Prince of Fire

by Linda Winstead Jones

  *

  13

  He was lost. He’d been lost since morning. By the gods, he’d been lost for days. Weeks. He’d been lost long before Keelia had been taken.

  Joryn stopped and turned about, studying the landscape in all directions. This part of the rocky mountain was dotted with caves, but none called to him as being different from any other. None struck him as being the right one. Perhaps he needed to climb higher. Perhaps he needed to backtrack and take a trail he had bypassed.

  The moon would rise in a few hours, and unless his luck changed, it would be the last night he passed as a man. The curse … the infection … would claim him, and without Keelia here to take his life, he was doomed. He glanced over a ledge and studied the long drop. Everything he had ever been taught, every fiber of his being, screamed that to take one’s own life was wrong. Others who’d been infected had done it, though, and he could not blame them. Had they gone into the Land of the Dead or even into the land in-between, or had they been whisked to an eternal punishment?

  He couldn’t even consider such an act in any case, not while there was still a chance that he and Keelia could to put an end to the curse.

  To take his own life was not only morally reprehensible, if Keelia needed him he could not think only of himself. If there was even a possibility that she was in danger and needed his help, he could not take the cowardly way out. Who would’ve thought he’d ever put the needs of the Anwyn Queen, or any other Anwyn, above his own?

  He hadn’t been standing on the mountainside studying options for very long when he heard a distant voice that traveled oddly on the wind. Standing very still, he did his best to place that voice. It approached quickly, but was still a distance away. Joryn sniffed the air. It was difficult to be certain, since the stench permeated thesg mountains, but-he was almost positive that whatever creature came toward him was not one of the infected, though he was Caradon. The wizard, perhaps? Or one of his apprentices who had escaped the curse?

  Joryn concealed himself behind a boulder, and kept his eyes on the path. Whoever approached was moving with urgency and great speed. The creature mumbled incessantly. Occasionally what sounded like short-lived laughter reached his ears.

  If this approaching climber was the man Joryn sought or one of the wizard’s apprentices, then when taken, he could lead Joryn to Keelia. If he could save her before the rise of tomorrow night’s full moon, perhaps they could end the curse. If not, then she could take his life as she had promised to do. The wait stretched too long … no, Joryn’s patience was stretched too thin. If this man could not lead him to Keelia, then what would his next move be? How would he find her?

  At last, the approaching man came running around a bend in the path. Though Joryn had grown impatient, he acknowledged that the man’s speed was extraordinary, given the slope of the mountain and narrowness of the trail. He took quick stock, judging his enemy while waiting for the right moment to reveal himself and strike. He brought to life a spit of fire on the palm of his hand, and readied to throw it. Joryn would not aim for the creature… not this time … but would place the fire in his path.

  The enemy had long dark hair liberally streaked with gray, but his body was mat of a younger man who should not have so much gray in his hair. Head tucked down as he ran, the man mumbled ceaselessly and then laughed, which led Joryn to believe that the scurrying Caradon was quite mad.

  When the time was right, Joryn rose from his hiding place and directed the fire in his hand to the ground, startling the runner. The man stopped, and his head popped up. For a moment, Joryn was so surprised he didn’t think to immediately extinguish the fire that blazed in the middle of the trail.

  “Druson?”

  How had the fellow student grown so much gray hair amid the dark so fast, and why were his eyes so wild and so incredibly … old?

  “Joryn, there you are,” Druson replied, his words quick and breathless. “I knew I would find you, I knew I would. Am I too late? Where is the Queen? I can’t believe I once directed you to kill her. I was foolish then. Foolish, foolish.” The statement was followed by one of those insane bursts of laughter which held no joy or humor.

  Joryn fluttered his fingers and extinguished the fire, then approached Druson slowly. In the past, he had thought Druson to be impetuous and overly ambitious and hasty, but there was very little of the man he remembered uvthis creature. “What happened?”

  Again, that awful laughter. “Where to begin, where to begin? So much to tell. So much to come if we don’t hurry.”

