Frank-KWar

by Kynyr's War [lit]

  The tall mon knelt and gathered Darmyk into his arms. No one is ever going to hurt you again."

  Darmyk nestled against him. I knew you loved me, Daddy. They lied and said you didn't, but I knew ... I knew you loved me."

  "I love you, Darmyk, my son."

  "I love you, Daddy. I love you."

  The cat nodded, hearing the contentment in Darmyk's sleeping voice, turned and left.

  * * * *

  Oswyl trailed Shalto into the little barn behind the longhouse they shared on the Sanctuary Refugee Camp. The brown painted structure of rough-hewn planks of pine, smoothed down with the careful application of adze by Nesswen contained two stalls, and a crude tack room that also provided storage for supplied and grain sacks.

  Shalto glanced back at Oswyl, scowling. You humiliated me."

  Oswyl walked with lowered head, leading his brown mare, Mudlark, into her stall. He closed the stall gate and pulled off the saddle, settling it on the left hand half wall.

  "Did you hear me? Shalto slammed his fist against the wall, startling both horses.

  Oswyl patted his horse's shoulder to calm her. Yeah, I heard you. You haven't stopped bitching at me in hours."

  "Well?"

  Oswyl ran his tongue around the back of his teeth. I don't feel right about it."

  "You wussed. They're saying you're yellow as a wet-tailed cub."

  "I know. Oswyl flinched. The entire ride back, Oswyl had been hearing Odhran's screams in his mind, seeing the look in Odhran's eyes as Oswyl shoved the blade into him, felt the slight soft suck of flesh around his blade, the way that Odhran's flesh had parted. Oswyl shuddered. I'm a coward, I guess... Otherwise, I would have refused to stick them.

  "Next time we gotta stick someone, you'll act like a grown dog instead of a yellow pup."

  Oswyl grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat and dirt from Mudlark. His voice took on a distant, soft quality as if he didn't want to face the reality that Shalto kept shoving in his face. Is there going to be a next time?"

  "Yeah."

  "Why?"

  Shalto snarled, hair sprouting along his arms, his face going snouted. Because we're not going to let them push us around."

  Oswyl finished with Mudlark, and stepped out of the stall. You're starting to sound like Malthus and Preece."

  "They're real men."

  "I thought you were the leader."

  "I am."

  "Are you? I think Malthus is."

  "I don't give a good gods damn what you think. Don't give me anymore limp-wristed pony shit."

  Oswyl walked off without answering. Exhausted in body and spirit, Oswyl made his way to the stream and tore off his bloodstained robes. He could hear the other wolves coming and going from the sheelings and longhouses, pretending not to notice the others arriving to play Jack in the Orchard with the refugee females, and those leaving after shooting their wads. Brothels were illegal on clan lands. They all knew which young wolves were jacking the women, yet they all pretended they had not seen it. While they could get it free here, contributions were expected. After Malthus and Shalto had taken their cut, they shared the rest out with the other Lycamornots.

  The silence by the stream beat at Oswyl's ears like muted hammers. If he listened closely he could catch the sounds of sex, a female crying out at some over eager young wolf's rough handling. He thought of his two sisters safely at home with his parents, grateful that they were not being forced to whore as these females were.

  He remembered the beating that Pandeena had given him and Shalto when they came on to her a bit too insistently. Suddenly, what she had done seemed well deserved.

  Oswyl realized that he was breathing hard, almost panting. His heart raced a like a lone cub faced with an antlered stag too large for him to handle.

  He drew his knife and stared at it. Although he had wiped the blade clean after they left the camp to bury the lawgiver, the moonlight glinting upon it appeared blood red, not silver.

  Odhran's screams echoed through the corridors of his mind again, pathetic, desperate, suffering. Once more Oswyl saw the altar crack and break in reaction to the sacrilege committed upon it. Oswyl began to shake so hard he nearly dropped the knife.

  "Forgive me. Gods, forgive me. Odhran, I'm so sorry."

  Oswyl stood up and threw the knife as far into the stream as he could. The splash as it hit the water sounded like an explosion in the quiet.

  His mouth twisted and tears ran from his eyes unheeded.

