Frank-KWar

by Kynyr's War [lit]

  "What's going on here? Odhran walked up, emerging from the shadows beneath the trees. What are you doing here at this hour? What's the reason for the masks?"

  A worried frown creased Oswyl's face beneath the bear mask.

  Shalto sauntered up to Odhran. It's very simple, Odhran. It's a surprise party."

  Light from Pandeena's windows revealed the blood and gore on Shalto's clothing. Odhran's eyes widened.

  "You killed someone. Odhran retreated two steps, turned to run, and came face to face with Malthus. The Serpent put two fingers to Odhran's temples and sent a charge of power through his head. Odhran collapsed.

  Shalto blinked. What'd you do?"

  Malthus grinned. Pressure points. I have a use for him."

  "What? asked Yren.

  "He's seen us, so we can't let him live. But I have an idea that will throw the blame on a different group of people."

  "We're going to kill Odhran? Oswyl folded his arms across his chest and seemed to shrink inward. He held back as the others crowded around Malthus.

  "Which ones? Excitement gripped Shalto, lending an edge of eagerness to his voice.

  With a sly smile and a glance to the side from his lowered head, Malthus said, You know all those reports that have been filtering in about sa'necari and others raiding the outlying villages?"

  "Yes. Shalto noticed his cousin's reluctance, caught his arm, and pulled him into the group. Oswyl dragged his feet and Shalto jerked him with an irritated noise.

  "We'll kill him on the altar and desecrate it. A raiding party will get the blame. They always send in a small party to take out the lawgiver and the priest first."

  "Let's get that priest! Shalto shouted, running up to Pandeena's door and pounding on it. I'm going to fuck her to death on her own damned altar."

  Oswyl followed as slowly as he dared.

  * * * *

  A shivering chill spread through Pandeena as Caimbeul's mind voice faded away to nothing. She had been reading his journals and become so engrossed in them that she had not heard him cry out to her the first few times. Shame colored her cheeks, certain that she might have been able to save him had she not been reading where she had had no right to yet and obsessed on it.

  Pandeena gathered the papers and journals that he had left with her and stowed them in a satchel along with several memory crystals, and the suddenly precious seed crystals, that he had used to prevent any of the females from getting pregnant by him when he was first sampling the illicit brothel in his efforts to discover how many of the women were involved. She went into the bedroom where Clodagh lay, and pulled the bitch into her arms.

  A banging started on her door.

  Pandeena heard a voice, muffled by a mask, yell, I'm going to fuck her to death on her own damned altar."

  Part of her wanted to go down and fight them, avenge Caimbeul, but she knew that her first responsibility lay with Clodagh. It would be too easy for one of them to slip past her while she fought the rest, and kill Clodagh.

  She focused hard to close out the distractions of the murderers who had come for her and Jumped to her mother's house.

  Pandeena sank to her knees in the middle of the downstairs sitting room. Clodagh slid from her arms. Tears came, with shuddering hoarse sobs. They killed him."

  As was often the case since the war had begun, and Dynanna had sent out the call for divine assistance throughout the two settled continents, yuwenghauminor divinesfilled the airy sitting room. Her mother's house had become their headquarters. Five yuwenghau and their fifteen companions-in-arms overflowed the chairs and sofas near the seven large windows.

  Frost-haired Hathura Waveskimmer looked up from his conversation with dark Toniqua Nightsbane at her arrival. Meleajys Sun-Child stirred his long, lanky body and went to Pandeena.

  Seven-foot Teakamon shook back his leaf-green hair, rose from his chair and knelt beside her, looking like he had been carved from mahogany wood and polished with every muscle sharply defined. Who?"

  "Caimbeul. They murdered him. It's all because of her. Pandeena brushed a strand of dark hair from Clodagh's face. They knew we'd taken her."

  "There's a stasis on her."

  Pandeena nodded. The Serpent put a death command in her psyche. It's the only way to keep her alive."

  "Get hold of yourself. Navaryn grasped her daughter's shoulders. Caimbeul has fireborn blood. You must find his body swiftly. The longer you wait, the less possibility of raising him in the flames. And only you can, because of that link you put on him."

  "I'll go back. Pandeena rubbed her hands across her eyes and straightened.

