One thought led to another, and Isranon's brow furrowed as he realized how long it had been since he last heard from Claw and Merissa.
"I saw the courier take wing. Nevin sauntered into the tent. News from Claw at last?"
"No. Edvarde. He knows we're coming and sends welcome. Concern deepened Isranon's frown. When's the last time we heard from Claw?"
Nevin turned a chair backwards and straddled it. Nothing since Ocealay. That's not like him."
"Over three months. It worries me."
"I usually got them every few weeks. An edge of regret entered Nevin's features. I should have started giving them to you sooner."
"That's past. I'm worried about now."
"Why don't I send Olin to Claw? Then he can tell them what has been happening here and vice versa. I'm certain he will be glad of some time at home after all these years."
Isranon smiled. That's a good idea. Olin should enjoy that."
"Then I'll get him on his way before sundown."
* * * *
Stygean spent days watching for his chance. Disharyl kept making him uneasy, putting her hands on him, rubbing him, patting him. When the opportunity came, he was certain that Disharyl had created it. She dumped part of a kettle of boiling water on herself. Randilyn immediately began dragging the soaked clothes from Disharyl's body. Stygean slipped inside the wagon. He found the chest easily. It was shoved to the front. They probably thought they had everything well guarded. He picked the lock and popped the lid open. So many blades! They dazzled his eyes. He dug through it swiftly. How would he ever find his father's or his mother's blades? It had to be theirs to be a fitting act of retribution. Half way through he found it. He tucked his father's blade into his belt and pulled his jerkin around it. Then he snatched a second one for Jingen as he had promised and slipped out.
He was shaking when he got back to Randilyn and Disharyl. Disharyl gave him a thin knowing smile and he swallowed. Then with a slight nod to Disharyl, he asked Randilyn, Can I help?"
"No, we have it under control. She's blistered, but not dangerously. I'm going to walk her back. You'll have to come with us, since Amiri hasn't returned yet."
"That's fine. I want to lie down and read anyway. I'm not feeling well today myself."
Randilyn immediately felt his forehead. No fever. Well, okay. Take a day off."
Jingen was waiting for him when he got back. He jumped from his bedroll and grabbed Stygean's arm. Did you get them?"
Stygean nodded. His throat felt tight. So did his chest. Yes."
"Well, let's see them."
Stygean heaved a sigh. This was harder than he realized it would be. He pulled the two blades out and extended them for Jingen's inspection. The red one is my father's."
"Nice. Mine's a dueling blade. Very deadly. Jingen snatched the other from Stygean's hand and whirled around the tent, making humping and stabbing gestures. Stygean just stood and watched him. Jingen frowned at Stygean's lack of enthusiasm. You're not going to chicken out, are you?
Stygean shook his head.
Jingen seemed unconvinced as he grabbed Stygean's arm again, his hands tightening roughly. We're sa'necari. At least I am. I am beginning to wonder about you. You can't let them make you into cattle. You must embrace your heritage and resist."
Stygean stared at his feet. I will. I will."
"Then you're going to stick the Renunciate. Just remember, when sa'necari kill sa'necari, they do it well. Be certain to do it well."
Stygean tensed as Jingen brought his blade level with Stygean's chest.
"Shove it in right there; twist it hard, and then no more Renunciate. Your parents and home are avenged. You will reclaim your father's honor."
"I know. Stygean stretched out with the blade beside him, hidden by the folds of his bedroll. He pulled out his book. He should have found a different reason for coming back. Randilyn would probably return to check on him.
Stygean had barely snuggled down well with his book when he heard Randilyn at the entrance to the tent. Jingen's eyes widened and he ran to his pack, shoving his blade inside to hide it, and then ran out past Randilyn, nearly bumping into her.
"Can I come in? Randilyn asked.
Stygean groaned softly. Randilyn was always polite, even though she did not have to be. She could simply have entered since Dawnreturning's rules gave her more rank than he had. Yes."
