JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING III

by JANRAE FRANK

  Belyla collapsed, her face in her hands, giving way to sobbing. "I asked them to help him, but they poisoned him instead."

  Channadar paused, regarding her with interest. "Have you fed?"

  Belyla lowered her hands, her face flushing with a mix of shame and triumph. "On another. The one that hurt him."

  "Have you killed?" His face tilted until it nearly rested on his shoulder as he waited for her answer.

  "No. I've been Dancing Yahni ... I've tried so hard not to." Her sobbing worsened, and shame lingered in her face. "I try so hard ... yet ... yet I cannot control my needs."

  "Poor, sad swan. Give him to me. I will save him, Belyla, but you must move away from him. You cannot trust your instincts and neither can I."

  Belyla could feel the half-Faery lord's magic stirring as he spread first one fan and then the other. She left Yahni's side, moving to the door to the outer stair, the one that went into the interior of the palace by the main route, which she had not found earlier.

  Channadar's slanted eyes narrowed to slits and his lips spread with quiet pleasure at her willingness to yield her mate to him. He took her place beside Yahni. The Fae-lord snapped one golden fan closed and quickly ran it along Yahni's body, finding the bottle, which he tucked into his pouch. "He's badly hurt, but my mother can heal him."

  "The Master of Blood is here. He made that stuff."

  Channadar's eyes widened and he straightened. "The Master of Blood? He's here?"

  "That's what Solance said."

  "We must be away from here, Yahni and I. Resist them. Do not make that first kill. If you can find evidence of what they are doing, toss it through my window. Or pass it to my folk. Find a way to get it to me. Perhaps my mother can think of a way to help you, Black Swan."

  "Don't you want their names?"

  "I already know them, but I cannot prove it. And the Guild would kill you if you tried to go to them. You have Danced a Guildsmon." Channadar folded and tucked both fans into his sash, lifting Yahni.

  The doors crashed inward and vampires swarmed into the spire.

  Belyla screamed as she was tackled and borne down by sheer weight of numbers. They bit and tore at her.

  Channadar felt dark magic rise to his left and had barely time to let Yahni fall back to the bed as he snatched his fans out to counter it. The sa'necari was strong. Clearly Galee knew he was here, why else send a sa'necari?

  Channadar's little smile, half-sneer, half-amused, his usual mask had returned to his face, but his heart was grim. There was no way that he could take Yahni with him and get out alive. There were simply too many of them. The golden fans flashed, trailing white birds and flashing eagles, as he turned the death magics back in the sa'necari's face. The necromancer shrieked, staggering into the vampire beside him.

  Channadar kept his back to the wall, striking with the magic and then with the slicing edge of the fans. The elegant gold gilding concealed the kenda'ryl beneath, folded and beaten a thousand times with magic sealed into every layer, pounded into the fiber of the metal itself. When the magic came into play with the unfolding of the fan, the metal plates sealed into a solid whole, stronger and sharper than steel. As one struck, the other came to guard.

  The Lemyari fought as myn, rather than as monsters, although with monstrous strength and speed, using swords and knives. Lesser bloods moved among them, rushing him like hungry wolves, all claws, and teeth. A web of black burning death spun out to bind him to the wall that kept the blades and claws from his back, but now he had two sides to defend as well as his front, for he neared the windows, which were his only escape. A flashing trail of magic flamed away the web, yet a single strand caught his slender ankle, and the Fae twisted, falling. He turned it into a roll as he cut himself free and felt the razor sharpness of a blade open his arm from his shoulder halfway to his elbow. A fan disemboweled the Lemyari, spilling the gray filth across the Fae; and Channadar burned him, rising through the gore to dive out the window. He had barely time to wrap himself in the magic to slow his tumble to the slanting rooftops, snapping out of the fall and skittering along it in his soft shoes. Four chimneys rose at the end and then a jump to another set of roofs that would take him in the direction of the third spire, the top of the Guild Wing. That was his best chance. He could hear them coming after him. His feet slipped and caught, slipped and caught on the tiles. With a small spring, he leaped among the chimneys, turning to face his pursuers. A Lemyari, his claws dripping venom, raked at the Fae. A fan flashed and the creature's hand sailed away.