  "Not alone. Navaryn scanned the assembled yuwenghaus. Some of you go with her."

  Four more yuwenghau trickled in as they spoke.

  "I'll go. Hathura gripped the golden fans tucked into his belt as if ready to pull them, snap them open, and fight. The half-Fae was slender to the point of appearing fragile, yet flaring through the shoulders, translucently pale skinned with white hair and silver eyes. The points of his ears peeked through his hair, which was held in place by a dark green headband.

  In the end six of them went to Wolffgard with Pandeena to look for Caimbeul's body: Hathura, son of Willodarus; Meleajys son of Kalirion, a dark-skinned blond, whose lanky build stretched his ropy muscles along a raw-boned frame; small, dark Toniqua Nightsbane, a granddaughter of Hadjys the Dark Judge; Hathura's cousin Jushan; arrogant Seosaf, grandson of Badonth; and moonlight-haired Gyongy of the Valdren.

  They took horses, and with Hathura adding his powers to that of Pandeena, Jumped all of them with their animals to the front yard of Caimbeul's home. While five of them waited with the horses, Pandeena and Hathura went inside. She saw the pool of congealing blood on the floor, and Caimbeul's bloodstained robe discarded near where his body had lain. Fighting back a sob, Pandeena knelt, vanished her clothing, and changed to a wolf. She smelled the urine mixing with the blood, the scent of dark magic, and the odor of a strange arcane substance. Pandeena closed her eyes for a second retreating from the pool. The odor of Devil's Silver lingered in her nostrils, and she knew he had died in terrible pain. I would never have kept you from my bed had I known how soon I would lose you. Her anger rose hot, burning away the grief as she steeled herself to act.

  I can track from here .Pandeena sent to Hathura.

  "Good. Let's go."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A SHALLOW GRAVE

  The youths rushed through Pandeena's apartment, breaking things in their rage and frustration at not finding either the priest or Clodagh. Malthus listened to them with a smile playing about the edges of his lips. He draped Odhran over his shoulder and carried him into the shrine.

  Malthus boot heels clicked on the tiled floor as he angled through the ranks of benches eight deep on both sides of the central aisle. Ahead of them stood a railing, separating the altar from the congregations space. A basket for offerings from the congregation sat on the floor by the far right of the railing, so that they could make their offerings after receiving the priest's blessing.

  He dumped Odhran onto the polished stone of the altar, stripped Odhran's clothing off, flipped him onto his stomach, and bound his ankles and wrists to the base of the altar.

  "Impressive, drawled a soft voice.

  Malthus spun and saw Preece watching him from the doorway. What do you mean?"

  "Odhran's bigger than you are."

  "So? Malthus realized where Preece was going, realized that he had been careless, and realized that if he said the wrong thing he would be fighting his own pawns.

  "Strong as that. If I didn't know better.... Preece shrugged. I'd say you weren't human."

  Malthus tensed. What if I wasn't?"

  A slow, languorous smile spread across Preece's face. He fingered his neck. I'd know what to do about it."

  Malthus studied him, trying to decide whether Preece meant that as a threat or a come-hither. Before he could inquire further, the others arrived, glowering and snarling.
r />   They gathered around him.

  "Can you wake him up? Shalto thumbed at Odhran.

  Malthus gave Shalto a tiny secret smile. I can. But we want this to look good."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Someone has to fuck him so that there's semen in his body."

  They all looked uneasy. Finally, Shalto screwed up the courage to speak. The rite?"

  Malthus tapped his fingers on the altar in tune to his impatience at Shalto's obtuseness. There's more to it than fucking and sticking. A deception ... a believable deception is required."

  "I don't know about that. Shalto pulled his mask off and scratched his head. I don't think any of us want to put our stick up a male."

  "If you're going to be squeamish, I'll do it. Malthus scowled at Shalto. All of you need to stab him once my cock's inside him.

  "You got some strong guts. Yren pulled his mask off and grinned at Malthus with open admiration.

  Malthus laughed. I guess I do, but I spent many years as a kandoyarin and we did whatever was needed to survive."

  Rheu pressed against Preece, looking up into his eyes. Do I get to stick him too? I like sticking them."

