* * * *
Isranon emerged from Amiri's large medical tent to find Dahnig and Grygg standing just outside with Gordain. The three of them had often worked sentry duty together over the past few weeks. Isranon and Nans both preferred to have either one of the lycans or a vampire partnered with each group of humans on watch at night. The presence of a non-human increased the muscle to face what might come at them and decreased the chances of the sentries being taken by surprise. Who worked well with whom and what had long ago been determined; and when the social chemistry worked out well, they were matched together permanently for those duties. The vampires had become tolerant of the humans bite-me jokes; the lycans had stopped being affonted by comments about dogs; and the humans had gradually lost their defensiveness.
Grygg stepped forward. Is Iyan going to be all right?"
"I don't know yet. Isranon rubbed at the corner of his eyes.
"Can we sit with him?"
"You'll have to ask Amiri."
Grygg gave a considering and tight-lipped nod. He and Dahnig entered the tent. Gordain started to follow them and Isranon caught his arm. Nevin wants to speak with you."
"His tent?"
"Yes."
When he reached the command tent, Isranon found that Tenly had three nibari waiting for him on the bedroom side of the partition, a dose of Sanguine Rose set out, and some sweet cinnamon cakes. Nans had already taken her place at the table. Nevin would join them later.
"Well, you think he did it? The hard edge in Nans sapphire eyes condemned Stygean without waiting for an answer.
Isranon settled into his place at the head of the table and shook his head. Unless the southerners have discovered some spells I am not familiar with; Stygean could not have done it."
"But you had him spellcorded..."
"It's as much for the boy's protection as the others. The kandoyarin are less likely to try avenging Iyan if they believe I'm doing something about what happened. It is difficult to explain to people who are not familiar with my kind that there is a vast difference between shattering a soul and tearing it."
"It must have come from the town. Nans sipped her wine, her finger tracing patterns on the table.
"We could have attracted a wandering demon of some kind, but I doubt it. The towns are turning into pestholes. If it were not for the chance that some survivors lingered, I would simply burn the towns and villages down as I went."
"Any ideas what it is?"
"None. I might know more when Nevin gets here. Isranon sipped his Sanguine Rose. I'll speak with Stygean later and then check whatever he tells me against what I can find in Josiah's books. Anksha is prowling the edges of camp. If it's a demon, she'll know what to do."
Isranon pushed his chair back with a gesture at the curtain. Tenly rose and returned with Farris. The golden-haired nibari of Black Cliff stock knelt between Isranon's knees in first position, her hands clasped behind her back, and her head tilted to expose her long neck. Isranon leaned forward, gripped her shoulders, and sank his fangs into her. He drew as much from her as he dared to without hurting her and lifted his head. A tap on her shoulder sent her away. He licked the blood from around his mouth, appearing vaguely unsatisfied.
Tenly looked on indifferently and turned to Nans. Mulled wine, General?"
"Yes, please."
"Shall I bring you another nibari, M'lord?"
Isranon nodded.
Tenly stepped behind the curtain and returned with Eevy. The nibari knelt between isranon's knees, brushed her hair away from her neck, and assumed first position. Isranon bent over her. His fangs went in easily and he fed gently.
* * * *
Gordain entered and stood at attention. Carpets and sitting pillows made Nevin's tent cozy, but there was no furniture except for a cask of liquor resting in a small rack. Once they were deemed safe, abandoned villages and towns were searched for usable goods by the company foragers. The last one had produced several casks of well-aged beer that the lycan chieftain had appropriated.
Nevin gestured for Gordain to sit, and he settled across from him. Most myn would have found Nevin's scarred visage ugly; Gordain thought the scars added character.
"How many of your scouts caught the scent of taint in Linder's Meadow? Nevin filled two tankards from the cask and handed one to Gordain.
"Four. All of those were wolfing it. The rest of us smelled nothing."
"I want them to sniff around that glade. But not before morning. The creature might need the darkness to travel."
"You don't think Stygean did it?"
"I am certain he didn't. Nevin considered Gordain a moment, frowning slightly. You're one of those I picked up in Imralon?"
