PRINCE OF THE WIND

by Charlotte Boyet-Compo

  "Why not?" Aidan demanded.

  The two women stared at one another, each knowing the other’s thoughts and each having come to the same conclusion about Raven McGregor.

  "Take your son to Atramentous," Mariah repeated. "Perhaps there is a way he can help Raven, too."

  "Raven McGregor is dead," Christine insisted. "Else he wishes he were."

  An undulating howl came from the bowels of the temple. Those assembled tensed.

  "How far is it to this sorcerer’s abode?" Aidan asked.

  "Fifty miles," Kento replied. "Just north of the Shiku Pass."

  "Then ready us an escort. We’ll leave at first light."

  Another unearthly yowl came from the cells below.

  "The gods help us," Duncan breathed.

  "They will, Milord," Mariah prophesied. "They have to."

  Climbing the stairs to the passageway leading back to the palace and their chambers, Queen Christine was not as assured as her friend that the gods would intercede on her son’s behalf.

  After all, he was no longer human.

  Chapter 4

  * * *

  "They are here, Master," the wizened little man informed Atramentous Takei.

  The sorcerer nodded absently, but did not look up from the ancient tome he was consulting. One arthritic finger traced a particular incantation to its conclusion, then scrolled up the page to find a particular rune. Atramentous tapped the rune three times as he pondered the significance of the drawing, then he closed the book and stared into the distance, his eyes intent on an image only he was capable of seeing.

  "I am ready for them, Lo Ching."

  Lo Ching bowed deeply, then turned. His feet were twisted, his legs bowed so badly his walk was painful to watch. With his short, stubby arms swinging at his side in order to keep his balance, the man waddled to the door and bid his master’s guests enter.

  * * *

  Aidan Cree tried to smile at the misshapen man, but the gesture died on his lips. Pity welled up in his heart and he had to look away, catching Duncan’s uncomfortable look.

  "Lo Ching is quite used to his infirmities, Your Grace," Atramentous said as he swept his gaze among his visitors. "And has accepted the Fate that made him so."

  Aidan blushed. "I meant no disrespect, Milord."

  "None was taken." Atramentous indicated a brace of cushions off to one side, bidding his guests to take a seat.

  Duncan frowned, obviously looking about for any danger that might be lurking.

  "We are quite alone, Sir Duncan," the sorcerer explained. "No harm will befall your monarch in my abode."

  Aidan put his hand on his friend’s arm and squeezed. He cocked his head toward the cushions. "We have to trust this man, Dunc. He looks to be the only help we’ll get for my boy."

  Duncan tucked his lower lip between his teeth and nodded. He waited until Aidan was seated before dropping gracefully to the floor and sitting, crossing his legs beneath him.

  Atramentous clapped his hands. Lo Ching eased back a rice paper screen and walked into the room beyond. He was back almost instantly with a tray of steaming green tea and a plate of crescent-shaped biscuits.

  Having been in Chrystallus for many weeks, Aidan was used to the intricate social rituals required to do business with the people. Though it set his nerves on edge to sit politely, crook his little finger, and swill liquid he considered one step above horse piss, he nevertheless did so knowing no business would be conducted until the last of the brew had been consumed.

  "You had a pleasant journey through the Pass, I hope?" Atramentous inquired as Lo Ching poured the tea.

  And small talk had been engaged in, Aidan added to his thoughts, with a grimace. "It was not as arduous as I was led to believe."

  "Ah, but then the snow season is not at its height, eh, Lo Ching?"

  "Precisely so, Master," the twisted man answered.

  "The Pass can be treacherous when the snows are heavy."

  For twenty minutes, Aidan shifted on the cushion, a forced smile on his lips. He answered as politely as he could the questions put to him, but his mind was on his son, who at that moment was locked in an iron cage in a wagon outside Atramentous’ stronghold.

  "He is as comfortable as he can be, Your Grace," Atramentous said as he lifted a napkin to daub at his lower lip.

  "It’s freezing out there!" Duncan snapped.

  "But the young one’s body temperature is so high, he does not feel the chill of the wind or the moisture of the light snows, Milord."