  Preece ruffled Rheu's hair. Yes indeed, little dog."

  Malthus woke Odhran. Shalto went around to the front and dragged Odhran's face up by his forelock.

  "I bet you never expected to be our alibi, Odhran."

  "Gods mercy, let me go, Odhran pleaded and then gasped as Malthus cock plunged into his anus. The altar cracked at the bottom and listed to the side. For an instant, everyone except Malthus stared. They had not expected the altar to react in such a dramatic fashion.

  "Do it, Malthus ordered.

  Shalto grinned and stabbed Odhran.

  Rheu laughed as Odhran screamed, plunged his blade into Odhran's back close to the spine, and twisted the knife around and around, playing with it like a stick in a mud pie.

  Preece ran his fingers through Rheu's hair, while considering his options. He sliced Odhran's side open, reached through, and pulled his entrails out.

  More cracks appeared in the altar.

  Torquil made a series of long, slow cuts across Odhran's ribs, then shoved his fingers through partings in the lycan's flesh, and played with Odhran's lungs, which triggered a fit of violent coughing. Odhran spewed blood onto the tiles.

  The floor around the altar heaved; breaks ran in a spider web pattern through the tiles.

  Oswyl glanced nervously at the floor, his hands clenching and unclenching.

  Shalto whipped around, glaring at his cousin. Stick him, you stupid git!"

  The knife play paused, and the rest of the Lycamornots stared at Oswyl. Preece regarded Oswyl with an unreadable expression. You going yellow on us?"

  For answer, Oswyl darted forward and drew his knife. I'm so sorry, Odhran, he muttered under his breath. Then he thrust his blade into Odhran's ribs and retreated, shaking, staring at his bloody knife. The play of blades resumed; the others nudging Oswyl, and forcing him to participate.

  Odhran's tortured cries filled the chapel, mixing with his murderers joyous exclamations. If anyone in the camp heard him, they did not answer. Malthus had placed coercions in the minds of all the females who dwelled here at the same time that he had sterilized them. They might suspect the meaning of the screams, but would not dare to speak of it, nor to emerge from their homes before dawn. The young lycans using the refugee camp as a whorehouse would not investigate either. Brothels were forbidden on clan lands and none of them wished to be caught while dipping their rods into the flesh holes that Malthus had so generouslyand secretlyprovided them with.

  A scream came from the doorway. The bloodletting ceased as the Lycamornots spun about. Near the door stood the nibari who swept out the shrine every night.

  Malthus paused in his thrusting, his cock lingering in Odhran's flesh hole. He modulated his voice to speak with the command of a master that could not be ignored. Come here."

  She hesitated.

  He extended his power in a low level summoning, forcing her to him. She came unresisting. Kill her in the schoolroom. Fuck her first, if you wish. I will finish here alone."

  Yren laughed, gesturing with his blade. In and out, in and out."

  Torquil threw the nibari over his shoulder and carried her out with the others following him. Here was meat they could fuck.

  Malthus drew his hellblade from a sheath hidden beneath his tunic close to his skin as soon as he was alone. A proper rite required a proper blade. Clodagh loved you. But the Butchering Serpent took her mind and made a slut of her. Think on that as you die."

  "Daaaaamnn yooouu!"

  Malthus harmonized his gathering orgasm to Odhran's failing life, sliding the blade in and out of the lycan's flesh. The altar cracked down the middle and Odhran's blood oozed between the cracks. It continued to fracture with the desecration until the only thing holding it together was Odhran's bound body. Malthus felt the glow on the tip of his cock and the pressure in his loins that portended his orgasm. He moved the blade to a point above Odhran's heart, shoving it in to still the organ as his seed erupted. Odhran's soul shattered at the moment of death. Malthus sucked up the pieces, and licked his lips as he withdrew his flaccid cock from the corpse. He dipped his hands in Odhran's blood and drew obscene runes on the panel behind the altar.

  A feeling of satiation came over Malthus, easing his hunger.

  The Lycamornots drifted back into the chapel, laughing and joking.

  "We two upped her, Preece and me. Rheu wiped his blade on a bit of her clothing as he walked, with Preece's arm around his shoulder.