"Yessir. Gordain framed a wry smile. If you had not almost bitten my tail off, I would have been chieftain and not you."
"Oh, so you're that one. Nevin chuckled. He had outrun and out-fought his way through close to twenty lycans for the right to mate with the god, Tala, and found this battle-clan. Gordain had mounted her, but before he could consummate, Nevin had chomped down on his tail and viciously threw him bleeding to the side.
"The allure of the god is incredible. Even a corsach like myself was driven mad with lust for her."
Nevin tensed at the word corsach and looked wary. That's the second time you've brought it up. Did someone tell you I was corsach?"
"You are, aren't you?"
"That's beggaring the question, Nevin snarled. Who was it?"
"Your cousin Olin. Gordain faltered, feeling suddenly defensive and wondering for an instant if he had overstepped himself. Then he recovered his attitude. Now, are you or aren't you?"
"I am. Finish your beer and get on with your duties."
Gordain drained his tankard and favored Nevin with a cheeky grin. Well, with that out of the way, if you get lonely, you know where to find me."
"Don't go flashing your tail at me, Gordain. I'm not interested in you."
Gordain shrugged and left the tent. Their people had issues with homosexuality and considered it a weakness. Still, Gordain felt confident of his ability to get past Nevin's defenses. Seduction was an art in which he was well versed.
* * * *
Stygean huddled in a pile of blankets in the middle of a blood-slave wagon. The long benches that lined the sides of it had manacled chains connected to the walls above them and leg chains attached to an iron bar beneath them. He felt dizzy and disoriented; cut off from his powers and mage sight. The world looked duller through eyes that had no magic. Tears lurked behind his eyes at the indignity of being blamed for what happened to Iyan; yet he refused to let them escape.
"I'm sa'necari. I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid."
The rear door opened and Isranon stepped through.
"What do you want, Renunciate? Stygean chose the polite word when all he wished to do was to spit the word heretic at the mon.
"To talk to you."
The compassion in Isranon's gaze irritated the boy. About what?"
"Iyan. How did you know the creature was there?"
"So now you think it was a creature and not me?"
"Perhaps."
Stygean considered in tight-lipped defiance. He had been forbidden to use his powers and he would first have to admit to having scanned the area. Stygean sucked in a breath and told Isranon everything. Then he waited for his punishment.
Isranon nodded and placed his fingers on Stygean's forehead. The boy winced, remembering the time that Isranon had crushed all of his inner shields to see what lurked behind them. Calm yourself. I'm only going to Read you."
Stygean shivered despite the gentleness of Isranon's arcane exploration of his being.
Isranon shook himself when he withdrew from Stygean. There are tears in the edge of your soul and psychic body. You're lucky it did not get more of you."
"Do you know what it was? Curiosity drew Stygean from his sullenness.
"Not yet, but its reaction to your exorcism spell is suggestive. Isranon sucked in a
deep breath as he considered what to do next. If I remove the cords, some of your discomfort will leave. However, the seals are also blocking your awareness of your wounds. I don't know what will be worse."
Stygean blinked and lowered his eyes, trying to decide where the Renunciate was going with that line of thought. I don't understand why you are telling me this."
"I will remove the seals and cords if you wish."
"You're letting me go?"
"Yes. But I want you to stay with Amiri and Randilyn until you're healed. Is that understood?"
Stygean nodded.
Isranon released the deadly seals on the spellcord and unfastened Stygean's wrists.
Relief rushed through Stygean when the cords came off. Before he could savor his release, a surge of pain rose through Stygean's mage-centers. Stygean gave a long groan and fainted.
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CHAPTER FOUR
SHADOWS OF THE PAST
Nans Gryphonheart's tent was large, but could not match that of Isranon. The longtime campaigner in Nans demanded simplicity. She had long derided her cousin, King William, for his habit of traveling with enough furniture to have all the pleasures of home. It made decamping slow and Nans wanted to be able to move fast once they reached the plains of Angrim, where they intended to face off against the legions of the Minnorian Empire. A trestle table and six folding camp chairs sufficed for her, the former could be taken apart and moved flat in the back on one of the wagons. Her bed in the far corner was a simple cot and a pile of blankets. She tolerated Isranon's needs for heavy furniture because she knew that he required physical comforts due to the nature of his injuries.
