Rogue Within

by Mima

  Another person was brought forward. It was Hay-li, a good worker in the laundry. “Young man. I understand you have a petition in to marry.”

  He bowed from the waist, stood, stammered, and knelt, bowing his head to the floor.

  “I’m not the Earthmother, sir! Do not pray to me.”

  He snapped upright, then whipped his head down. He’d never been taken into the Royal apartments before, and wasn’t yet nineteen.

  She sighed. “You are the new Laundry Master. Moriko recommended you. Thank her and you have my blessing upon your marriage.” She stood, impatient. “Shebu darling, I want to go to the beach.” She left the dais before Hay-li managed to stand.

  Moriko went down the stairs.

  He looked at her. “I never said nothing bad about you. You’re fair to everyone and they all know it. They’ve got no call to be so cruel, and no call to be jealous, you work that hard for us. I’ll always make time for you if you need me, you know, in that way you do.”

  She smiled at him. He was a bit taller than her, hard-muscled from the strenuous work in the laundry Silva had never participated in. Three days ago she would have had him under the stage in a minute, his cock deep in her soft clutches. But Donte’s angry, shocked face this morning filled her mind.

  “Thank you, Hay-li. Your words and offer are deeply appreciated. Congratulations on your advancement.”

  He blinked his big hazel eyes. “Dee won’t believe it. She agreed to marry me against her parents’ wishes. They wanted her to find someone higher in the Guild, she’s so lovely.”

  Moriko knew Dee, as well. “As it happens, I think Dee is lovely, too.” She didn’t inform the man she’d spent a few sweet afternoons with Dee over the years when the beauty had finished her ironing duties. Perhaps he knew and perhaps he didn’t, but it wasn’t for her to say so.

  “I have a favor to ask. There’s this particular dress I’d like cleaned and it’s delicate work.”

  “I can do it.”

  “I’ve no doubt.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The blood woke up Bear. It had become so monotonous—scent, leap, slash, scent—that Donte had almost become numb to the death he left behind. Sometimes they got off a shot at him, but then there was his backup. He certainly wasn’t used to backup. Kind of ironic that after he’d been declared rogue, he had two of his own kind at his side. They were spying as much as aiding him, but it seemed funny all the same.

  They cut a swath through the Masonry Guild and then the Ceramics Guild. Before they took on the Carpentry Guild, they headed to the Temple, and the growing crowd trailing them became problematic.

  “You can’t hunt for darkmages there!” cried one elderly voice.

  “No killing in the Temple!” roared another.

  So they’d only gotten to the Temple’s outer gates when things turned ugly.

  “How dare you bring death and evil to our steps!” A man in a dark blue robe yelled from the upper door.

  The Temple was built in a circle, yet squared off by the streets. It was perched high on wide terraced steps, like a cake on a pedestal. The low street level walls only impeded the view of the lowest steps. The temple itself was made of smooth white stone walls unbroken by windows. There were only two doors into the inner temple grounds. Inside it followed the human convention of an open air inner courtyard. The martens had been sent to guard the other exit.

  Two rows of women filed out past the man and formed a ceremonial alley for him to walk through. He gestured with his arms as he threw more bombastic defiance down.

  Fergmar called up through the golden grid of the gate they stood at. “By Queen Idivay’s command, we will gain entrance and verify the purity of the priests and priestesses you house, High Priest Ro. We know many guests have come to stay with you in the last months.”

  Turning to Donte, he added, “Remember, get them outside the inner Temple before you kill them.”

  Donte refused to respond, as he had before. The darkmages would die where easiest, not where it suited the polite senses of humans. The crowd swelled around their small, bloody force. At this spot, the stone streets were wider, but the voices still bounced off the tall, neat wooden houses that seemed to take up every square inch of the City.

  The man Ro came closer. Step by step. With the women from the back of the line hurrying down to form a constant frame for him.

  “He’s stalling,” Donte growled. His arms ached. He was out of shape. Imprisonment would do that to you. He’d call for a rest after this.

