by JANRAE FRANK
Talons entered the chapel on the arms of Bryndel and Edouina. They helped her to the altar. There were no trailing maids of honor, no flower girls and attendants. Edouina had managed to dispense with them on the grounds that Talons' precarious health would not allow her to handle an elaborate ceremony. Talons scanned the room and saw shadows around the ceiling that might be vampires clinging to it. She scarcely heard the Patriarch's words as he bound her and Edouina to Bryndel. She made the proper answers, prompted by Edouina. She could barely think, but focused on the need for action. The vows concluded. The three kissed and a cheer went up from the assembled guests. Takhalme came and clasped her with tears in his eyes.
"I love you, Talons. You were always my favorite."
"I love you too, Grandsire. And I forgive you."
Over his shoulder, Talons saw Tulik pull something out. The young knight's face changed, his eyes turned scarlet, without iris, white or pupil; he frothed at the mouth like a rabid dog and lunged at Takhalme's back with a strange blade in his hands.
Screams and shouts erupted all around her as vampires dropped from the ceiling to tear at the guests.
* * * *
The instant that the vows were exchanged the priests threw open the chests, showering everyone with garlic, tossing it high in every direction, striking the lesser bloods as they dropped from the ceiling. The lesser bloods flinched, thrown into momentary confusion. Some of the guests protested the indignity, but then someone heard the cry of "vampire" and others saw Wrathscar's allies on his side of the aisle draw their blades. By then Hanadi and Brundarad had the doors open; Guildsmyn poured into the chapel. A priest threw open the boxes of weapons and shouted to the guests. "Arm yourselves. Galee and Wrathscar have betrayed us."
The initial surge of attackers charged the aisles, trapping many of Takhalme's supporters between their assailants and the hapless folk to their right hand, many of them women and children who had accompanied their husbands to the wedding. Those loyal folk, who had arrived with their weapons, tried vainly to shield those who had not. The ones on the far left side of the benches tried to flee, and some trampled each other. The priests began grabbing some of these myn, putting blades in their hands, and then forced their way over and around the vulnerable guests, shoving people behind them as they reached more of the guests with weapons.
The arming went quickly, and those not cut down in the first rush, fought back. Many died as the lesser bloods rallied, recovering from the priests garlic tossing. It became quickly apparent that the reasons the Guild had found no bodies was because every victim, no matter how young, had been turned.
The fragrance of roses rushed through the chamber as Dynarien materialized in the middle of the wedding chapel in his golden armor, longsword in hand.
"Let it all be known!" he shouted, instantly blue-white light swept the room. It flowed out through the palace, the school, the libraries, and the training grounds. It continued until it had engulfed the city. Gylorean Galee and several of the nobles gathered on Wrathscar's side of the isle screamed as the traitor's brand burned suddenly on their foreheads.
At that signal, magic sang through the room as thirteen angry Fae loosed their power in a whirling dance of golden fans that sliced and summoned, leaving trails of fire and ice, streaks of lightning and whirls of spinning winds. Galee shrieked in wordless impotent fury, realizing she had – not Channadar's half-blood sycophants – but a raging veteran warband of truebloods in her midst. How in Hell's name did they get here?
* * * *
< Are you hungry, Brundarad, my love? > Hanadi asked, brushing her rough coat against her mate as they slunk along the edge of the fighting. The room seemed a bit crowded for them.
< I don't eat humans. > he growled, nipping at her ear remonstratively.
< Galee kept strange creatures in the caverns, shall we hunt her holdings? >
< I like the taste of demon flesh. Let's hunt, my love. > The two shadow hounds slipped out into the corridor, racing away.
* * * *
The signal to strike reached the Guild Wing and Ceejorn shouted, "Stand to your arms, Guildsmyn! There's fighting in the chapel." He emerged into the Grand Central Hall with the rest of the Guild behind him and sixty of the Netherguard. Leonè walked at his side.
Then Wolfstalker arrived with his band of Chosen. Already they could hear the screams of women and children, those who had not been part of the gathering in the chapel and had been waiting in the hall for the wedding party to emerge. They found Creeyan guardsmyn and Wrathscar soldiers slaughtering the families of those who had opposed Galee and Wrathscar.