  “Tell me what I most need to know. The rest can wait.”

  “The rest can wait until we save the Queen. We will save her, won’t we? We must. We must.” Druson’s mad eyes locked to Joryn’s. “She is our Queen, too.”

  *

  Ariana and Sian arrived atthe assigned meeting place a full day early. Tomorrow night she would meet with Merin and whatever army he had managed to build in the weeks since they’d parted. After that… well, she wasn’t sure what would happen after that. She had intended to have Keelia’s psychic counsel before making feat decision. Was she meant to remain on the battlefield, taking souls from the Isen Demon in order to weaken it, and healing Merin’s soldiers when she could? Or was she meant to return to Arthes and heal the emperor? Both were necessary but she was only one woman, so how was she to decide?

  At the edge of their small, secluded camp, Sian came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her. In spite of the circumstances, Ariana smiled. In the midst of chaos, she had found love. In her heart, she took that as a sign that all would be well, even though her logical mind told her that might not be so.

  “Looks like it might rain,” Sian said, leaning down to kiss her neck and ignoring the fact that they were not alone. The Anwyn soldiers that had been spared from me search for Keelia shared their camp. “Just a little while ago, I was certain we wouldn’t have rain for days.”

  Ariana looked to the southeast, where dark clouds had formed. Those clouds seemed to be bearing down upon them. Odd, since storms usually did not approach from that direction. A flash of lightning danced across the sky, and a crack of thunder followed. The storm was small, and it was most definitely moving closer. In fact, it looked to be moving directly toward mem.

  “I suppose we should pitch tents tonight, just in case those clouds bring rain.” As they looked like they would.

  The Anwyn soldiers heard the approaching horseman before Ariana and Sian did. They armed themselves with the spears which were their preferred weapons, and spread out in a decidedly military formation. Ariana waved them back when she caught sight of the rider. It was Taran, die young sentinel she had sent to her mother with a very important and cryptic question. Judging by the expression on his face, he had an answer.

  Taran barely slowed down before leaping from his horse gracefully and running toward her. Ariana frowned. How was it possible that the news was so urgent?

  Her heart leapt. Something was wrong. Her mother? Her father? One of her younger brothers or sisters? She disengaged herself from Sian’s embrace and ran toward the sentinel. “What news?” she asked sharply. “Is my family well?”

  Taran nodded, and Ariana’s heart returned to a normal rhythm. “Do you have an answer to my question?”

  Still breathless, the sentinel shook his head.

  “No?” Ariana put her hands on her hips, indignant now that she was no longer worried about her family. Yes, he was young and untested and somewhat naive, but she had given him a task and in these uncertain times she expected her assignments to be fulfilled. First Keelia, and now this! “Why not?”

  Taran took in a deep bream of air and exhaled slowly. “Your mother said she would deliver the message to you herself. I’m so sorry, sister. I could not stop her.”

  Ariana’s eyes jumped to the black clouds that continued to approach. “Mum,” she whispered. As a child she had quickly learned that her mother’s moods could affect the weather if they were strong enough. It was a
magical gift Sophie Fyne had learned to control for the most part, but when the emotions were particularly intense, there were sunny days in wintertime and stormy, ones when all around the skies were clear.

  Another splinter of lightning danced on air, and Ariana turned from the thunder to look Sian in the eye. She sighed, wondering what the night would bring. “Perhaps you should hide.”

  *

  Keelia felt twitchy, even though she was tired and her brain seemed not to want to function at all. She’d slept away most of her time here in Maccus’s home—her home—and yet she was constantly teetering on the edge of exhaustion. The twitchy sensation was new. There had been a time when she would’ve known what that twitch meant, but not tonight. Tonight it was simply annoying. She did not want to be forced to think. It was so draining …

  “Is something wrong, love?” Maccus smiled at her. They sat together in the main room, their chairs positioned a few feet apart. It was here, she had learned, that Maccus worked his spells and made magical things happen. Earlier he had asked some of his men—rather, creatures who had once been Caradon—to entertain her, as his betrothed appeared to be bored. One twisted creature had sung a song which made no sense, since his words were not at all intelligible, and another had danced clumsily while Maccus plucked at a small stringed instrument she had not seen before. The melodies he played were quite lovely, but the dance was not at all enjoyable. Even though the beast had tried to be joyful, the movements appeared to be painful and cheerless.

