Prince of Fire

by Linda Winstead Jones

  With her newly enhanced powers, could she heal the emperor? Could she save him? He’d been so ill when she’d left him, she couldn’t be certain that he was still alive. Sibyl was a talented healer. If anyone could keep him alive, it was Ariana’s little sister. Facing what his son had become would be more difficult than death, she knew, but Arik’s survival was necessary.

  Her parents’ task would, perhaps, be the most difficult. Not only did they have no idea where to search for Liane and her children, but if Ciro found out that he had elder cousins who could lay claim to the throne, none of them would be safe. In truth, no one was safe while Ciro lived.

  Hie three parties would travel together for a few days more, and then they would part company and go their separate ways. Ariana had so hoped to have Keelia’s counsel before continuing on, but she could not turn back, and she could not wait any longer in the hopes that her cousin would find her. Lyr and Duran were surely on their way to join Merin by now.

  Ariana wasn’t quite ready to face her brother, not after sending him away before telling him of her part in this war, and she didn’t know what to tell Lyr. Was he to wield the crystal dagger as she suspected? If so, they first had to find it and she had no idea where to tell him to look.

  She studied the full moon. Where was Keelia? The Anwyn Queen had her part to play in this war, and perhaps she was entrenched in her own battles at this very moment.

  While she could not know with any certainty, it made sense that Keelia’s part in the Prophesy of the Firstborn was betrayal of love. Lyr was the logical bearer of the crystal dagger, and Keelia… Keelia was capable of betrayal, of that Ariana was certain. Even as a child, Keelia had always held something of herself back. She’d been quiet and thoughtful and secretive. Not for the first time, it occurred to Ariana that the love Keelia was destined to betray might be the love for a cousin. Maybe Keelia knew she was desperately needed, but chose not to join me fight. The very idea made Ariana’s heart feel heavy.

  Betrayal in the name of victory. Of course, the prophesy had not said whose victory that betrayal would bring.

  It was late, well past midnight, but few in camp were able to sleep. As far as Ariana could see, beneath the light of the moon, fires blazed, and soldiers sharpened their swords and spoke in low tones. Merin and some of his most trusted soldiers studied maps and battle plans. Sophie Varden and her husband planned their own route of travel. They knew in which direction Liane had been traveling when she’d left Arthes, and they also knew she’d planned to get as far away from the capital city as possible. With that in mind, they made their own battle plans.

  Ariana paced alone, near enough to a blazing fire to be bathed in its light, but not so close that the heat was too overpowering. She saw Sian walking through mat light, his face stark against his long black hair and black clothing, his every move sensuous and graceful and strong.

  She did love him, so much.

  He had a determined look on his face as he approached her, and she wondered what was wrong. She didn’t have long to wait before he informed her of the reason for that resolute expression.

  “There was a preacher among the troops that joined us tonight.”

  “That’s nice,” she said. “The men will need spiritual guidance, as well as Merin’s leadership.”

  “He can also marry us.”

  “We’re already—”

  “You call me husband, I call you wife, we are bound together, yes,” Sian interrupted. “But I want it all. I want the words in front of friends and family. I want God’s blessing. I want—”

  “I want all that, too,” she said, cutting him off. “But I also want a perfect wedding day, wimout the knowledge that tomorrow is uncertain.”

  Sian placed his hand on her shoulders gently. ‘Tomorrow will always be uncertain, love. Always.”

  She knew he was right, and still something inside her wanted to hold back. “Yes, but when we say vows, I should be wearing a pretty gown, not a sloppily altered sentinel’s uniform. I should carry flowers, not a sword. I want our wedding to be perfect, Sian.”

  His face remained hard, but his eyes softened. The purple there danced with emotion and love. “No matter where we are or what you wear, it will be perfect.” He waved his hand and bathed her in enchanted purple light. Suddenly her uniform appeared to be a pretty blue dress, and the sword that hung at her side looked like a bouquet of spring flowers.