Suddenly blue white light swept the chamber. The guardsmyn, Wrathscar's soldiers, and all those who had been subverted screamed. They hesitated in their slaughter as the hellbrand burned suddenly upon their foreheads, revealing them and their purpose.
That was the signal that Ceejorn and his Guildsmyn, and the Fae had been waiting for.
"At them!" Ceejorn led the charge. Yahni, this is for you.
* * * *
Dynarien attacked Galee, his sword flashing down at her shoulder for a cross body cut. The ancient monster seized his sword and, though it burned her hand, making her shriek, she wrested it from his grip, throwing it across the room. She leaped upon him, biting and clawing. Galee slammed Dynarien into a wall, broke the lacing on his breastplate, tore it off, and hurled it across the room. His marvelous chain mail beneath it, wrought by Eldarion Havenrain, split and yielded before her strength and savagery. His blood ran through the severed links, soaking his shirt and surcoat. Dynarien stared into her fanged face as he gripped her throat, and slowly crushed it in his hands as he forced her mouth away from his neck.
Then he felt a sudden shock in the inner reaches of his heart and mind: Dynanna! Something terrible was happening to her. She needed him. He faltered, losing his grip on Gylorean's throat.
Galee hissed in his face, her claws striking deep between his left ribs and right side through the rents in his armor. He stumbled backwards, struck the wall with his back, and could go no further. Dynarien forced her claws out of his body before Galee could empty her venom into his flesh.
She broke free, grabbed his arm with a twist, and sprang onto his back, clinging to him with her legs wrapped tight around his waist, ankles and calves locked together across his belly. Galee's arcane awareness sighted the arteries in the captured arm. She stabbed her nails in. Her fangs pricked his neck.
Forcing her head back from his neck with his free hand, Dynarien twisted and yanked at his imprisoned arm, but her unnatural strength equaled his own. He felt the deadly burn as she emptied the full load of her venom, all ten fingers of it, into his veins. Her nails twitched in his flesh while she tried to pump still more from the exhausted sacs.
The Twice-Born Son staggered as the venom swept through him, falling to his knees. His body went cold, and sweaty chills covered him in moisture beneath his armor. Blood ran from his nose and he coughed up a bloody froth. His awareness grayed, and he fought it.
Galee jerked her nails out of his arm, with a purr of satisfaction. "It's over for you. This time you'll stay dead."
"Damn you." Dynarien coughed up more of the bloody froth, and groaned in agony.
She twisted her fingers in his hair, forcing his head around to expose his throat for a lethal strike with her fangs.
"Mephistis is killing your sister," Galee hissed, her eyes glittering like a cobra's. "Neither of you will be going to the other's aid this day." Then she reared back to plunge her fangs into him.
Dynarien felt the link snap – he could no longer sense his sister. She must be dead. It could not be anything else. Rage did what his will could not. Fresh strength flooded him in answer to his fury and grief. Dynarien reached back, caught her by the hair with one hand and beneath the armpit with the other. He threw her off. Gylorean came instantly to her feet and rushed at him to sink her claws into his chest, reaching for his heart. Dynarien pulled free, stumbling backwards, hi
s face transfigured by insane wrath at what had been done to those he loved. She sank her claws into his mid-section, twisting them in the wounds. Dynarien screamed in anguish. Green flames erupted from him, dancing madly in an auric pattern. His eyes lost their whites; iris and pupils, turning a dark forest green, burning with energy.
"I am the Twice Born Son!" Dynarien roared, and felt the woodlands surrounding the city respond, feeding his power. He felt his father's mind turn toward him and link with him, feeding his gifts and energy still further. Blue roses carpeted the chamber. Vines of blue roses like a wall of thick briars swept around the castle and climbed it, reaching within minutes through the shattering windows for the vampires with their thorns.
Galee recognized what was happening and shrieked, "Willodarus!" Her claws in Dynarien's flesh began to burn and shrivel. She released him, turning to flee. She could not fight both Dynarien and Willodarus together.
