JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING III

by JANRAE FRANK

  "They never leave her alone, Wrathscar. It's too dangerous," Galee responded. The Master of Blood had brought her several wagons of goods, which Brandrahoon had retrieved from her cache. Galee wished Brandrahoon had been more discreet and globed them; but Brandrahoon was jealous of his globes and refused to share. Nonetheless Galee was close to making her move against the yuwenghau, and would not allow Wrathscar to ruin it. She had the Master of Blood's services hired for a few more weeks and did not intend to waste those.

  "More dangerous than taking the heir? I liked the taste of her too."

  "There are other Sharani in the city. Take one of them." Galee frowned. Wrathscar's obsession with Arruth's bloodline, made him difficult to handle. It happened frequently with newborns. He had tried unsuccessfully to Dance Arruth as Belyla had Yahni. The girl had eluded him most of the time by taking refuge in Talons' shielded rooms where he could not reach her. Had their initial relationship been one of seduction rather than rape, he might have been able to place a bonding in her mind for the Dance while he was learning to use his powers. By the time he had mastered them enough to take her, she had learned to flee the moment his hold loosened. So it never became a true Dance. Now Yahni – that had been a lovely, long, slow Dance into death until Belyla betrayed them. Perhaps after this is done, when my dance with the Grand Master is done – I will dance Mohanja, if I have not killed him first.

  "She has other sisters." Wrathscar made a moaning, hungry noise.

  "They are in route to Rowanhart on the northwest coast. They may even be there all ready. They are out of your reach," she snapped, wondering if they had arrived yet. Galee had heard nothing in weeks. It was almost as if someone were counseling the Guild to withhold information from her. If that turned out to be true, someone would die.

  Wrathscar thought about that. "Maybe in the fall, after the wedding, I could go to Rowanhart and get them."

  "Forget them," Galee growled. "There are things for you to do here."

  "I want the sister," he began again. "Or Leeza. Get me Leeza."

  Galee snorted. Rogue child of my blood, soon you will no longer be needed, and then I will eat you.

  "I'm hungry."

  "I can have Meilurk take you on a hunt."

  "I don't want to hunt," Wrathscar said petulantly. "I want the sister."

  Galee straightened with a sigh and stroked his arm. "Be good and once we control the Guild, I'll have all the sisters rounded up for your pleasures."

  Wrathscar settled on the edge of the bed with his fangs down. "Yes, we could do that."

  "For now, will you be patient and go hunt with Meilurk?"

  "Yes, I will. When I catch a mon, I'll pretend it's one of the sisters."

  "Good idea. You do that. I have matters to attend to."

  * * * *

  Alora had moved from the student dorms into a suite on the west wing to become Jysy's roommate: they wanted both youths to make a fresh start in a different suite with fewer memories and they did not want them alone. Dynarien warded and shielded it as he had for Talons. She spent every free moment with Jysy or watching her at the training grounds. She blamed herself for Arruth's death. She had treated Arruth like a Creeyan woman, never suspecting how much more it took to damage a Sharani's psyche. There had been so many clues as to what was happening to the girl, yet she had dismissed them, insisting on taking Arruth with her when she went to hear the verdict on Edouina, thinking that all of Arruth's hiding and fears were excessive. She thought she was doing the same thing as Dynarien when the mage took the sisters on picnics or to the music chamber. Dynarien could have protected them and it had been hubris to think she could do the same.

  Everyone seems less than happy lately, Alora thought, as she changed into her riding clothes for her equestrian class. Today she would be using a light lance to spear hoops while riding at a full gallop.

  A familiar knock summoned her to the door, and she let Isen and Osterbridge in. They were dressed in their workout clothes and Isen had a silly grin on her face.

  Osterbridge gave Isen a fond glance and then smirked. "Isen says she can knock me in the dirt. You want to watch?"

  "I'd love to. But I have class. Did you come all this way just to invite me?"

  Alora grinned widely. She knew how much Osterbridge had enjoyed working out with his slain friends, and she had suggested this approach to Isen when it looked like the two of them were breaking up. There were still some cracks in the relationship. They no longer sat cuddled up at the student meetings, but she had caught sight of a bit of handholding again.

