JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING III

by JANRAE FRANK

  One of the councilors rose, "You're not a god!"

  Dynanna glared at him, "Flux."

  The councilor gasped and fled, leaving behind an extremely bad odor. All the others, except for the Grand Master, rose to their feet with a loud outcry. No guards answered. They stared at each other in a panicky fashion, dropping back to their seats rather than draw her attention and ire.

  "Pieface, get in here. Take your hat off."

  Pieface removed his hat, exposing his huge pointed-ears. There was no mistaking the fact that they were looking at a Badree Nym.

  "Now, I can have him start knocking down the palace or you can listen to me."

  "We will listen to you," Takhalme said.

  "What is going on?" The Patriarch entered the room, spied Dynanna, and bowed low. "Holy One," he said. That finished the councilors. Eshraf's gaze went to Dynarien and his mouth hardened with anger even as his eyes softened with concern. Had it not been for the long red gold hair, the yuwenghau's battered face would have been unrecognizable. Changes desperately needed to take place, for even as the Patriarch rushed for these chambers he had heard rumor of a battle beneath the palace between Lord Channadar and an evil creature called the Master of Blood.

  Dynanna favored him with a smile before rounding on the others again. "If I hear of anyone harassing my brother Dynarien or Edouina again, I'll come back. I'll curse this palace until nothing grows and no one can live here. I'll bring in a legion of Badree Nym and knock it all down."

  She walked up to Takhalme, grabbed his arm, and pushed up his sleeve, revealing a long line of vampire scars. "I think you should take better care of this old vampire-bait you call a leader."

  A collective gasp rose from the councilors.

  Edouina blinked, wondering how Dynanna had guessed this.

  "Interrogate my captives here. Maybe you'll find out who's behind all the shit." She turned to her brother. "You coming with us?"

  "No," he said, his voice a hoarse, struggling whisper.

  "Okay then." She snapped her fingers and disappeared, taking Pieface, Sugar Maple, Bernard, and Bluedog with her.

  Dynarien, no longer supported by Bernard, sank to his knees, fighting to breathe. It had been centuries since mere humans had hurt him this bad. It made him angry. The Patriarch knelt beside him, Reading him, his expression hardening. The only weapons that could have injured him this terribly were weapons forged of hell. "Who did this?"

  "They're ... dead."

  Eshraf's gaze raked the councilors. "This is the Twice-Born son of Willodarus. The Rose Warrior. The Prince of Imralon. I will personally see whoever gave these myn their orders in the deepest hell of Hadjys as My God is my witness." He turned on one of the nobles, "Fetch my priests and healers quickly. If he perishes, Willodarus will curse this realm until nothing can live here."

  Edouina cradled Dynarien's head and shoulders. "Hold on, honey. Just hold on. You'll be all right. I know you will."

  "I'll try." Dynarien closed his eyes and slid into darkness. Edouina held him until the priests arrived. Two burly priests lifted him up between them, starting down the hallway. He roused as they moved him. Edouina walked beside them. They had just reached the great hall when Yukiah came up. The armsmaster's eyes went deadly cold when he saw Dynarien's condition. He had come hoping for Dynarien's aid, thinking his mage-craft could help them find Jysy faster. Evidently their enemies had found him first.

  "What's wrong?" Edouina asked him, sensing much in every angle of his body and face.

  "Jysy's missing."

  "Jysy..." Dynarien tried to stand on his own, pulling away from the priests only to stumble to his knees.

  "I'm going to gather some more people to search," Yukiah said, leaving them.

  Edouina knelt beside Dynarien, slipped her arms around him, and helped him rise.

  "Help me get out there."

  The priests shook their heads in a rueful fashion at Dynarien's stubbornness and followed them.

  Eshraf turned then to the councilors. "There is fighting in the Cloverleaf, assassins attacked Lord Channadar and he is seriously wounded. Several sa'necari, vampires, and at least one demon were destroyed by his personal guard, the Chosen Thirteen."

  "This meeting is ended! Everyone get out of here! Find that child!" Mohanja roared, scattering the assembled nobles and sending them flying from the Council Chamber as if for their lives. The room emptied. He sat cross-legged beside the Grand Master's throne, leaning on the great seat with his arms folded on its arm. Mohanja laid his head on his arms so weary in spirit that if he closed his eyes he suspected he would never wake and wondered for a moment if he even wanted to.

