JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING III

by JANRAE FRANK

  A ripple of astonished joy rippled through the assembled students and Guildsmyn at the news that Yukiah lived and the branch clan had come.

  Talons looked up at Eshraf with a beatific smile. "Then tomorrow?"

  "Tomorrow, child, you will keep your word, because you gave it, and we will draw them out. Then Grand Master Ceejorn will grant you a divorce."

  "I will be free..."

  * * * *

  Dynarien came in to check on Talons near midnight. He lit the lamp and settled on the bed beside her, stroking her head. "I love you, Talons. More than life itself I love you." She woke at his touch, smiling.

  "I'm sorry I made our coupling an act of vengeance. It should have been an act of love. I loved you even then."

  "I know you did," Dynarien murmured, kissing her forehead. "I know."

  "Make love to me. Now. Before I die." Tears welled in Talons' eyes, running down her dark skin. "No. Wait ... get Edouina. Pledge me my triad ... the one I wanted ... let tomorrow be ... a sham."

  Dynarien fetched Edouina. They closed her door and locked it. When he had called them his na'halaefs to his father, he had been speaking from his heart. He spoke the words together with them, calling to both Hadjys and his sire to witness, felt their presence and made it fact.

  Tears started in his eyes as he began to kiss Talons, gently, hungrily, his heart breaking. Edouina joined him in making love to her and, when Talons fell asleep, she showed Dynarien all the delights of having a trained bi-kyndi in his marriage bed.

  * * * *

  "The heir betrays her betrothed," Leonè observed to Mohanja. "The yuwenghau sleeps in her room."

  "Anyone with eyes can see he is the mon she loves."

  "That is not the point."

  "The point, Leonè. The point I have not yet given you. Is that within three weeks, if not sooner the heir will be dead. Wrathscar poisoned her and there is no cure. Let her have what may be the only night of love she will ever truly have with the mon she loves."

  Leonè was shocked. "But why? The marriage."

  "They planned for it to weaken her so that she would die in childbed. A rare thing among Sharani. But she is failing too quickly. We may lose the children also. Edouina is a very powerful bi-kyndi. When the time comes, she and Dynarien will try to combine their powers and pull the children into Edouina's body. Normally an impossible task this late in a pregnancy. But Dynarien is yuwenghau." Mohanja signaled a change of subject by slapping the table. "We need to go over this. Dynarien holds several of the Abelard spells. He will Jump into the chapel, focus on the enemy and cast Revelation. All of her followers, all those she has subverted, guards, and servants alike will be marked instantly with the hellbrand. This will include all in the palace compound and in the city itself. Take no prisoners. Just kill them."

  Tiderider, Ceejorn, and Jimi completed the group of leaders, since Queiggy would continue to remain in the Guild Wing to which helpless innocents and wounded would be evacuated: nothing of the darkness could pass his wards so long as he remained within.

  Mohanja unrolled a map of the palace indicating how he intended to place his troops to best advantage to storm the chapel and stand off the palace guard before moving to destroy them. The temple battle units would take care of fighting in the compound itself with the help of the Kjartens and Maya leading Derryl's surviving troops, those she had brought with her. They hoped to rally the households of other lords once the hellbrand started appearing. The city would have to take care of itself, until the palace compound could be brought under control, was the consensus – however Maya had not been content with that and slipped Tuhk and his sons out in the night to speak with Derryl's network of informers, telling them to watch for the hellbrand and pray because a great magical working was being done. That and nothing more.

  "I will need two people to open the doors of the chapel which will be locked from the inside," Mohanja said.

  "Eshraf has already arranged that," Alysyn told him. "The shadow hounds will."

  "We have two?"

  Alysyn looked to his four companions. "A vow of secrecy before our god is needed before I reveal this."

  She got it and then spoke. "Hanadi never left Havensword. The pact of the Shardith is that she spend every seventh year as a hound. She and Brundarad have guested with Eshraf. They hunted the vampires with our furry spies. They will be hidden in the chapel to open the doors. Normally they go to the monastery of St. Tarmus for her to bear her pups. Instead she birthed them in one of the west bedrooms with Shaheeramaat in attendance."