Luck and Travis sat with her. Freyrick, her sturdy Ocealayen aide-de-camp, hovered near her back. He served as her secretary, personal forager, and sometimes butler. Nans had chosen him for much the same qualities that Isranon had seen in Tenly: attention to detail, a gift for diplomacy when the circumstances demanded, and a steady temperament that never faltered in the presence of the darker habits practiced by some in her army. However, as the bastard daughter of a Gormondi princess, Nans demanded a greater formality from her aide than Isranon did and Freyrick fulfilled her needs completely.
"You think Isranon can handle it? Luck held a tankard of thick beer in his hands. A few scraps of bread remained on his breakfast plate.
"I'm certain he can. At least once he has some idea of what it is. Nans sipped her glass of mulled wine. Freyrick's efforts could not match Tenly's when it came to a perfect glass of mulled wine, but he came close enough to satisfy Nans. Thanks to the carrying crystals that had been stolen from Timon and Hoon, they were able to bring along far more than anyone suspected. Isranon is amazing. He's holding a scry ward all on his own power against a hellgod. Not even Abelard could do that."
"That's usually done in circle and rapport, ain't it, Nans? Luck leaned closer.
"Exactly. And even then, I doubt it could keep a full-fledged god out."
Luck whistled in surprise and then the troubled light returned to his eyes. Yeah, but it's showing on him. He ain't looked this bad since before you went to Imralon."
Travis scratched at his chest. Thinking of Imralon made the long scar beneath his clothing itch. A gigantic Susgrag had split him open from chest to groin. Isranon had called him back from the edge of death and healed him. He owed the mon big time and had no intention of forgetting it. There must be something we can do."
"Make all speed to Ildyrsetts and hope we get there before he collapses from the strain. If he drops the wards, Galee will be all over us. She fought my father for seven days and seven nights before he defeated her ... and now she's stronger than ever."
Anksha slipped into the tent, looking deflated, her tail drooping. My Isranon ... he's going in. He won't take me with him."
Nans stopped in mid-sentence, raking her gaze across her captains with a frown. Alone?"
"Taking Haig, Jun, Garin, Keahi, Corbienne. Anksha ticked the names off on her fingers.
"Does he know what it is?"
"No. I do. Is demon. Anksha touched her nose. I smell it. I tell my Isranon, but he won't listen."
Luck and Travis rose from their seats together and headed out, not waiting for orders. Long association with Nans meant that they knew their jobs without being told.
Nans stood and lifted the little demon-eater, settling Anksha on her hip like a child. Anksha's legs dangled briefly, and then she locked them around Nans waist. Nans ruffled Anksha's hair. She wanted to prevent Anksha from bolting after Isranon and carrying her was preferable to snagging her by the hair at the last moment. Let's go. I wish he would not do these things without consulting me."
"Me too."
* * * *
Isranon walked through the camp, staff in hand, with Haig beside him and the other four Lemyari following. Myn moved from his path. Many then trailed after them, but no one ventured too close. They could tell from his determined stride that he had an action planned concerning Linder's Meadow and whatever had attacked the two boys.
"My brother... Nevin intercepted Isranon at the edge of the camp with Gordain and Olin at his back. We are going with you."
"No, Isranon answered in a voice that brooked no argument. We six are going in and no one else. What's in there scarred Stygean's soul and nearly ripped Iyan's apart. I'm taking only the undead."
Nevin studied his face, noting the changes in his former student's manner. Isranon's spirit grew stronger even as his body became weaker. Gordain. Olin. He gestured at two tall spruce trees. Get up there and watch. His eyes narrowed. If anything goes wrong, Isranon, I'm going in after you. And there won't be any stopping me. Understand?"
Isranon drew Nevin into a hug. I understand. Then he pulled away and walked on.
