JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING BOOK I: MY SISTER'S KEEPER

by JANRAE FRANK

  "They came for me," Aejys said. "I doubt you will be in danger once I leave."

  "Perhaps. Perhaps not," Keikero said. "Still, when you come this way again, we will be secure. I spoke to my God and in a week's time there will be blue gryphons nesting in the caves above the monastery."

  "Blues!" Aejys was impressed, "I have never seen one. Gryphons, yes. But Blues? No."

  They were the rarest gryphons. According to legend, one day the God Willodarus was walking across the great plains of Murshahdi. He lay down to take a nap during the hottest part of the day. As he slept the angle of the westering sun changed until it glared full in his face. A blue gryphon flying past alighted and shielded him from the harsh sun with her wings. The grateful god put his mark upon them: a green crest atop their white-feathered heads and the gift of speech with all creatures.

  Anything the blood bears and mountain lions could not handle, the gryphons certainly could.

  "Then I am welcome to return?" Aejys asked.

  "Tut! Tut! What a question! Of course, old friend, you are always welcome here. The faithful of Willodarus do not yield to the threats of darkness!"

  * * * *

  Aejys remained four more days among the brothers. Most of the wounded remained behind. Those who were only lightly injured or simply stubborn, such as Eliahu, rode on with the company.

  Clemmerick and his companions retreated into the trees as Aejys' company emerged from the stone path and took the other fork. When the company had disappeared down the trail, the ogre emerged and stared down it.

  "I'm coming with you," growled a low guttural voice. Clemmerick turned to see the snow-white muzzle of Grawl poking from beneath a pine tree. The huge blood bear emerged into the light. The straps of two medicinals satchels crossed his chest and a backpack rested between his shoulder blades.

  "I invited him," Josh said, turning over in his blankets on the platform suspended from the side of the big horse.

  Clemmerick frowned. "When?"

  "First night."

  "I didn't hear you."

  "We weren't speaking common."

  Clemmerick sighed. He picked up the trailing lead rope of his horse and shrugged. "Welcome to our company, Grawl." Clemmerick was an unusually patient person, but he was beginning to feel both tired and itchy for a break in the monotony of the march. He wished he could have been there for the battle with the demons.

  "Are you Abelard?" Josh asked. "Because, if you are, I don't want you to come."

  Grawl laughed. "No. I assure you again, young mon. I am not Abelard."

  Clemmerick stared at Josh, wondering what made the bear call Josh young, for Josh looked forty at least.

  * * * *

  Isranon felt Rose stir in his bed and ran his hands over her smooth body. Having her there felt so very right. Dane's people had begun bringing her to him each night and retrieving her the next day. He had gradually begun to feel safe with her. Rose opened her eyes at his touch and arched her body, rubbing her nipples across his chest while making suggestive movements with her pelvis. Thanks to Dane's intervention, no one but he was allowed to touch Rose any longer. Isranon licked her neck and ran his fingers along the inside of her thigh, letting her wonder which he would decide on first, making the anticipation sharp inside her.

  He had awakened hard and eager, his needs as intense as his youth. The pressure in his swollen cock made him desperate to get inside her, but he held himself back. Rose wrapped her legs around his buttocks, which did not help his restraint. He wanted her to enjoy it as much as he did. His fingers found their way inside her, his thumb massaging the knob of her clit. Rose moaned. When she became wet enough to accept him without discomfort, Isranon entered with a slow, satisfying movement that pleased both of them. His thrusts deepened steadily until finally he exploded inside her and dropped onto his side, rolling away from her.

  Rose immediately nestled closer. Isranon nuzzled her neck. His awareness swept into her mind, coloring it with rainbows. He was learning to give her pleasure there too as he fed. Isranon had begun to embrace more fully the aspects of his powers as sa'necari because of his desire to give her pleasure and his desire to protect her. He would still not cross the line, but he would do small things. Rose gave a small gasp of pain when his fangs entered, that never seemed to change, then moaned softly as if caught in a fresh orgasm as Isranon fed.

  CHAPTER NINE. DRAWN SWORDS AT DAWN

  On the night of the autumn equinox, the same day that Laeoli's body washed up on the shores of the Arris River, Ladonys died. For weeks she had been getting stronger and then suddenly she was gone. Sonden sat by her bedside, staring long at her face as lividity set in. He held her chill wrist in his hands, searching again through her dead body for what had killed her, but still could not find it.