  "I'm damned ... I'm damned to hell. Willodarus forgive me. Tala have mercy."

  But there came no answer from the offended deities. Oswyl pulled his shattered nerves together, found a large rock, and buried his clothing beneath it.

  Malthus had told him to burn the robes, but he could not cope with carrying them back to the long house.

  He sat on the banks and watched dawn rise in the east in a rare blaze of scarlet and crimson line with gold and orange.

  For a few minutes, he entertained the thought of gathering his things and moving back in with his parents. Oswyl shook the dream of escape off. The others would view it as a desertion ... and Oswyl suspected they would kill him if he tried to leave the gang. He was in too deep. The pleasant game had become the coursing of wolves through the halls of nightmare.

  Oswyl changed fully into a wolf, found a sheltered spot among the rocks, and slept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  UGLY TRUTHS

  Running as a golden wolf, Pandeena found small drops of blood that created a scent trail. Caimbeul's body had been so torn up that, even wrapped in a blanket, blood and fluids had dribbled onto the ground. His attackers had used an old lycan trick of applying oils to boots and bodies to alter and confuse their scents so that it would not be easy to identify them from the trail they left in the lawgiver housenot that that would have been easy to begin with because so many lycans came and went from the house each day.

  She followed the trail through the darkness of the sleeping village to the northeastern edge to where it stopped at her apartment. Pandeena found that her door had been broken off its hinges. She changed to her hybrid form and started to step inside.

  Hathura stopped her. I'll go first."

  Pandeena started to protest that she could defend herself, saw the others shake their heads at her with stern looks, and stepped back to allow them to go past her.

  The small band entered and moved through the ruined apartment. Pandeena's stomach tightened at the sight of all of her smashed furnitureeven the big bed had been overturned and broken. Seeing all this, her thoughts sprang to the rest of the building, the shrine, and the schoolroom.

  "The shrine. We must check the shrine. She moved into the corridor and pointed at the door. Hathura went first, his deadly fans in hand.

  Pandeena followed. She cursed at the shattered benches had been, striding through the chaos toward the altar, and stopped short at the railing to scream. A mutilated body lay upon the altar. Sacrilege had been written in blood on the wall behind it. Her insides went cold. She sucked in a deep breath to master herself, and went up the steps to the altar.

  "Odhran. Her voice caught and her expression tightened. Poor Odhran. He's been coming every night for the past few weeks to check on me. He must have caught them breaking in."

  Hathura joined her beside the altar. They killed him for it."

  Pandeena steeled herself, touched Odhran's torn shoulder, and Read him. He's been dead nearly two hours. They ... rited him. His soul's shattered. Pieces missing."

  "Are there any other rooms? Meleajys stalked to the door and glanced back at them.

  "The school room."

  Pandeena led the way. She doubted that it had been spared. Whoever had done this was probably long away, yet she changed to her hybrid form to be certain. She half hoped that they would find Caimbeul's body amid the wreckage, but apparently, the attackers had carried it off with them.

  Everything in the schoolroom had been broken and shattered. Blood coated the w
alls. Pandeena wondered who else had been murdered in this insane rampage.

  "Over here. Hathura stood behind the overturned lectern.

  Pandeena joined Hathura. Her stomach churned at the sight of the pile of body parts that had once been a nibari that the camp owned. Pandeena regretted that she had not made more time to learn their names.

  "I need to go to Claw about this, but first I need to find Caimbeul. Two of you stay here and don't let anyone in, put a shield on it if you have to. If anyone asks, it is on my orders."

  Toniqua trailed in, arriving in time to hear Pandeena's request. I'll stay. That's one of my talents. The rest of you go on."

  The trail had gone cold by the time that they left, and Pandeena tracked by following the fading link she still had to Caimbeul. She found the grave as the sun came up. His murderers had buried him well, leaving little evidence behind. The earth had been smoothed over beneath a stand of elm trees, but the night breezes had blown the loose dirt away from Caimbeul's dead face. She dug furiously until she had unearthed him. Dirt filled his open mouth, and crusted his face and body. Pandeena changed to human, cradled his filthy head on her lap, and wept. Her tears falling on Caimbeul made splotches of mud on his cheeks and forehead.

