Brown,_Simon_-_[Keys_Of_Power_03]_-_Sovereign

by Simon Brown

  Night came too soon. Jenrosa cursed, wept. She could no faster. Exhaustion was dragging her limbs, making her eyes cloudy, befuddling her mind. But she kept on, one foot after the other, each step taking her closer to Lynan. A breeze. The first she had felt since entering the forest. She stopped, one arm supporting her against a tree. The breeze was cool but smelled of decay. Her hair flurried around her face. A shadow passed overhead.

  Laughter. The sound of it was like the point of a knife being scraped under her heart.

  Jenrosa shrank back against the tree, curling down with her arms around her knees. She started saying prayers she had not uttered since she was a little girl. Her skin felt as if it had been shrunk around her face.

  The shadow drifted north and west, and as soon as it had passed over her Jenrosa found she could stand again. She was ashamed of her cowardice.

  It is time, she told herself. This is the only chance you have.

  She started running as hard as she could, chasing the shadow.

  Lynan felt her sweep over him. It was like a dark sheet being pulled over his mind. The light from the fire seemed to contract. The trees on the other side of the fire swayed violently, then were still.

  'I know you're here,' he said into the night.

  'Where else would I be, my love?' she replied. Hi tried tracking the voice, but it seemed to come from all around him.

  'I am not your love. I am your enemy. I have been from the first time you touched me.'

  'You are harsh. Look what I gave you.'

  'You gave me madness.'

  'I made you invulnerable.'

  'You made me like you.'

  'I made you my lover,' she said, and stepped forward into the light.

  Lynan could not believe how beautiful she was. His desire for her flooded him anew. He looked away from her face to the huge, dark shapes that grew from her back.

  'You still want me,' she said.

  Yes, his mind said. 'No. Never.'

  'You want to take me.'

  Yes. He curled his fingers around the hilt of his sword.

  'You want me for your wife, your queen.'

  Yes. He stood slowly, as if held down by great weights.

  'I have come to give myself to you. I surrender everything that I am to you. You can have my body, my heart. I will give you my soul.'

  'I will take your body,' he said, lifting his sword, 'and drive this blade through your heart.'

  Her wings came together in front of her with a mighty crack. A wall of air slammed into Lynan, throwing him to the ground and knocking the sword out of his hand; he scrabbled in the dirt for it. The light from the fire was blotted out and he looked up into the face of Silona. He screamed and kicked away from her.

  'Here,' she said. 'Is this what you're looking for?' She kicked something on the ground, and his sword clattered next to him. He grabbed it and leaped to his feet, lunging forward. The blade sunk into her chest. Her mouth parted in surprise. He drove the blade in deeper. His face was only a hand's breadth from hers. Her eyes caught his, and suddenly she smiled. She grasped the sword around the blade and without any effort pulled it out, shook it free from Lynan's grasp and threw it over her shoulder. He heard it hit the fire, and sparks arced into the air.

  'My heart is yours,' she said in a singsong voice. 'I will not let you cut it like that.'

  He drew his dagger and struck at her face, but her hand closed around his wrist and twisted, snapping the bones. He screamed in pain, dropped the weapon.

  'I want you to make love to me, Lynan Rosetheme.' Her other hand twisted around his hair and jerked his head towards hers. Her black tongue flickered between her lips. 'I want you to kiss me.'

  She covered his mouth with her own. He pushed against her with his good hand but it was like pushing against a tree. Her tongue, sharp, siphoned, pricked into the soft flesh at the back of his throat, and he gagged as his own blood gushed down into his gullet. His mind started slipping into a dark, spinning vortex, and there was no way out.

  It was the fire that had finally guided Jenrosa to Lynan. She had edged to the limit of the light and seen him squatting with his sword ready before him, waiting for Silona. She wanted to cry out to him, tell him it would not be enough, but fate had decided the course for both of them, and she could only save Lynan's life at the risk of losing his soul, and she would not do that.

