Frank-SQuest

by Serpent's Quest [lit]

  So that is how they are getting messages in and out of the valley. Or at least one of the ways. I'm certain they must use four foots also .

  Six imps crept out from among the rocks and gathered at his feet.

  The movement of couriers on horseback had dried up to a trickle and then ceased completely when word had gotten out concerning the death of Cullen Blackwood. He savored the memory of shoving a blade into the little bastard's heart and then fucking Cullen's lover beside his dead body. If that whore's son had not shown up claiming to be Cullen's cub, they would probably still not know that Blackwood was dead. It had thrown Malthus plans off, but not irreparably.

  Malthus decided to put a stop to the final source of messages entering and leaving. He would assign other units to do likewise. It would still take time to close all the paths a messenger from the shifter clans could take, but Malthus felt capable of doing so.

  He opened the compartment that held his mon-killing arrows, their large, swallow-tailed heads were poisoned with his own special recipe, comprised primarily of blended plant toxins, snake feces and venomsvenoms he had spent years painfully immunizing himself against as his rite-enhanced resistances grewand as a tribute to the toughness of lycans, Devil's Silver.

  His mother was a bio-alchemist, and had served his late father as a poisoner, creating and sometimes administering deadly substances. Her family were the first to discover and refine Devil's Silver. It was silver liquefied in an arcane solution compatible with snake venom and other specialized toxins. One arrow was all it took to kill a lycan. The more arrows he put into one, the faster they died. So far as he knew, no antidote for Devil's Silver existed.

  With the fall of his father's house, his mother had become employed by Lord Daemon, which was what led to his own work with the mysterious lord. Malthus had a sudden urge to visit her and see what else she might have developed and was testing.

  Malthus set an arrow to his string and drew, following the messenger with his eyes for a moment and then released the shaft. The courier jerked in its flight and struggled to remain in the air. Malthus smoothly nocked, drew, and released, putting three more shafts into the small body. He smiled as he watched the dead messenger plummet to earth on the far side of the Eirlys cataract.

  "I never miss."

  He glanced down at the six imps gathered at his knees, orange-skinned withered looking creatures with blowguns and darts, as well as belt knives. Fetch it for me and don't be seen."

  They skittered over the rocks in a rush to do his bidding, squeaking to each other in eagerness. The imps would cross the Eirlys by way of two large trees that had been dropped over the cataract north of Claw's borders. Malthus stretched himself out across the boulder in the evening light to wait. He wondered how Egidius and Laetus were managing with Beth.

  The place of caves and boulders, the northernmost limits to Claw's lands was an interesting area. There were so many niches to conceal things. Were Troyes bones hidden here? What had they done with his brother's body? Clearly Troyes had broken the rules. The lycans could have slain him simply for committing the rites on their lands.

  Then a thought occurred to him that should have sooner. Lycans did not bottle blood. They were not hemovores. Troyes died here and Isranon went southIsranon had to be the one that bottled Troyes blood. Did the lycans merely kill Troyes, and Isranon bottle the blood afterward? Or did Isranon kill Troyes? Malthus felt he was getting closer to the facts of his brother's murder.

  Malthus slid down the boulders, off the final one, and walked toward the table where Beth lay, running his finger along the bleeding table with its grooves and spouts for carrying the blood of victims into basins. She flinched when he touched her. Malthus ignored that, observing that her womanhood was still oozing with Egidius and Laetus cum. There were fresh bite marks on her arms and legs. The bloodstains interested him more than Beth did. They were old and nearly erased from the stone, but rites had been committed here, he could feel it. He wondered if Troyes had died on this table.

  "Have you decided about her? Egidius asked, sauntering up to him. Her body is strong, but her mind is going. The sooner I can stick her, the more pleasure I'll get out of it. I don't get off on sticking the mindless. They don't react to the pain as well."

  "I want to see what's in that courier's satchel first. Then I'll tell you whether you can stick her now or not."

  Laetus came over and leaned against the table with his elbow propped on Beth's breast. Can we at least cut her a little? She's lycan. She'll heal."

