Frank-KWar

by Kynyr's War [lit]

  "Are you eating? Fianait stood in the doorway.

  "Yes."

  "I'm going to look at your plate before it goes back to the kitchen, you know."

  "Don't be such a pushy bitch!"

  "Well I am. Fianait turned and walked off.

  Claw grumbled for a few minutes about all the pushy bitches in his life, and then took a few bites of the lamb. Nothing tasted right, except for the wine. There was a vacancy in his life brought about by having no work to do. It made him itchy. Claw decided that he would insist that they find him something that he could do sitting here in his chair. Sheradyn had promised that if he continued to improve, Claw would eventually be allowed to take short walks in the garden. All the more reason to lie to the healer about the twinges. Shape changing and sex had been forbidden also. Claw felt as if he were suffocating beneath all the restrictions. The old doctor had tried to take away his tobacco, and his wine and spirits; however, at that point, Claw had rebelled.

  The old wolf took a long swallow of wine and then another. He forced himself to chew up a few more bites of lamb and swallow it.

  "Appetite's gone to hell, Claw muttered. He finished off the glass of wine and poured a second one. Drinking that glass faster than the first, he rang the bell for a servant.

  Kissie came in, wiping her hands on her apron. What would you, master?"

  "I want the other bottle of red wine, like this one. Claw handed her the empty bottle. And a corkscrew."

  Kissie took the empty with her when she left.

  Claw dug his fingers into his chest. Sharp pains jabbed through him, far more than the usual twinges. He felt cold and clammy. Claw shivered. His awareness grew fuzzy around the edges, and it seemed for a moment as if he were going to put his face down in his plate.

  "Are you all right? Malthus walked over and sat down at the table across from him. You should eat more of that. Aisha and Merissa are going to worry if you don't start eating better."

  Claw glared at Malthus. I'm fine. I'm just not hungry, Claw growled. Fianait and Searlait have already been in to lecture me. I'd eat more if they'd let me do more."

  Malthus nodded thoughtfully, glanced down and to the side with a small smile. But it will be difficult to convince them."

  Kissie appeared with the bottle of wine, and set it on the table. Seeing Malthus, she asked him, Will you be having some?"

  "Yes, I would like that."

  Claw started on his third glass of wine while Malthus harassed him into eating half of the lamb. Once Kissie returned with a glass for Malthus, they both sat drinking.

  "No more than two glasses, Malthus said, covering his glass as Claw tried to refill it again. I'm driving into Hell's Widow to pick up a few things. Merissa and your sisters made a list for me. Clodagh wants a few things for the camp."

  "You come and go more than anyone else, Claw observed.

  "That's because I'm coming and going for other people."

  Claw's eyes narrowed. And you've never run into any trouble."

  Malthus pulled at the long, drooping ends of his mustache and his beard before answering, considering his reply. He could taste Claw's pain. Seeing the old bastard drinking the cursed wine had been a pleasant surprise. I wouldn't say that. I've had to hide from the Queen a few times, and the Sharani have stopped me more than once."

  "For months, young wolves have been killed not far from the bridge. Arrows poisoned with Devil's Silver and other arcane shit. Yet, you come through unscathed, time and again."

  "It's a valid question. Kynyr Maguire had entered the room without Malthus hearing him.

  "Remember I was a scout and forager for a kandoyarin company. I'm trained to handle situations like this one. Malthus downed his glass and stood to leave. I must be on my way. I want to get there before dark."

  Malthus left the Blue Room, and Claw gestured at Kynyr to close the door.

  Kynyr did so, and joined Claw at the table. Kandoyarin or not, he's either damned lucky, or he's part of the problem."

  "His decision to go there seemed rather sudden. Claw pinched the corners of his eyes. You think he knows you're planning a trip there?"

  "We've kept it under wraps ... no, I don't think he knows."

  "Be careful."

  "As careful as I can."

  Claw reached in his pocket and came out with a ring that he placed in Kynyr's hand. Before I forget again, I want you to have this."

  Kynyr stared at the ring for several moments, his throat tightening. That's Tarrant's signet ring?"