  "I am tired, Mohanja," said the Grand Master. "I wish to go to my rooms and I need my medicine."

  "Your drugs, my master, your drugs of dreaming. You are an addict." Mohanja met his eyes in a sharing of shame, the bluntness of his words cutting them both. "You will not return to your rooms, but go to the temple instead where you will be safe from the creature that has been Dancing you." How long have you been Passion-Dancing, Takhalme? And with whom? Can you tell us or has the creature been tearing it from your mind?

  "And my medicine?"

  "You will have your drugs." Channadar, Edouina, Dynarien, Jysy, Yahni, Arruth, and my dear master. I've lost control of the Wing. The Guild no longer trusts me. I can't stop these monsters. And now my damned leg is hurting so bad I doubt I can get back to my apartments without the damned crutch and it's in the apartments. Ah, Sha. I should never have become an officer, much less third lieutenant to the Grand Master. I was not meant to be a lord. It wears a mon down.

  "Forgive me."

  Mohanja glanced at the Grand Master and patted the old mon on the arm. "You have been a father to me. I love you. Therefore I will always forgive."

  "I do not deserve it."

  "Come here, old mon. I am hurting too bad to come to you."

  "Your leg?"

  "Yes."

  Takhalme eased off his throne with the tentativeness of the aged, sat next to Mohanja and they held each other. That was how Eshraf and Aramyn found them when they returned hours later after the chaos finally settled down: Takhalme asleep and Mohanja thinking furiously.

  * * * *

  They filled the night with torches and more than four times as many searchers as when they had scoured the grounds for Arruth. The armsmaster found Jysy: alive. He pulled his shirt off and covered her nakedness with it. Her flesh was clammy and faintly blue. He had seen enough death to know she would not last much longer. His face tightened and a cold rage filled him. "I've found her!" Yukiah shouted, rising with her in his arms.

  Isen had arrived with Osterbridge and they stood close beside him. Osterbridge slipped his arm around Isen's shoulders, hugging her protectively to his chest.

  Dynarien and Edouina reached Yukiah. "Get her inside. I'll get help," Dynarien said.

  "You can't help her. She's too far gone," Yukiah said, but Dynarien and Edouina had already vanished. He carried Jysy to her room and put her to bed. Then he knelt and held her hand, praying. Isen joined him and he felt comforted by her presence in a way he could not describe. More and more she reminded him of someone he once knew.

  Osterbridge stood in the doorway, studying Isen's devout face as she prayed. He went in and knelt beside her.

  Jimi arrived next with several of the knights. Soon the suite hummed with their prayers.

  * * * *

  Dynarien and Edouina appeared in Jysy's bedroom, bringing a scruffy looking mon of indeterminate age in brown sleeping robes. Yukiah stared at the newcomer. His face was lined and drawn with a sallow cast: he looked ill – long-term ill. The mon was dying. What the hell did Dynarien think this mon could do for Jysy?

  "Whiskey," Josiah said. "Get me some whiskey."

  The armsmaster produced a pocket flask, passing it to Josiah.

  The mage took a long pull and felt his power flare. "Put your forearm against hers," Josiah ordered. The armsmaster obeyed and
Josiah launched the spell. The blue tinge left Jysy's face. Josiah pushed Yukiah away. "Get me someone else. Lots of someones."

  Yukiah's eyes widened in disbelief, his pulse quickening with hope. Maybe the yuwenghau knew what he was doing after all. Yukiah stepped into the sitting room, shouting. The knights queued up in a long line. Edouina and Yukiah got Dynarien onto Alora's bed and two healers descended on him, cleaning him up and binding his ribs. Dynarien matched the right blood types – he seemed to be holding his own so long as he did not have to stand – and Josiah, using the spell of Shared Life, made the transfers. They worked until dawn, finally pulling Jysy out of danger.

  The armsmaster, who had not left Jysy's side all night, turned to Josiah, asking, "Whom do I thank for saving my protégé's life?"

