Children of the Sun

by Linda Winstead Jones

  He wasn’t ready to tell her all that he could do, but since she was powerful in her own way, perhaps she could shed light on some of the mysteries he had faced when he’d last visited the world in-between.

  “Do you know of someone named Liane?” he asked.

  Keelia’s head popped up sharply, and her golden eyes widened. If she tried to deny she knew the name, he would know she was lying. She said she did not lie, but how could he trust such a statement?

  “Where did you hear that name?” she asked.

  “So you know it.”

  “Yes, from a long time ago. I haven’t heard that name in many years. Why do you ask about her now?”

  She might not lie, but he could. And did. “The Grandmother mentioned it to me before I left her to seek you out...”

  “Before you left her to kidnap me,” she corrected sharply.

  “Call it what you wish.”

  “There’s no need to deny what we both know to be...”

  Joryn held up a silencing hand. Keelia’s shoulders squared at his insolence, but she did quit speaking. “Truce, remember? Now, tell me what you know of this Liane.”

  Keelia claimed a seat near the cliff’s edge, where she could look out on the world Joryn had been studying. She sat, maintaining her regal air and dignity, not for one moment appearing uncomfortable with nothing but rock as her throne. She wore no crown, and her clothing was dirty and torn. Her hair was slightly tangled, and there was a smudge of dirt on one cheek.

  She still looked very much a queen.

  “Once, when I was visiting with my cousins in the Southern Province of Columbyana, and my mothers and her sisters were having one of their long conversations about times past, my cousins and I overheard a discussion about a woman they called Liane.” She looked up at him, and then patted the ground beside her. “Sit and rest. It has been a tiring day for both of us and this is a rather long story.”

  Joryn sat, so that he could relax and enjoy the view as she did. He was not so close that he could touch her, not without reaching out, and the mood was unexpectedly companionable. Truce, he reminded himself much as he had reminded her.

  Keelia spoke for a long while about Emperor Sebestyen and his last empress, Liane, who was the sister of Keelia’s Aunt Sophie’s husband, Kane Varden. The basics of the story were well known, they were history, but since he was not well versed in Columbyanan history, she told him what he needed to know. Apparently Liane had been kidnapped by Sebestyen’s soldiers at a young age and made a concubine, but in her years in Arthes she had risen in the palace hierarchy and finally married the emperor. She’d become his fifth empress, the fifth in a long line of ill-treated wives.

  Joryn had never cared for any history but that of the Caradon, but Keelia told him a tale of rebellion and war, of marriages and betrayal. She told him of a horrid pit called Level Thirteen, a place which sounded like something out of a fictional story meant to scare those who misbehave, rather than a true accounting. Still, she told it as true, and he believed her.

  “As I said,” Keelia continued, “one day a few of my cousins and I came upon my mother and her sisters talking. Since my mother was present and it’s impossible to get anything past her for any length of time, we didn’t hear much of what they said before being caught, of course,” Keelia said. “But I remember hearing the name Liane. Even then, as a child, my psychic abilities were finely tuned and I immediately knew what my cousins did not. I knew that Liane had survived, that she had not been killed as it was believed, and I also knew that she’d given birth to not one child but two. Twin sons. My mother and her sisters knew, too, and they had been protecting Liane and her sons for all those years. I understood that if word spread that they’d survived, they’d be hunted down and killed, so I never said a word about them to anyone.”

  “You protected them all these years, just as your mother and aunts did.”

  She shrugged as if it didn’t matter, even though there was nobility in such protection. “The children were innocent, and I didn’t want to see them harmed. Eventually, I just forgot. I put Liane and her sons in the back of my mind. I hadn’t thought about them for years, until you mentioned her name.”

  The spirit who had grabbed Joryn as he’d been leaving the otherworld... he must have been Emperor Sebestyen, and the heirs he spoke of were the children Keelia had protected with her silence. Were they important to the destruction of the evil he and Keelia were fighting together?

  Perhaps, but for now he would keep what he knew to himself. He and the Anwyn Queen had reached a truce, yet it was anything but easy and solid. They would not reach the Grandmother’s hut for many days, and until he knew more, he saw no reason to tell his partner everything he had learned.

  “Think on them if you can,” he said. “Perhaps the children you protected with your silence will play a part in this battle.”

  “Perhaps.”

  He heard the hesitancy in her voice, and he suspected uncertainty was not normal for the pampered ruler.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She turned and looked at him, her eyes unflinching. “Nothing is as it should be. My gift has been tainted for months. Months, Joryn. I can no longer grasp everything I reach for, and sometimes when I do have a vision, it’s wrong. Wrong or impossible to decipher. I am never wrong,” she said indignantly.

  “Everyone is wrong on occasion.”

  She looked away from him and sighed. “In my personal life, yes. I have been mistaken in making decisions for myself, and I suspect that will never end. That is a part of life, one I try to accept. But in reaching for knowledge of what tomorrow holds for another, I should not be wrong. So many of my visions have been unclear, or else I interpret them incorrectly, that I have begun to question everything.”