  "Can you help him?" Aidan asked, his eyes boring into his host.

  Atramentous nodded silently. He clapped his hands and relaxed against his cushion while Lo Ching cleared away the tea tray. Folding his arms into the sleeves of his intricately embroidered robe, the sorcerer lowered his head and seemed to be contemplating his lap.

  Aidan looked at Duncan, whose frown deepened. Neither knew how to handle a situation such as this. Aidan, like Duncan, was a man of action and preferred to act rather than contemplate a situation.

  "Your lady-wife understands, as you do not," Atramentous said as he lifted his head, "that I can not undo what has been done to your son."

  Aidan winced. Christine has said as much, but he had not wanted to believe her. "You can change him back," he stated, his voice gruff. His pugnacious gaze locked on the sorcerer. "I was told you had the ability to—"

  Atramentous held one slim hand aloft. "I have the means to change him back into a human, aye, but I can not undo the curse placed on him by the Dead One."

  "Why not?"

  "Because he drank of her brew and the brew is now in his system."

  "Then flush it from his system!"

  "It is not as easy as that, Milord." The sorcerer looked up at Lo Ching.

  The man bowed and disappeared behind the rice paper screen once more.

  "Your lady-wife has told you of the Nightwind curse," Atramentous stated.

  "I know about Nightwinds," Aidan agreed. "The Crees have long since known of the evil of Uxumia Dul and her Sisters of the Black Rose."

  Atramentous cocked his head to one side. "Yet you saw no reason to inform your son of the danger." He blinked. "Why is that, Your Grace?"

  Aidan threw out a hand. "There was no need to warn him of something I thought could never happen. He was to be married to—" He stopped, seeing in his mind the head of Miyoshi Shimota rolling across the room. He swallowed. "He was in no danger from a sorceress intent on possessing him, and that is the curse, is it not?"

  Atramentous nodded slowly. "That is the curse."

  "I don’t understand," Duncan said, his eyebrows slanted downward. "What curse are we talking about here?"

  "The Curse of the Black Rose," Aidan mumbled.

  "I am curious, Your Grace," Atramentous said. "Did you not consider Suzanne de Viennes a threat to your son?"

  "Aye, but she was not a sorceress!" Aidan snapped.

  The sorcerer shook his head sadly. "The moment she bid Raphian’s help, she became one. I am surprised your lady-wife did not remind you of that, then warn her son accordingly."

  Aidan hung his head. "We were more concerned with keeping him out of her clutches than remembering a curse from centuries ago!"

  "Those who do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it."

  "What gods-be-damned curse?" Duncan asked, his teeth clenched.

  "The Cree men," Atramentous answered, "were cursed long ago by the greatest sorceress to ever spring from mortal loins. The first chieftain of the Cree clan was a man named Syntian, and it was upon his head the curse was flung. He spurned the sorceress’ daughter, Dearg, and because he did, Dearg Dul slew his wife. In his fury, he slaughtered Dearg, tore the beating heart from her body and consumed it, and drained her of her blood. Vengeance was sure and exacting upon him, but he found a way to escape the punishment by signing a blood pact with Raphian, the Destroyer of Men’s Souls. Though Syntian escaped, the Sisters of the Black Rose meant to see no other Cree male woul
d. The curse strikes only those Cree men who refuse the attentions of a descendent of Uxumia Dul."

  "Suzanne de Viennes is not a descendent of that vile whore!" Aidan complained.

  "Nay, but as surely as we sit here talking, she conjured the Dead One, asked her aid, and received it. A woman scorned is a deadly enemy, Your Grace. This is something we men should never forget."

  Aidan buried his face in his hands. "How were we to know?" he sobbed, "she would do such a thing?"

  "Had your son been warned, perhaps he would have thought twice before accepting the potion given to him by my lookalike."

  They all glanced up as Lo Ching entered the room.

  "There has to be a remedy for the brew given the boy," Duncan ground out. "Some kind of antidote!"

  "It is not the brew that has caused the problem," Atramentous said and took a small jar the size of a hen’s egg from Lo Ching’s crippled hands.