  Leon shook his head. “No, this is normal. The Temple always has to enjoy the show.”

  The wall here was relatively short, only two bodylengths tall, and the gate was topped by a pretty awning painted with moons and stars. It was a girly color. Moriko would like it. He flexed his hands, banishing her from his thoughts once again.

  “You dare suggest our hallowed worship has been tainted? There is no safer place in all the—”

  They came close enough and Donte leaped. He cleared the wall, then angled back toward the procession. Two of the women cowered. One of them died. Then that one there, and then the man Ro. Donte pulled his arm back from the man’s throat while he was still comically frozen with shock.

  One of his claws was strained, pulling on a sore muscle in his arm. He flexed it again, wiping the blood on the darkmage’s robe as it crumpled. Three of the women finally broke their shock and ran screaming, one to the gate, two to the Temple. Ignoring the curses of his human team and the horrified shrieks from the crowd who’d witnessed it all on the conveniently grand steps, he raced to the upper doorway.

  It filled with a tiny form. “Stop, Sir Bear.”

  He stopped. The woman was perhaps the oldest he’d ever seen and his clan was considered long-lived. She was frail in the way of the elderly, but her eyes sparked with inner fire. Her spirit called to his and he sensed a powerful spiritmage.

  “It is as I suspected, which is why I sent him out to meet you. Tally and Ishi, I did not suspect. This is a dire revelation and I will support the Queen’s Executioner. But not in our Temple, which must serve as a place of peace and order for the whole City. We will come out to you. I have gathered most, and all are coming. We will exit here and you will take your vengeance.”

  The two women from the procession were sobbing at her feet and more began to cry in the crowd behind her.

  She turned to the group and gestured at the door. “By the Six we are shamed and By the Six we are saved. Leave here now and return with humility.”

  Donte stood so far above the woman he was able to see several people melt away from the back of the crowd. He spun on his heel and raced along the topmost step, running flat out for the other door along the curve of the building.

  When he got there, a tight formation of robed people were hurrying down the steps. Upon seeing him, they called out and rushed back toward the Temple.

  But not before one of them called to the gathered people down in the street. “Save us!”

  The people surged against the gate, but it held.

  The martens streaked by him, one ramping himself off the white wall to block the path of their retreat, landing before the temple door.

  Dark green light blasted out of the doorway behind him and took him in the back. He landed three of the wide steps down, crumpled, writhing, screaming.

  The other marten dove right for one of the darkmages who’d already powered up his hands. They battled, but the time he took avoiding the attack let the others move away from him.

  Donte dove into the bunch, not going for a kill so much as a group stop.

  The other marten got one he’d missed, but two made it into the Temple. Donte took on the four he’d flattened while the marten hesitated, facing his single remaining foe.

  Arms swinging, feet striking at his opponents, he sucked in enough wind to snarl, “They’re all darkmages.” But it was too late.

  Wanting to give a human the benefit of being sure cost the marten h
is life. The man had a knife out and in his throat the second the marten looked toward Donte.

  Donte took a knife in the thigh, and a bolt to his shoulder, but the spelled leather he wore did a good job of diffusing the attacks. He killed as fast as he could. The last darkmage died trying to escape, when Donte fell on him and used the spikes on his armor to impale the man. Panting, he staggered to his feet, assessing bodies, and the dim babble of the crowd below.

  Green flashed from above. He smacked away an enormous bolt of power that roared from the Temple doorway. It numbed his arm. His own claws sliced his leg as the limb dropped to his side. In the shadows of the thick stone doorway, he could make out four shapes, with more hurrying around behind them.

  They began to roll a door over the entrance, but unfortunately for them, it was stone. He threw fire first, toasting the two closest, and crumbled the door next, leaving a knee-high pile of rubble blocking the entrance. While he stood three steps down, staring up at the fortified group, Bear opened his eyes.

  Donte fell to his knees, more out of stunned emotion than tactics. The returning wind spear whistled right over his head.