  Sonden laid her wrist beside her, drawing the coverlet over her face again. He could hear Maranya weeping in the far corner. Sonden forced himself to breath deeply, steadying himself, and then he met Soren's eyes. "They killed her," he said, "but by my God, I cannot find how they did it." Are our enemies within the temples themselves? he asked himself, feeling deeply chilled by the thoughts. He remembered the strange death of Laeoli's wynderjyn, how not even the barns in the lower valleys near the sacred high meadows seemed safe any longer. Was there any safety left anywhere in the realm? He decided then that he would bring his readers and mages together, read them himself to confirm both their humanity and loyalty, and then begin a systematic search through the temples for spies, traitors and shifters. However they were reaching out to murder people and creatures, he would find them and stop them.

  "Then they will kill us all," Soren replied, looking to her sobbing grandchild.

  Sonden followed her gaze. "No. I will not allow that."

  "How, Most Holy Lord, can you prevent it? They will worry that Ladonys told us things ... whatever they can imagine that makes us a threat."

  "There is one place in all the realm that even they cannot reach. At dawn I'm sending you all with an escort to the High Meadows. It's a rough place to spend the winter..." he tried to smile, failing miserably. "You'll all be safe there. The ground is too holy and warded even for them..."

  Soren nodded thoughtfully. "We'll be ready to ride."

  * * * *

  Dane accompanied Mephistis onto the bluffs where the prince had horses waiting. Five sa'necari and ten guardsmyn waited there. Mephistis was keeping rendezvous with some of his Sharani allies, whom he did not wish to become aware of his citadel beneath Dragonshead. Many things could go wrong in Mephistis' absence. Sa'necari ruled as much by power as by allegiances which could prove as unsubstantial as a wraith of dreams.

  "You should take Isranon with you."

  "I have no desire to expose him to these converts of mine," Mephistis replied, taking the reins in hand and mounting his horse. "Nor they to him. I need to feel them out further without distractions such as Isranon produces. Several of them are Sharani males who do not appreciate the females holding all the power in these lands. They must see how powerful we are, and united. Isranon is neither of those. Of course, those who are already completely changed by the rites no longer have a choice in aiding me. Should the Sharani discover what they have become, they would burn them alive. But there are others to be influenced."

  "It is not Isranon who causes those distractions," Dane protested.

  Mephistis disregarded that. "Margren has promised to leave him alone in my absence. I leave it to you to keep him alive should anything else threaten."

  "And you seriously believe that she will?"

  "Margren knows the price of disobedience." Mephistis turned his horse and rode away.

  Dane's fingers curled into fists at his side. "So be it." Then he stalked off in the direction of entrance into the citadel.

  * * * *

  Concealed amid the foliage of low hanging branches of an aging oak, Margren and Bodramet watched Mephistis depart and Dane return to the citadel.

  "The price of di
sobedience..." Margren growled. "He beats me."

  Bodramet shrugged. "All true sa'necari beat their wives, mei ajan. It is nothing.

  Seeing that she would get no sympathy there, Margren's mouth tightened and then twisted into a snarl. "He loves the youth more than me. Isranon is stealing Mephistis from me."

  Bodramet allowed a tiny turn at the corner of his lips. "So it would seem. Now that is something I would be concerned about. That one is an abomination. It stains the prince's honor to couple with him."

  Margren stiffened, her eyes going wide. "Are you suggesting that Mephistis has made the youth his lover?"

  Bodramet grinned ferally. "You put it so delicately, Lady Margren. The youth is fine to look upon. Most of our people, because of our blood appetites, are sexually indiscriminant. What else could it be? I have had my eye upon him, myself. As have many others. But the youth is so arrogant, he refuses to allow anyone save Mephistis and Dane to ride his ass."

  "I hate him."

  "You should. Do you fully understand why we call him half-a-mon?" Bodramet waited for her answer and slipped his arm around her shoulders.

  "Because he will not participate in the rites?"

  "You are very close. Because he refuses to participate in one rite in particular. We can smell its absence on it. See it in his eyes. Mortgiefan. He has never taken a life in the rites. He should have taken his first life at thirteen. Until he has sheathed himself in a ritually dying body, he will never attain his adult powers."

