by Darian Smith
Brannon stared at the man claiming to be Claydan. There was a definite resemblance. He looked very much as Aldan had at that age, but perhaps softer in the face. Aldan had always grown his beard whereas this young man had none.
“Hooded bullshit,” Draeson said at last. “You're messing with us. Claydan and his mother were killed during the war. If you'd had him all this time you could have returned him to Kalanon at any time for a huge reward. Why would you keep him? And why would you take Tommy now?”
Claydan seemed to deflate. He stared at his feet.
“Why, for you, dear magus.” Kreegin gave a mocking little bow. “I don't think you realize how lucky Kalanon is to have its very own dedicated mage. Other mages may switch alliances or simply disappear for centuries but there you are, steady as a rock for four hundred years. Don't you think I'd like loyalty like that? I could do a lot with a mage on my team.” He winked.
Draeson snorted. “Like you said, I'm loyal to Kalanon. Kidnapping and murder don't win my favors.”
“Ah, but they will.” The Father of Starlight sneered. “I know all about you, magus. I know what you need for that creature on your arm. I know what keeps you alive. It's what Tomidan and Claydan both have running through their veins: Royal blood. Cast your little spell, make sure he's the true heir. I don't mind.”
Brannon felt a chill that raised the hairs on his arm. No one outside a select few in the royal family knew about the mage's bargain with their bloodline. “You think capturing two princes will make Draeson work for you?”
“He means to breed more,” Claydan whispered. “He tried it with me. I . . . stopped it.”
Brannon frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Mud was always a rebellious child,” the Father of Starlight said, his jaw tight. “Taran can tell you that. I wanted to make him one of us but he resisted our training. So I took him from the rest and gave him a good life—pampered, really. His only duty was to spread his seed and build up the bloodline in our little community. But when he realized my plan he made sure he couldn't father any children. Nearly died, didn't you, Mud? Hooded fool.”
“It was worth it.” Claydan's eyes burned with hatred. “You should have seen your face.”
Horror filled Brannon as he realized what Claydan had done to protect his country. What he'd sacrificed to ensure Draeson, the most dangerous weapon in the Kalan arsenal, could not be turned against them. His eyes widened as he realized what Kreegin's plan was for Tommy.
“The royal line is dwindling, magus,” Kreegin taunted. He traced the tip of his dagger down Tomidan's collarbone. “Even now, my people in Alapra are removing your king. But here . . . oh here you can have all you need. Bleed Claydan all you want for now, since a eunuch is no use for anything else. And in a few years, Tomidan will be a fine stud horse. The only source of royal blood will be here and your loyalty will be to me.”
Draeson stood perfectly still, his fists clenched. The dragon tattoo was stretched up his temple and across his left eyebrow.
Brannon worried about how the mage would react. The power at Draeson's command could be devastating. The mage had always been loyal to Kalanon but how much of that was love for the country and how much was self-preservation? His connection to the bloodline was what kept Draeson immortal. Kreegin's plan was sound. He who controlled the king, controlled the mage. He pushed his worry about the Father of Starlight's threat to Aldan out of his mind. If there was an assassin going after the king in Alapra, there was nothing Brannon could do about it now. His best option was to distract and delay until the right opportunity presented itself. He slipped the pack from his back and dropped it to the floor. “You've been planning this for a long time. Tommy's just a boy. You could have waited until he was older.” He glanced at Ula and hoped she was ready.
“We were going to Alapra for Taran anyway and I want a mage.” Kreegan touched the opal at his throat. “Two birds with one stone. I've waited long enough.”
“What if we fight you?”
“Then you'll lose.”
Brannon shrugged. “Are you sure about that? We do have the mage on our side and you need Tomidan alive for your plan to work so your earlier threat to kill him was hollow.” He said it as much to remind Draeson as for anything else.
The Father of Starlight stepped away from the prince. “Once again, Sir Brannon, you impress me. But did you really think I wouldn't have planned with that in mind?” He pointed the tip of the knife in Brannon's direction as he strode toward Darnec. “I might not be able to kill the prince but your friends are utterly expendable.” He reversed his grip on the dagger and swung his arm toward Darnec.