  Bear. If Donte could clear his mental throat, he would. The morning had sucked all tenderness from him, but he let the call reverberate with respect. Bear.

  Bear stayed still and silent, but he was there. Finally, there. Energy flooded him. They threw three spells at him, one a crackling mixture of water and darkcraft that was new to him. He avoided all of them, dodging and leaping forward until he flattened himself on the second step, using the lip of the top step as thin cover.

  Calling his earthcraft, he crumbled the floor where they stood just inside the door. As they tottered and fell, he leaped in a swirl of flame. He landed inside the temple doorway in the midst of a crowd writhing with darkcraft. Slicing, lunging, ripping, he got four more, but two ran away.

  He noted the details he could of them, but he had to focus on the sole remaining darkmage he now faced. This was Sverre’s pupil. He’d suffered a few torture sessions with the male, as Sverre passed on his personal skills to it. An upper-level acolyte like this wasn’t who he wanted to fight when he was wounded, exhausted, and distracted. Retreat wasn’t an option, but he did hold his position when his muscles twitched to go forward.

  The terrain consisted of a wide, shadowed hallway. Two magelight stands, a statue, a group of chairs and a bookcase. There were several doors and openings off the hall. Braced low on the floor, Donte curled his toes in his boots, considering his attack.

  “Hello, Bear. You seem to have slipped your leash.”

  “It’s still there. Only now I’m the one holding it.”

  Immediately, he felt the darkspell that had forced his obedience in the fortress slither into life. The creature was testing it, trying to take control of Donte.

  He exploded the nearby statue, rolled two fireballs, and leaped the darkmage’s return spell. When he landed, Bear lifted his head, swinging it in the direction of the darkspell.

  Respecting Bear as the warrior he was, Donte focused on the dregs of a human before him. Another exchange of fire and darkcraft and another impasse. The darkmage took out the lights and Donte tore up the smooth marble floor with slashing earthcraft. The male sent an air whip and Donte tried to surprise him with a bodycraft attack, but the man threw so many air spears and dark bolts, he couldn’t hold onto it. The constant pain of the darkspell spiked, making him cough as he continued to dodge the rapid onslaught. With the internal attack, he focused only on avoiding the bolts, trying to work himself closer. Bear wasn’t stepping into combat with the darkspell as he’d thought. Instead he just seemed to watch it.

  Donte was breathing hard now, still dragging the weight of his deadened arm, which unbalanced him. The scent of his own blood began to counter the overwhelming incense.

  The darkmage laughed, light and confident. “I’m inhaling your pain. There’s quite more of it than this little tiff warrants. You’re so delicious.”

  Talk, talk, talk. Donte threw an airshield and rolled another bit closer. “Know the secret of how the top four lasted over all the others?”

  He sent flame waves, dodged dark lances.

  “They are powerful. They are merciless. They are clever, and will outlast all the little Royals holding your leash now.” A green snaking ribbon unfurled from the male’s position. A darkwhip. Donte didn’t like how clever darkmages generally were.

  He managed to avoid the deadly wave, bending backwards, leaning hard to one side, then leaping the low return sweep. “Nah. That’s not how they’ve lasted.”

  With a burst of pleasure, he swept his arm out as he rolled, scraping the darkmage across the torso. It grunted, sprawling backwards. Blood burst in the air with fear scent. Finally. Scrambling, tangling in its yards of robe, it tried to get away.

  Donte stood with a sigh of relief. “The reason they’re left is because they never talked as much as the others.”

  He fake-leaped, waited for the defense darkspell to pass, then gutted the darkmage. The man screamed a hoarse death screech. Straddling the body with his hand full of intestines, Donte enjoyed the sound, packing a memory of a small gray stone room painted with his own blood away. Then Donte tore out his throat.

  Lighting the fallen magelights with a mental push, Donte stared into the face of a man who’d made him do awful things, who’d done disgusting things to him. Crouching, his one arm trailing on the floor like a noodle, his body sparking with awakening wounds, he studied the death grimace he’d caused. Victory. Yet the darkspell throbbed, more aware.