  Channadar laughed at him. "I think you will find that poor Channadar does not wish to die that way." Then his eyes narrowed at the shrieking vampire and raked him with the magic from his other fan, throwing him from the roof with a twisting lash of fire before leaping to the next roofs.

  Channadar landed, slipped and slid down to jam his leg heavily into a chimney. He twisted and then cried out as a blade opened a long bloody slice along his shoulder from the top all the way down his back to his waist. Instinctively the Fae backhanded his attacker in the face with a fan, blinding the vampire. Channadar scrambled up, running agilely despite the way his leg pained with each step; knowing he would pay later for forcing his leg to function properly, refusing to favor it, by focusing past the pain, setting his awareness elsewhere. The creatures were fast. He reached the end of these roofs and jumped again, somersaulting down to the next level and springing out of the fall with a twist to turn and face the way he had come. More of them! They seemed to be coming in endless numbers. Either Galee or the Master of Blood must surely be desperate to put an end to this meddling, suspicious Fae-lord, he thought wryly. If he could get down a little lower he would reach the levels of the star rooms and living quarters, far from the less occupied places and forgotten chambers of this curious labyrinth called Ishladrim Castle.

  There were lights on in the topmost star-room of the Guild Wing, which meant a conference was in progress. A tall elm grew close, shading it. Channadar's injured leg gave and he stumbled as three rushed him. "Do not hunt the Fae," he snarled, "for the Fae will hunt you." He turned a sword with one fan and cut that one's throat, nearly severing its head – if it did not die, at least it could no longer fight, for it fell from the roof. The second one scored him across the ribs and Channadar's kenda'ryl fan shattered its breastbone to take its heart in reply. The Fae-lord faced the third one, watching him calmly, fans ready.

  Three cats came round a chimney, led by a fourth, a fluffy pearl gray male. The others, two orange tabbies and a calico considered a moment as if speaking in some silent inner voice between them, and then leaped upon the Lemyari as one, going for his face and back. Channadar snapped a fan closed and, using it like a dagger, thrust it through the Lemyari's heart. The creature died, falling from the roof. The four catkins jumped at the last minute, and Lo'Ah sprang to Channadar's side.

  < Flee! More come. >

  "My thanks. Visit, if I survive." Channadar leaped for the elm, using his good leg to shove off, snapping his fans shut, and thrusting them through his sash. He caught a branch and the tree swayed precariously, smashing him against the building painfully and tearing his wounds further. The injured arm and shoulder threatened to fail him. Then he managed to grab hold of another branch and move lower. This one cracked, twisting. The Fae-lord had barely time to throw his arms in front of his face and draw his legs up before he was thrown through a window of the star-room into the Guild Wing.

  Everyone in the room sprang up as glass splintered and the Fae tumbled, bleeding, to lie at Yukiah's feet – the armsmaster sat at Queiggy's left with Leonè at to the Wing Master's right.

  Channadar gave Yukiah that small irrepressible smile he always had in the Great Central Hall, one hand clutching at his shoulder with blood oozing through his fingers; and the other his ribs; his eyes betraying the tiniest hint of irony as he said, "I know I am not supposed to be here, but let me assure you, it was unavoidable." Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he fainted.

/>   The room filled swiftly with Guildsmyn at the sound of the breakage. Aramyn led them, gesturing for them to spread out, sending two to the windows to see if anyone else appeared ready to follow Channadar into the room through it.

  Yukiah gathered and straightened the crumpled lord, feeling the warm wetness of Channadar's blood on his fingers. The armsmaster raised his hand to show the others. "That's a sword wound, someone fetch Sha." A Guildsmon spun on his heel and went. Then Yukiah became aware of how wet his lap was becoming, turned Channadar onto his side, and found that long tear. "Shitting Damnation, hand me something to staunch this with or Sha's not going to get here in time." Clean handkerchiefs started appearing, but it quickly became evident that it would not be enough and Leonè simply pulled off his shirt, passing it to Yukiah. The Fae looked severely battered. Yukiah drew his blade and cut away Channadar's shirt and tunic.

  "Shiiiiit... Someone sliced him up bad."