Randilyn looked at him with such concern that he almost told her what he had done in a rush of guilt. Yet he held back. He had to do this. He absolutely had to. Vengeance was necessary, even if they killed him. He was sa'necari. I am sa'necari.
Stygean tried to look ill as she touched his forehead with her cool hands and then put the backs of them to his cheeks.
"No fever, but I'll fetch Isranon anyway. Then she left him. Stygean's stomach soured steadily while he waited for them.
When Randilyn returned with Isranon, she remained outside so that the small tent would not become too crowded. She also wanted to give them some privacy. Isranon knelt beside Stygean and brushed the black curls away from the boy's face. Then he took Stygean's wrist and Read him. I don't find anything wrong. Tell me about it?"
"It's my stomach, Stygean lied quickly.
"Perhaps you're stressed? Things haven't been easy for you. I hated having to order you flogged, but you gave me no choice. The rules hold for all of us. Even myself."
Stygean kept looking into those eyes, seeing all the kindness and compassion there. He thought of all the things that Isranon had done for him; and knew that if he waited very long, he would lose his nerve. His hand stole to the side and grasped the hilt of the blade. I have something for you."
Isranon started to draw back, frowning. What?"
"This. He whipped out his father's bane-blade, runed for terrible deeds. The last time Stygean had seen his father use it was when he rited Imra. The sensation of feeling Isranon's flesh part before the blade, the faint sucking sound of muscle around metal, caused Stygean's stomach to tighten.
Isranon's body shuddered and he grabbed Stygean's wrist as the blade entered his flesh. He looked into Stygean's eyes, uncertain of what he saw there. Isranon could have stopped the blade from going deeper, instead he released Stygean's wrist as a sea of emotions washed across his face: shock, betrayal, accusation, forgiveness, which all melted back into his usually compassionate expression.
Stygean lunged upward, driving the blade all the way to the quillons into Isranon's chest at an angle and gave it a hard twist as Jingen and Disharyl had instructed him to. The blade grated on the bones in a sickening manner.
Isranon blinked, gasping and swaying. The runes on the blade burned inside him. Gods... He shuddered again, his skin paled, and sweat broke out across his face.
Stygean saw that his own inner turmoil had caused him to stick Isranon on the right, instead of the left where his heart lay. He needed to stab him again, maybe several timesStygean clenched up inside at the knowledge.
Isranon settled on his heels, staring down at the hilt protruding from him. His eyes flickered closed as he fought the pain of his wound, and his sa'necari powers struggled vainly to try and heal it. His lips parted and he stared into Stygean's eyes. Why?"
Stygean winced and released the blade. He scrambled into a crouch, gazing at his work with wild eyes, the blood spreading around his father's blade, through Isranon's blue robe. He snatched the blade abruptly from Isranon's body, shaking, unable to speak. Isranon had let him do it. It made no sense.
Isranon's body fought to close around the wound, but the embedded spells resisted it. His shoulders sagged as they found an opening and tore through him. Isranon lowered his hands to the ground to support himself, still clasping Warrior. His breathing grew choppy. It would be simple to kill the boy. So many people had advised him to kill Stygean, to take no chances with him because of the boy's age and level of indoctrination, but Isranon had not wanted to give up on Stygean. Nownow they might be right.
The pain worsened an
d Isranon swallowed back a groan, yet his eyes remained on Stygean. You ... hate me?"
Finally the words tore from Stygean's throat in defiance. Yes, I hate you! I hate everything you are. I Stygean drew back to stick him again, and hesitated as Isranon made no move to prevent him.
Isranon shook his head, resting on one hand as his fingers dug in around the wound. He forced himself to his knees, using Warrior to drag himself up. Isranon pulled his robe open, exposing his scarred chest as he pointed to his heart. There."
Stygean stared at the scars that should not have been there, at the blood mixed with a white froth wheezing from the wound with each breath that Isranon took. He lifted his gaze and met Isranon's eyes; eyes that looked at him with sorrow, but not anger. The boy began to tremble. Why?"