  Bear. Donte ordered Bear to witness this particular death. Look what we can still do together.

  Bear laid his head down and closed his eyes. The pain was so great Donte almost threw up.

  Spinning away from the bodies and drifting dust, he staggered through an open doorway and beheld a vast garden. The white balconies circling the garden rose up several stories into the air, imprisoning it. There were little hillocks of grasses among irregular pools of intensely blue water dotted with lilies. Palm trees and flowers sprinkled across the tableau, while inconspicuous stone slab bridges led to a central plaza paved with shimmering black marble so smoothly polished it looked wet.

  “I ask you not to enter the inner Sanctum.”

  The tiny woman was back and he hadn’t even heard her approach. Not good.

  She swept out one gnarled hand. “As you can see, it is a special place of peace and violence does not belong here.”

  He looked up at the sky, pale blue, thin streaks of clouds. He looked over his shoulder, into the dark shadows thick with the scent of blood. Violence does not belong here. Meaning he did not belong here. The continued cries of the mortally wounded darkmages echoed from the hall and the outer steps, barely heard over the roar of a murderous, outraged crowd. There was no sign of his own team.

  “No.” He limped in a circle, looking down at her. “I will not leave. Two escaped.”

  Eyes now more gray than brown snapped at him. She reminded him of Signy. “This is wrong. You should wait outside.”

  “You let them in. I don’t know if you let them go for the rear door or not. But I’m not leaving until I have them. If I have to take them down in the center of that wet-black island, I will.”

  “In your anger, you should be careful not to become their tool.”

  He clenched his jaw against responding about the blindness of faith and the arrogance of pride being pretty effective tools and walked away. He’d make sure both doors were secured, then go room by pristine marble room until they were all dead.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Night Six

  Moriko had a messenger posted at the front gate, so as soon as news got to her in the late evening after the dinner clean-up that he was approaching, she rushed to the baths to see him. Rounding the frame in a whirl of skirts, she stumbled to a stop.

  The assistants were helping him take off gore-covered leather armor with wicked spikes covering th
e chest and back. Her gaze zeroed in on his face, completely locked down and rigidly tight. His tattoos surprised her again, the jagged thorns making him appear so vicious, trying to warn against any soft touch. He glanced at her for one opaque moment she couldn’t read, then looked down to shuck the shredded chaps. His leather pants beneath also featured holes with crisp edges, slashes and tears.

  “Thank you, Nini, I’ll help my husband from here. Shukka, please take the armor to the armory and make sure SeRen sees it. He might be able to use it to make further modifications on a better suit for tomorrow.”

  The man nodded and they both left.

  Shebu hurried in, curtseying to them both. “Her Majesty bids Lord Donte welcome and rejoices in your—”

  Donte waded into the water. “Get out.”

  Shebu froze for a moment, sent Moriko a stricken glance for assistance. “Queen Idivay requests your earliest—”

  “I said, ‘Get the fuck out’.”

  Shebu squeaked and flew out in a puff of cinnabar.

  Moriko bit back her sigh. Her husband was not Royal material. It was a good thing the Queen needed him. “I, too, rejoice in your health.”

  He was nude now, waist-deep in the waters. His body appeared to have no new scars, although several patches of reddened skin were probable sites of recent healing. He picked up the soap and began to lather.

  Her dress landed in deep folds and her shoes flew as she hurried to join him.

  “What part of ‘get out’ did you not understand?”

  Pain hit her in the chest. Wavering, she considered leaving, respecting his wishes as a warrior needing time. But then she went to a bench along the wall and sat, still in her slip. “I won’t crowd you since I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. But I won’t leave you alone. I am your support, not your enemy.”

  He dunked his head, his hair already badly mashed from the crisp spikes of the morning. She watched him bathe. He was so beautiful. A big, powerful man doing what no one else wanted to. They said they wanted the darkmages gone, but they didn’t do what was necessary. No. For the relief and results of clearing darkmages from the Temple, they rioted in thanks.