  But it wasn’t real, and she knew it too well. All she did was lift her hand in silent protest, and Sian instantly made the enchantment go away.

  “Do you love me?” he asked, only a little frustrated.

  “I do. You know I do.”

  “Did you mean it when you said that every time we love or laugh in spite of fear, the demon we’re battling grows a little weaker?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why not now? While your parents are here and we’re surrounded by men who love you and call you sister, why not now?”

  Ariana had been waiting for the perfect moment to arrive, and it struck her that in spite of her fancies of flowers and silk, perhaps this was it. Her parents were here, and so were many friends. Tomorrow might be uncertain, but tonight all was well.

  They gathered near the fire, Sian in dusty black and Ariana in battered green. She did not allow him to make the scene prettier for her or for others. No, she wanted , reality in her wedding. Not flowers, not contrived beauty, but the reality of love and commitment. Her parents and her friends, her brothers in mis war, were present. They loved her, and in the predawn hours of yet another uncertain day, she said the words that made Sian Sayre Chamblyn her husband in that one, final way.

  When the final words were spoken, a shout went up. Men who had been solemn of late laughed heartily. Ariana’s mother cried, but the tears she shed were tears of joy. Her father shook Sian’s hand, which was an improvement over wrestling him into the dirt for boldly and truthfully answering his question and revealing the nature of his relationship with an overly protected eldest daughter.

  In the midst of it all, Ariana realized that Sian had been right to remind her of the words she’d spoken when they’d been waiting for Keelia in the palace of the Anwyn Queen. The Isen Demon that infected this land fed on fear, and it trembled and weakened at the growth and declaration of true love.

  *

  17

  They ran most of the night, stopping only for water and very short periods of rest. Joryn had never thought to follow anyone while embracing the body and power of a cat, but he followed the red wolf up the mountain path without a moment’s hesitation.

  Beneath the large and brilliant moon, through feline eyes all was gray. All but Keelia. She had burnished red fur and golden eyes. She was bright and powerful, as if he saw her with another part of himself than with eyes alone.

  She was his. His Queen, his lover. His mate.

  They raced up the mountain, but they weren’t quick enough to reach camp before the sun rose. Joryn felt his body begin to change, and he had no choice but to stop and allow the natural progression of transformation to claim him. Muscles contracted and reformed. Fur retracted. Color bloomed all around, as his human eyes took the place of those of a cat. There were a few brief moments of minor pain, as always, and his progress up the mountain was halted.

  Keelia did not stop, nor did she begin the change into her human form. She remained wolf, with a wolf’s speed and agility to help her to her destination.

  A man once again, Joryn had no choice but to run on two seemingly inefficient feet. Still, his years on this mountain had acclimated him to the steep and rocky trails, and he continued on without a misstep, even when the red wolf he followed disappeared around a bend. On the other side of die bend was the camp where they’d left the others.

  Maccus might’ve attacked in the night, taking the others by surprise … but Joryn didn’t think so. It was possible that, like Joryn, Maccus had to be in human form to call upon his magic. He would want use of that power when confro
nting superior numbers.

  The sun was rising, which meant that Maccus was a man once more.

  And Keelia was completely out of Joryn’s sight.

  *

  Keelia realized the precise moment when the others would change; she felt it as they did—and not as they did. As always, she felt the call for change but was not commanded by it. She did not shift, nor did she pause at that important moment. Thanks to her gifts, she easily maintained the body of a wolf as she rushed toward the site where she’d left her parents and Druson last night. She knew what Maccus was capable of, and there was no time to slow down, not even when Joryn fell behind.

  She startled them all, leaping into the peaceful campsite as her mother, father, and a mumbling Druson were getting dressed in simple traveling clothes, after passing the night in their animal bodies. They were all well, seemingly. But then, she supposed she herself had seemed well enough while under the wizard’s spell.