  "Very well. Just a little."

  Malthus sat down beside the table and waited, enjoying the sound of Beth's screaming, inhaling the fragrance of her terror and pain. Night deepened and Malthus dozed against the table, dreaming of dead women. A little past midnight the returning imps awakened him.

  They laid the slain courier's body at his feet and placed the message pouch beside it. It had lost its bird form and was now a fragile-boned, feathered mon. Some pieces were missing from the body, indicating that at least one or two of the imps had fed on it. They had an interesting resistance to toxins that allowed them to eat both poisoned and spoiled meats. Once he had his lands, he would create a large laboratory and test the limits to their resistances and immunities. But it would not do to tell Gahni that.

  "No messages get in or out of this valley that I do not send, Malthus ordered. Make certain that is understood by the others."

  The imps scattered to spread the word.

  Malthus fished in the satchel, bringing forth three letters. Two were addressed to Nevin Scarface, the lycan battle-clan chieftain, from Claw. The third, in Merissa's lovely hand, was addressed to Nevin also. He tore that one open first.

  Nevin,

  When are you going to tell him about the child? I cannot keep pretending that he'll come. I know he isn't coming back. But please, please tell Isranon about his son. Grant me that much."

  Merissa.

  Malthus crumpled the paper angrily. So the renunciate butt-boy had sired the child, not Troyes. Had Troyes and Isranon fought over Merissa and his brother been slain? No, that was impossible. The prince's catamite had not been powerful enough to stand against Troyes. Although Isranon may have bottled the blood afterwards, Malthus still felt certain the lycans had slain his brother.

  He went inside the cave and lit a lamp. Then he took up pen and paper, writing a swift letter to Lord Daemon.

  Lord Daemon,

  The lesser renunciate, Isranon, has a son by Merissa Redhand, out of wedlock. The child is two and a half years old and named Darmyk. As you know, he runs now with the other renunciate, Lord Dawnreturning and that cursed freeranger unit called Gryphonheart's Rowdies. If this information has served you in any way or will, send me a token and details on what you wish me to do about it.

  Ever your servant,

  Malthus

  Abruptly, his mind turned another corner. Merissa had lied to him about the mon wanting to know his son. Isranon did not even know he had one. Interesting. Merissa did not want anyone to suspect how deeply she felt rejected, how much she feared her son would be rejected by his father just as she had been by her own kind when the knowledge of her pregnancy emerged. She would prove a more vulnerable target than he had dreamed.

  Malthus ran his tongue over his descending fangs. The sa'necari was hungry, very, very hungry. He would go out and wake Beth, who had spent the night sleeping on the bleeding table, waiting to die. At least he had something solid to answer his suspicions. Darmyk was Isranon's son. It scarcely seemed possible that a woman like Merissa would prefer a half-a-mon like Isranon to a male as powerful as his brother had been.

  The only thing he wanted more was proof that Isranon was Dawnreturning. The possibility was the source of endless debate, but if Isranon was Dawnreturning, then it would answer how he had been powerful enough to overcome Troyesif that was what had happened. Malthus remembered the feel of Isranon's fourteen-year-old body squirming under him, desperate to get free, and how ea
sily he succumbed to Malthus spells. There was no way he could be Dawnreturning. There was no way he could have killed Troyesnot without some kind of treachery.

  He bit into Beth's arm wakening her. She moaned and then began to whimper. Feeling malicious, Malthus drew his belt knife and caressed her body with the point while he fed.

  The chieftain was fond of his grandson and so were the rest of the clan, even if the matter had gotten off to a rocky start. It would be worth all his time and effort among these trembling, boring folk, to take their little prince. First he needed to get Merissa to trust him. Then he would find a way to get the boy away from her so that he would rite the childunless, of course, Lord Daemon had a better offer to make him.

  Malthus was tired of concealing his nature, scent, and essence from them; tired of being simply Daemon's agent. The sa'nekaryiane would pay him well for the child's death once she learned of its existence. He might even get paid by both of them, Daemon and Galee. If their offers weren't substantial enough, however, he might decide to rite the boy and send pieces of him to his sire, simply because he belonged to Isranon.