The muddy road passed between houses whose rotting exteriors greeted Isranon like the ghosts of days past. He could not help imagining what the town must once have been like. The very ground beneath his feet vibrated with memories.
"The earth knows and Daverana remembers all that have moved upon its surface, Isranon quoted softly. Some mages could harness the vibrational memory of the soil itself. Isranon could sense it, but had not learned to access and manipulate it.
Even before he had found the rest of his powers, Isranon had been a Speaker to Spirits. Ghosts disliked sa'necari, avoiding them, eluding both their grasp and their powers; the only form of undead to be immune to their necromantic skills. Time and again over the years, ghosts had come and spoken to him. He could sense a tickle of interest in him from the unseen spirits hovering in the ruined houses, but for once the ghosts did not emerge.
Jun's tall, rangy frame hunched and he walked with his hand on his saber. His deeply slanted black eyes, framed by long, thick lashes, scanned the empty houses and shops. There is something here. It makes my skin crawl. He spoke with an edge to his baritone voice.
Garin, a slender blond, turned his palm up and flexed his fingers, bringing forth his secondary nails that lurked beneath his primaries. Venom beaded on their tips. If it's undead, my venom will do me no good."
"Then we'll pull it apart with our hands. Keahi, the smallest of them, pulled at his nappy hair. Or chop them to kindling. Remove enough pieces and even the undead die the true death."
Isranon's curt gesture stopped the crosstalk as they reached the middle of a small park in the center of town. Glancing at the buildings with their chipped and peeling paint, boards weathered to gray, Isranon halted. Frost-killed weeds drooped in thick clusters throughout the park and uprooted the cobblestones in broken patches.
Haig threw back his heavy bearskin cloak and tucked his thumbs into his sword belt. You think this is wise, Isranon?
"Wise? I'm not certain. However, I must do something. This should drive it into the open, whatever it is."
Isranon closed his eyes to concentrate better and initiated a low-level necromantic scan. First he picked up only small life forms, rats and mice shivering in their holes. He exten
ded the scan and increased the level. Isranon picked up intelligent life forms in several clusters along the southwest end of town. His initial impression was humans. He centered his power on the nearest cluster. Again his first impression was humans, but there was an odd, shifting taste of arcane energy surrounding them. Isranon did not know how to Read that.
He raised his staff and shouted. Falsity Fall, all Truths Revealed."
His power surged through the streets in a flood of rainbow colors. Shrieks and shouts of rage came from the far side of the town.
"Get ready, said Haig, unlimbering his big, cross-hilted sword.
A lean, lanky figure emerged from a building and sauntered toward them with a twig going round and round in his mouth. Not a smart move, Isranon."
He wore two bulging sheaths that hung from his belt, the bottoms strapped to his thighs. A large metal tube was slung over his shoulder from a strap of densely woven material and the long hilt of an odd sword jutted above the opposite shoulder.
Isranon's eyes widened. Dane!"
Dane Jayce embraced Isranon. You've changed, kid."
"It's been five years... Isranon blinked and stood back. My scan did not pick you up."
"Necromancer scans don't ... unless I want them to. Dane moved a short distance from him. The twig stilled between his teeth. Look at me and see what I am."
Isranon reached out to Dane with all his arcane senses. The crackling immensity of power and a sense age beyond reckoning innundated Isranon's mind and psychic awareness, sending him reeling. Haig caught him before he could fall. Images of mushroom clouds and collapsing cities filled Isranon's mind. Tremendous metal vehicles trundled across the landscape, belching fire from long turrets. Metal ships sank and burned in a great river. People flashed out of existence, leaving only their shadows burnt into the sides of falling buildings countless stories high. A name came rushing into his mind. Louistrana ... no, you can't be that old."
"Colonel Dane Jayce, Louistrana Military Intelligence. We'll talk about it later. You've provoked them and you're about to have more trouble than you can handle."
"What are they? Haig steadied Isranon and then strolled closer to Dane.
Janrae Frank Dark - [Dark Brothers of the Light 08] - Blood Hope Page 5