"Every human in this town has become a host body for a demon. Galee had one of her main labs here during the Age of Burning. It was reopened three weeks ago by one of her sa'nekaryianes. Until recently I've managed to stay one step ahead of her. This does not bode well for my efforts."
The mention of the sa'nekaryianes sent a tremor of unease through Isranon and his companions, including Haig. They were the death angels of Gylorean Galee; the living forms of the most powerful of the undead, the nekaryianes. The creatures had been extinct since the Age of Burning, yet Galee had found a way to create them anew. They possessed the Seiryn's song that drove myn to madness, the venom of the Lemyari, and a mage's command of arcane power.
Isranon slid his gaze across the faces of his companions. What does that mean?"
"You'll have to kill all the hosts and then cast a major exorcism here ... assuming you have some strong enough priests."
"I can do it."
"You? The twig paused again in Dane's mouth. He pulled it out and let his fangs descend from their sheaths. My people and I have been killing them for weeks. We came to permanently destroy her lab. I got it sealed again. A simple necromantic sweep isn't going to fix it."
"Trust me. A twist of weary confidence caught upon the edges of Isranon's lips. There are no true humans left?"
"None."
Isranon's mind raced. Get your people out here. All of them. I will need to shield them."
A puzzled look came over Dane's face, but Isranon's tone convinced him. He took the twig from his mouth and whistled. Six vampires and seven nibari came out of the surrounding buildings and formed up behind Dane. They all carried the same strange weapons as Dane.
"Is this all of them, Dane? Isranon did not recognize any of them and he wondered what had become of the missing ones.
"Yes. Dane gave all the affirmation he felt necessary, so Isranon shook off his concern and refocused upon the task at hand. There would be time enough for questions later.
"All of you stand close together."
Isranon walked out into the center of the street and lifted Warrior high. Golden light surrounded him and golden shields formed around the Lemyari and Dane's people.
Dane cocked his head to the side, watching him. What's he going to do?"
"Destroy the town, Haig answered casually.
"Can he do that?"
"Watch."
Isranon shook his staff and cried out to the heavens. The Sunfire lances answered. They came burning down out of the skies, striking all around them. Buildings exploded in flames and burning debris filled the air. They rained down from the heavens like the trails of fiery comets. Human forms rushed from the far end of the streets, screaming threats. As they came near, their twisted shapes became apparent. Isranon spoke to the heavens again. The lances struck and soon all of them were staggering around, beating at the flames consuming them.
Pain flashed through Isranon. His arcane wounds reopened, flooding his clothing with blood. Yet he never faltered. With another shout, Isranon reduced the last of the town to cinders. Haig saw him start to fall and broke from the shielded circle. He held Isranon close to him, supporting the mage.
Isranon began the words of exorcism. Despairing shrieks rose into a cacophony of jarring noise. Isranon fought off the gathering darkness at the edge of his awareness as he came close to collapsing. The final words slipped from his mouth. Rainbow patterns of light spread over the scene of destruction and the voices were silenced. Isranon's eyes closed and he sagged against Haig. The vampire lifted him up and cradled him against his chest. Jun lifted the staff.
Dane stared at the bloody ruin of his friend. What happened?"
"Long story. Talk later."
Haig headed back toward their camp and the others followed. As they reached the edge of the destroyed town, a maddened human lunged from the shadows. Dane whipped the assault rifle from his shoulder, took aim, and blew it to bits.
Haig paused, staring. What the unholy hell is that weapon?"
"A present from Ishla. Another long story. Dane shouldered his gun and kept walking.
* * * *
Stygean lay shivering in his blankets in Randilyn's medical tent. Myn had been coming and going all day, having various ailments treated. Several soldiers had come in with head colds, asking for willowbark extract, menthol, and Randilyn's special potion for congestion. The boy had watched her splint a broken arm and stitch up a long cut. The poppy milk made him drowsy, yet he woke every time someone came in. So far they had kept him separated from Iyan by a curtain. Stygean longed to speak with the boy he had saved. Randilyn kept calling him a hero and that felt oddly satisfying to him.