“No!” Brannon lunged forward but the distance was too great.
The knife sank into Darnec's chest. The apprentice gasped and sagged against the post, his eyes wide as blood soaked through his shirt.
Rage filled Brannon. “Why did you do that?” But he knew why. This man, this Father of Starlight, was nothing more than a bully and a murderer. He kidnapped children and tortured them until they became killers. He'd murdered an entire boat crew and put the city at risk with his insects just for the sake of some gold. And he'd taken not one but two of Kalanon's heirs in his twisted play for power.
Kreegin smirked. “You'll learn who is in charge in my House, Sir Brannon.”
“Oh, but I don't belong to your House,” Brannon said, his voice low and dangerous. “What you've done are acts of war. And in wartime, I'm not Brannon Kesh. I'm Bloodhawk.”
Kreegin's smirk vanished. “Fine. Do it the hard way. But you're not leaving here with that child.”
Before Brannon could reply, he heard the crackle of lightning as Draeson summoned his magic and sent the blast hurtling toward the leader of the assassins. Kreegin ducked just in time and the lightning smashed into the wall, shattering several of the glass blocks. The other Children of Starlight surrounded their leader, forming a human shield.
Brannon ran to Darnec. The young man was pale but still breathing. His pulse was strong but there was a lot of blood. “You're going to be okay,” Brannon said, putting as much reassurance into his voice as he could. He rolled the lower part of Darnec's tunic up to where the wound was and pressed the fabric tight to staunch the bleeding. He tucked it between Darnec's back and the post to try to hold the makeshift dressing in place. The pressure wasn't good but it was better than nothing. “We'll have you out of here in no time.”
Darnec gave a weak smile and coughed. “Sure.”
A magical wind blew through Brannon and he felt a tug at his insides as Ula released her magic. He'd experienced it before in the battle at Sandilar, but this felt a little different. Her touch was soft but firm, the hook of it more sure. He was glad he wasn't the target of her power.
The Risen swayed on their feet as the magic clawed at the kaluki inside them.
The Djin man, Shool, hissed and unfolded his arms. “Gool na tok, kaluki,” he spat. The inner wind died and the Risen steadied. “You forget, Ula, I be prior too. We be evenly matched.”
Ula's power flowed through the room again, but again Shool blocked it.
“Why are you doing this?” Ula called. “They stole a child!”
Shool's face twisted. “I make necessary bargain to ensure the abominations you made are removed from this world,” he said. “I choose bite from smallest shark.”
Ula shook her head at him. “You wrong.”
Brannon frowned. Abominations? Shool meant him and Ylani. Ula had told him he would continue to have extra strength around Risen. Presumably Ylani's gifts would be increased by their presence as well. Perhaps that was why she knew to hide rather than following him into this trap. If it were true, there could be hope for them yet.
He looked at the nearest Risen. The man was easily Brannon's height and build. He'd have been a challenge when alive, let alone as a Risen. Brannon'd had trouble enough with just Fressin. Now there were five of them. He took a deep breath and willed the extra power of the earth spirits into his
muscles. He'd have one chance for the element of surprise. If it didn't work there would be no other.
He glanced at Draeson. The mage held a crackling ball of lightning in his hand once more but seemed uncertain where to throw it.
“Draeson! This one!” Brannon pointed to his selected Risen.
The mage hurled the bolt of power and it struck the Risen in the face. The smell of singed flesh filled the room and the Risen screamed and clawed at his eyes.
Brannon took advantage of the creature's distraction. He lowered his shoulder and charged, using his own body as a battering ram. He hit the Risen's chest with as much force as he could and shoved.
The burnt body flew across the room and slammed into Shool. The Djin and blinded Risen smashed into the wall, a tangled heap of flailing limbs.
“Now, Ula!”