  The sound of voices told Pandeena that the others had caught up with her.

  Hathura dismounted. Move away from him, Pandeena. I must burn him. It's the only way to rouse the fireborn in him, if enough of it remains alive."

  Pandeena slipped to the side. The others quickly cleared a place of brush and grass, and then carried Caimbeul's body to the center.

  Hathura snapped his fans open and flashed them across Caimbeul's corpse. He summoned a fiery bird that lighted upon the lawgiver's body and ignited it. With another flick of his fans, Hathura sent the bird away.

  Caimbeul's corpse burned brightly, the flames consuming it swiftly. His skin cracked and the fat ran like water. The muscle fell away from his bones and blackened.

  Pandeena wept. They did something to him. He's truly dead."

  "Wait. Hathura grasped her shoulder.

  Within the ashes a light shone, the flames vanished as if the corpse drank it up. The body changed and gained substance. Padruig's form emerged from the ruin of Caimbeul's.

  "What's this? Pandeena blinked and shook her head. That's not Caimbeul."

  Padruig's eyes opened and his lips parted. Pandeena ... it's me. Gods, help me. Gashes in his body oozed. The transformation had failed to restore his wholeness. Can't heal ... them. Poisoned ... fireborn half."

  Hathura knelt and Read him. He's in bad shape, but I think he's strong enough for me to Jump him to Navaryn.

  The Fae lifted Caimbeul as if he weighed less than a squirrel and they made the Jump together. All five of them arriving in Navaryn's sitting room at the same time. Navaryn sensed their arrival and rushed down the stairs.

  Padruig's eyes had an odd glaze as if he could not focus them. Navaryn ... help me.... Poison ... fireborn poison."

  He stilled in Hathura's arms, his eyes closing.

  Navaryn touched Caimbeul's shoulder, Reading him. Put him in the east room."

  A heaviness settled over the assembled yuwenghau and those who quietly joined them from other areas of the house. They knew that Navaryn put those she could not save in the east room so they could die in peaceful surroundings.

  Caimbeul slipped in and out of consciousness repeatedly as the bitches bathed him, wrapped him up, and made him comfortable in the large bed beneath blue and green quilts. Navaryn dosed him with Pollendine, a narcotic pain-reliever so potent and addictive that it was rarely given except to the dying. Pandeena sat beside the bed, refusing to leave Caimbeul's side, although she knew she should have reported everything to Claw as soon as she discovered it. Others came and went throughout the night, sharing the deathwatch she kept.

  "Old lecher.... Pandeena swallowed back a sob before it could escape. I warned you ... told you it was a terrible chance ... you were taking."

  Caimbeul's eyelids fluttered open. Don't cry ... I gambled ... I lost."

  His eyes closed and he slipped away from her again.

  Pandeena grabbed his hand. Caimbeul"

  The Butchering Serpent had been thorough in his work, and Padruig Caimbeulthe greatest lawgiver of his timefailed steadily, growing weaker as the hours passed. When dawn spread its golden light across Caimbeul's face, he opened his eyes and extended his hand to Pandeena.

  "Memory crystal...."

  Hathura stood in the doorway and gestured for Pandeena to remain with Caimbeul. I'll get it."

  When Hathura returned with the narrow white crystal, he put it in Pandeena's hand so that she could be the one who gave it to Caimbeul. She placed it in his hand, and Caimbeul closed his fingers around it. Won't ... be pretty. But maybe ... your evidence ... is here."

  By the time that he finished, his memory of the attack and his death was lodged firmly in it, but not the reawakening as fireborn. The act of reliving it for a psychic record left him weaker, in more pain than he had been, and it showed in the lines of his face.

  "I love Clodagh...."

  "We'll save her somehow, Caimbeul. I promise."

  His hand relaxed, his fingers opened, and the crystal slipped onto the bed as life faded from Caimbeul's body.

  She touched his neck and Read him, finding that he had died. Pandeena sank to her knees, keening loudly and pulling at her hair. Myn gathered outside the room. Navaryn went in, saw the crystal, pocketed it, gathered her daughter in her arms, and held her.