  She put down her saddlebag and retrieved the makings she needed for the magik. She looked longingly at the fire near Lynan, but it was too far away for her to work it properly. With flint and steel she started smoke in a collection of dry grass and a second strip from Lynan's shirt, and when she started silently reciting the chant a small flame curled into life. She could feel the power of the magik taking hold of her, but she had to restrain it until the right moment, when she could kill both Silona and Lynan at the same time. She did not imagine she could defend herself in time if she managed to slay only one and the other came after her.

  Her concentration was destroyed by Silona's arrival. The forest itself seemed to move in welcome. The shock of it made Jenrosa forget her chant and her little fire started to wither. Desperately she restarted the magik as she heard Lynan and the vampire talking. Inside she wanted to hurry, to get it over with and flee, but she forced herself to say each word in the chant properly. Again she felt the magik build in her, and this time she would use it. She stood to make the final casting when suddenly Silona clapped her wings together and her fire was snuffed out as if it had been nothing more powerful than a candle flame. The magik in her evaporated and, suddenly empty, she fell to her knees. She heard fighting and looked to see Silona take Lynan's sword out of her chest and throw it away, then break his arm as he tried to stab the vampire with his dagger.

  Jenrosa felt in the dark for the makings but they were scattered. She glanced back at the fireplace. She would have to use that now. Then she saw Silona place her mouth over Lynan's.

  Too late! She was too late!

  'No!' she cried and rushed forward, drawing her sword. When she was within ten paces she raised the blade high and aimed for the back of Lynan's head. One of Silona's yellow eyes snapped open, focused immediately on Jenrosa. The vampire screamed, pushed out one arm just as the blade fell.

  Jenrosa felt her whole body jar as the blade bit deep into what felt like wood. Her shoulder wrenched and she lost her grip on the sword. She screamed and drew her dagger, stabbed towards Lynan's throat, but this time Silona lunged forward and swiped at the magiker in turn, driving into her chest.

  Jenrosa flew through the air and landed on her back. She felt as if every rib in her chest had been broken. She tried to cry in pain but could only whimper. Silona discarded Lynan, dropping him like a rag doll, and advanced on her. She tried to move, but nothing seemed to work.

  Three dark shapes leaped over her. She heard the war cry of the White Wolf and saw firelight flash off sabres. The vampire grunted like a pig and jumped back, her wings swishing in the air. The Chetts moved apart and advanced on Silona from the front and both sides. They darted in, flicked with their swords, darted back again. Jenrosa could hear the wooden sound of their blades biting into Silona's flesh, and the vampire's growling in response. One of them dallied too long. Jenrosa saw a long arm ending in claws sweep out so quickly it was a blur. It struck one of the Chetts across the head, ripping it clean off. The body collapsed under a spray of hissing blood.

  Again Jenrosa tried to move. She managed to pull her feet under her. With the help of her hands she raised herself to a kneeling position. The pain in her chest felt like a dozen knives impaling her. She moaned, stood up, looked around for a weapon. A scream. Another dead Chett.

  Her sword was by the fire. She stooped to pick it up, found it almost impossible to stand again. The last Chett was dancing in and out of the vampire's range. It was Sunatay. God, she's good, Jenrosa thought, hope rising in her. If only she could get around behind the vampire.

  She stopped herself. She was a magiker, not a warr
ior. She turned back to the fire. It was close enough. It was bright enough. She dropped to her knees in relief and started chanting.

  Lynan coughed himself awake. He turned over and vomited blood. Fighting. He got himself to his haunches and looked up. Jenrosa! She was on her knees on the other side of the fire, chanting. Then who was fighting? He looked around, saw Silona hopping like a deranged bird, pecking, swiping at a small, lithe figure who wielded a sabre the way Kumul used to wield a long sword.

  Sunatay, he remembered. How did she get here? How did Jenrosa get here?

  Then he saw the corpses of the two dead Chetts. His side was losing.

  He pushed back with his hands, cried in sudden pain as his right wrist gave way. He used his left hand to sit back. He remembered now. Silona had broken his wrist, snapped the bones in two.