  But now they were alone, and as Keelia watched Maccus closely, his expression gradually changed. “What do you feel, dear? I can see that something is bothering you. I know you so well.”

  Maccus did know her well. He loved her; he would never leave her. She knew that to be true, and yet deep down that twitching tried to interfere with what she so easily accepted to be fact.

  “I don’t know. Something is wrong.”

  Maccus left his chair and came to her, kneeling beside her and laying his hand on her thigh. The fabric of her pretty gown shimmered. “Is it him? Is it the one whose gift is fire?”

  Keelia’s breath caught, and before she could stop herself, she answered. “Yes. Joryn comes.”

  “He comes for you?”

  “Yes.” Keelia laid her hand over Maccus’s. As a Caradon he should be warm-blooded like her, but his hand was oddly cold, as if it were made of stone. Her eyes were drawn to the intricate silver and gold emblem he wore around his neck. He never removed it, she realized. That talisman gave him enhanced powers; it made him cold.

  “We need to capture him, my love. I know you can reach out and discover for me when and where this Jo-ryn can be taken. Will he sleep tonight? Will he hide? When will his guard drop, and where will he be when that happens?”

  Joryn’s thoughts and his future had always been dark to her, as if he purposely hid his mind and his heart, but now, now that they were separated and he was no longer attempting to shield himself from her, she could see him well. He was worried. Worried about her, but also about himself and another… someone who had changed. Trying to see more made her head ache, so she stopped.*

  “Tell me, dear,” Maccus whispered. “I need your help.”

  It was as if she had no choice but to help him. No, it wasn’t that at all. She wanted to help this man who loved her; she wanted it very badly. Keelia rose from her seat and walked toward Maccus’s worktable. She grasped an ebony wand in one hand, and took a jar of enchanted sand in toe other. Without thinking, she scattered the sand on the table.

  Maccus gasped, but he did not chide her or try to stop her, and when she began to draw in the sand, he calmed considerably.

  Keelia drew an outline of the mountain the mouth of this cave faced. “When the moon is here”—she drew the almost full moon above the mountain—“and the sky is just turning from black to gray, Joryn will sleep.” She moved down the table and drew out a path which led down the mountain. It was as if she knew every twist, every turn, even though her head had been covered when the twisted creature Eneo had carried her to this wizard’s home. Her home. ‘There is a small cave between a rock shaped like a woman’s breasts and a steep cliff streaked with pink stone.”

  Maccus smiled. “I know the place, love.”

  “He is not alone,” she whispered.

  Maccus’s eyebrows rose slightly. “He’s not?”

  “No, another travels with him.” Her eyebrows knit together in frustration. Part of her wanted to tell the wizard who loved her to stay away from Joryn and his companion, but something else, something very strong, compelled her to assist in their capture. ‘Take them,” she said, “but do not have them killed. Not yet. They have a role yet to play.”

  “That they do.”

  “You must tell your soldiers—”

  “Our soldiers, love.”

  “You must tell our soldiers to bind Joryn’s hands first. Before he wakes, before anything else, they must bind his hands or else he will use his fire against them. He always wears a dagger in a sheath at his waist, and that should be removed as soon as is possible. He also knows a sneaky trick.” She placed a hand at her neck. “If his hands are tightly bound before he knows of the danger and he cannot use any of his weapons then taking him will be easy.”

  “And his companion? Does he have any weapons our soldiers need to beware of?”

  “No” she whispered. “He will be easy to take.” Within her mind she caught a glimpse of green eyes touched with madness, and shuddered. “He is an old man. Very, very old.”