  * * * *

  "I'm worried," Leeza murmured to Tiderider, sitting in the parlor to their apartments, which were a single point of their star room. She drew her shawl tighter, shivering at the touch of something she could not fathom, and stared out the window. The night was so still, and yet she could almost feel movement beyond her hearing.

  "About what?" Tiderider had a small smile, turning toward her.

  "Channadar," she said softly. "He's never been gone this long. It's full dark."

  "You worry constantly..." Tiderider's tone was bantering, but his eyes were flint hard chips in his golden face.

  "Please, Tiderider, go find him. Even if I'm being silly ... please?" Leeza disliked playing the female, but they would not allow her to be anything else. The majority of Creeyan women kept to traditional roles. Leeza had tried to be something else before meeting Channadar. She had managed to be counted among the yeomynry of Hellsguard, although she had never been good enough to qualify for Guild training. She had tried for the Guild as a child, but lacked some indefinable quality that would get her in.

  "I agree with Leeza," Chucomei said. "Go find him."

  Tiderider nodded and left, signaling two to follow him. The three Chosen went up to the swanspire, finding the lower door open a fraction – a fraction so tiny that only a Fae's eyes would have noticed the shift in the seams along the hidden door. They went up, each with a folded fan in their hands. When they had reached the final flight of stairs, Tiderider's nostrils flared at a betraying scent: fresh blood. He signed to the others, fear for his lord sent a rush of energy through him as he stepped into the gryphon chamber of Alysinjin. The instant he crossed the threshold, he snapped his fan open and swept light through the room.

  Furniture lay broken and strewn about, splattered with ichors and gobs of undead, swiftly rotting flesh. Tiderider moved cautiously through it, seeing blood on the bed and a splash on the floor and wall between the bed and the nearest window. He touched it, bringing his fingers to his nose to sniff and his chest tightened. "Channadar."

  Then Tiderider went out the window, trailing his lord through the magic.

  * * * *

  Queiggy looked up, startled when the three Faes dropped through the shattered window with their fans spread. They landed lightly on their feet and spun to face him. Tiderider saw the splotches of blood on the carpet and his eyes hardened. "My Lord... what have you done with him?"

  "Sha's got him," Yukiah answered first. "Came flying through the window, wounded, chased by Hadjys knows what." They had been sitting there waiting to hear from Sha about Channadar's condition. "He hasn't regained consciousness since he fainted in my arms..."

  "What happened?" Tiderider asked.

  Yukiah rubbed the burn scar on his neck. "Someone, or something, cut him up bad. I'm not willing to send anyone up onto the roofs before full daylight."

  "Do you know who attacked Channadar?" Tiderider snapped his fans closed, shoved them into his sash, and settled onto a chair. The other Chosen came to stand behind him. "He is good with his weapons... His attackers must have been exceedingly dangerous."

  Yukiah's eyes searched Tiderider's tall form, and saw no weapons, only those golden fans he and the others danced with. "He wore no weapons when he crashed through the window, just those fans."

  Tiderider thought for a moment, wondering how far he could trust these myn. Only those who had actually seen the Faery folk fight realized those fans were not merely an affectation of their culture. The Guild had not seen them fight. He drew his fan, flicked it open, and sliced three rungs apart on the nearest chair, the metal passing through as if the wood were made of cloth. Yukiah jumped, but Queiggy only nodded. "My Lord is good with his weapons." Tiderider repeated.

  "Kenda'ryl, gold gilt," Queiggy quietly answered Yukiah's look. "Stone, forest and earth runed. They are handed down, cross-gender, father to daughter, mother to son."

  Tiderider lifted an eyebrow. "You know much about our people."

  "This is not to become known," Queiggy said and as a gesture of trust he extended his hands, letting his fingers turn twiggy and long. He smiled at the startled look on Tiderider's face. "I am Queig, son of Teakamon."

  Tiderider favored Queig with a small, knowing smile, flicked his fan closed and thrust it through his belt. "Holy One."

  Queiggy rolled his eyes. "Enough of that! Tell him what we know, Yukiah."

  "We know almost nothing ... at least until the healers finish with him and he wakes ... conscious enough to answer questions."

