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

by JANRAE FRANK

  * * * *

  Dane walked deeper into corridor, kneeling now and again to scratch notations on the paper he carried. There had been several enormous soul vaults in Dragonshead during the years of the first godwar, long before the present Pantheon of the Light came, before the sa'necari existed, before the lineages of vampires now existent had been created. Dane knew, because he had been there. He had spent centuries slumbering beneath a fallen building before waking when the debris was disturbed. His God wanted the contents of the soul vaults before the sa'necari could stumble on them or the Trickster find them. Although the Trickster was of the light, Dane's God considered her almost as dangerous as those who served the hellgods. Dane allowed the dark ones to make their own guesses about what he was. Rumor and ignorance were his favorite tools and had served him well. His liege-god was Ishla the Tinkerer, only survivor of the original pantheon, who had summoned the eight other gods from across the void to defeat the hellgods. She had a penchant for creating creatures that mimicked the creatures of darkness to infiltrate their ranks, match their powers and destroy them. Her peoples were scattered and few in numbers, still finding themselves again, but they served her faithfully. Dane was certain the Trickster had spies here also, although he had failed to discover them.

  "Dane!"

  He glanced back and saw several of his people running toward him. He met them, catching one who stumbled to his knees. "What has happened?"

  "The sa'necari killed Corcyr and Rhium. They took Rose."

  "Margren declared an orgy," added another of Dane's folk.

  "Come on." Dane started back. "They're using Rose to get Isranon."

  * * * *

  Dane found his second in command standing at the edges of the orgy with five other of his folk. The vampires had established themselves within the mouth of the open corridor at the edge of the great hall to hold a direction for retreat should it become necessary. They watched the spectacle of the youth's struggle, their faces a mix of anger and indignation. Blood mad vampires were the first to be discovered, tracked to their lairs and destroyed by the humans and their allies. For that reason the vampires, especially the royals like Dane's group tended to destroy their rogues as the first sign of it. The sa'necari, on the other hand, seemed to all gripped by the blood-madness. Having their own realm, they had become too habituated to simply taking what they wished to.

  A good two spear-widths separated them from the sa'necari who seemed to have not yet noticed their presence. They murmured uneasily amongst themselves as Dane arrived just minutes after Isranon had passed the midway point. The youth was in pain, but moving stubbornly forward.

  "He has nerve." Dane said, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "He is a better mon than the rest of them."

  "Of a mon twice his years and experience," answered one of Dane's companions.

  "He makes it. Mark my words," said one of them. "He makes it."

  "Bodramet will simply kill him."

  "They're supposed to let them both go. That's the rules," replied another.

  "Have you ever known sa'necari to play by the rules?" Dane asked.

  "There's nothing we can do. They outnumber us," said another. "Filthy death-eaters."

  "Margren was here a moment ago," said another. "She's vanished now."

  Dane nodded, stroking his sword hilt. "We'd never reach him. I'll not waste your lives for nothing. We can pay some of them back before we leave here." Dane's hand tightened on his sword's hilt until his knuckles whitened.

  Isranon's body jerked, his shoulders arching backwards and Dane's second cursed. "They stuck him! Damn it, they stuck him."

  Four yards from Bodramet, Isranon went down again and the vampires cursed.

  "He would have made it... He would have if they'd kept their blades out of him!"

  Bodramet laughed at Isranon as the Dark Brother forced himself up again.

  "Dane!" Hekatarys came up to them. "The prince is on the bluffs. He returned early."

  Hope lifted the corners of Dane's eyes and eased the grim set to his mouth. "I'm going to fetch him. Watch and remember." Dane ran down the hallway.

  Finally Isranon got within two yards of them only to be dragged down and this time he did not get up. Dane's vampires started to rush out, but his second stopped them.

  "There is nothing we can do, but die. Let us hope Dane returns quickly with Mephistis."

  Rose began to weep as Bodramet shoved her to her knees beside Isranon's still body. Isranon lay in a huddled, unmoving ball, his blades inches from his nerveless fingers. He bled from many wounds. Bodramet touched him and found some waning life remaining. "You chose the wrong sa'necari," he told her. "Bring him. I will finish this in my chambers."