  Everyone in the house formed a line outside the door, along the hallway and down the stairs. They filed inside one at a time to kiss Caimbeul's forehead, cheeks, and lips in the final farewell to the dead.

  When she could finally compose herself, Pandeena went to her bedroom, and prepared a few things to take with her back to Wolffgard since everything she owned in the village had been destroyed. Then she went downstairs where her mother met her in the sitting room.

  "We'll bury him beneath the birches near the waterfall. Navaryn placed a soft doeskin pouch in Pandeena's hand.

  "The memory crystal?"

  "A copy of it. The original needs safekeeping. I viewed it. You don't want to. It was ugly. Take this one to Claw."

  Pandeena rubbed her eyes and fought back another round of weeping. Has anyone seen Lokynen?"

  "Hathura says he lost touch with him after Three Stones."

  "Lokynen left Wolffgard more than three weeks ago. Caimbeul was his friend."

  "He'll rip Wolffgard apart, Pandeena. He isn't lycan. He won't follow our laws."

  Pandeena's eyes narrowed and her voice lowered to a dangerous whisper that vibrated in her throat. That's why I want him ... in Wolffgard."

  Navaryn raked her teeth across her lower lip, and shook back a strand of pale silver hair that had slipped over her shoulder. So be it. I'll put the word out that you're looking for him. I'll also have people look in on you."

  "Thank you. Pandeena laid her head back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling as she ran her hand through her hair. I used to think it would serve him right if a gang killed him after what happened to Gwythyr. I didn't want him to die like this . Her lips tightened.

  "Don't thank me yet. I'm putting requirements on your going back. Hathura and Meleajys are going with you."

  "They can stay at the lawgiver's house."

  Navaryn frowned, her mouth thinned into a stubborn line. No, I want them staying at the refugee camp with you."

  "I'm staying at the lawgiver's house. The villagers will want to cleanse the shrine and its buildings. The way that lycans cleansed a place where an atrocity had occurred was to burn it to the ground and plant cleansing herbs like rue in the ashes. Within a few days there would be nothing left of the shrine, her apartments, and the schoolroom. She would need Claw's support to prevent the villagers from doing the same to the lawgiver house.

  "Won't that hurt you? Knowing what happened there?"

  "I'm going t
o sleep in his bed."

  * * * *

  Malthus changed clothes at his old cottage and burned his blood stained tunic and trousers to ashes in the fireplace, before returning to the manor. Yren and Rheu had spent the remainder of the night with Yren's mother, who would cover for them without asking questionsjust as she always did. Torquil had returned to his bedroom above the smithy without his master being the wiser. Shalto, Oswyl, and Preece had delivered an impressive catch of six deer to the smokehouse at the camp. His secret minions, hidden near the northern border of Red Wolf Valley, would refill that larder with more deer in a few days.

  There was no way that anyone could find a connection between the Lycamornots, himself, and the murders. Malthus felt satisfied as he slipped inside the manor through the servants door and glided along the corridors heading for his suite. A noise drew his attention as he passed the opened doors of the Blue Room and he glanced inside.

  His father-in-law, Claw Redhand sat at the large table in the drawing room, kneading his left arm and digging at his hairy chest. The chieftain's robe hung half-open as he poured a glass of whiskey and drank it. Malthus lips drew together in a tiny smile, and he joined Claw at the table. Shouldn't you be resting?"

  Claw glared at him. Shouldn't you?"

  "I'm not the one with a bad heart, Malthus snapped, and then reined in his pique. My wounds healed weeks ago."

  "Aye. So where the hell have you been?"

  "I just returned from hunting. Shalto, Oswyl, Preece, and I made an outstanding catch. Six deer."

  Claw's expression lightened. That's real good."

  Malthus inhaled the fragrance of Claw's pain. It was not as intense as Caimbeul's had been when the lawgiver died, but it was still delicious. Malthus turned the whiskey bottle around, knowing the moment that his fingers touched it that the bottle was one of those he had cursed before giving it to Claw as a present. At the rate you're drinking it; I'm surprised you have any left."

  "Rum's nearly gone. Claw grumbled. Still got about half the whiskey and most of the wine."