  "We were gathering an audience," Isen said, with a cheeky grin.

  "I put in for a transfer, at Yukiah's suggestion," Osterbridge said. "When my leave's up, I'll be working for him."

  "Then we'll be seeing a lot more of you, Ceejorn. That's good," Alora said.

  "I'm glad you think so. You may not after a few weeks with me." Osterbridge scratched the back of his head, a rueful bemusement on his face. "Yukiah's not easy to disagree with. When he sets out to make his points, he certainly makes them."

  "Come on." Isen grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. "The others will be waiting."

  "I'll walk with you as far as the Training Grounds," Alora said.

  * * * *

  Dynarien walked the gardens with Edouina as the shadows lengthened in the late afternoon. The days were cooling toward autumn and the evenings were becoming chill. Wanting to look more like a mage, he had begun to carry a staff on their walks. He had several that he had fetched from his cottage, and a special one he had borrowed without permission from his sister's hoards. The one he carried then he had illusioned slightly. While Dynarien did not believe anyone in the compound knew enough lore to recognize that staff, neither did he want to underestimate their undead opponent. Edouina had seen the staff in its full glory and been amazed by it. She could feel the power and energy coiled around it even though she was not a mage and had not the least leanings in that direction.

  It was six feet of hard rock maple, its butt sheathed in nine inches of diamond that had been magically grown onto it and incised with Kalirioni runes. The entire length of it was intricately runed amid vines and leaves in jeweled inlays. The upper body, head, and wings of a pegasi topped it, so solidly done in heavy burnished kenda'ryl that you could strike with that end also. It was both a master's and a warrior's staff. He had no right to carry it and could only partially access its power. It was the staff of Isranon the Dawnhand, one of his half brothers. Dawnhand had been brutally murdered by one of their siblings who had gone over to the dark side. The murderer stole the staff and then Dynarien's sister, Dynanna, stole it back.

  Edouina's eyes kept going to the staff, seeing it as it really was. "Honey, when you go for a staff, you really go for a staff."

  Dynarien blushed. "I don't know what we might really be facing... I went for the strongest."

  "What we are facing... We've had two weeks without an incident and that just makes me more nervous."

  "It's only a matter of time, before the vampires get hungry enough to start breaking into homes," Dynarien remarked. "A sa'necari or a Lemyari can enter uninvited and once inside they can invite the lesser bloods."

  The city and the palace compound were on edge. No one traveled alone any longer, not even Guildsmyn. Every business closed at dusk, including the taverns. Disappearances had dwindled. Yet that only left Dynarien feeling edgy. He felt as if he were sitting on a volcano ready to explode beneath him. He could almost taste the ashes in the air.

  "Every where I go," Edouina muttered, "I'm knee-deep in cats and dogs. The dog-handlers were concerned that the vampires might try to strike at their dogs, so they're living inside now, even going to dinner with their guys. Making things worse, if the bloody dogs so much as curl their lips at someone, the poor slob's arrested and checked out by a priest."

  Dynarien laughed. "If their cats don't like you, you can't get through the door."

  The vampires in the cit
y had moved their resting places and hunting grounds, so another hunt was planned. This time, the knights would not be involved. Once the danger had been proven, the guard and the Guildsmyn took over, using dogs and shifters – lycans mostly. There were several lycans serving within the Guild in Ishladrim castle under Queiggy in research. The Guild was one of the extremely few places willing to give lycans a high quality education, because of the very low literacy rate among the wolf clans. As a result, those that the Guild took in were extremely grateful, even those that did not make it beyond the non-guild level of training at the school, and they stayed on, working in whatever capacity they were allowed.

  One interesting thing had come of the warehouse discovery and battle. Ever since the first hunt, the knights were now referred to as "those students with the wonderful, trained, vampire-sniffing cats." People who wanted their cats trained quickly besieged the knights with their pets. With a little secret help from Lo'Ah, they were managing to turn house pets into hunters and guardians. Then Dynarien played his last catkin-card, bringing in two prides of shivari – tiger-catkin – and turning them loose in the city. They looked like tiger-marked house pets, but changed into tigers when necessity demanded. There were no longer any stray cats in the city; suddenly every cat had a home.

