A Magic King

by Jade Lee

  He glanced back at the too-silent Jane. She sat on the bed, her face composed, her gaze abstract, as though she were in a trance. He recognized the look. Her thoughts were turned inward as she drew on the knowledge of the Keeper.

  He pulled a chair opposite her and settled into it, waiting for her. Now she would understand, he thought with satisfaction. She looked at the Tarveen now, learning what the Keeper's Knowledge had to say about the monsters. When she emerged from her thoughts, she would agree with him.

  With their silly argument resolved in his mind, he let his thoughts wander. Or rather he let his gaze wander. With her tunic draped loosely over her nakedness, Daken had the time to admire her body in the rosy dawn light. She was beautiful. As always when he looked at her, he felt his groin tighten with hunger while his arms ached to pull her close. Even that first morning in the meadow, he'd felt a fierce need to protect such beauty. Later, after his first taste of her passion and her innocence, the need had mixed with other hungers—lust, possessiveness, admiration—and all of it grew into a blazing inferno within his blood.

  He let his gaze roam over her body, remembering the sweet torment of last night. Her legs were his favorite part. They were long and sleek, like the pantar's, and had such strength in them when she wrapped herself around him. He knew men who would pay much for such gripping stamina in their partners.

  But that was not all he adored. Her entire body was one compact center of energy and passion. From the rosy fullness of her lips to the tight buds of her breasts—

  Jane cried out, a small exclamation of alarm that abruptly ripped him from his pleasant fantasies. He watched her pale face, her eyes huge with surprise and horror. Remorse hit him. He should not have asked her, a woman, to comprehend the Tarveen abomination.

  He went to her, gathering her into his arms, holding her trembling hands as he would a newborn babe. He couldn't stop the knowledge. As Keeper and Council Member, it was information she needed. Still, it was hard for him to wait beside her while her innocence shattered.

  He waited an eternity, and still she didn't move.

  And then, when he began to fear for her sanity, she took a deep shuddering breath and came out of her trance. He watched her blink the tears from her eyes as she focused once again on her surroundings. He drew her tighter into his arms, and she went willingly to him. He kissed her forehead, whispering his remorse into her ears.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to see that." But even as he said the words, he wondered what she'd learned. Had she seen the raids on his lands? The brutality and horror of a man cut to shreds? Or did she know more? Had she gone into their caves and witnessed their strange rituals? He had tried to get more information on his enemy, but the one spy he'd sent never came back.

  "Oh, Daken." He heard the apology in her voice, felt it in the way she gripped his tunic and tried to burrow deeper into his embrace. "It's so horrible."

  "I know," he said, his words another vow in his heart. "But rest assured I will take care of it. I will eradicate this scourge from our world."

  She shook her head. "No. You don't understand. Dr. Beavesly only went there once, maybe twice. The memories are so vague, so unlike his usual..." Her voice trailed off as he tried to understand her strange words.

  "Who is Dr. Beavesly?"

  She shook her head, continuing as if she hadn't heard him. "The Tarveen live in an old automobile factory. He could wander about at will. But even so, he couldn't stomach it more than once."

  She pushed away from him, twisting her hands together as she struggled to put her horror into words. "They're cannibals, Daken. They eat people. They like the taste of..."

  He nodded, his thoughts grim. "I have long suspected as much."

  She turned her stricken gaze on him. "You knew?"

  "Some of the bodies we found were not completely whole. They..."

  "No. Do you know about the herd?"

  He felt his insides tense, as though preparing for battle. His stomach knotted and the bile rose in his throat, but his senses were keen and his thoughts razor sharp. "What herd?"

  "The Tarveen don't kill everyone. They scavenge. And sometimes they scavenge people."

  Daken drew a slow breath and kept his voice low and even. "What happened to the people?"

  "Have your people been disappearing for years? Perhaps a child who strayed too far? A couple at a secret rendezvous?"