  But no, the bones were knitted already.

  He managed to raise himself to a crouch. He spat more blood out of his mouth as he looked around for his sword. He could not see it anywhere. There was a sword near Jenrosa. Hers, he assumed. That would have to do. He tried to stand up, but as he did Jenrosa's chant seemed to swell in volume and the sound of it was like a terrible weight on his shoulders. He could not move.

  'Jenrosa!' he cried. 'You're stopping me from moving!'

  She did not answer, but she met his gaze and held it. He saw tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Silona yowled. He looked around and saw that she was hardly moving. Sunatay was moving in closer, aiming her blows more carefully.

  The rhythm of Jenrosa's chant picked up. Something stabbed him in the heart. The breath whooshed out of him; he tried to suck more in but his lungs would not work. Again his heart spasmed in pain. He was back to his knees and he could see Silona was struggling, too, and Sunatay's blows were becoming heavier, deeper.

  'Why?' he asked Jenrosa, turning back to her.

  But still she did not reply. He tried to find an answer in her eyes, but all he saw there was pity. He collapsed, falling sideways onto the ground. The fire blazed in front of him and he saw in its flames two twisting figures which he recognised as himself and Silona. The flames moved to the rhythm of Jenrosa's chant. She was using her magik to kill both of them.

  An inhuman roar behind him. The sound of Sunatay's blade sinking deep into the vampire's flesh, like an axe in wood, and sticking. Another inhuman roar. The sound of her wings sweeping through the air. Sunatay screaming.

  The fire seemed to dim, the figures in it to blur. Almost immediately he felt his lungs start to pump air back in and the pain in his chest disappeared. He pulled himself up. Jenrosa was mumbling, trying to recapture the chant.

  But too late.

  There was a beat of wings and Silona landed right behind the magiker, her face twisted in terrible fury, any semblance of beauty lost in her hatred and rage.

  That was me, Lynan remembered. Back in Daavis, that was me.

  'Jenrosa, move!' he cried, but his voice was nothing more than a croak. 'Behind you!'

  But too late.

  Silona raised one clawed hand and brought it down against Jenrosa's back. Lynan watched, paralysed, as Jenrosa jerked forward, her mouth gaping, her eyes open in astonishment. The vampire drew back, the hand covered in gore, and Jenrosa pitched forward onto her face.

  Lynan screamed. He lifted himself to his feet but fell straightaway. He could hear Silona panting, trying to get her own strength back. He moved forward on all fours to reach Jenrosa, saw the bloody mess that was her back. He started crying, could not stop it, tried to say her name. His right hand burned. He looked down and saw it was resting on the hilt of his sword, its blade deep into the fire.

  And he remembered. In the middle of his insanity Silona had told him that all the others like her were slain by iron and fire.

  He gripped the hilt, ignoring the pain, and used the sword to help him stand. Silona was already on her feet, her great wings stretching out behind her.

  'So we start again,' she said to him. She noticed the sword. 'You learn your lessons very hard.' She smiled cruelly at him, took a step forward, over the body of Jenrosa.

  Lynan lunged, driving the blade deep, deep into her body, twisting the hilt as he did so.

  Silona leaped into the air, screaming, taking the sword with her. Black blood sprayed into the fire sending clouds of putrid steam into the night air. She tried to beat her wings but they would not work and she plummeted back to earth, landing on her back. She squirmed and grasped the blade with both hands. Smoke came from her fingers. She let go, wailing. Lynan went to her, took the hilt and twisted it again. Silona kicked away, crying, begging, her face that of a beautiful woman again.

  'Lynan, my love, no, help me, Lynan, my love…'

  He pulled out the sword and drove it into her neck. She jerked up on her shoulders, slumped. Her mouth opened one more time and said a word Lynan did not understand. The air around them funnelled into the sky. Lynan felt his clothes and hair whip around him, and the vampire's wings flapped uselessly.

  Then all was still.