  Then her mother smiled, recognizing her daughter as a familiar red wolf, and Keelia knew all truly was well. That smile was not touched by dark magic, not in the least. She shifted into her human body easily and quickly, startling Druson. The Caradon was accustomed to the change taking much longer than the blink of an eye.

  “Maccus lives,” Keelia said abruptly. “He’s still a danger to all of us.”

  “I told you …” Druson began.

  Juliet’s smile died. “How do you know this?” She directed her question to Keelia, ignoring the Grandfather. “And what happened when you fell? Keelia, I have so many questions, I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Begin with clothing,” Keelia’s father said. “Juliet, you have an extra frock in your pack, don’t you?”

  “Yes, yes.” Barely dressed herself, Juliet grabbed her pack and pulled out a short-skirted dark green shift. She tossed the traveling dress to Keelia, who quickly pulled it on. Her father had always possessed an oddly human need for modesty where his daughters were concerned.

  “Where’s Joryn?” Druson asked.

  “He’s coming.” Keelia smoothed the skirt of her mother’s frock. “I didn’t want to wait for him to catch up, since I did not know if Maccus would be here or not.” She looked squarely at her mother. “He’s the one who’s blocked our psychic energy.”

  “How do you know?”

  “When I was … where I went,” she said, not knowing how to explain any of this quickly, “I was unaffected by his spell. Some things which had been dark to me were illuminated. If we kill Maccus, the spell will be lifted and we’ll be able to see again. We must see, Mother. There’s a greater threat than one dark and power-hungry Caradon wizard at work, and our gifts will be needed.” Keelia had begun to believe, as she’d run during the night, that this horrible threat was the very reason for her abilities. It was not a coincidence that some in this world were born with certain gifts. The test in life came when one had to choose how—or even if—to use those gifts.

  She turned to watch the curve in the path. Joryn should be here by now, by her reckoning. Even on foot and naked, he should’ve been close behind her. She reached for him, in that way she had learned to rely upon, and for a moment she touched his mind.

  Joryn?

  Almost there. Are your parents and Druson well?

  Yes. Hurry, we have much to…

  Before she could finish, she felt the connection end. It was severed without warning, and she realized the precise moment that mental link vanished. Had Joryn unconsciously blocked her, as he had in the past? Or was something wrong? It was true, in the past their link had been most reliable in moments of crisis, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t learn to call upon it in even the most peaceful of times.

  She tried not to panic. He was very close, and she hadn’t heard a sound of alarm or a scuffle of stones from the path. If he’d fallen, she would’ve heard.

  But if Maccus had been lying in wait…

  Keelia turned and ran back the way she’d come, but she didn’t get far. The Caradon wizard walked calmly around the bend, a length of Joryn’s hair grasped in his hand as he dragged the unconscious man along, the other hand closed tight, obviously clenching something. Maccus wore a long purple robe and a small leather sack which hung at his waist. That damned medallion, dented and with a cracked stone at its center, hung against his chest.

  “If you want this one to live awhile longer, you’ll remain very still. All of you,” he said calmly. Much too calmly, considering the odds. Four to one. Five, if Joryn awoke. Keelia looked down at Joryn’s face as Maccus moved closer. He wasn’t dead, but the rise and fall of his chest was weak and uncertain.

  Her father took a step forward. “You assume that I care about this Caradon who has dared to touch my daughter. Kill him. See if I so much as flinch when he dies.”

  “Father!” Keelia admonished. Joryn had leapt off a cliff to save her, and her parents had been here to witness that act. How could they be so careless with his life?

  “We need him,” Druson mumbled. “We still need Joryn.”

  “I don’t need him.” Ryn rushed forward, and the wizard calmly lifted his hand. He whispered a curt word in the ancient language of the wizards as he tossed a handful of sand into her father’s face. Ryn dropped in his tracks, instantly and completely unconscious.