  The youngster snickered and pointed at Oswyl. He wouldn't fuck her ... sacred she'd die with his stick in her."

  Oswyl winced.

  "She's dead? Malthus asked.

  Preece gave Malthus a chill look. Very. We dismembered her like mutton."

  Oswyl trailed out after the rest. As he passed the flower bed along the side of Pandeena's apartment, that strange cat reappeared and sat staring at him with accusing eyes. Oswyl shivered. Gods, you're a creepy thing."

  They mounted up and rode north into the forest. Since Oswyl kept dragging his feet, they made him lead the horses with the bodies draped over them. In an isolated place far from the roads and hunter's traces, they dug a shallow grave. Torquil and Preece hauled Caimbeul's nude body from the packhorse, unrolled it from the blanket, and tossed it in the hole. Malthus knelt beside the corpse, opened the stomach wound further, and poured in another vial that made the dead flesh smoke.

  "You're really worried about them maybe raising him, Shalto said.

  "You can't be too careful with fireborn. If there was any spark left, that should finish it off. We still have to try again for the priest."

  "Don't worry, we'll get her."

  Torquil covered Caimbeul with dirt, and stomped across it, packing it down well. What about Nesswen?"

  Malthus regarded Torquil's efforts thoughtfully and gestured at Preece. Cut a piece of bush and brush it off here. Get rid of the footprints. We don't want the body found."

  "Nesswen? Torquil repeated, stepping out of Preece's way as he began removing their traces. Preece quickly had the area looking undisturbed.

  "Bury him far from here. So if they do find the lawgiver, they can't connect us to him. Besides, Nesswen was a courageous mon and deserves a tranquil resting place far from scum like Caimbeul."

  Silence reigned and Shalto broke it. Come on. It's been a long night. We need to get this done and get back before we're missed and we need to take a different route back."

  Malthus surveyed them a moment. Shalto, Oswyl, Preece, and I will go butcher those deer we have penned up so it looks like we've been hunting. Torquil, Rheu, Yren, I want you to bury Nesswen and then make your way back without anyone seeing you. Make certain that your alibis are in place."

  Yren shrugged. Ma always covers for me."

  Torquil snorted at the image of Raonul, the smith that he was apprenticed to, who
was always passed out drunk at night. So long as I've got the forge going at dawn, the old bastard never knows I'm gone."

  * * * *

  Darmyk's neck ached where Ros fangs had pierced him. The terror of being caught alone in the hallways by her stained his dreams with darkness. Darmyk twisted and turned in his sleep, his legs moving as if he ran, a listless moan emerging from his diaphragm. Ros, no. Ros, please no."

  His noises drew the tiger-striped cat from the treehouse. It walked along the branch that extended to Darmyk's window, pawed at the shutters, and opened them a crack. The cat sat on the windowsill and watched the boy.

  Ros advanced on Darmyk, her fangs looking larger than ever, like some incredible predator.

  He backed away from her, whimpering and moaning. Ros, no. Ros, please no."

  "It's time to die, you nasty little lycan cub."

  Darmyk screamed and pleaded, backing farther and farther away.

  "Take your shirt off. Lie down."

  Darmyk obeyed. He had become so conditioned by Ros, that his body obeyed her as completely in his dreams as in his waking. He turned his head to side, as Ros liked it, exposing the large vein in his neck.

  Lyrri tossed a shovel down beside him. I've dug the grave, Ros. Hurry and do it. I want to go play."

  Ros dropped to her knees beside Darmyk, stroking his neck. It looks too shallow."

  "Nah, he'll fit. I used Searlait's tape measure."

  His stepfather emerged from the trees, a venomous smile on his lips. I told you not to misbehave, Darmyk. You made me do this."

  "I wasn't bad. I wasn't bad at all."

  "You're a bad cub, Darmyk. Born to evil like your father."

  Ros sank her fangs into him and Darmyk screamed.

  Malthus squatted next to Ros. Suck him well, darling. When you finish, I want to eat his heart."

  "I want my daddy!"

  As if the wish had been a summons, a god-like figure strode into the clearing, clothed in white and carrying a strange staff. Lances of fire came from the heavens, striking Malthus and his nieces.