The Djin woman was already working her magic, moving quickly while her fellow prior was distracted. Brannon felt the wind inside him once more and turned to see whatever force had been animating the Risen who held Taran captive, pulled from its body. Taran and the Risen both slumped to the floor in a motionless tangle.
“You're fools to attack me,” Kreegin shouted. “No one leaves here without my permission. No one!”
“We'll see about that,” Brannon muttered. After all, Taran had done it before. He focused his attention on the remaining Risen. They moved in unison toward him. The strength the earth spirits had given him helped against one of their number but he didn't trust it would keep him safe against four.
“Brannon!” Ylani's voice rang loud in the chamber. “Catch!”
The Nilarian ambassador had snuck into the room during the distraction. She still had her pack but now she held a long sword and scabbard which she sent sliding across the floor toward him. Brannon scooped it up and drew it free of the scabbard in one swift motion. The hilt was gilded with hawks. The blade shone in the firelight. It was the Nilarian steel sword she'd offered him in her apartment. The one he'd refused.
“It's a gift,” she shouted. “Use it!”
He swung it at the nearest of the Risen as the creature reached out to grab him. The blade sliced through the forearm, severing it all the way through. The Risen's hand fell to the floor. There was no way it would heal that.
Brannon smiled. It was good to have a Nilarian sword again. The weapon felt second nature to him after so many years with his previous weapon but, unlike that one, this blade was forged for him and had none of the heavy guilt the old one had carried. He spun and weaved the blade, testing it even as he used the movement of the sharp edges to keep the Risen back. It was good.
A blast of lightning from Draeson struck the assassin in the shoulder, spinning it around.
Brannon swung the sword again and this time it was the Risen's head that fell to the floor. The body twitched and lurched, still animated by the kaluki within but losing strength as it was forced to use what remained of its power to maintain its vessel despite the mortal wound. Ula's chanting grew louder and the struggling kaluki was pulled out and banished. The decapitated corpse fell to the floor.
“That's two gone and one blinded, Kreegin,” Brannon called to the Father of Starlight. “How about we call it a day and you let us take our people and go?”
Kreegin sneered. “A deer sometimes kicks a wolf in the pack that kills her. It doesn't change the outcome of the hunt. I have a House full of assassins surrounding you and a graveyard's worth of Risen. You won't escape.”
Brannon turned to see the Djin back on his feet and chanting. Risen strode through the doors on either side of him like an army of giant soldier ants. A graveyard's worth? The stories of the Djin had always focused on the possibility of them raising an army of undead fighters. How many assassin-trained Risen had Shool raised for the Father of Starlight? They couldn't allow him to let them all loose. “Draeson! Aim for Shool!”
“No!” Ula shouted. “Risen all tethered to him! If he die, they no under control!”
More of the Risen filled the room, swallowing up their master like an oozing, viscous tide.
“Blood and Tears,” Brannon swore. “Ula, can you put them down?”
She was rummaging in her pack, pulling out jars of dirt and chaff. “Not all at once. It take time. He fight me.”
“We don't have time,” muttered Draeson. He shot a bolt of lightning into the advancing Risen. One of them fell but the rest kept coming.
Ylani helped Taran to his feet. She held a flask to his lips. Brannon had no idea where she'd stolen it from but it had to be the stardust elixir. The priest's eyes widened as he gulped the liquid down.
Brannon swung his sword at the ropes binding Darnec to the post and they split. Darnec slid to the ground. “Put pressure on your wound,” Brannon told him.
Darnec didn't respond.
Two of the Risen lunged at Brannon and he thrust his blade at the throat of one, letting the momentum carry his elbow into the face of the other. They both stumbled back from the force of his extra strength. Another ducked into the gap to take their place. Her face was still partly decayed but she moved like a snake and held a dagger in each hand. A stinging line of red scored Brannon's forearm before he dodged her blow.
Another ball of lightning crackled past his shoulder and exploded into the crowd of Risen. They scattered like fallen dominoes but climbed back to their feet almost as fast, burnt flesh knitting back into place as they did.