  Bodramet shoved Rose at two others. Troyes and Gareth dragged her away.

  * * * *

  Dane reached the bluffs atop Dragonshead and found Mephistis and his guards dismounting in a clearing near the inner circle of the ruins. His abrupt entrance sent swords sliding from sheathes before they recognized him. Mephistis gestured for them to sheath their weapons. He turned, drew a long, wrapped object from his saddle, and started toward Dane.

  The prince had a pleased expression. "I have brought Isranon a gift for his birthday. I remembered it and returned early." Then the look in Dane's eyes registered. "What is it?"

  The bitter edge in Dane's voice was a sharp as well-honed steel. "They're making him walk the gauntlet. They're killing him." The fact that Mephistis had brought Isranon a birthday gift, made him want to weep at the image of joy lost in the desolation of death. He remembered his promise to Isranon to carry the tale of his death to Nevin. Isranon would never accept the undead state and would seek the true death if he rose – but when sa'necari killed sa'necari they did it well and their victims never rose.

  Rage suffused Mephistis' face, he gestured for the horses to be attended to and for the others to follow. "How could you allow this?"

  "I was not present. Margren called an orgy for Sowayn while I was exploring. They murdered two of my people and took Rose. Isranon went after them." Dane would miss Corcyr and Rhium, but their deaths would not hurt as much as Isranon's. They were warriors, while Isranon always seemed somehow sacrosanct. An innocence and purity would go out of the world with Isranon's death.

  Mephistis strode swiftly across the open ground to the hidden stairs leading into the bowels of Dragonshead, using his arts to increase his pace. Dane, not wanting to reveal his own abilities, ran to keep up.

  "Bodramet stands at the head with Rose in hand. There are too many for us to reach him."

  "You will not need to reach him," Mephistis snarled, his eyes glowing a deeper crimson red with building rage.

  Dane could feel the way Mephistis called his power together and the vampire felt a chill like a rake of icy claws go down his back. It had long been speculated that the Legacy of Waejonan had not passed to King Baaltrystan as it should have, but to his younger brother, Mephistis. Dane was now certain of it. Mephistis held the Legacy, which made him the most dangerous sa'necari alive. Dane's people moved aside to allow the prince passage. The first thing they saw was Isranon's huddled body laying at Bodramet's feet. Four of Bodramet's coterie reached to lift Isranon up, their hands just closing on him.

  Mephistis paused in the shadows, his lips twisted into a snarl, fangs fully extended like some incredible nightmare beast. Power danced around him in shifting patterns of flame and blood as all semblance of humanity fled his countenance. He lifted his hand as he tilted his head until it rested on his shoulder and, with a sharp gesture, sent a lance of blackest power to hit Bodramet between the eyes. Bodramet screamed and fell to his knees, clutching his face. His followers hesitated and drew back from Isranon. They dropped him and pressed themselves against the wall, looking about for a direction in which to flee, but Mephistis' guardsmyn had already blocked the other corridor, while a sea of onlookers barred them from crossing the hall. The prince stalked through the chamber, randomly striking his people d
own. Cries rose around him, people not struck dropped to their knees. Dane's vampires followed Mephistis.

  Dane knelt by Isranon, Reading the crumpled body and found a small spark of swiftly waning life. He cursed silently in outrage. Clearly Bodramet had intended to rite the youth, possibly because Isranon had shunned his bed. To be refused by the person at the bottom of the ladder of power must have caught in Bodramet's throat.

  Dane gestured a nibari over and opened the male's wrist with his dagger to make the blood flow more freely, then shoved it into Isranon's mouth. Blood frequently roused sa'necari even from coma. Isranon's body responded automatically, his fangs came down and he fed without returning to consciousness. Dane took that as a good sign, although it would have been a better one had it been accompanied with a return to full awareness.