  "Yeah. It's yours by right. Wear it for me? Claw gave him an uncharacteristically beseeching look that cut Kynyr to the heart. I'm dying, Kynyr. Grant me this much before I die. Wear the ring."

  Every fiber of Kynyr's being cried out to refuse, but he could not bring himself to do so. He slipped the ring onto his right hand. I'll wear it."

  Claw's expression faded into a grimace and he dug his hand into his left arm.

  Kynyr's brow knit. Are you all right?"

  "Just tired. I tire too easy these days. I'll get a nap. Claw rang for the servants to help him back to bed.

  * * * *

  Darmyk lay in his bed, staring out the window. He wanted to go back to his treehouse, but his mother would not allow it yet. Everyone seemed worried that the vampire would get him again. He always cried when they said it was a vampire that attacked him; he wanted so desperately to tell them that it had been Ros. He had a hard time sleeping because he imagined that she would drain him in the night.

  His nightmares caused him to wet his bed some nights, so his mother now had the servants putting pads beneath his sheets. That humiliated Darmyk and made everything worse. Six times a day they brought him a glass of blood and juice.

  Claw's visits became the highlight of every day for him. A troll hunt had been suggested and some of the guards were riding out each day to ask the farmers if any had been sighted. Troll blood and flesh had been suggested as medicine for Darmyk if he did not improve faster. The idea of eating a troll did not appeal to Darmyk at all.

  His eyes filled up with tears. Kenly's dead. Grandpa's dying. I hate them."

  "Darmyk, don't say those things. Merissa's dress swished as she entered the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. We don't know that Kenly's dead and your grandpa isn't dying. He's getting better. Just like you are."

  The boy swallowed and said nothing.

  "You must stop blaming everything on Malthus. He's a good mon and he cares about you."

  Darmyk turned his face away. He hits me."

  "Only because he wants you to be a good cub."

  "I am a good cub. Grandpa says so."

  "Sweetheart, you're making it very hard on me when you keep telling people that you hate Malthus."

  "He's not my father."

  "Darmyk, your father doesn't want you! Merissa spoke before she could stop herself.

  The boy burst into tears. Merissa gathered him into her arms and held him while they both wept.

  * * * *

  Heironim's renovations of the Scarlet Petticoat pleased Malthus as he strode through. The boards on the veranda had been replaced, as had most of the furnishings. Lewd paintings adorned the walls of the foyer, setting the mood for obscene tastes and perversions that cost extra. The clerk at the desk in the foyer, guarding the entrance to the rest of the mansion turned brothel, nodded to Malthus.

  The sa'necari paused at the desk, placing his hands palm down atop it. Did you work at the Crimson Lady?"

  "I used to relieve Flavio there."

  "Did you get a lot of lycan customers?"

  "Yeah. Mostly for the cheaper whores."

  "Have any lycans come here?"

  The clerk shook his head. We're the only brothel in town. But there hasn't been a one here since MacLachlan arrived."

  "Lycan whores?"

  "None of those either. If any survived the fire in the Red Lantern district, they've gone to ground somewhere else."

  "I see. Malthus turned down the
hallway to his right and spied Alexander Jondries. He dug in his pocket for the list and waved it at him. Alex."

  "You're back early. Jondries clasped Malthus forearms in a casual greeting.

  "I was offered an excuse to come and took it. Can you get this list filled for me fast? I can't stay long."

  "Certainly. Jondries took the list and Malthus walked on.

  He found Heironim in his office, going over a stack of reports. His appearance troubled Malthus. Heironim looked worn and tired, his clothing rumpled as if he had been sleeping in them, dark circles under his eyes.

  Malthus embraced him. Have matters gotten worse?"

  "Yes and no. Heironim ran his fingers through his black hair. It's getting hard to bring anything into Hell's Widow. The garrison has barricaded the west road. They've begun erecting a palisade on that end."

  Malthus did not like the sound of that. A wall around the town would make it difficult for him to receive shipments from his mother. What's happening with MacLachlan? Malthus asked him.