"I thought I ought to tell you that Isranon just entered Linder's Meadow, Randi. Luck sauntered into the tent, spied Stygean and knelt beside him. You did well, boy. I starting to rethink my opinion of you."
Stygean blinked, stammering in confusion, Th-thank you."
Luck patted his shoulder, rose and headed for the flap only to be nearly knocked off his feet by a soldier who came rushing inside. Sunfire lances! Sunfire lances! Dawnreturning is destroying the town!"
"I want to see it. Stygean pushed himself into a sitting position.
"There's no way to see from here. Randilyn stopped grinding herbs in her mortar and pestle at the small table.
"If we sat him atop the wagon, he could see. Luck turned to Stygean. What do you want?"
"Top of the wagon."
Luck gathered Stygean up in a blanket and carried him outside. Randi, you think you could hand him up to me?"
"I sure can. Randilyn took Stygean in her arms, and the boy marveled at how strong she was.
Luck climbed onto the wooden roof of the wagon and Randilyn handed the boy up to him. The captain snuggled Stygean against him, supporting him so that he could see the incredible magic in the distance. Myn sat on wagon roofs and lycans occupied the trees. A huge crowd watched it from the edge of camp.
"Dawnreturning is doing all this? Stygean could not keep the awe from his voice. He had never seen the like of it and the idea that a mon wielding such power was a sa'necari astounded him.
His mage centers began burning. Stygean felt as if his chest and heart were being squeezed, his entrails drawn out of his body through his navel, and his skin singed. I have to shield ... magic get me ... in trouble. Have to shield."
Luck knew that magic had been forbidden to the sa'necari boys. He met Stygean's beseeching eyes and nodded. Do it. I'll take responsibility."
Stygean raised his inner shields and held onto them tightly. The creature that had wounded him kept alternately pulling and pounding, trying to reach through him. Iyan ... Iyan ... is he shielded?"
A shrill scream from the tent answered Stygean's question. His hand tightened upon Luck's arm. Get me down there. If you put me beside him, I can shield him ... I know I can."
Randilyn glanced back at the tent, her features taut with worry. Amiri could shield, but she's gone to the edge of camp. She's waiting for Isranon."
The nibari looked ready to bolt in the direction of Amiri.
"No time. Luck gestured at Randilyn. Put him with Iyan."
Together they lowered Stygean from the wagon into Randilyn's arms. She carried him to the tent, and around the curtain to where Iyan lay. The human boy was writhing and convulsing. She placed Stygean beside Iyan. Stygean closed his eyes and focused inward. A transparent black aura formed around the adolescent necromancer. It wavered as Stygean resisted the draining pull from the creature that had scarred his soul. Slowly, inch by inch, the auric pattern spread over the bedding, over Iyan, and held fast.
Iyan's body relaxed, his eyes opened and his hand stole into Stygean's. It got you too, did it?"
"You're awake, Stygean murmured.
"Just now. You saved my life. I owe you."
The gratitude in Iyan's voice caused Stygean's stomach to flutter oddly. I'm just glad you're okay."
"I don't care what anyone says. You're a good one, S
tygean."
Randilyn hugged Luck and kissed him impulsively. Luck chuckled. He did it, Randi."
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CHAPTER FIVE
DIFFICULT ENCOUNTERS
Confident without arrogance, Nans Gryphonheart strode the path between circling rows of tents on her way to the evening meeting. She had been a freeranger for sixty years, yet looked no older than eighteen. Her eyes alone betrayed her years. The kandoyarin had been skeptical of her ability at first because she looked like a pretty, untried girl. A very few of them had even made sexual remarks during the first weeks of their march, earning them a drubbing from Luck, Travis, and some of the other Rowdies. The only would-be swain that she had been forced to deal with herself was Yiggsil.
"Speak of a devil..."
Yiggsil stepped into her path with a toothy grin, holding something behind his back. His skin was like dusty elephant hide and his feet were rounded and thick. He stood eight feet tall and had a face reminiscent of a rhinoceros. Without the horn, or at least on his face, Nans thought wryly to herself.
"Got present for lady troll."