  Lynan went to Jenrosa, gently turned her over. She was gasping for breath. Blood speckled her lips.

  'I was wrong,' she wheezed.

  'Don't talk,' he said.

  She grabbed his arms. Her eyes were bulging, staring at his face. 'I was wrong. I am the end point. Not you. I thought I had to kill you. I thought that was my destiny.'

  Lynan was crying again. 'Please, Jenrosa, don't talk. Stay with me. Don't go.'

  'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I'm so sorry.'

  Lynan put her down gently, took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. 'Don't leave me, Jenrosa. I love you.'

  Her body arched in pain.

  'What can I do?' he asked her, his voice pleading. 'Can I help you do magik?'

  'Nothing,' she said. 'I understand now. There is no Jenrosa after tonight. That is why it was all dark. I thought the blood was your cruelty, your madness, but it was my future. The whole time it was my blood.'

  'Blood,' Lynan repeated. 'God.' He scrabbled over to the vampire's corpse and dipped his hand in the wound in her chest. He brought it out, his fingers dripping with her black gore. He returned to Jenrosa. 'Here,' he said, lifting her head.

  'No!' she cried and frantically slapped his hand away. 'No!'

  'It will save you!' Lynan cried. 'You will be like me!'

  She twisted pathetically away from him. When he tried to hold her she grabbed his bloody hand and forced it down with all her strength and said into his face: 'I would rather be dead than be like you!'

  Lynan reeled back.

  'Please,' she whimpered. 'Please.'

  He nodded, and she let him come to her again. He lifted her into his arms and cradled her, rocking back and forth.

  'I love you,' he told her again.

  'I know,' she said, then closed her eyes and died.

  CHAPTER 28

  'This must be the most peaceful corner of the whole continent,' Galen said, not entirely happy. Charion smiled to herself. A warm sun was climbing in a clear blue sky; a gentle breeze wafting up from the valley below brought with it the smell of freshly baked bread; birds chirruped in trees. It was perfect. But Galen did not want perfect. Neither do I, Charion admitted to herself. We both want battle. But just now it's almost possible to believe there is no war.

  Behind them snaked the column of knights, riders sitting easy in the saddle. Ahead of them a gentle crest eventually met higher land in the far northwest of Chandra. The valley east of them was quilted by fields and orchards. A couple of towns clustered around crossroads. To their west the edge of a forest limned the horizon. Charion pulled out the map Barys had given them. Drawn on it were the geographical features of their patrol area. The valley was called Arran; it marked the easternmost range. The Forest of Silona marked the southwest limit. The border with her own province marked the north limit, which is where they were heading now. To patrol the entire area would take five or six days, and then they would start again. 'We could
cross the border,' Galen mused aloud.

  'We told Tomar we would take on this duty,' Charion reminded him. 'He could have told us to move south and join up with Areava's Great Army.'

  'He could have asked us,' Galen said. 'Nobody except Areava herself tells Galen Amptra what to do.'

  'Keep your airs to yourself, Kendran,' Charion snorted. 'This is his domain. We are his guests.'

  Galen shrugged self-consciously. 'Yes, I know. At least we're not twirling our fingers in some city, making polite conversation with boring minor nobles while our horses get fat on hay and grain.' He looked sideways at Charion. 'Still. A little cross-border ride wouldn't harm, would it? A day in, a day out. Might even gather some useful information about the Chett army and its whereabouts.'

  'We know where it is,' Charion said crossly. 'In Daavis. And we know where it's going when it does move. Sparro.'

  'Then what are we doing here?'

  'Keeping out of the way,' Charion said.

  'Why would Tomar care where we are? We're all on the same side, after all.'

  Charion wondered if she should voice her doubts, but decided that was unfair of her. Tomar had shown them every courtesy and rendered them every assistance. But she could not forget some of the things the king had said and the context in which he had said them; then they had not seemed to mean anything significant, but she had since had time to ponder them. He was a man of confused, perhaps even divided, loyalties. Tomar gave her the impression of being a very sad man trapped in very sad times.