  Josiah gripped his offered hand. "Josiah Abelard."

  Yukiah's mind and heart raced with a fresh rush of adrenaline. Despite the darkness and fear of the day and the night, there was also wonder for he had met two legends and seen two others: Josiah Abelard, the greatest mage-paladin of Kalirion, even sick and worn, it was something; Dynarien Willodarusson, the Rose Warrior had come to fight for them; Dynanna the God of Cussedness had knocked down half the palace guard; and two Badree Nym had sauntered through the palace. Yahni would have loved it. So much to write about, filling all those record books with the accounts of this and that.

  * * * *

  When Josiah had finished, and Jysy had been pulled completely out of danger, he turned to Dynarien and addressed him in an old language that he felt certain the Creeyan armsmaster, who was still kneeling beside his protégé's bed would not understand.

  "Dynarien, we both know I don't have much time left. Someone needs to know my two key spells, so listen carefully while I give them to you." Then he taught Dynarien two spells: Shared Life and Revelation.

  Dynarien listened closely, and despite his pain and exhaustion, memorized it.

  The work of the night showed heavily on Josiah's face as he explained everything. "With Revelation, you must have a focus. You must identify one of the ringleaders or their principal associates. Otherwise, you end up with a dangerous kind of chaos. You need a focus. A strong focus. I don't think this Bryndel you spoke of can give you that. He's too full of coercions, sways, and triggers. All of which will affect the spell. The one thing I dread right now is telling Birdie about Arruth. She's a sweet kid and already over-burdened."

  "I've heard that she's become a very strong priest."

  "She has, my friend. But she's barely fourteen. The journey to Rowanhart wasn't easy on her. Nor on her family. She's taken on a lot of responsibility for someone as young as she is."

  "A lot of that is my fault." Dynarien looked away from Josiah.

  The mage gave a dry chuckle. "You're always taking responsibility yourself these days. I wish your sister were as dependable."

  Dynarien sighed heavily. "So do I. She's pregnant again."

  "More little godlings to drive us poor mortals crazy?"

  "Yes. I'll take you home."

  Josiah shook his head. "I can do it myself. You look worse than I do." Then his form shimmered and vanished.

  Dynarien stared at the spot where Josiah had been and slowly folded up on Alora's bed, the last of his strength suddenly draining out of him. Yukiah glanced back at the sound of the bed creaking and sprang to his feet in time to stop Dynarien from toppling onto the floor. The armsmaster shouldered Dynarien, walking him to the door.

  "Edouina. Jimi. Can you get him back to the temple? I don't trust the palace healers, and he needs help."

  Jimi and Edouina took Dynarien from Yukiah. By then the yuwenghau could no longer manage even part of his weight. It required both Jimi and Edouina carrying him to get Dynarien to the temple where he could rest. When he finally slept, Edouina told Jimi all that had transpired.

  The young knight's face shone with a cold anger that matched Edouina's own.

  "I will get the man who ordered this," Jimi said, an edge in his voice, his eyes narrowed and intense.

  "Woman, Jimi," Edouina answered, her tone chill and emotionless, betraying only the slightest edge of her feelings. "The vampire is a woman."

  "Are you certain? How can you know?"

  Edouina considered for a moment. "I'm going to tell you something that only Talons knows – two others suspect I'm sure – but only she knows. I'm not just bi-kyndi, honey, I'm something my people call saer'kali bi-kyndi. It means I'm one of the secret masters. I can do things that others only dream of."

  Jimi's eyes widened. "And that's how..."

  "Yes. I found a taste of the vampire in Bryndel's pleasure centers about four weeks ago. Sometimes when they feed, they deliberately give their victims intense pleasure to take away the pain, makes the meal want to be eaten. It leaves a residue, a taste of them. That taste was decidedly female."

  Jimi considered that. "At least I know who to watch and who not to." Then he glanced again at Dynarien. "I just thought he was a mage. How long have you known?"

  "From the first. And, as for being a mage, that's what we all wanted you to think. It was safer that way. She killed the last yuwenghau to go up against her thirty years ago; one of Tala's hunters and they're good, very good. We did not want this vampire – and she's an extremely powerful one – getting his measure. It looks like she has."