  A catalog of names and faces rolled through Daken's mind. People from his earliest childhood on, friends who disappeared without a trace. The children were thought to have been killed by wild animals. The adults were believed to have run away, despite what their families said.

  The churning within his gut intensified, and he stood up, knowing action was the only way to relieve this pain. Action and violence.

  "What happened to the people, Jane?"

  She followed him, placing her hand on his arm as both reassurance and restraint. He shook it off, wanting neither.

  'Tell me!" he demanded.

  She swallowed. "The Tarveen keep a herd of humans. To eat. They raid your people to replenish their stock."

  Chapter 14

  "Where are they?" His voice was hoarse with iron self-control. If he allowed himself to feel the full horror of her words, there would be nothing left alive in a five mile area. He'd kill everything in sight before the anger receded enough for him to think.

  "They are kept in an off-shoot of the main factory floor. In sort of a storeroom. They have food and shelter. Then when a Tarvite gets hungry, he..." She swallowed her horror. "He goes into the storeroom."

  "And eats someone," Daken finished for her.

  Jane nodded. "Your grandfather was their healer."

  "My grandfather is still alive?" He was becoming numb. He barely felt the pain in his fists where he gripped the hilt of his grandfather's sword.

  "No. When Dr. Beavesly saw him—long before you were born—the man was old and ill. But what about your parents? Your brother? Did you ever find their bodies?'

  Daken shook his head, remembering the empty caskets they'd buried. It was inconceivable that his family was still alive as food stock. He sheathed the sword he didn't remember drawing, knowing now what he had to do.

  "Get dressed," he ordered.

  She hovered in front of him. "What are you going to do?"

  "Get dressed," he repeated again. "We will go to the Council Meeting."

  He saw her jaw go slack for a moment. Clearly she'd forgotten the closed door debate over whether or not to give him the army he needed.

  "With this new information," he spoke with icy precision, each word a mental sword thrust into a Tarvite gut, "the Council will have to give me weapons and an army." He smiled down at her, his insides softening just a touch. "Thank you, Oracle. Now, I will be victorious."

  "No!" She stood up. Her leggings were slightly askew, but neither of them had time to bother with it.

  He looked at her startled face, and her fears about the guns came back to him. He smiled, a grim pull to his cheeks, but it was a smile nonetheless. By the Father, love had made him weak.

  "It is all right, Oracle. You need not give me the guns. I feared even if the Council gave me an army, it would not be many and certainly not very skilled. But with this new knowledge..." His body still clenched with hatred as he fought to again understand the horrors his family and his people endured. Were even now enduring, if they still lived. "With this new urgency, the Council will have to give me the money to hire a mercenary group."

  "Mercenaries?" Her voice was an almost inaudible whisper.

  "The Bloodmen. I spent a year with them training. Although not quite as deadly as your guns, they are quick and efficient. The Tarveen will be obliterated." That thought alone brought a grim relief to the coiling hatred that snaked within him, longing for a victim. "Ginsen will use his crystal to speak with their leader. If we leave tomorrow, they will be in Chigan as we arrive. We will fight the next day."

  "No..." she rep
eated, her voice still unsteady.

  He shifted his focus off of his murderous, thoughts to the pale, shaking woman before him. He reached out a hand, caressing her cheek. "Do not worry, sweeting. The Bloodmen know their business, as do I. I will not be harmed."

  He smiled to reassure her, but his expression faded as he watched her absorb his words. He expected her to be relieved, sweetly loving as she worried for her man, yet striving to hide it for his sake. He knew her fears were as firmly held as her loves, and she would be passionate in both. Despite the urgency of his mission, his groin stiffened in anticipation.

  But the Jane before him was not the woman he expected. Instead of her desperate love, he faced a blazing fury practically seething from her every pore.

  She slapped away his caress and planted herself in front of him. "You won't be harmed because you're not going to get your army."

  "What?" Her reaction was so different from what he expected, her words sounded like gibberish to him.