Isranon drew on Warrior's power for the strength to keep speaking, his words underlined with unwavering serenity as they emerged hoarse and whispery in slow cadences. If by dying ... I can make you ... understand that what you are doing is wrong... A fit of coughing interrupted Isranon's words. He spit blood and froth on the ground, and forced the rest of his words out. Then my death will have been ... an easy price ... to pay for ... your enlightenment."
"Isranon Randilyn entered the tent and saw them. She screamed.
Stygean glanced at her, suddenly aware that he had betrayed his last remaining friend as well as Dawnreturning. Shame, guilt, and finally panic raced through him, for people would be coming and this time they would execute him. All those days of saying he was not afraid to die, had been simple bravado.
Isranon shook his head at her. Randi, stay back. Let no one inside."
Stygean watched Randilyn back away with a horrified expression. She went to the tent flap, and motioned people away. Randilyn would never speak to him again. Now he had no one, except his dying father. His stomach felt suddenly empty as his world crumbled. He put the blade's point where he could shove it through Isranon's heart and pricked the skin. Blood beaded around the blade. A few inches more and it would be over. Why was it so hard? His trembling worsened.
"Why? He breathed the word out, unable to raise his voice.
Isranon's face tightened in a grimace, and he pressed his forehead against the staff as his body threatened to sag to the ground again. Love and compassion will always ... always be more powerful ... than hatred. It's your choice... Isranon coughed up more blood. Your choice ... whether to be loved ... or be hated."
Stygean's hand began to shake violently. He pulled the blade and held it waveringly before Isranon. The kindness and serenity of Isranon frightened him strangely. The mon's words made him hungry for the love that had died with his mother, was dying with his damaged father. It was all going away and here he sat having stabbed the only person besides Randilyn who had freely offered it to him.
"Choose, Isranon said again. Choose whether you ... want to live in a world of trust ... or a world of distrust ... built only upon how ... strong you are.... Having to always watch your back... Isranon grimaced, riding out another wave of pain. ...wondering when some other ... sa'necari is going to ... shove the blade in ... to take what you have. Or to throw you ... across his altar ... and rite you."
Stygean lowered the blade, wavering.
"Choose: love or hate, trust or distrust."
Stygean flung the blade away, his eyes filling with tears. I want to be loved. My mother loved me.... My father loves me...."
"I love you. So does Randilyn."
Randilyn sucked air. I love you, Stygean. Always have. Always will."
Isranon swayed, mastered the pain in his body, and dragged the boy into his arms, holding him tightly while Stygean wept. He coughed and blood came up, running from a corner of his mouth. Isranon wiped it away with the back of his hand and swallowed. His breathing worsened until he had to fight for each breath. Then Isranon's arms came loose from Stygean as he folded up, twisted to the side, and settled in a heap, groaning softly. His eyes closed.
Randilyn gave a small cry and rushed to Isranon. Stygean pushed up his sleeve and shoved his wrist into Isranon's mouth. That won't help, Randilyn told him.
"But bloodhe's sa'necari!"
"It won't help him. Your blood isn't strong enough. He's full of divinator spells. They're killing him."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know.... Stygean looked helpless and frightened, stricken by the knowledge that he had just harmed someone precious and irreplaceable.
"Run quick, get Nevin and Amiri. Don't tell anyone what you did."
Stygean nodded and ran out. A crowd had gathered in response to Randilyn's scream. Stygean tried to squeeze through them, but they clutched at him. I have to fetch Amiri, let me go."
Two guardsmyn forced a path for him and he ran on. He could not understand why Randilyn and Isranon would want to shield him from this deed, but he felt deeply grateful that they did.
He returned with Nevin and Amiri in a few minutes. Randilyn sat with Isranon's head in her lap. There was an accident. It's brought on another attack."
Isranon looked ghastly. Stygean felt close to a fresh wave of tears. Attack? Dawnreturning was ill and fighting it; and now Stygean had made it worse by trying to kill him. What if he dies? What have I done?
Amiri unshouldered her satchel and produced a bottle of Sanguine Rose. Then she shifted Isranon to her own arms and poured a small quantity into his mouth. She manipulated his throat to make him swallow and then repeated it three more times. Yet he showed no signs of regaining consciousness. Stygean fled the tent.