  "Hanadi!" Mohanja slapped the table. "I did hear Hanadi that night when I stood on the tower! I did. Now I am certain that victory will be ours. Then we will search the castle, the city, the caverns down to the smallest caves and crevices. Nothing will remain hidden. There will be no secrets left to return and haunt us. All will be cleansed and revealed. The light of Justice will shine forth once more and the will of the Dark Judge will be carried out. I do so swear by the Book and by the Blade, my life be forfeit to my God if I falter or turn aside from my duty."

  * * * *

  The unauthorized last minute alterations began on the palace chapel at midnight. Galee had made the original arrangement for it to be held here and not in the temple – her reasons were now very evident: she and her creatures could not get past Eshraf's wards. Alora led some of the students in this foray accompanied by six novices from the temple. They carried in six long boxes, setting them along the wall and draped them with blue satin to try and make them less conspicuous. Most of the noble guests would be arriving without wearing weapons. The boxes contained blades to be handed out.

  The decorators arrived for their official last minute alterations while the students were still working and put up a protest. Alora gave a nod. The students stripped, bound and gagged the myn, dragged them down a side corridor and locked them in a broom closet. Tiderider, passing by, pulled his golden fan from his sash and erased the closet door with a casual wave of it and then proceeded on with an impish smile and a casual shrug. Alora, being known to Galee's people, affected a veil, and they continued their changes. The bulk of Galee's forces would be lesser bloods and while garlic would not stop them, it would make life unpleasant for them. Chests of garlic were brought in and one placed at the end of each and every pew, as well as beside the altar, replacing the baskets of flower petals. The number of priests to be present at the wedding had been increased so that there would now be a priest to open every chest at the instant the wedding concluded: Instead of throwing flowers, they would be throwing garlic.

  "That will surprise everyone, do you think?" The soft, lilting voice drew Alora's head up. StealsThunder stood watching her shyly. The little Fae was as tiny as Tiderider was tall; yet they were both full blood. Alora guessed it must have something to do with the magic to produce such dissimilar types. She stood no more than perhaps four foot ten, slanted silver eyes, silver hair and eyebrows, ivory skin. Alora thought she looked like a pale doll or statue carved from marble or alabaster. She wore pale blue knee pants, tucked in shirt and an open jerkin of deep amethyst.

  "Yes, I believe it will," Alora replied. She would love to see Faewin, but that was invitation only. The closest she was ever likely to get would be if she were ever invited to Channadar's estates in eastern Creeya where his enclave of half bloods lived as part of his court.

  "Our warband will stomp them!" StealsThunder proclaimed, whipping out her fans and stomping a little dance. She carried a sword at her shoulder as well as her fans.

  "Enough, Thunder," Tiderider said, stroking her head and stopping her. "We know what you will do. Go join the others before you raise the magic too soon." They watched her leave and he said to Alora. "She is small, but very strong. Otherwise, she would not have been sent. We will teach these dark ones that you do not hunt the Fae."

  "How can the two of you be so different?"

  "You suspect the answer. The magic. The magic is intense in Faewin, as it is in Elveron. Our isla
nds exist atop the ruins of a drowned city larger than some kingdoms. It is a city of wonders beyond comprehension from the Burning Age. Through the magic we can swim there with the naiads and explore. We find strange things. Things we guard and must not share. Sometimes they change us."

  "Which of you is truest born?" Alora clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my, that's a rude question."

  "I take no offense. You are merely curious. Thunder is."

  Alora saw the sun begin to edge up between the mountains. "The hours have sped. We need to finish here."

  "Should we survive this dance, will you share a glass with me?"

  Alora flushed. "Of course."

  Tiderider smiled, slow, and languid with a small bow and left her.