  She ran a hand through her hair, pulling at her locks with desperation. "Damn it, Daken. This wasn't how I meant to tell you."

  "Tell me what?" His anger, hardly banked, surged within him again.

  She took a deep breath. "I won't support an army."

  "What?" he roared.

  "I don't believe in violence, Daken, and certainly not in genocide, no matter how loathsome the Tarveen are. There's got to be another way."

  Daken found it hard to control his temper. By the time his words exploded out of him, he was bellowing at her. "Kyree was my only other supporter. With him dead, I need you more than ever."

  "I won't do it. I'm sorry."

  "You're sorry? That's it? You condemn my family, my people to a slow extinction as cattle, and you're sorry? By the Father, woman, I could kill you myself."

  He towered over her in his rage, but she didn't retreat. If anything, she matched him in fury. "I know about your family and people," she screamed back. "But if you're going to start counting bodies, how about you look at my count. You've lost your family. Maybe your lands. But I've lost my world, my people, everything. Gone. Poof." She gestured wildly with her hands. "All I ever wanted, ever knew, ever dreamed, it's all gone. Billions of people."

  "They're dead, Jane. My people are alive."

  "That's right," she shot back. "They're dead. And why? Because men like you started killing. Maybe some of it was necessary, but mostly they were just too arrogant, too stupid, or too lazy to find another way. In the end, my world was obliterated."

  "That has nothing to do with me—"

  "It has everything to do with you. I won't let you wage a genocidal war."

  "But my people, maybe my family—"

  "Can be rescued."

  Her softly spoken words penetrated his anger as all her screaming hadn't. He lowered his fists to his sides as his mind already began working out strategies for a mission he refused to consider. And in his silence, Jane pushed her point.

  "I know the layout of the factory. There's a ventilating shaft no one is aware of, even the Tarveen. One person, maybe two, could sneak through with a ladder. Your people could climb out to safety. Then, afterwards, you can establish guarded borders. Later on, when your people are stronger, we can think about what to do with the Tarveen. Who knows, without their herd, maybe they'll turn to other meat."

  "You're dreaming."

  "It can work. Take their Holy Book along in trade. That way they won't be so vicious, so suicidal in their hatred. And that in turn will give your people a little breathing room."

  Daken frowned as he tried to absorb her words. "What Holy Book?"

  "Kyree had it. He said it was important to them even though they couldn't understand it."

  "I will not negotiate with the Tarveen."

  "This isn't a negotiation, but it's also not a war."

  Daken shook his head, not believing he was considering this wild plan. "You split some very fine lines, Oracle."

  She lifted her chin. "It's a line I can live with, and it's a damn sight safer for the captives than a war."

  Daken looked down at the hard woman before him. With his healer's eye, he saw the energy of her convictions shine through her like a golden aura. She was indeed beautiful, but she bore no resemblance to the soft woman he'd just made love to all night long. No, this woman was implacable and cold toward him.

  This woman was the Oracle, and he was just beginning to realize how very, very different she was from the Jane who teased him so passionately last night.

  "An army would be better."

  "It's all you'll get, Daken. It's the only plan with my support."

  He spun away, pacing into the main room of her apartment. Looking around, he wished for some food or something he could sink his teeth into, not for nourishment, but for the satisfaction of ripping it apart with his bare hands.

  "It will be very dangerous." He spoke the words, but his mind was elsewhere, already deciding he would have to wear dark clothing and blacken his face. Did he dare leave his bastard sword behind? Its shine might outweigh its benefits. Daken was equally lethal with any number of smaller weapons.

  Jane leaned down to straighten her leggings, speaking with an almost casual air. "I will be very cautious, and I will trust you to choose my companion very carefully. He should be small. The passageway is very tight..."

  It took a moment for her words to reach him. But when it did, he nearly dropped his dagger in shock. "You!" This was beyond enough. "You can't possibly think I'd let you—"

  "I'm the only one who can go. I know where the ventilation shaft is. If anything goes wrong, I know the entire layout of the factory and surrounding tunnels."