  * * * *

  Mohanja eased his weight into the big chair at Queiggy's table, and then used his hands to bring his leg up on to the stool. He used his halberd to walk most days, since it hurt his pride less. But on bad days, when he had pushed the leg too far, only the crutch would do, so he tried not to over tire himself and set the leg off.

  Queiggy tilted his head, leaning a little like a concerned wide-eyed child. "It will never be right?"

  Mohanja shook his head. "Too deep. Bitten ligaments. If I could have stayed off it, maybe? But I've got people dying all around me. I have a list." He worked the many times folded papers from his pocket and gave them to Queiggy. "There are two copies of my list. Pass me one back."

  Queiggy separated the sheets, handing one across the table to Mohanja. The mon had drawn the lists up under little headings and one of those was "Regency: find evidence against Takhalme" followed by three lines of possibilities. "Mohanja," Queiggy's voice went very small. "I'm not certain about this one. You are suggesting the Guild overthrow the Grand Master?"

  "I am suggesting that if worst comes to worst, we should. That I should."

  "The very tenets of our faith go against this."

  "The tenets of our faith were not designed to cope with what we face. I am not going to hurt him. Merely remove him from power if nothing else can be done. I have loved the mon as if he were my own father. But you have seen the letters he sent, discrediting his own heir, his own dying heir. I refuse to see her children fall under the sway of the Wrathscars or Galee." Mohanja placed both his hands on the table, curling them slowly into fists as he fought with his inner demons. "Furthermore, I do not believe he is in his right mind. There is a bottle that he sips from constantly in his rooms, like a sot with his liquor. Solance provided it. One of the new healers Galee brought in gets it for him now. I don't trust any of the palace healers except Sha. Takhalme has become an addict."

  "What is it?"

  "I don't know. Pollendine and fire poppy and several other things. The color is off. So is the smell."

  "Get me some?"

  "Tonight. Now let's get on with the rest. Tell me again. Yahni said that Wrathscar was poisoning the heir. Yet the only mon who can find it in her body is the Willodarian. We need three healers for corroboration. We do not have that."

  Queiggy considered a moment. "No, but we found the book several weeks ago that Belyla and Yahni took from Wrathscar. It was written in a language from before the Burning Age. One which I could read. Unfortunately, it was so badly damaged by the waters and filth of the sewers that I could not make out much of it. I could not identify the writer."

  "You could read it?"

  "Yes. And when I told you I had warded your chambers you took my word for it out of trust without asking how I had done so. You know that we have a yuwenghau, you said."

  "I guessed it, from various little things." Mohanja's interest perked and he leaned closer to Queiggy.

  "You are an intelligent mon, Mohanja. You must have been putting it together for years."

  "Do I get to meet him? Will you trust me in that much?"

  "You are looking at him." Queiggy extended his hand, allowing just his fingers to change to their twiggy state. "This is why I dare not leave the Wing. I have woven my tree gift throughout the Wing to prevent the undead and other evils from entering. Had I the power of my father Teakamon, I could ward the entire palace and force the evil ones from its precincts. Alas, that I do not. We have another yuwenghau aiding us. One more powerful than I and different, but only I can ward the Wing. I was here when the palace was built. I helped build it. I am the only one who knows the secret passages. They are magically keyed so knowing where they are is not enough."

  "You can show these to me?"

  "When I am ready, yes. Let's talk more." Queiggy dipped his pen, making some swift notations. "The book does establish that Lemyari exist. It is clearly a Lemyari journal. While we lost both the Guild and the healer records on the Lemyari victims, Sha was able to crystal a sample from Solance's body before it was stolen confirming that he was a Lemyari victim as well. And, of course, we have the remains of one dead Lemyari, courtesy of Aramyn."

  "I believe the Master of Blood has currently taken up residence in Havensword."

  "Why?" Queiggy paused in his notations, dripping ink on the paper in spreading splotch. He noticed and retired the pen hastily to the holder after cleaning it.

  "Belyla Wrathscar is screaming about him."

  "I had stopped listening to her. I will listen tonight. She is tragic, but no less dangerous for it. I believe Galee intends to use her against the Kjartens."