Dynarien caught her, one arm thrown around her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. With his other hand he trapped her head, and twisted her neck. Galee went limp in his grasp as her spine and neck bones snapped with a loud pop, and he ripped her head from her shoulders. He released her body, which collapsed at his feet. Dynarien brandished Galee's head at the room, waved his other arm, and spread his power through the chapel in leaping vines and leaves of deep green energy. It left the living untouched, but the vampires perished as it reached them.
Meilurk sprang back as the green energy wrapped its pointed, spearhead leaves around him. He spun to flee, but it had encircled him, closing tightly like a thousand jade hands that clung to his clothing and flesh. Where it touched his arm, it quickly ate through his flesh to the bone like acid. He screamed in anguish and despair, howling as it ripped his clothing away to get at his flesh. Within moments, Meilurk was a pile of stripped bones on the floor.
Lord Wrathscar saw it coming for him, saw Galee's severed head in Dynarien's hand, and panic took hold of the vampire lord. He whirled and leaped for the window, smashed through it and vanished, leaving behind bits of his flesh and clothing on the rose thorns.
Seeing their undead allies slain or fled, some of the hellbranded humans threw down their weapons and pled for mercy – a mercy the Guildsmyn refused to grant them. A mon and his wife, both branded, dropped to their knees before Aramyn who killed them anyway.
* * * *
Talons shoved Takhalme aside with a strength born of need and rage, moving between her grandsire and the possessed Tulik. She summoned her claws and lunged at Tulik, but her unwieldy body made her slow. Her claws caught the side of his face, missing his eyes. Tulik thrust his blade at her and they grappled, going down together in a heap. Searing pain erupted beneath her breastbone as the blade meant for Takhalme found Talons instead. Tulik gave it a ripping twist and brought it across, slicing the organs on both sides beneath the breastbone. His eyes were wild as the magic of the blade held him in thrall. Talons' claws found his eyes and then his throat. He reared back, clutching at himself. She shoved her claws into his heart as she had the stone troll in Armaten.
Tulik died instantly. Talons pushed herself away from him, rising on one hand to stare down at him.
"Poor Tulik," she said, her gaze shifting to the blade protruding from her body. The quillons pressed against the white dress, a crimson stain widening around it. The hilt and quillons bore Waejontori runes: one for death and another for possession as well as others she did not recognize. Talons felt weak, awareness fading and returning to fade again with the waves of pain. She grabbed at a pew, dragging herself to her knees. The room tilted oddly. She swayed, trying to get one foot beneath her. Her mouth tightened as she fought her weakness, trying to master her body and stand. She slid down, collapsing on her back. Her claws disappeared and her nails dug into the flesh around the blade. A small, whimpering sob forced itself between her clenched teeth. She could feel the chill of the stone floor through her dress. She stared up at the flickering light of the candles in the three large chandeliers that hung suspended on strong ropes tied to hooks along the walls. The intense colors of everything, like a landscape before a storm, bothered her, though she could not think why.
Stillness swept with stunning force through the room. Talons realized that the battle was ended. She did not know if they had won or lost in the chapel, until she turned her head and saw myn with the hellbrand on their foreheads dropping their weapons as they fell to their knees, begging for quarter.
"Bind them," said Eshraf. "We'll execute them later."
"We've won," Talons murmured softly, feeling relief steal over her to blunt the knowledge that she was dying.
Strong hands raised her head and shoulders from the floor as someone else grasped her hand and pulled it gently from the wound. She looked into the worried, black-skinned face of Mohanja Raam as he reached for the blade.
"No," she gasped. "Seeking ... blade. Don't ... touch it."
Mohanja tore off a piece of the dress, wrapped it around the blade carefully. "I'm going to pull it," he said.
Talons nodded, gripping someone's hands tightly without looking at them. Her body stiffened and her face twisted into a hideous grimace at the icy sear of the blade being drawn from her flesh. Blood rushed more quickly from the wound, soaking her bodice.
Mohanja Raam tucked the covered blade into his belt.