  Mephistis seized Bodramet by the throat and slammed him against the wall, snarling. He hit him with enough power to crumple him up in a still heap. Then he spun on the four members of Bodramet's coterie who had been ready to bear Isranon off, pointing at two of them. "Secure them for the rite. Set up a bleeding table in the center of this place, on the dais. I want all sa'necari present to watch and see how I deal with those who disobey me. I will ride them into death."

  The chamber fell silent and then six sa'necari, wishing to please the prince, came forward and spellcorded Mephistis' selected victims so that they could not access their powers. Others broke away, going for the table the prince would use in the rite.

  "If I hear of any deaths among the nibari there will be deaths among the sa'necari. I am hungry. Understand? Six of you nibari bring Isranon to his chambers where I may examine him." Mephistis hissed, glancing at Bodramet. "Isranon belongs to me and me alone. No one touches him."

  Dane could see that Mephistis' demand that nibari, not sa'necari, bear the youth was a statement of his distrust of his own.

  "All month like this?" Mephistis demanded as he strode to Isranon's rooms.

  Dane Jayce nodded. "He tries to keep it secret."

  They got him back and Mephistis Read him. All sa'necari were Readers. It helped them to savor the terror of their victims, which they drank in like wine, feeding upon it as well as the blood. What Mephistis sensed appalled him and he opened Isranon's shirt. The young man's body was massively scarred. "What have they been hitting him with? Blood should have been healing all! Kenda'ryl? Baneblades? Hellblades of some kinds? What?"

  "Some of this is very old, Mephistis," Dane Jayce told him. "It was always there. He frequently scars. They know it. It makes them wonder what he is. They can smell the sa'necari blood in him ... yet..."

  The rage seeped out of Mephistis' face. He stroked the dark curling hair from Isranon's face, "Can you save him?"

  "I can try. I have several tonics made from troll's blood. And other things. I've been allowing him access to some of them. It's the way he's been coping with their physical abuse."

  "Stubborn prideful idiot."

  "He's going to get himself killed one day."

  Mephistis turned away, trying not address that statement. "I fear that is what he wants. Keep an eye on him. Heal him."

  "I will, my prince."

  Mephistis snatched a nibari to him, forced the mon to his knees and his wrist into Isranon's mouth. Isranon's fangs came down, and he became to suck automatically without waking. "Get that bottle, Dane. I don't want to lose him."

  Dane's second entered, glancing about the room. "Rose? Has anyone seen Rose?"

  Dane's expression tightened. "I will send people with the bottle and to tend him. But I must find Rose."

  Mephistis gave a curt nod. The vampires were not his to command, although they dwelled here for the moment on his forbearance and cooperated with him. "Go. But when you return, there will be matters to discuss."

  "As you wish."

  * * * *

  Toward dawn Dane spied a slender hand poking out through the edge of some bushes in a corner of the ruins. When he got close, he found that the wrist was bound to a short stake driven into the ground. Freshly-cut pine branches covered her. Dane hurled the branches aside and knelt. Her body lay staked out, spread-eagled. He touched her neck, Reading her, and found that she had not been dead long. A gag in her mouth had prevented her from screaming while the sa'necari had been violating her. Rose had been slashed and pierced by many blades in a rite of mortgiefan. The sa'necari had ritually raped Rose as they killed her to shatter her soul so that the one who rode her could suck up pieces of it to increase his powers – but Dane suspected that power had nothing to do with this. They had done this to hurt Isranon simply because he was different. Matters were spiraling out of control and Dane saw Margren's hand in all of it. He would need to take his people away from here soon, before it could reach out for them also. Dane decided to try and persuade Isranon to go with them.

  He carried Rose's body to an isolated spot and buried her, then he returned to Mephistis. The prince of Waejontor had moved to his parlor and sat with his wine glass in hand. The birthday present he had purchased for Isranon lay in the middle of the table, wrapped in velvet. The prince's fingers strayed to the velvet, stroking it idly in an unfocussed manner. "Did you find her?"

  "They rited her..." Dane dropped his gaze for an instant and then raised his head again with his brows knit and mouth tight. "She was carrying his child. Isranon and she thought that pregnancy would protect her."