  Hanadi and Brundarad arrived to conceal themselves behind the great tapestry of Hadjys as the lawgiver that hung to the floor behind the altar. Attendants filed in to take their places and Alora blinked in surprise, before hurriedly leaving. She would make a very poor Guildsmyn if she kept reacting this way. If the enemy had been watching they would have known something was off. All of those attendants were Guildsmyn drawn from obscure sections of the clerical staff and they were armed. She knew them only because she had recently been running messages for Alysyn.

  They had done all that they could. In a matter of hours either Galee or the Guild would be utterly destroyed. Yet even if the Guild fell, Galee would not win, for there was still the Netherguard poised to take the city and the castle. Alora prayed it would not come to that, since it meant they would all be dead.

  * * * *

  Bram listened for many hours to Hurst trying to convince the others and himself to offer Galee what she wanted. He tried to remember when Hurst had first joined Derryl's company. Bram busted his boot heel off. The edge was sharp. Not sharp enough to harm a vampire, but sharp enough for what he wished with it. The cobbler's nails had come free with the heel. He worked one loose and began in the darkness to dig into the rear wall, carving, by feel alone, the rune of his god into the surface.

  He finished as the light of morning came, although he could not see it, and traced his fingers over the rune with a silent prayer. Behind him, Hurst screamed, clutching at his forehead. The others gathered close to see what was wrong. The guards had not appeared since the middle of the night, and the single lamp still burning cast a meager light. Bram shoved through his companions to reach Hurst with a grim expression on his face. He forced Hurst into that single strand of light and cursed. "Traitor!"

  The brand of hell was on his forehead. Bram caught Hurst by the throat slamming him hard upon the floor. His huge hand went around Hurst's neck, and then he took the boot heel with the three remaining nails and shoved it into the hollow of Hurst's throat. He added his other hand into the hold and with his palms drove the nails and boot heel deep into Hurst's throat. Hurst tried vainly to pull Bram's hands loose. Blood welled around the boot heal and Hurst's eyes widened as he struggled to breathe. One of the younger myn pulled his boot off and began to use the heel on Hurst's groin in a dispassionate manner. Two others forced Hurst's fingers loose from Bram's wrists and methodically broke them one by one.

  "You betrayed our lord and now he is dead."

  Bram continued tear at Hurst's throat with the nails, then dropped it and shoved his fingers in, widening the hole and clawing at the soft tissue from the inside like a beast gone mad.

  One of the others grasped Bram's hands, pulling them loose. "Bram. Bram, get hold of yourself. He's dead."

  The calm voice penetrated and the older mon rocked back on his heels, sucking in deep, shaking breaths. "Lord Derryl was a good mon," Bram said when he once more had control of himself. "A fine mon."

  Before anyone could answer, shouts, and the clash of steel brought them crowding to the bars to see what chanced. Light from many lamps came down the corridor. Bram ordered them back as Timjimikin arrived with the keys and unlocked their cell.

  "We're Lord Derryl's myn," Bram told him.

  Bram's eyes dropped and then lifted again as he swallowed. "They killed him."

  Timjimikin's face turned grim. "We know it. It is a longer story than you know. We'll tell it as we walk."

  Tuhk's son brought out a stake and drove it through Hurst's heart.

  "You're taking no chances..." said Bram.

  "We cannot afford to." Timjimikin told him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  BATTLES

  In the hours before dawn Mohanja summoned all Guild officers and unit leaders from each of the three branches into the largest hall they had in the Guild Wing. He allowed them to bring a few of their myn with them. A dais had been constructed at one end of the hall and several chairs fanned to the sides of it. He motioned everyone to stand away from the doors, which caused all eyes to turn in that direction. Leonè and Alysyn entered first, moving to either side and watching the gathering for a reaction.

  "The branch clan has come," Mohanja declared. A murmur ran through the assembled ranks.

  Eshraf entered and stood beside him. "By order of the Temple, in the sight of our god, Takhalme Gee is no longer Grand Master."

  The murmur became a roar and Mohanja banged the dais with the butt of his halberd for silence. The room quieted again.

  Eshraf resumed, "I anointed a new Grand Master, chosen by our god. The Dark Ones struck down the last prince of the branch clan, and so I presented the crown of Creeya to the Guildsmon husband of his daughter: Ceejorn Osterbridge."