  "Nothing. That's the problem. If they're looking for us, there's no sign of it."

  "Don't let it lull you into a false sense of security."

  "I won't. Heironim yawned and ran his fingers through his hair again.

  Malthus raised an eyebrow. Are you getting any sleep?"

  "Not much."

  "Get some tonight."

  "I'll try."

  "Has my mother sent anything else?"

  "Just what's stacked over there. Heironim pointed at two crates sitting in a corner between two cabinets.

  Malthus went over and pried them open. One contained bottles of expensive liquor. He carried it to the table and settled in, lifting one bottle at time out and reading the labels. Ildyrsetti Rum. Claw will like that."

  "The chieftain is taking an awful lot of killing, Heironim remarked, watching Malthus set death spells on the bottles.

  "Not much more, I should think. Malthus sketched the spell on the golden glass. He had a heart attack recently. There's enough here to give him a second one."

  Jondries joined them, bringing with him a bottle of blood wine and glasses. Your wagon is loaded."

  "Good. Get these crates carried down to it. Malthus turned to Heironim. Arm yourself. You're riding with me halfway."

  "I am? Heironim looked startled. Why?"

  "Don't ask questions. Bring your weapons, especially your bow, and meet me in the stables."

  Malthus went down to his wagon. The rest of the supplies he had ordered were waiting for him in the back. He shifted the drugs, powders, and poisons to the wagon seat, took a necklace of small colored globes from a pouch at his waist, and spoke the command that sent those supplies into a green globe. Then he climbed over the seat and returned to the packages in the rear. Malthus added nine more bottles of liquor into the chest, spelling them as he worked.

  Heironim appeared, yawning as he headed for his horse, which Malthus had ordered saddled. His bow case rode at his hip. It's a long bow, Malthus. I can't comfortably use it from horseback."

  "You're not going to be shooting from horseback."

  "So I am going to be shooting?"

  "Shut up."

  Heironim had never seen Malthus so edgy, and acquiesced with a shrug.

  They journeyed until late afternoon, which placed them at the last bend in the road before reaching the bridge over the Eirlys River onto Clan Red Wolf lands. It was the same spot where Heironim's units had ambushed Kynyr Maguire last summer. Malthus reined in, tied his team, and set the break.

  Heironim looked about. I don't see anyone to shoot. Am I going to ambush someone?"

  "Yes, Malthus snapped at him. Me."

  "I'm what"

  "More than one person has remarked that I appear to be the only one coming and going safely, Malthus told his companion. I don't want them becoming suspicious of me."

  "What are you going to do about it?"

  "Simple. You're going to shoot me."

  "Malthus.... Heironim's face twisted up in mingled doubt and distaste. This is insane. The lycans will never buy it."

  "They're stupid and emotional. They react with their hearts before their heads."

  "You know them better than I do."

  "I need some breathing space, Heironim. This will get it for me. Matters have been going well until now. Claw and Kynyr are becoming thorns in my sides with their suspicions."

  "I hope you know what you're doing."

  "I do. Now, you do have a few that aren't poisoned?"

  "Well, yes. I carry both kinds. But...."

  "Good. Get them out."

  Heironim frowned and took several arrows from his quiver. He pushed the tips into the soil in a line so that they could be drawn fast in succession.

  "Pepper the wagon first. Don't hit the horses; I need them to get home."

  Heironim backed off and shot. Sidera Tyrins, Malthus mother, had insisted upon the sa'necari she reared in her hidden estate learn to fight the way that the other races did, especially the humans. Most sa'necari relied on spells and the hellbladessmall daggers that frequently held a soul captive in their hilts to empower themthat they created and runed in arcane rites. The Band of Friends as Sidera called them, could ride, shoot, and fence with the best the humans and their allied races could throw at them.

  Once Malthus was satisfied with Heironim's efforts, he gestured for him to come close. Read me while you shove it in. I want it left side of my chest, right up against the shoulder blade."

  Malthus gritted his teeth. Heironim gripped Malthus shoulder to steady him. The breath whooshed around Malthus teeth as the swallowtail arrow went deep into his flesh and he groaned.