  Mephistis' expression chilled. "Perhaps that was for the best. Isranon should never have allowed his emotions to become engaged with a nibari. I have thought about this. Did Isranon manage to kill any of them?"

  "Three or four."

  "Good. Tell me about it." Mephistis said, his voice taking on a calculated tone. "And I am sorry about the child."

  "But not about Rose?" Dane could not keep the anger out of his voice, although he knew he should. "When you first came here, they found they could not break him, but they could use his devotion to others ... you know that."

  Mephistis nodded. "The nibari is of little import to me. I have many of them. If Isranon wanted a child, he should have chosen something other than a nibari to get it on. However, that is neither here nor there. While I feel for his loss, I also question the wisdom of his choices."

  "This afternoon, Bodramet took Rose. For the past weeks before you gave her to me, they had been passing your young mon around like a toy periodically. They would seize Rose and threaten the actions that Bodramet finally committed."

  "You are saying that Bodramet did this?"

  "Not he himself. But his coterie. Isranon killed some of the lower ranks to force their attention to stay on him, which only made them hungrier for him."

  "You should have spoken, Jayce,"

  "I did. You simply told me to keep an eye on him."

  "I am going to put a stop to this."

  "Then start with Margren."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN. BREAKING THE PROMISE

  Aejys dressed in her dark blue silk tunic with her device worked in azure and silver across the chest. Tamlestari insisted on acting as the lapsed paladin's orderly. She pinned the silver ouroborus clasp of her dark blue cloak at her shoulder, hung the Aroanan sword at Aejys' side, tied both the scarf of penitence and the black armband with Brendorn's hair to her lover's arms. She brushed Aejys' hair with loving strokes and thonged it back.

  "I wish I were going with you," Tamlestari said.

  "I wish you were too. Somehow I feel like a school girl being sent to the priest for a scolding."

  "You don't think he is angry with you?"

  Aejys shook her head. "I have done nothing to offend him, loyal heart," she said, kissing the tip of Tamlestari's piquant nose, "unless customs have changed since last I was here."

  "Good. Because if he is offended with you, then I am offended with him. Though I seriously doubt that would carry much weight."

  Aejys smiled. "That might carry more weight than you realize," she said, taking Tamlestari in her arms for a long moment. She dropped to her kne
es and pressed her cheek against the youth's stomach. "Our child and hope."

  Tamlestari stroked Aejys' head with the serene benevolence of an ancient queen for a beloved subject. "Aroana is with us. I can feel it. I have felt it since you quickened my womb. There will be darkness, but there is light beyond it."

  Aejys smiled as she got to her feet. "So now you are prophet as well as reader?"

  "I am whatever you think I am," Tamlestari replied pertly. She reached up and drew Aejys' mouth to hers in a quick hungry kiss. "Now, go on, you cannot keep the High Priest waiting."

  * * * *

  Tehmistoclus greeted Aejys as his servants showed her into his study. He wore a white linen robe, the sleeves tapering to his wrists with a delicate brocade band at wrist and hem. Skylights and high windows admitted the afternoon light in flowing golden shafts. Thousands of books stood in rank upon rank of shelves with alcoves scattered here and there. Aejys marveled, for if this was only his personal study what must the temple library look like?

  Then she noticed, sitting in a corner near the window in a chair that was half in shadow, a mon. The mon rose, she was incredibly beautiful with a straight small nose, high cheekbones in an elegant face with a full shapely mouth. Her large green eyes reminded Aejys of both Kalestari and Tamlestari. A simple circlet of silver held her long pale gold hair in place.

  "May I present her Majesty, Magdarien, Queen of Vallimrah." Tehmistoclus inclined his head politely.

  "Your Majesty." Aejys acknowledged her with a courtier's bow.

  "I am here," Magdarien said pointedly, dismissing ceremony and going straight to the issues, "because Tamlestari is my great grandchild and my heir. I hope, for your sake, that I do not discover you are taking advantage of her inexperience."

  Aejys glanced at Tehmistoclus, "I hope that I can put your concerns at rest, your Majesty."