  "Has Takhalme been informed?" Someone shouted from the assembled officers.

  "No. I feared to allow the enemy to know these things. Gylorean Galee is the vampire who has afflicted us for the last thirty years."

  "The blasphemy of fiat indeed," growled Leonè.

  That brought another roar and again Mohanja quieted them with a bang. He turned to the door, "Let them enter."

  The door were thrown wide.

  Ceejorn and Isen came first and took their place on the central thrones. Yukiah, still too weak to walk, followed on a litter carried by priests with the Kalirioni walking beside him. He was recognized instantly as they sat the litter beside Ceejorn and his name rippled through the room.

  Mohanja gave the tale of Yukiah's resurrection to the officers who stared in wonder at the mon they had believed dead and mourned over. When he finished the wonder had deepened into awe. Then he ordered the highest ranking among them to come forward, one by one, and swear fealty to Grand Master Ceejorn. There would be time for a greater ceremony, if they survived this day. When all was done, Ceejorn rose and gave them their orders.

  * * * *

  Edouina dressed herself in white trousers and tunic with her swords at her back. She had been told repeatedly that both the clothes and the weapons were inappropriate, but she ignored those warnings. She and Talons would be marrying Bryndel in a Sharani style triading. Her expression was grim: a chill rage masked the grief at her core.

  She and Alora helped Talons don a long white dress. Talons' steps were unsteady and she leaned heavily upon Alora and Edouina. She had spent the pre-dawn hours in prayer, greeting the day with an expression of serenity and acceptance. Her grandsire had ordered her to leave her claws behind, but instead she had simply concealed the black, fingerless gloves beneath long white ones. She did not want to upset him by pointing out any sooner than necessary that Mohanja now ruled as regent until the anointing of the branch clan prince. Let him have his illusions. Mohanja had taken a great burden from her by taking the rule of Creeya. She had never wanted it. The realm was safe in his hands. Or it would soon be.

  All the noble families of Creeya and most of the chieftains from around the Merezian continent would be at the wedding. They were expected to attend without their weapons. It was the perfect opportunity for Galee to decimate the Creeyan aristocracy. Edouina and the Patriarch had alerted all the families who they knew to be truehearted that they anticipated a coup breaking out after the vows were exchanged. The lords would go armed to the wedding and th
eir private guards would watch for the hellbrand, placing themselves at the disposal of Lord Taurlys Kjarten. They also asked about beloved Channadar whose representatives were attending in his place.

  Eshraf showed them the documents and the evidence against Galee. There was horror and outrage and among some grief, for many had admired the dashing Lord Derryl. The tragic conclusion to the tale of Belyla Wrathscar broke hearts also and many swords were pledged to vengeance and justice.

  Sixty catkin and shivari gathered in the attics of the palace, converging on the chapel by secret paths which they alone knew, for cats were exploratory creatures and the palace had become their playground. The catkin would give the signal for the armies to converge on the chapel, mind-speaking each other with one of them assigned to each waiting unit. Two shadow hounds slipped from under a floor length wall hanging behind the altar, moving into place beside the doors, ready to open them.

  The knights had spent most of the previous night going among the students and enlisting their aid – so the students armed themselves and gathered in the great hall in their holiday clothing, as if the wedding would be a joyous occasion. The Guildsmyn mustered secretly throughout the building, dressed for a party and looking for a fight. Only the guards and servants were left out: there was no way to know how many might have been subverted and they did not want the information leaked to Galee.

  Bryndel spent the night in Talons' apartments, guarded by Dynarien and Edouina. Bryndel Wrathscar had finally found his courage. Once the coercions had been removed from Bryndel's mind, the young mon felt dizzy with relief. For the first time in Bryndel's memory, he was his own mon. Bryndel Wrathscar dressed in white and armed himself, sword, and dagger at his sides. He felt certain that, while the guests might feel offended by his weapons, they would not want to make a scene and ruin so important an occasion. And if they did ... Bryndel decided, Well, to Hell to with them.