  "But then, how am I to..."

  "There are ways for the female to do it. More complex than the males, but still ways. I assume you haven't yet?"

  "Not yet. Mephistis promised when he returned that he would take me through the final step."

  "And that would be mortgiefan. If the prince would not recognize the signs, I would take you there myself in the rites. But I dare not cross him there. However, lovely one, there are other things I can teach you while he is away. Tell me, do you play nibble games, Margren?"

  "No. I mean not yet." Margren allowed her fangs to descend, experiencing a heady exultation at their presence.

  Bodramet stroked her face. "Lovely. To feel your fangs in me and mine in yours... Let me be your first. Let me teach you." He moved closer until he stood with his body pressed against hers, looking down into her eyes.

  Margren shivered and her loins grew wet with longing. A tingling ran along her tongue and down her throat. "Yes."

  Bodramet wrapped his arms around her and took her down amid the trees.

  * * * *

  Aejys' band made cold camp each night after leaving the monastery. They were descending now through a chain of narrow, deep-sided valleys and gorges. There were fewer pine and spruce, more maple and oak with a scattering of yew and hickory. Brundarad kept finding orc spoor, but no orcs. So Aejys thought it best to not advertise their presence with a fire. She also had them again picket their horses among the tents, scattered and at easy hand to their riders. A favorite orc tactic was to strike at the horses when they were picketed together in a group. Orcs did not ride horses, they ate them. More to the point, a soldier on foot was at a disadvantage against the wolf riding shock troops of the orcish cavalry.

  They turned down an easier way through mountain glades of pine and rowan. The moon rose high. They camped beside another of the innumerable mountain streams. Tamlestari now shared Aejys' tent. They had taken Cassana's sword and other personal belongings, stowing them in Aejys' cedar chest. When they reached Yarrendar Aejys intended to give them to Geoa, Cassana's last surviving sister.

  Aejys turned Gwyndar over to Tamlestari when they halted for the night the third day out from the monastery. She walked over to Eliahu and helped the mage down from the wagon. He moved with the tentativeness of an old mon, trying to avoid twisting and turning that might set his back to hurting again.

  "Cold camp?" Eliahu asked.

  "Yes," Aejys answered.

  "Just as well," he said, his mouth shaping regret. "I'm not ready to start cooking yet."

  "I did not think you were." Aejys gave him a gentle touch on the shoulder. "You're a good mon, Eli. When we reach Vallimrah and can sit and talk without watching for what my sister is throwing at us next, I want to hear your full story."

  "It's a long story, I fear," he said with one of his broad, young-old smiles.

  "That's the best kind." Aejys pulled out her pipe and leaned against the wagon, smoking.

  "Then you shall have it." Eliahu turned and started supervising his helpers as they broke out the cold rations.

  A hand suddenly snaked out and snagged the pipe from Aejys' mouth.

  Tamlestari grinned up at her impishly, taking a drag from the pipe and waiting for a reaction.

  Aejys lifted an eyebrow with the tiniest of askance smiles. "Thief."

  "Only with you."

  "You take my bed, my blankets, my heart and now my pipe. Where will it end?"

  "As long as you let me? Nowhere."

  "Is there something you should be doing?"

  "I'm waiting for Eliahu," she said seriously, "I want to take his clothes off."

  "What?" Aejys exclaimed.

  The impishness returned to Tamlestari's face. "I need to change his bandages."

  Aejys' voice went soft and very low so that only Tamlestari could hear. "You know what he is?"

  Tamlestari nodded. "About four days now. If either of you want people to know you'll tell them. It isn't my place to blab. Whatever a Reader discovers is private."

  Aejys retrieved her pipe. As she moved off to check the rest of her myn, she savored the warm feeling that Tamlestari left her with. Although by Sharani standards she was still quite young, a mere forty-two, the weight of responsibility had her feeling worn out like a middle-aged woman. Tamlestari reminded Aejys that she was still young, that there was still life to be enjoyed.

  * * * *

  Six weeks pregnant, Juldrid sat in a patch of sunlight, leaning against a bit of standing wall, her fingers picking desultorily at the strings of her mandolin. Just days into pregnancy she had taken to wearing loose robes and they were always black. She had ordered Margren's seamers to make her several of them. Then they had argued over her choice of color.