Someone rubbed a powder into her nostrils and gums – there seemed to be people crowding around her on every side. Purple stain spread around the corners of her mouth. As the drug hit her system, the pain retreated to a manageable level. Her head felt light and clear. She glanced at the mon holding her hand and saw her grandsire with tears slowly forcing their way from the edges of his slanted eyes.
The Patriarch shoved a folded bandage through the tear in her bodice, pressing it against the wound.
"No," Talons said. "Don't bother. It's a good day to die, and a finer way to die than I was dying."
* * * *
Alysyn sensed the shift in power from where she stood with her swan-mays. She knew the fighting going on throughout the palace had to be intense, and wished she could have been with her Netherguard who had followed Ceejorn's charge. But they had remained in the Guild Wing, as the last defense of it should the tide turn against them. Somewhere outside the palace, their gryphons circled, waiting for the order – should it come – to land and bear them to safety.
Isen crept into her mother's arms; she was dressed for battle if it reached them. They had made her sick father comfortable in an old, well-padded chair and Yukiah listened with them, waiting for some word. "Ceejorn... I worry about him," Isen said.
"I worry about us all," Alysyn replied. "I should have sent you both out of the city. If worst comes, Queiggy will take you both through a secret passage and out."
"No. I needed to be here this morning. The officers needed to see me," Yukiah said.
"There is that," Alysyn agreed reluctantly. "We three are the last of the Branch Clan. So it worries me."
Isen drew her mother aside and whispered in her ear. "Thank you for speaking with Ceejorn. He isn't so afraid to bed me now ... and mother ... mother, his child grows inside me."
Alysyn glanced down at her for the first time. "When?"
"The first night after you spoke to him, I think. He was more eager for me then. I have Read myself after nearly all of our coupling. When I detected it, I had the midwife Read me. She confirmed it."
Alysyn hugged her daughter. "I wish you had told me before. I would have sent you to safety then."
Isen smiled. "I did not want to be parted from him."
"He's a good mon. An heir to the throne is good too. You will be fine."
Isen's hands fluttered to her belly. "It feels strange to have a child inside me. Do you think he'll be happy, when I tell him?"
Alysyn clasped Isen tighter. "Of course, he will be. Does your father know?"
Isen shook her head, with a small rim of sadness around her mouth. "I wanted to be a Guildsmon to make h
im proud of me ... now that's not going to happen."
"You'll just have to be a queen, instead."
Isen's eyes went distant. "I'm not as ready for this as I thought I would be."
"You'll do fine. And I'll be here to help you."
* * * *
Dynarien reeled away from the dead vampire, staggering. Galee's head fell from his hands, and rolled across the floor to thump against a bench. The strongest Lemyari venom that ever existed burned through his body like acid. He refused to allow his mind to embrace the knowledge of what was happening to him yet. Would Hadjys have his soul through the godmark as the nethergod had with Yukiah's, or would he go free to join his slain sister, their fragmented souls once more joined as one.
< You have served me well. I release you. > Hadjys' voice echoed through Dynarien's mind.
The yuwenghau felt the godmark vanish from his chest in a cool breath across his skin.
"Thank you." Dynarien had to force each step each step he took, his legs threatening to give beneath him as he limped toward a knot of people gathered near the altar, surrounding Edouina who crouched on her knees, weeping. Then he saw Talons. He felt as if he had been thrown from a tremendous height and struck the earth with impossible force. Dynarien dropped to Talons' side, and almost fell in his weakness. He saw first the widening red blotch of blood on the white dress, then the violet stain on her lips. His stomach tightened, and then his throat.
"Pollendine?" he asked, knowing that meant she was dying. "Talons! No. Not yet."
Then he looked down at his arms where ten punctures were already turning black. Galee had done for him also. He would follow after her soon. Dynarien had intended to aid Edouina in rescuing the children from Talons' body if her time to die came before the children's birth. With the venom burning through him, he could not do that. The children would be lost with her, and nothing of their love would remain behind in this world. Willodarus. His father would act in his place, if he could get Talons there before consciousness failed him or she perished.