  "Draw me a map."

  "A three-dimensional map? I can barely draw stick figures."

  Her words only made him more angry. He placed his hands on his hips, his legs wide. "You're not a trained warrior."

  "This isn't a war," she shot back. "It's a rescue mission that requires stealth and knowledge."

  He growled low in his throat. "You are the Keeper. The Elven Lord will not let you go."

  "The Elven Lord wishes me at the devil right now. He'll let me go and pray I get killed."

  Daken remained silent, searching for another reason she might accept.

  "Why don't you just admit it, Daken. You don't want me to go because you can't stand the thought that a woman could do this while you have to wait on the sidelines."

  He stepped forward, his anger burning all the more brightly because there was a grain of truth in it. But only a grain. "There are women warriors in the Bloodmen. Trained fighters who could kill me in a fair fight without even breaking a sweat. I have no quarrel with women as fighters."

  "Well, good," she said.

  "But you, woman, are not a fighter. You're the Keeper of Knowledge and a great deal more valuable safe in my castle—"

  "You need me to lead you to the storeroom. There's a maze of shafts and ducts to go through, and we don't know which ones still exist. I have to go."

  He clenched his fists until his arms ached all the way up through his elbows, but still he couldn't find a way around her logic. If he wanted this rescue to succeed, she would have to go.

  "You will stay behind me at all times. And when I tell you to run, you will run."

  Jane looked up at him, her eyes a startled clear brown. "You? You can't go."

  "These are my people!"

  "And you're the only healer left to them. It's too risky for you."

  He nearly choked on his rage. "By the Father, you are irrational!"

  "Whoever goes with me needs to be small."

  "I will eat sparingly."

  "Will you chop off one of your shoulders as well? Be reasonable, Daken. You're too involved in this. The best military efforts are accomplished by dispassionate third parties."

  "Woman's nonsense," he spit out.

  "It's not nonsense. Emotions confuse the thinking."

  "Or bring them into excruciating clarity."
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  "You're too close to this issue."

  "And you're not? You're my wife!"

  She stood before him, her mouth gaping open in shock. Then she shut it with a snap. "Was there a priest somewhere I missed? I don't seem to recall saying, 'I do.'"

  He drew himself up, insulted to the core. "Don't be obtuse. There has been no ceremony, but you are my wife nonetheless."

  "Because of last night?"

  "Of course."

  "Except you've bedded women before without marrying them. What about that blond bard who gave you the communication spell?"

  Daken ground his teeth. He'd forgotten she knew about Sarla. Reaching for the oldest defense, he simply said, "That was different."

  "Bull hockey." She turned away, grabbing her boots to draw them on.

  "You said you love me!" he bellowed at her, all the while wondering why they were fighting about this of all things.

  She turned to him, her eyes sad as they reflected the dawn in her unshed tears. "And I do. I love you. But I don't think we can live together. The only time we're not fighting is when we're kissing. And that doesn't make for a peaceful life." Then she paused, swallowing her nervousness. "You haven't even said you love me."

  Daken slammed his hands against the wall, feeling the coarse brick bite into his palms. "Have I not called you my sweeting? Have I not allowed you your position as the Keeper? Have I not given in to your insane idea of this rescue? By the Father, what more do you want?"

  "What does 'sweeting' mean?"

  He turned around, dropping his back wearily against the stone. She was still on the couch, watching him with those innocent eyes, wide and nervous like a fawn trying its legs for the first time. "It means wife."

  "I don't want to be your wife. I want to be your love. I don't want you to allow me to be the Keeper. I am the Keeper. Can't you accept me as I am?"

  "And can't you show me respect? You think you know best. We are stupid peasants compared to all your vast knowledge, but I have experience and an understanding of this world, and you are still young. I respect your opinion on the guns. They are of your world, but the Tarveen are of mine, and so was Kyree."