  "You dress and act like you're in mourning!" Margren shouted.

  "I am," Juldrid replied softly, staring at the far wall of their bedroom, doing everything in her power not to let Margren's presence or words touch her.

  "Well, that's foolish! You should be happy. We've wanted this child for years."

  "You and he ... you raped me, Margren..." she said still softer, more distant. " He's still ... still..."

  "Don't be silly. You like it that way and you know it." Margren stroked her head and Juldrid flinched. "I've half a mind to send for him now just to prove it!"

  "No! Please," Juldrid pulled away, "don't. I'm mourning for you, Margren, for the gentle person you used to be..."

  "Oh, for Hell's Sake!" Margren hissed, turning away, then whipping back again to strike Juldrid hard in the face with her fist. "Get the hell out of here. Find yourself another place to sleep."

  Juldrid fled, a hand to her bleeding face where Margren's rings had cut her.

  She picked out a sad, bittersweet melody, singing softly to herself. A large furry black cat rubbed against her, drawing her attention from her song. She stroked the cat for several minutes, then began to play again.

  The cat moved away, its form misting, changing. Soon a small, delicate young woman sat there, her head in her hands, elbows propped on her knees. Her large green, cat's eyes regarded Juldrid with concern. "You should have gotten that treated," the catkin said, reaching out to stroke the scabbed over wounds on Juldrid's face. "It's going to scar, you know ... if you don't let a healer fix it."

  "Let it."

  "Margren loves you," Hah'nah said, stroking Juldrid's face. Several more catkin in their cat forms emerged from hiding places, purring softly, and rubbing against them.

  "Do
n't say that!" Juldrid said sharply, her hands dropping from her mandolin in mid-chord. The catkins purred louder, rubbing more insistently.

  The little shifter sighed wistfully. "They could have taken me like that and I would have enjoyed it..."

  "That's you, Hah'nah," Juldrid replied, her fingers reaching again for a chord.

  "Let me comfort you," Hah'nah drew close, rubbing herself against Juldrid.

  Juldrid drew away. "If Margren catches us ... you'll die..." she lifted two catkins from her lap, the little shifters had begun to lick every patch of exposed skin they could reach.

  "It's my watch. No one comes up unless I call now that the two guildsmyn are dead."

  Tears started in Juldrid's eyes: she had known one of them. The pair must have thought they had gotten away, but they had been followed home and slain. They used to come to court with their ma'aram to visit Ladonys, which was how Juldrid met them. Then Hah'nah was kissing her hungrily, making her forget for a moment what Margren had done to her life.

  * * * *

  Hanadi rode point with Brundarad ranging freely ahead of her. He had failed to find the main body of the orc troops and she now held him closer. Aejys led the rest of her forces a short distance behind her.

  Jaqui rode the point now beside Hanadi. The wind changed and Jaqui drew rein, her head lifted high, sniffing. "Orcs! They have come in down wind of us!" Jaqui clapped her horn to her lips and blew a hard blast.

  A second later Brundarad's high-pitched howl of alarm echoed ahead of them. Hanadi settled her shield and couched her lance. "Brundarad shall have a fine breakfast."

  Aejys led a charge to reinforce the point. A shower of arrows came down. Shields lifted to take them, but already several mercenaries and assassins had fallen. Then the orcs charged down on them with a wild cry and the barrage ceased.

  Aejys slashed down at her attackers. Tamlestari rode close at her side as they tried to force their way out of the ambush. She turned Gwyndar and tried to reach her. In the moment of distraction a wolvesmyn plunged his mount between the horsemyn. His spear slammed Aejys' left side, unhorsing her. She crashed hard into the branches of an evergreen and struck the ground, her lance flying from her hand. The links of her dwarf forged hauberk held. Instantly her companions closed ranks around her. Briarmottë's mount pirouetted tightly and his sword cleaved the head from Aejys' attacker. Aejys staggered to her feet, grabbed the pommel, and swung back into the saddle. She heard alarm ripple through the ranks. They had seen her fall, but not seen her rise. Aejys pulled the horsetail helmet from her head, casting it away so they could see her face. "Hell shitting damnation! Hold that line and fall back to the wagons! Johannes take charge! Jeord! To me!"