Nans shook her head in disbelief. Yiggsil never seemed ready to give up. Okay. What have you got for me?"
Yiggsil proudly swept his hand around and Nans saw that he had the hind leg and stinger tail of a manticore.
"Where did you get that?"
"Was sniffing horses. The troll struggled with the Englacommon tonguelanguage. Trolls did not often speak with the other races, being more inclined to eat them. He made a determined effort, screwing up his face with determination. Yiggsil bash it. Tasty treat for lady troll. We eat, have some beer ... Fuck?"
Nans flinched when he shoved the pieces of manticore in her face, the stinger bobbing an inch from her nose. Frowning, she growled at him. No."
Yiggsil's big hand shot in and pinched her nipple hopefully. Nans spun into a high kick faster than Yiggsil could follow and her foot connected with his immense chest, sending him sprawling.
The troll grinned up at her. Hit like troll. Yiggsil in love."
Nans strode past him.
* * * *
Jingen Scathwick received more privileges than Stygean, because he presented a more accommodating manner than his companion. Where Stygean's visits with his father were limited and stringently enforced; Jingen could see his mother as soon as he finished his chores. He strolled into the blood-slave section, giving pleasant nods to the lycans on guard, and headed for his mother's tent.
Anksha came bouncing from one of them on the balls of her feet, licking the blood from her mouth. Jingen noted that the tent she emerged from was Liuthan's and he schooled a gloating expression from his face. The uppity Loosestrifes, who had once employed his parents, were getting a dose of payback that pleased Jingen; although he would never let Stygean know how he felt about it.
Anksha scampered to him and patted her pouch. Are you being a good boy?"
"Yes, Anksha, I'm being a very good boy. Jingen favored her with a modest smile.
"Candy? I have candy for good boys."
Jingen held his hand out and Anksha filled it with a handful of honey candy wrapped in twists of wax paper. Thank you."
She ran off and he shoved it into his pocket. Jingen always accepted it even though he hated honey candy. Once she was out of sight, he walked on.
His mother, Disharyl, shared a large tent with four other sa'necari women and a male. The place was partitioned off into bedrooms. It was the largest of the blood-slave tents. Except for those five females, the rest of the blood-slaves were male. Males were easier for Anksha to capture with her powers.
Disharyl lay between the blankets. She smiled at him and lifted the farther corner of the blankets. Come my darling, and show your mother how much you love her."
Jingen slipped between them and suckled her breast like an infant while she unfastened his trousers and helped him enter her. Their grunts and moans of sexual congress could be heard to the farthest corners of the shared tent; and their incestuous relationship was common knowledge among certain blood-slave cliques. When the thirteen-year-old had spent himself within Disharyl, they cuddled for a long time in peaceful communion.
Disharyl Scathwick kissed his forehead, fondling his hair and stroking her finger across his cheeks. You make your mother happy."
Jingen smiled, wearing a dazed and satiated expression. I want you happy."
Disharyl's eyes turned haunted as the depths of a blackened wood. I'm a happy as she allows. I am too useful to them for Anksha to abuse me like she does the others."
"Do you hurt, mother?"
"Sometimes. I can feel her presence in all the nerves of my body when she enters our compound to feed. The pain and distress is only lessened after she feeds. Yet I dread having her fangs in my neck."
"You're not withering. Liuthan's a mess."
"So you've said. Disharyl's mouth twisted in distaste. Mark my words; he's the next to die. Those high and mighty Loosestrifes are getting what they deserve."
* * * *
Anksha crept close to Dane, curled up at his feet, and sniffed him with flared nostrils. Puzzlement lit her eyes. Nans had requested that they all save their questions for the evening meeting, which only heightened everyone's curiosity about the newcomer.
Just four of them sat around the table in the command tent with Dane: Anksha, Amiri, Nevin, and Nans.
Amiri gazed at Dane, awe written large upon her features. We thought you were a myth."
He shook his head, polishing off a goblet of blood that had an anti-coagulant added to it. I'm the last Louistranan. Dane produced a pouch of finely cut tobacco and a small pack of papers. He rolled himself a cigarette and sat smoking it. Catching the way that Nevin looked at him, Dane rolled another and extended it to him.