  "Then we will wait here," Tiderider stated arrogantly.

  Yukiah glanced at Queiggy, who nodded his permission.

  * * * *

  Sha carried word to Yukiah and the others that the healers and surgeons had done what they could for Channadar. She did not blink when she saw Tiderider and his companions. "We're finished. We've moved him to a bed in the Guild Infirmary."

  "I want to see him now," Tiderider said, rising from the table before Yukiah could even push his own chair back. The Golden Fae halted in front of Sha.

  "He's resting," Sha replied, propping her hands on her hips. "He hasn't been fully conscious yet. The two ugliest slashes crossed at the top, making it a single long gash from inside his elbow over his shoulder and down to his hip. They laid him open to the bone in back and front. The shoulder blade is cracked. He was slashed across his upper ribs."

  "We must see him. One of us must stay with him at all times." Tiderider's voice, soft as velvet and hard as steel, matched the fathomless expression in his golden eyes.

  "No one is going to get him here, Tiderider," Sha said.

  Tiderider ignored her statement. "How soon can we take him back?"

  "I prefer you did not," Sha said with a touch of irritation.

  Da'Shanagara and Starsilent rose from the table, coming to stand behind their captain. Yukiah joined them, followed by Queiggy. It was well known that Sha could be extremely obstinate concerning her patients, but Tiderider and the Fae looked prepared to give her a stiff resistance.

  "How soon?" Tiderider asked again quietly, as if she had not spoken a single word.

  Sha sighed. "Tomorrow I will consider letting you take him from here. But I wish to speak with his personal physician and whoever will be sitting with him. I don't want him moving about more than can be avoided."

  Tiderider nodded at that. "Then I will send for Durav and my fireflies. Chucomei and Leeza will sit with him." Tiderider drew a fan and flicked it at Starsilent, who nodded and went out through the broken window. "I will see my lord now."

  Sha sighed and, from the look in her eyes, she was silently cursing the stubbornness of the First of Thirteen. "You only and quietly."

  Tiderider gave her a small bow of his shoulders in acquiescence, following her out. Sha led him to the modest room to which the healers had moved Channadar when the surgeons finished with him. Channadar lay half on his side, half on his stomach with pillows beneath his chest and abdomen, the sheet and coverlet folded back to his slender waist and his injured arm draped around the pillow nearest
his face. Dawn light, entering through a window, gilded his black hair with blue highlights and the two copper patches with gold. Tiderider stepped to Channadar's side, regarding his unconscious lord with a fond devotion and a hard edge of protectiveness.

  "We always knew they would discover that chamber eventually." He touched Channadar's wealth of black hair. Forgive me, my lord and friend.

  Sha gestured for him to leave and once outside, turned to him, frowning her question before she asked it. "I thought Leeza belonged to you."

  "She does." Tiderider eyed Sha closely, wondering where this had come from. For a firefly, Leeza danced well. She would never have betrayed her connection to Channadar to the casual observer, especially a human.

  "Then why, the few times he came half-conscious, did he mutter her name?"

  "I have no idea."

  * * * *

  Leeza managed to maintain a serene front until she found herself alone with only Tiderider and the still form of her lover. Then she bent over Channadar, pressing her face against his cheek and hair. "Channadar, belovèd." Her voice caught, tears escaped from her eyes.

  Tiderider brought her a chair and withdrew to the far side of the room.

  Leeza became aware of the chair, drew it as close as she could and sat down. She took his hand, rubbing her thumb along each finger. The firefly wore Channadar's crystal, having switched them the minute the door closed. "Channadar."

  The wounded Fae lord's breathing changed subtly and his eyes opened, a half-glazed expression in their depths as if it was all that he could manage to simply open them, much less focus his gaze. "Leeeeeza?" He breathed her name.

  "I'm here."

  He smiled with the right side of his mouth, closing his hand around her fingers.

  "Belovèd."

  She kissed him.

  * * * *

  Sha arrived the next morning with two other Guild healers who were permanently assigned to the wing to recheck Channadar's wounds and change the bandages. As she turned him gently, Channadar roused again, one eye more open than the other. "Send for Queiggy," he told her.