  Maccus reached into the pouch that hung from his waist and grabbed another small handful of the sand. Keelia recognized it as that which she’d used to draw a map to lead Maccus’s men to Joryn’s hiding place, when she’d been in his command. No wonder he had gasped when she’d tossed it onto the table. The seemingly ordinary sand was a powerful weapon.

  “Anyone else?” Maccus asked calmly. “What must happen here can be accomplished with all of you senseless, or even dead. I would prefer to wait until tonight, when the moon rises again, but if I must kill you all now…”

  “Won’t kill the Queen,” Druson mumbled. “Need her. Need her. Better to be dead.”

  Maccus glanced at the rambling man, annoyance etched on his face. “Who are you?”

  “No one,” Keelia said, stepping between the wizard and the Grandfather. “Surely you can see that he’s not right in the head. Ignore him. I’m the one you need to speak with. What do you want, Maccus?”

  The wizard dragged Joryn farther into the camp, carelessly dropping the limp body near Ryn’s. Maccus’s attention was on Keelia, so he barely noticed when Juliet ran to the two unconscious men and dropped to her knees. Keelia could see the relief on her mother’s face, and she knew both men were alive. For now.

  “I want everything, love,” Maccus answered. “Power. Fortune. Immortality. And you.”

  Keelia wished she’d had more time in the world in-between, where her powers had worked as they should. The few minutes she’d been there had been filled with bursts of information, but she simply hadn’t been there for very long. If she understood all that was to come, maybe she’d know how to stop Maccus.

  One thing she did know: All his magic was in the things he wielded, not within himself. The sand, the medallion, the stones he had enchanted… stones she had destroyed. The only way she could defeat him was to make sure he was stripped of his implements.

  Behind her, Druson mumbled, “Take his heart, take his head. Let them stay not together.”

  Maccus either did not hear the lowly spoken words, or else he had already dismissed the mumbling man as insignificant.

  But Keelia knew that her mother heard. Juliet’s head came up slowly, and she caught her daughter’s eye before nodding once. They knew what they had to do. Could they accomplish the feat with the strongest members of their party insensible?

  *

  Maccus kept a close eye on his prisoners. His mistake last night, in assuming the redhead and the blond were Keelia and Joryn, was an understandable one. Apparently the Queen and her lover had spent the night beneath the full moon elsewhere, not in the camp with her parents and the odd, muttering fool. Since Keelia’s father did not care for his daughter’s lov
er, it was understandable that the couple might make their own camp in another place.

  Even in their human form, mother and daughter favored. Keelia was more petite, and her hair was silkier, but there was a resemblance. Of course, Keelia’s powers were much stronger than her mother’s. Only the current Queen had the ability to maintain her woman’s shape when the full moon rose.

  With the proper spell and the Isen Demon’s assistance, it was a power Maccus could steal when the time came. When he shifted into his animal form, his magic was silent. He had tried many different spells and enchantments to fix that failing, but nothing had worked thus far. Once his child was growing in Keelia and she was under his bewitchment again, he would re-create the enchantment that had called his servants to him. Just a few nights ago he had planned to join his soldiers in that enhanced state where he would be part human and part cat, so that he would always have the power of die animal and die magic of the man. But if he could steal Keelia ‘s power, he would not need to embrace that sometimes painful change. He could have it all.

  He looked at the two who remained unconscious. Those two strong men would be the first of his servants this time. They would wear the amulets which connected them to him, and they would become creatures which Keelia called monsters, and they would worship him. The mother, too. She would be next. He liked the idea of owning the soul of a former Anwyn Queen, and he looked forward to making her his servant in all ways. How interesting it would be to have both mother and daughter at his command.

  It was necessary that Keelia wear the blood of her lover when they wed, but it was not necessary mat she shed all of the Caradon’s blood. If Maccus had still had his soldiers, men he’d have insisted on the death of the Queen’s lover, but since he was in need of new servants, a less drastic bloodletting would suffice for now.