  "Then what is?" Duncan asked. His gaze went to the jar. "And what’s that?"

  Atramentous lifted the jar where the light from the candles could pierce the darkness inside the glass. "This is the problem, Sir Duncan," he replied and extended the jar.

  Duncan frowned sharply, but took the glass vessel from his host. He stared at the thick red liquid sloshing around inside, then glanced at the sorcerer. "This is blood."

  Atramentous nodded.

  "A jar of blood," Duncan snorted. "What is of importance about—" He stopped, and brought the jar closer to his face, peering inside.

  Something inside the jar slithered close to the glass, then darted away.

  Brell handed the jar to his host then, wiped his hands on his breeches. "What the hell is that thing?"

  "A most evil entity, Milord. It is called a revenant worm."

  "That is inside my son?" Aidan asked.

  Atramentous sighed. "I am afraid so. There was a single larva Dearg Dul gave to the prince. Now, the larva is reaching maturity and will lay its spawn in his body. The colony will attach to the young one’s liver and kidneys to feed from his blood."

  Duncan’s face turned an unhealthy shade of green. He slapped a hand over his mouth, gagging.

  "And those things can’t be killed," Aidan said in a defeated tone.

  "Not without killing your son in the process," Atramentous replied. "The only way the parasite can die is by burning."

  "That thing has made him the beast he has become?" Duncan gasped.

  "Aye, Sir Duncan."

  Aidan shuddered and ran a hand over his face. "This beast unleashed within him…" He looked to the sorcerer. "There is more, isn’t there?"

  Atramentous sighed heavily. "In order to remain human and not revert totally to the bloodbeast he is now, your son must drink blood to feed the revenant worm. The thought is repellant to us all, but there is no way around it. By taking the Sustenance, by feeding the parasite, your son will gain some small amount of freedom from the hold the parasite has on him. Failure to feed the parasite will result in insanity. Your son will Transition once every four months—that can not be stopped—but there is a drug that will lessen the severity of the Transition and give him some small measure of peace in between cycles."

  "And what drug is that?" Aidan asked.

  "Tenerse."

  "By the gods, no!" Duncan exploded, coming to his feet in a lithe bound. "I’ll not allow the boy to be fed that monstrous brew!"

  "Sit down, Duncan," Aidan said tiredly. When his friend did not immediately do so, Aidan made the demand again.

  Duncan shuddered violently, then plopped down on the cushion, his sinewy arms folded over his wide chest. His angry gaze locked on the sorcerer; there was murder in the pale stare.

  "I will put this to you in a way you, as a warrior, will understand, Sir Duncan," Atramentous said. "If the prince had been wounded in battle and his injuries were such that he was in terrible pain, would you give him the tenerse mixed with vinegar to lessen his agony?"

  Duncan thrust out his lower lip. "That is a narcoticus. It is an acceptable treatment for grave injuries but—"

  "And if it had been a poison administered to your prince, would you give him the tenerse mixed with tea leaves to counteract the effects?"

  "That is a treacle and you know gods-be-damned well I would!"

  Atramentous locked gazes with Duncan Brell. "You have seen the agony he is in at this moment. You have stood at the cage and looked into the eyes of the beast he has become. Tell me—do you think he knows what he is?"

  "By the gods I pray not!" Duncan said, his lips trembling.

  "Ah, but your prayer would go unanswered, Milord. He not only knows, but is incapable of asking for help. He is going slowly insane with the knowledge that this is to be his life until his last breath. Knowing him as you do, do you think he wishes to remain as he is?"

  Duncan shook his head and swiped at the moisture that had formed in his hard eyes. "I know not!"

  "The tenerse will reverse the Transition and will help to regulate subsequent Transitions."

  "But for him to have to drink blood—" Duncan turned away, his shoulders hunched.

  "The Sustenance will soothe the parasite and keep it from driving the young one mad with blood hunger. Without consumption of the necessary nourishment, you would not like to see what your young man would become. Would you keep him caged for eternity?"

  Aidan flinched. "You speak of eternity. There is more to this than just the consumption of an outlawed drug and the swilling down of blood, isn’t there?"