He ran past Nainee who tried to grab him. He raced away from Farris, who looked at him with concern.
For the first time in weeks, Stygean saw Iyan. The boy reached out his hands to him. Stygean? What's wrong?"
Stygean's eyes widened and he shook his head at Iyan, running faster now. He found his way, staggering and out of breath, to the tents of the blood-slaves and reached his father.
Liuthan lay on his cot, looking tired and ill. Lines of pain were etched into Liuthan's face, and he kept dabbing weakly at a corner of his mouth where drool escaped. Skin hung loose on Liuthan's once handsome face and arms. He had lost weight until he was little more than a skeleton with skin over it. Liuthan turned his face to his son. What is it?"
"You look so tired, father, Stygean said, not knowing how to voice his fear, admit what he had done.
Liuthan stretched out his hand and Stygean grasped it. It will be better tomorrow, Stygean. Every seventh day it gets better."
At first Stygean could not understand what his father could possibly refer to, and then it hit him: every seventh day, Isranon and Amiri visited his father. He had seen Isranon heal those children. Stygean shook his head as the tears started. Dawnreturning isn't coming tomorrow."
Liuthan's eyes widened just a bit. So you know about that. He asked that I not tell, because then the others would want the same and he could not do so. Could not afford to spend so heavily of his powers and strengths when he might, at any time, be called upon to fight."
"It's my fault. I was angry at Anksha. So I stabbed him with your blade."
Liuthan looked horrified. Did you kill him?"
"I don't know. Hehe looked terrible when they took him away."
"Pray he doesn't die."
Stygean gasped. Pray? Pray to who? Who listens to sa'necari?"
Liuthan was silent a moment, riding out his own pain until he could speak. Kalirion."
Stygean's mind whirled. Kalirion? But"
"Kalirion. He accepted Dawnreturning. He will accept you if you are true. Ask his forgiveness and beg his aid for his paladin."
Shaken, Stygean found himself unable to argue. I will, father. I swear it."
* * * *
That night, Liuthan came down ill from the withering and had worsened by morning. Nainee excused Stygean from classes and chores so that he could sit with his father. No one mentioned what he had done, but he felt as if they all knew. The rest of the children refused to have anything to do with him. Too many had se
en their lord carried from Stygean's tent, those who had seen told those who hadn't. Speculation was rife.
Stygean sat cross-legged upon the ground beside his father's cot, sorrow heavy in his eyes. He had tried to get Liuthan to take both water and blood. However, although his father remained lucid, he could no longer swallow.
"You'll listen to him from now on. Liuthan's eyes closed and his breathing shallowed. No matter how hard it is, you'll do what he says."
"Yes, father."
"Swear it."
Stygean's tears increased. I swear it, father. I will do everything that Lord Dawnreturning tells me."
"Good. Then Liuthan's breath abandoned him, never to return. His heart stopped beating. Desperately, Stygean searched his father with his necromantic senses and found nothing. His father was dead. Stygean flung himself across his father's body and wept bitter tears. This would never have happened if he had not broken his word to his father. He would keep his promise and never break it again. I swear it, father. I swear it."
* * * *
Nevin sat up with Isranon during the night so that Anksha could rest. Amiri's swift intervention with the Sanguine Rose had closed the wound in Isranon's chest, but the re-created wounds from the embedded spells still oozed. The mage lay quiet, floating in the warm sea of muted sensation from the Sanguine Rose. Pale and weak, Isranon had drunk a large quantity of it to distance himself from the pain.
"You took a terrible chance, my brother, Nevin said to Isranon, his words sibilant as his breath passed over the permanently split upper lip.
Isranon sighed, a faraway note in his whispered words. There was no other way to reach him. I had to take that chance. I saw in his eyes that he wavered."
Nevin shook his shaggy head. You have too much courage."
Janrae Frank Dark - [Dark Brothers of the Light 08] - Blood Hope Page 15