More of them were pressing close now. They smelled of death and sand. So far they had taken it in turns to attack him, like a pack of dogs passing a toy between them as a game. But Brannon knew it wouldn't be long before they tired of it. Or Shool or Kreegin did so and ordered them to finish it. He'd lost count of how many adversaries there were now. Not all of them were Risen, he was sure of that. Many living Children of Starlight had also filtered into the room to watch, their skin healthy and hydrated with life but their eyes just as devoid of pity. Even with his augmented strength, Brannon knew he would survive only moments when he was surrounded.
“Draeson and I will hold them back as long as we can,” Brannon called out to his friends behind him. “The rest of you take Tommy and get out of here!”
Ula huffed. She was closer than he'd expected. “I stay. You not control Risen. That for me to do.”
“Yeah, I don't think your king would appreciate me going home without you,” Ylani muttered. She hefted the backpack she carried onto the floor and fumbled with the lacings.
“Not yet.” Brannon shook his head. “Ahpra save us.” He ducked a blow and cut the legs out from under his attacker. The blood was old and dark.
Ula's power blew through him once more and one of the Risen collapsed. It seemed Shool was less able to block her with the sheer number of possible targets in the room or perhaps he no longer felt it was necessary. Having unleashed his undead army, he simply stood back and allowed them to do their work.
The Father of Starlight, however, crept closer, a rapt expression on his face as he watched his plans come to fruition.
Tomidan screamed and Brannon spun to see a Risen closing in on him.
“Don't hurt the boy,” Kreegin snarled. “I need him and the mage alive. The rest you can kill.”
The Risen all surged forward, a beast with many heads, lashing out with limbs and weapons as they went. Brannon fought them, slashing and shoving with his Nilarian sword and his spirit-given strength, but the numbers were too great.
Risen swarmed around Draeson, using their bodies to contain his blasts.
Another of them fell to Ula's power before, despite Brannon's efforts to keep her shielded, a Risen pushed past him and clubbed her to the floor.
Brannon lashed out with his sword to cut the Risen down before he could strike the Djin woman again, but several more attacked him from behind, their blows to his back and legs like hammers in a smithy. His knees gave way and struck the hard floor in a burst of pain. Booted feet kicked him but he managed to stay upright, reversed his sword and stabbed it behind
him into the body of a Risen. But more pushed past.
Ylani tipped the contents of her backpack into Taran's arms. A chunk of ice the size of a breadbox.
Taran's eyes widened. “It's real?”
Ylani didn't stop to answer. She stepped between Ula and the oncoming Risen, a small knife in her hand.
The Risen and living assassins were shouting and jeering, already celebrating their victory. Tomidan's sobs lanced through their voices like a scalpel through infected flesh.
A knife stabbed into Brannon's shoulder and his arm went numb. The sword dropped from his fingers. Ribbons of pain slashed down his back as he was cut again. He shoved at his attackers but the strength of the spirits was not enough. Master Jordell's words about Roydan's execution rang in his memory: “You're cutting away infection to save the country.” This time the infection was the entire House of the Children of Starlight. He would have cut them away to save the world. If some healthy tissue was lost in the process, so be it.
Undead hands gripped his arms and pushed him down, but Brannon hauled himself to his feet. He saw Brother Taran, his face pale but his eyes clear. He knew what he held in his hands. He knew what it would mean. “Do it!” Brannon yelled. “Draeson, now!”
Taran turned and hurled the chunk of ice from the backpack at Kreegin.
The Father of Starlight caught it as a reflex and stared. The surface of the ice was clouded with frost, still magically frozen despite the desert heat. “What is this?”
Then the mage's magic touched it. The ice turned to mist and drifted away, revealing a chunk of flesh that had been trapped within the ice: the severed forearm of a sailor who had been murdered for transporting gold.
The flesh of the arm bubbled and writhed, then split open to reveal the black body and green wings of a goela wasp.
Kreegin dropped the arm and stumbled backward. “No!” he said. “No! You'll kill us all!”
The voices of the Children of Starlight and their Risen fell silent.