  Maccus put his arm around her, caressing her arm with a gently rocking thumb. Keelia found herself leaning into him. This was where she was meant to be. He loved her; he would never leave her. This was everything she had been waiting for all her life. So why was there a sickening knot in the pit of her stomach?

  Maccus allowed his hand to brush against her breast as he made her turn to face him. His smile was contented, and she longed to feel that contentment herself.

  “Tomorrow night you will be my bride.”

  “Yes, I know.” She was alternately thrilled and excited and terrified, as if beneath a calm exterior she was continually at war with herself.

  “We will make a child.”

  “It is not my fertile time.” She found herself fiddling* with the ring Maccus had given her, toying with the stone there the way the wizard toyed with her. Like him, the stone was cold. Icy cold and unnatural.

  “That doesn’t matter, my love. Tomorrow night, beneath the full moon, you and I will make a very special child. You will wear the blood of the lover you have betrayed, and I will be advanced. I will be elevated, and more powerful than you can imagine. Together we will create an incredible daughter. We will create a daughter who is destined to be the bride of a prince’s son. Ciro’s son.”

  “I’m glad,” Keelia said, even though Maccus’s words brought back the twitch. She found herself moving her twitching fingers from the cold ring to the warmer, oddly comforting silver band on her wrist. No, no, I’m not glad at all. Don’t touch me! Run, Joryn, run!

  But she could not utter a word of protest as Maccus escorted her back to her chair and departed so that he could inform his soldiers where and when Joryn could be found. A single tear escaped and ran down Keelia’s cheek, and then she drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep where there was no pain and not a single doubt.

  *

  “Trousers,” Sophie Varden said in a motherly one-word scold. “I traveled with Arik and your father for months during the revolution, and I never donned a man’s trousers. It’s unseemly.”

  Ariana faced her mother calmly. “I’m not only traveling, Mum, I’m fighting. Trousers make more sense.”

  At least her mother had harnessed her emotions so that they weren’t being drenched by rain. Now and then a fork of lightning lit the dark sky overhead, however.

  Ariana had often wondered what the coming days would bring, but she had never imagined this.

  Sian approached,
and Ariana tried to gently and cautiously wave her husband back. There would be a proper time for him to meet her parents, but not now.

  He ignored her, joined them, and introduced himself first to her father. “Sian Sayre Chamblyn,” he said. “Honored to meet you, sir.”

  “Kane Varden.”

  Ariana watched in horror as her father studied Sian up and dowri, his eyes finally landing on the choker Sian wore, and then flitting to her throat, where an identical choker lay against her skin. Kane Varden’s hawkish eyes narrowed.

  Ariana placed herself between Sian and her parents, taking her mother’s arm. “Personal matters can wait, and should. The country is in crisis, and I must know if Aunt Liane and her child or children survived.”

  Ariana’s mother sighed and clasped her daughter’s arm. “I never thought that old secret would come back to haunt me this way. It seemed best at the time to allow her to go, to take her children and hide herself away. Why is this important now?”

  It was best to be blunt, she knew. There was no time for making the dire news pretty and palatable. “Emperor Arik is dying. For all I know he’s already dead. He was quite ill when I left him.”

  “Your sister Sibyl is in the palace,” Sophie said.

  “Yes, I know. We’ll extract her when we warn the emperor… if he still lives ” Her parents had sent Du-ran with Ariana when she’d gone to the palace. It made sense that they had provided Sibyl with a suitable escort as well. “Which of the boys accompanied her?”

  “Bronsyn.”

  Ariana sighed in relief. Not all of her brothers had magical abilities, but if Sibyl was in immediate danger Bronsyn would know, and he would remove his sister from harm’s way. Sophie obviously shared that same thought. She shook off her maternal worry and continued.

  “Prince Ciro—”

  “Prince Ciro is lost,” Ariana interrupted. “He’s been taken over by the Isen Demon body and soul, and he himself is now a monster. If Ciro takes the throne, we are all doomed.”