" ate through their bodies, smelling like essence of skunk and ammonia. But she did not get another clear shot because the battle closed too quickly around them.

  "You've been to the Nym?" Channadar asked astounded.

  "For help. It's coming."

  The fighting spun around her. Jangflower and Da'Shanagara jumped to come between her and two Lemyari. The vampires fought like warriors, with swords. Leeza had not expected that. She had expected them to be like animals, like the lesser bloods who had attacked her on the quad – the creatures that everyone connected with stories of vampires. These were what Channadar always called the royals. He had said there were many kinds.