  * * * *

  Channadar lay thinking bitter thoughts while Leeza slept beside him. The warmth of her comforted him. He played with the ends of her hair. The enemy had finally managed to cripple him, striking the same shoulder they had before. He had not told Leeza, not wishing to worry her, but Sha had said he would never use his left arm again. His magic was halved without the use of the heart arm. Tiderider was the only one who knew.

  How can I protect her when I cannot even protect myself? It is the taste of ashes on my lips. I did not intend to fall in love. I came to beard the monster in its den. To find the hidden truths that would destroy her. And now the omens say I will die. What will become of you? Tiderider will protect you. Perhaps he will even take you for his own. That would be good. It would give my spirit comfort in the next world. How you did come down that stair! Most of the fireflies are so angry. You descended upon them like a hornet.

  Channadar slipped his legs around, tilted himself forward into a sitting position, and rode out a wave of nausea and dizziness at the pain in parts of his shoulder – that, at least, was sensation. They had put a wool stocking over his arm, but it was still cold, like the chill of death. He could no longer feel his fingers. The arm lay in a sling inside his shirt with the shoulder tightly bound in place to hold the shattered bone together. The empty silken sleeve of his shirt hung like a broken wing, flopping at his side in mute reminder of his injury and helplessness.

  Half the magic sundered.

  His fear for Leeza rose up again in fresh waves, rising stronger with each passing moment. Juna would have his lands and titles. He would want Leeza if he knew of their connection. And Juna would hurt Leeza. Not because he was bad, but because he was irresponsible. Channadar had to make arrangements to see that Leeza was taken care of. Which meant he had to make some decisions.

  And he needed to get rid of Juna's summerflies, find Juna a wife who would be good for Hellsguard and take care of the matters that Juna would allow to slide.

  He sighed and slipped to his feet, padding out of the room, through his parlor and into the central hall. Channadar sat down at one of the tables, folded his good arm upon its smooth surface, and pressed his face into it. What was he to do about Leeza? Tiderider must have Leeza. No. Tiderider must take Leeza to his mother first ... and then ... Tiderider would be a fit mate for Leeza or perhaps another of his brothers. Channadar had three younger half brothers, all truebloods. Perhaps his mother would consent to a match between Leeza and one of them. They would appreciate her.

  "Channadar, my lord and friend?"

  Channadar raised his head at the sound of Tiderider's voice. "You always sense when
I am troubled."

  Tiderider gave a very tiny bowing of his head.

  "We need to discuss Leeza."

  "What is it about Leeza that concerns you?"

  "For a long time I have wanted to marry her."

  Tiderider frowned. "A trueblood would be more worthy of you."

  Channadar waved his hand for silence. "I know your feelings concerning Leeza. I know that most of you consider her a summerfly, but you're wrong."

  "As you wish." Tiderider bowed his head in acquiescence.

  "I do wish. After all that has happened, I fear I may not survive this Dance of War. Therefore, I want you to know what I wish you to do, should I die."

  Tiderider's head came up and he grabbed Channadar's hand. "My lord, the Chosen will not let you die. Better that we all perish, than you. Our lives are pledged to fall first."

  "I don't question that. Only, if I should. I want you to take Leeza to my mother. I love her dearly. Swear to me that you'll do that."

  "I swear by earth and wood."

  "Juna will want her, once he knows she was mine. You must not let Juna have her. He would not treat her kindly. My soul would rest better if you took her for your own, or matched her with my younger brothers."

  "I will take her to Faewin, and if your brothers do not want her, I will take her for my own. You have my vow."

  "That eases my heart." Channadar embraced Tiderider and sealed the vow. Leeza would not be abandoned by his death, but treated as a woman of his people – one who was not a warrior and required the care and protection of a male. Since she would never be a dragonfly like Blue Lily and Jangflower, at least she could become a butterfly and never want for anything.

  * * * *

  Galee met with the four summerflies in the swan room. Daylight glinted on her hair, making golden wings above her ears. She wore her burgundy red dress with a wealth of petticoats to make it flare around her hips and legs. The close fitting bodice revealed the ample curves of her breasts, making it plain that her charms outshone those of the summerflies.