  One of the things that made him more accomplished than other sa'necari who chose to support themselves through bounty hunting, was that he did not rely upon his spells and hellblades to achieve the deaths. He had trained from childhood with all the weapons that the humans, sylvans, and their allied races used. None of his kills would have the earmarks of a sa'necari assassination.

  He lifted his lips and wiped the blood off with a handkerchief.

  Egidius came out of the cave yawning. Well? Have you made a decision?"

  "I need Beth a little longer."

  "Thank gods, Beth murmured. I wasn't ready to die."

  "You're giving her too much free speech, observed Laetus.

  "She has none in front of outsiders. Find a vein and breakfast before we leave."

  * * * *

  Malthus sat on a bench in the chieftain's garden watching the children play. It had become a daily ritual. Merissa sat beside him, her hand on the cold stone, and his hand covering hers. She allowed him that much without pulling away from him, but she still refused to give him more. Today she was very unhappy with him.

  "I don't care what kind of woman Beth is, Merissa repeated. You must be blunt with her. If you are going to keep seeing me."

  "Merissa... Malthus lowered his head in shame. I keep telling her that."

  "Then you are not being firm enough."

  "I don't want to hurt her."

  "What about me? You're hurting me. If you are going to continue seeing me, then you must stop seeing Beth."

  Malthus let his shoulders sag. So be it. I will stop seeing her except in public on matters pertaining to the camp. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. You are too precious ... too dear to me. I won't let anything or anyone make you unhappy."

  "Malthus... Her tone softened.

  Malthus leaned in with her fingers on his lips until only her fingers remained between her lips and his. Then he drew her hand slowly down until his lips pressed hers. His other hand slipped to the back of her head as he parted her lips and kissed her deeply.

  * * * *

  Nikko went looking for Shalto and Oswyl. He missed Tempest and, with the death of the old priest, had no one to really advise him. At nineteen, Nikko was the youngest lawgiver the lycans had had in their extensive history. He had shouldered the burden at sixteen when Nevin left abruptly with his spirit-brother Isranon. Nikko knew all of the laws with the perfect memory of one who had trained since childhood by reciting them. He knew the cases and histories of the clan. Because of Tempest and Nevin, he was also literate, unlike three-quarters of his people. Yet, he didn't always know how to proceed on some matters.

  He wanted to know how the rumors about Beth had started and when she had begun seducing half the village. It troubled him because he had grown up around her, and part of him could not let go of his memories of her as a warm, soft, comforting presence that he could curl up with when he was a cub. He used to play in the field where the camp was now. Beth always licked the blood off his skinned knees, cuddled him when he cried because the older children played rougher. It was Beth he had gone to when Nevin left, and Nikko felt overwhelmed by his responsibilities.

  The image of Beth as a slut who could not get enough jarred painfully against his memories. If she had been a slut before, surely someone would have noticed it, surely he would have noticed it. Certainly, Nevin would have told him before he left. Sluts were troublemakers, whether they were male or female. And then there was that newcomer, Malthus, who seemed to exert an uncanny influence over Beth. He could not help but notice the unseemly adoration in her eyes for the mon, and the way he failed to reciprocate it. All of his instincts were screaming that Malthus was trouble.

  He went to the Difficult Horse Tavern. Hereward always kept the lamps either off or turned down in the daytime to keep the dark interior cooler during the summer. It took Nikko's eyes a moment to adjust.

  "Can I get ya somethin nice, lawgiver? Hereward the taverner shouted.

  Nikko shook his head as he scanned the room. No, thanks, Hereward. I'm looking for someone."

  He spied Shalto and Oswyl having a tankard of mead at their favorite corner table. Nikko strode over, put his palms on their table, and loomed over them. I want to talk to you both. Now. Outside. Or I'll have you both arrested."

  Shalto looked up, his brows knitting. We didn't do anything!"