  "Are you all right? Heironim frowned uncertainly.

  Malthus nodded, sagging against the wagon seat. Back off and.... Malthus swallowed. Shoot me in my left leg ... and arm."

  Malthus jerked and shuddered with each wound.

  Heironim grimaced at the blood spreading through his spiritbrother's clothing. I don't like this."

  "Just do it. Malthus snarled. Now the poisoned ones, Heironim."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm resistant to most poisons ... I should be fine. Right here. Malthus patted his chest.

  "I'll be putting it in your lungs."

  "If Sheradyn can't handle it, a bottle of blood will."

  Heironim reached out to Malthus as he slumped across the reins. Malthus..."

  "Do it! Malthus stiffened when the arrow entered his chest. Go home, Heironim. Go home, damnit."

  * * * *

  The wagon creaked over the bridge into Red Wolf lands in the late afternoon. Using the ring of concealment that Lord Brandrahoon had given him to deceive the lycans as to his race, Malthus had reduced his enhanced healing ability to the level of a normal human, making the pain and weakness from blood loss the worst he had ever experienced. He drove slumped forward over his hand that clutched the knotted reins against his mid-section, fighting dizziness that threatened to drag him down into darkness. His ragged breathing emerged in struggling intermittent gasps, punctuated by coughing that brought up blood. The wagon slowed to a halt as it reached the middle. Malthus felt himself starting to black out.

  The guardian wolves charged the bridge, led by Odhran who had duty that day.

  They smelled blood, saw the way Malthus sat, and ran forward.

  Odhran's eyes went to the shafts. He's been shot."

  Malthus heard Odhran's voice close by and rallied. He managed to lift his head a bit, groaned, and clutched his chest. Help me...."

  Odhran climbed onto the wagon, and took the reins from Malthus. He whipped up the horses, driving them across the bridge, and down the road into the yard of the manor. Malthus sagged against Odhran, slipping into a semi-conscious state, barely aware of his surroundings. Odhran broke the shafts off in the middle to make it easier to handle him, and handed Malthus down to two of his companions. Changing into his hybrid form, he jumped to the ground, lifted Malthus from his compa
nions grasps into his arms, and cradled him to his chest. Two ran ahead of him to get the manor door open, while Odhran carried him inside.

  Isbeth and Kissie appeared, followed by their mistress. Aisha's hand went to her mouth. She recovered in a flash, and started giving orders, sending a nibari to fetch Sheradyn and another after Merissa.

  Odhran bore Malthus to his bed and laid him atop it after Aisha threw back the covers.

  Sheradyn arrived, settled on the edge of the bed, and Read Malthus. Swallowtails. Hard to get out and ugly. Is there something he can bite on?"

  Odhran pulled a leather glove from his belt and handed it to Sheradyn, who rolled it up and put it between Malthus teeth. Malthus ground his teeth on the leather as the healer opened the wound in his chest a little wider with a tiny scalpel, stuck his fingers in carefully, and worked the barb out.

  Gillivray extended a tray and Sheradyn dropped the arrow on it. Finally, the healer poured whiskey on the wound and stitched it closed.

  Merissa rushed in, her face flushed with alarm. She swept to his side. Malthus!"

  At the sound of her voice, Malthus swallowed, and opened his eyes. He extended his hand to her and she clutched it. A suffering groan escaped him as Sheradyn began digging out the arrow in his thigh.

  Once finished, Sheradyn gave him poppy milk to ease his pain. Let him rest, questions are for later."

  "Merissa ... I love you. Malthus gritted the words out and fainted.

  * * * *

  Pandeena and Caimbeul sat on the sofa together in her apartment. The lawgiver had procured one of the arrows that had been drawn out of Malthus body and Pandeena sat turning it over and over in her hands.

  "Swallowtail. This is the type of arrow that was pulled from Nikko's body ... and from Kynyr's."

  Caimbeul stroked his rough chin and pulled at it as he thought. So what do you make of all this, and can you get me a beer?"