"Tobacco? Nevin eyed it suspiciously.
Dane struck a lucifer and lit it for him.
Nevin puffed on it and smiled. I smoke a pipe. What do you call this?"
"Cigarette."
"And those weapons of yours?"
"Guns. Dane reached over and ran his fingers through Anksha's hair. You look so much like Akee... He paused, glancing at her swollen belly. Where's your mate?"
"Isranon is papa. She patted her belly and grinned.
Dane shifted in his seat to look Amiri in the eyes. How is that possible?"
"Rogue magic. He unlocked her genetics when they mated."
"Then he's changed a lot since I last saw him. He was barely eighteen. Bodramet and Troyes rited his first love. Her name was Rose and she was a nibari. They made Isranon walk the gauntlet to save her. Dane took a long drag from his cigarette and ran a hand through his hair. I doubt any of you have ever seen a sa'necari gauntlet run. They use knives, not sticks. He made it as far as the bottom steps of the dais they were holding her on before he collapsed from his wounds. If Mephistis had not arrived and stopped it, they would have killed him as well as Rose."
Tenly emerged from behind the curtain. Master Isranon is resting. Haig is sitting with him."
"What's wrong with the kid?"
They shared a guarded look and then Nans gave Amiri the nod to speak.
"The Master of Blood made five blades. Four of them were given to blood-slaves. They were supposed to wait for the fifth before attacking Isranon, however, they became impatient for his death. The fifth blade will complete the spell that the blades lodged in his body. The four components of the spell are killing him inch by inch. I have not been able to identify the spell. Kalirion has said that there is no cure except mortgiefan. Isranon has rejected that."
"He would. A thin smile touched Dane's lips, caught midway between regret and admiration for Isranon's devotion to his ideals. He picked another piece from Amiri's words; his brow furrowed and the cigarette bobbed between his lips. The blades were made by Zarliche Blood?"
"Yes."
"He's on my list. Termination with extreme prejudice, as we used to say. I've been hunting him for centuries, but
he manages to stay one step ahead of me. Dane rolled another cigarette and placed it in a box, then rolled another. You mind if I have a look at the blades?"
The blades were brought out and laid before him. Dane handled them. I'm going to keep them."
Amiri frowned. Keep them? I need them to find a cure."
Dane shook his head. The one most likely to know what to do about them is Ishla. I'd like to give them to her next time I see her."
"You see her often?"
"Every chance I get. Dane gave Amiri a sly wink and chuckled. I sleep with her."
Stunned silence ended the conversation.
* * * *
On leaving the meeting, Amiri decided to look in on Iuf. She still carried her medical satchel slung from her shoulder, which she brought with her to every meeting in case means were required to deal with Isranon's illness. When she failed to find him in his own tent, Amiri checked Corbienne's. She found him alone there in Corbienne's bedroll, his breathing stertorous and a faint bluishness to his lips. The vampire put her fingers to his neck and Read him. The ability to Read bodies and bio-alchemy was rare among humans and lycans, yet all vampires and sa'necari could do it. The uses they put it to differed. Among vampires, the Ymraudes used it in the same way as humans, to diagnose illnesses and the extent of wounds; most Lemyari simply used it to better enjoy the deaths of their victims. Sa'necari used it mostly to decide where to slip the blades in while performing the rite of Mortgiefan or committing acts of torture.
Amiri laid out her tools. She opened a tiny casket of pure Amphereon, and blew a measured dose into Iuf's nostrils through a silver tube. Reading him again, Amiri felt his heart rate steady. She poured a measure of heart medicine and blood tonic containing foxglove, holadil, and pollendine, as well as other ingredients into a jar. Then she started to attach a long glass tube to the jar, expecting that she would need to force it down his throat; and his eyes opened.
She lifted him up, putting the jar to his lips.
"Amiri?"
"Drink. Amiri had a stern, but not uncaring expression. I don't know how much longer I can keep my promise, Iuf."
"Can't tell Nans. Mustn't tell Isranon."
Janrae Frank Dark - [Dark Brothers of the Light 08] - Blood Hope Page 6