  The sorcerer drew in a long breath, then exhaled slowly. "There is."

  "What ain’t you telling us?" Aidan demanded.

  "When she cursed your son, Dearg Dul did more than infect him with the revenant worm."

  "The tenerse…"

  "The brew was an additional punishment insidiously planned and carried out, Your Grace. He will no longer be able to exist without it, for he is now addicted. But there is evil worse than addiction."

  "She turned him into a Nightwind demon!"

  Atramentous shook his head. "That is not what she did."

  "I have seen the beast he has become!" Aidan shouted.

  "You saw a beast, true, and thought it a Nightwind. Nightwinds are common among the Crees, but this thing your son has become is rare and has not existed for centuries."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Were you not there when Dearg Dul claimed him as her own? Did you not hear her words?"

  "I don’t remember! It all happened so fast and we were battling him, trying to get him under control. She said something—"

  "She said she had marked him and he was hers," Duncan whispered, his face chalk white. "What does that mean? What did she do?"

  "She bit him. Here." Atramentous pointed at his neck. "That is how the larva was injected into his system."

  "A maggot," Duncan mumbled. "A maggot from a dead thing." He shuddered violently and slumped against the wall.

  "You may not understand what I will tell you now," Atramentous said, "but it is vitally important you remember it. Though she is dead, Dearg Dul can convey life and that is what she has done to your son."

  "But not a natural life," Aidan said in a broken voice.

  "Nay. It is a most unnatural life she has given him. It is the life of the Undead. It is the life of a Reaper, the consort of the Gatherer."

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  Aidan Cree stared through the bars at his son. Riain was hunched at the far corner of the iron cage and glaring back at him with scarlet red eyes filled with murderous rage.

  "I am here, my son," he whispered.

  A low snarl resonated from the long black snout and sharp fangs that dripped a thin stream of saliva.

  "We are going to help you."

  Ears flattened against the coarse dark fur of an elongated head and there came another warning growl. Hackles rose as the thick body lifted from the ground, the head lowered, and the snout twitched with anger.

  "You don’t have
to remain like this, Riain," Aidan said in a broken voice. "Atramentous—"

  The reverberation of the howl brought everything in the courtyard to a standstill. Another piteous howl made the sorcerer’s servants back away from the cage and scurry into the stronghold, glancing fearfully over their shoulders.

  "Riain." Aidan fell to his knees, his face buried in his hands.

  The howling echoed over the courtyard time and time again, the sound eerie in the late morning.

  The crash of something hitting the cage made Aidan look up. He was astounded to see the beast throwing itself at the bars with enough force to break its neck.

  "Riain, no!" Aidan and scrambled to his feet. He started toward the cage, his hand extended in supplication.

  "Go no further!" was the shrill warning as Atramentous and Duncan ran toward Aidan.

  The beast howled and backed away from the bars, only to hurl itself against the restriction still again.

  Duncan caught Aidan, physically restraining him to keep him away.

  "Riain!" Aidan whimpered, seeing dark blood flowing down the beast’s snout.

  "The boy’s blood is black!" Duncan commented.

  " ’Tis the parasite that causes it," Atramentous said. "Take your liege lord back to his room and keep him there, Sir Duncan. He is doing more harm than good."

  "I’ll not leave my son!" Aidan yelled, but was no match for the Master-at-Arms, who bodily dragged him away.

  * * *

  Atramentous did not spare the departing men another glance. His entire attention was riveted on the beast. He did not flinch as the heavily-furred body hit the bars over and over again, the head lowered.

  "You can break your neck if that is your purpose, young one, but it will heal almost instantly," the sorcerer said in a matter-of-fact tone. "You can not kill yourself in any manner, so what you are doing is useless."

  Another tremulous howl echoed across the courtyard, then the creature hung its head and stood, weaving slightly from the repeated crashes into the thick bars.

  "I can help you," Atramentous stated.

  The beast tried to turn, but stumbled, went down on its front paws. For a moment it crouched in that manner, the back legs trembling, then lowered its rump to the ground.