  "I have asked them to leave the palace and the city, return to their estates at Mistdale. They refuse. Instead they are gathering their clan into their mansion here."

  "Waiting for a fight. Typical Sharani."

  "I don't want more deaths than I can avoid."

  "Do not underestimate them, Mohanja. You see a few soft males and a lot of hard women. You acknowledge the Guild in their ranks and then pass over it. Let me remind you that the Sharani are the Tinkerer's toys. They know far better than you or I how to deal with these creatures. They held against the Waejontori for four thousand years and beat them."

  Mohanja rubbed the corners of his eyes. "It does not matter, I cannot stop them. I have no authority over Lord Kjarten." He had not missed Queiggy's reaction to the mon's name and asked again, "What is the Master of Blood?"

  Queiggy looked into Mohanja's eyes as if seeking a way out of answering and sighed when he saw none. "What. That is exactly the question. No one knows. He takes many forms, many guises. Always passing for human, selling cursed items to innocents, spell components to practitioners of the dark arts, hellblades, and such. He collects things. He also makes them. It is said that Master Blood can create or smith items that can slay yuwenghau, placing the deathtree rune of the hellgods on them."

  "Is such a thing possible?" Mohanja sounded disturbed; he did not want this creature coming after Queiggy.

  "I'm afraid it is. He always leaves a string of slain yuwenghau in his wake. He's a dark assassin. One of the best. A mercenary. An expert in occult poisons. If he's here, it's because Galee intends for me and the other yuwenghau to die."

  "Then the Guild must find him first."

  Both myn went suddenly silent. A professional yuwenghau-slayer. Mohanja felt a tremor of concern ripple through him at the thought. Blood was after Queiggy. Mohanja covered the mon's thin hand with his huge one. "I will not allow him to reach you." Mohanja's eyes narrowed dangerously and a hard twist of unexpected bitterness came on his lips. Injured, and without full command of the Guild's three branches, there was a limit to what he could achieve. But
he had to try. "I will not let him get you."

  Queiggy studied his expression and shook his head. "Be careful, Mohanja. Be very careful." They sat for a few more minutes, and then Queiggy asked suddenly, "What would you do if a prince of the branch clan suddenly appeared to claim the throne? Would you support him?"

  Mohanja leaned forward. "You mean the tales are true?"

  "Answer my question first."

  "I would support him. Assuming of course that Eshraf could verify his claim."

  Queiggy's eyes went distant. "Now swear you will not speak of this without my permission."

  "By the Book and the Blade, Queiggy, I swear it." Mohanja felt more hope rising within him.

  "Yes, it exists. However, the last prince of the blood is in great danger, and I must try to protect him as well."

  "Where is he? Who is he?"

  Queiggy sighed. "I cannot tell you. Even he does not know. The information was taken from him so that he would not accidentally reveal himself. There are only two people who can release his memories."

  Mohanja caught an edge in Queiggy's voice and suddenly he was certain that the prince was in Havensword, possibly even within the castle itself.

  * * * *

  Jysy dreamed of Arruth.

  They sat together on the old bed they had shared in the rundown house at Armaten. Jysy found it hard to look at her, for Arruth's body was the way the knights had found it at the training grounds. One of her breasts had been bitten so many times that the skin on top of it had torn loose and flopped forward over the nipple. Her nose was shattered and some of her fingers and most of her toes were missing. Her loins and thighs were thickly coated with oozing male juices and blood. There were gaping wounds in her arms and legs.

  "Talons told us no kissing," Arruth said, in a hollow voice as if her mind was not completely present, but coming from a troubling distance. "Creeya isn't Shaurone. But I didn't listen. One day, I kissed him. He started taking me all the time. Some times he had some of his soldiers do it, watched, and gave them pointers. He said he intended to see how long it took for the kyndi to break and my belly swell. I couldn't avoid him. I couldn't tell Talons because, after all, I broke the rules. Then that vampire turned him. I don't know who she is. He started feeding on me as well as shoving–" Arruth began to cry, an eerie wailing sound that raised the hairs on Jysy's neck. "Shoving his bloody fucking rod into me. He kept saying it was all my fault because I kissed him first."