  Sensing trouble, Hereward laid his big club on the bar and eyed them. The club had silver spikes circling the top, making it a nasty weapon. Do what the mon says."

  Oswyl raised his hands in a fending off gesture. I don't know what has you upset, but I'll cooperate."

  Shalto, seeing he would get no support from his cousin, and fearing Hereward, gave a quick relenting nod before following Nikko out of the tavern behind Oswyl.

  "Now what is this about? Shalto asked.

  "Beth."

  "I don't know what's got your hackles up there. I heard you were getting your share, Shalto said.

  "I haven't touched Beth and you shouldn't be either. Something's not right about all this."

  Shalto settled his shoulders against the wall of the Difficult Horse, arms crossed. Everyone was talking about it. So we decided to get our share."

  A flush of anger swept Nikko and he started to shake, which startled him because he had never been that upset before. He grabbed Shalto by the collar and jerked him hard enough to stagger him. You stay away from Beth. Tell the others to also. If matters are as you say, I can have her whipped out of the village and the rest of you with her."

  Shalto's mouth parted, but no words came out. His lips wiggled a moment and then he sighed. Lawgiver, you'll be making enemies."

  "Are you threatening me, Shalto?"

  Shalto lowered his eyes and shuffled his feet. No. Just stating facts."

  Nikko gave Shalto a shove that sent him stumbling, and turned on his heel, heading for the camp. When he reached it, Nikko paused in the yard and scanned it for signs of Malthus. He found none. So he knocked on Beth's door.

  The door opened a crack and Beth peered around the edge. Nikko saw an odd glimmer in her eyes, and wondered why she didn't simply open it like she used to.

  "As the lawgiver, I need to speak with you, Nikko said.

  Beth's eyes widened and she gestured for him to enter. I haven't done anything wrong."

  "I'm hearing things that I wanted to talk to you about. Nikko walked past her and sat on a small stool.

  "What kind of things? She swayed her hips suggestively as she approached him.

  Nikko blushed to the roots of his hair, and he could feel the red blooming all the way to his navel. That you're a sla loose female."

  Beth began unlacing her dress. I've been waiting for you, Nikko. I knew you'd come eventually. They all do."

  "That's not what I meantI'm not here for that. I just wanted to talk."

  "Of co
urse you did, Nikko. She dropped her dress as she spoke.

  Her nudity did not bother Nikko as much as her obvious intent. Furthermore, Beth's eyes looked strange and she smelled odd. He stood up. We'll talk later."

  Beth caught hold of his pants and shoved her hand in. Nikko yelped and changed to his hybrid form, which gave him the strength to lift the heavy bitch bodily away from him. Stop it, Beth."

  "So you like it rough? Beth changed to match him. I like it rough too. Do what you want to me."

  She pulled the drawstring on his pants undone, and shoved them around Nikko's hips. Nikko clutched at his pants, and knocked her to the floor. She hit the ground hard, smiled, and opened her legs to him.

  Where Nikko had been shaking with anger earlier, he was now trembling. He darted around her and left the longhouse. As he reached the yard, Nikko stopped to tie his pants closed, and the very last voice he wanted to hear greeted him.

  "Got some, did you? Shalto laughed.

  Malthus, Shalto, Oswyl, and Torquil stood there watching him.

  "It isn't what you think. Nikko blushed.

  All of them except Malthus laughed at him.

  "No more holier than thou, lawgiver, Oswyl said.

  "Was she a good ride? Torquil asked.

  "It's not what you think! Nikko shouted. I didn't touch her."

  Malthus inclined his head with a glance to the side. And what else would it be, seeing you coming from her home pulling your pants up?"

  "You're dirtier than the rest of us, Nikko, said Shalto. As least we don't lie about it."

  Nikko fled.

  * * * *

  Malthus returned home and found Beth waiting for him in the living room of his home. The girls were already sound asleep in their room. His temper flared. Nikko was probably out there at that very moment, watching the house. He had to rid himself of Beth. Merissa had kept repeating to him on their last walks together that he had to tell Beth that he was not interested in her.