  He wondered if she was thinking of her interpretation of the prophesy which said the Red Queen would take a Caradon lover. She had deduced that was a metaphor, not a clear fact, but obviously she wasn’t certain.

  The sun set and darkness fell, and Joryn built a fire. Not for heat, which neither of them needed, but for light, until they slept. His keen sense of smell and hearing told him no one was near, and they would be undisturbed in the night. Keelia had the same fine senses, so she was not concerned about being attacked either. No, their concerns were of a different sort.

  He was drawn to her, even though he had decided that their relationship would remain distant. If she’d asked for sex this morning instead of ordering it to be so, they would be lovers. They were not, and perhaps it was best that they keep their interactions focused on stopping the Caradon wizard who had cursed his own people.

  That didn’t mean he couldn’t admire her body and her scent, that he couldn’t think about what it might be like to lie with her.

  Maybe if she begged.

  As if that was likely to happen. Keelia was a queen who was accustomed to having everything she wanted given to her without question. He was a man who could not allow a woman to command anything of him, not even if he wanted the same thing she did.

  They ate dried meat and fruit. In a matter of days he would have to start hunting for their sustenance, and that would slow their progress somewhat. The pack he carried wasn’t heavy, but it would be impossible to carry enough rations for an indefinite journey. He had no idea what awaited beyond the Grandmother’s hut, how long he and Keelia might be traveling companions. When they moved into the forests ahead, game would be easy to catch and cook. Perhaps he’d save the dried food for lean days, or days when they simply did not wish to stop. Neither of them ate much in spite of their arduous trek. Keelia took only a few bites. She did drink a healthy portion of water. Water would be more important than food in the days to come.

  When their brief meal was done, Joryn watched Keelia as she moved away from the edge of the cliff and removed her dress. He should have been accustomed to her nakedness by now, but he was not unaffected. His insides coiled at the sight of her body. His fingers curled and everything in him tig
htened. He knew what was expected of him, but it was not natural for a man and a woman to be partners in one way, to be constantly together, and yet deny themselves the natural partnership of male to female.

  Instead of lying down to sleep, as he had expected she would, Keelia sat cross-legged on the ground and lifted her face to the night sky. Her hands rested on her knees, palms up, and she took a few very even, very deep breaths.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, but she didn’t respond. It was as if she was no longer aware of his presence.

  ***

  Keelia had never attempted to put herself in this sort of trance when she was not in her fertile time, but since she had been foolishly considering again ordering Joryn to have sex with her, and he was again unlikely to obey, she decided to try. The trance was preferable to begging for what she needed, or being refused and denied in a disturbing way that was new to her. If this fantasy could satisfy her during the heat of her fertile days, it could certainly handle and dismiss the annoying sexual attraction she suffered.

  He is not my mate, she reminded herself. I am just beyond my time for taking a lover and I’m confused by the disruption of energy in the world. It was that simple.

  She breathed deeply, and very quickly isolated herself from all reality. The world she created, the green meadow where she had nothing to concern her but love and passion, was her reality for now. She inhaled a recent rain on the green grass, smelled and heard the water that ran nearby in a clean, clear brook. The sun was shining, and there was no evil in the world. Not in this perfect world of her own making.

  Smiling, Joryn laid her back in the grass. He had rid himself of those annoying trousers and boots, and wore nothing but the silver bracelet. Nothing at all. At the moment she didn’t care that she could not read his thoughts. His thoughts did not concern her.

  He started where he had stopped so abruptly and rudely that very morning. A hand stroked her breast, teasing the nipple. Another hand stroked between her legs, arousing and promising. Keelia’s back arched against her soft grass bed. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensations that shot through her, thanks to Joryn’s touch.

  It was rather like swimming in a pond slightly warmed by the sun. The sensation was similar to the wash of water against her skin, the pleasure of ripples against her flesh and even beneath her flesh. She thought it could be no more pleasurable, and then Joryn lowered his head to take a sensitive nipple into his mouth. She caught her hand in his hair, winding the long strands through her fingers and holding him there.

  “Harder,” she commanded, and he obeyed.

  A moment later, “Softer.” Again, he did as she asked.

  She ran her hands down his body, testing the angles and muscles of his form, arousing him as he aroused her. He quivered beneath her touch, and then he rose up just enough to offer her his throat.

  Keelia had craved the taste of Joryn’s throat for so long that she all but attacked it. She kissed and licked and then bit... very gently, of course. Like her he healed quickly, so even when she drew a small bit of blood, blood that now marked him as hers, no sign of her attentions remained on his skin.

  This encounter was like so many others she had created in her mind, but it was also very different. She knew the true scent of Joryn now, as she knew the true touch of his hands on her body. It was more intense than she had imagined, more real and right.

  Her heart and the very core of her body pounded and then screamed as she spiraled out of control.

  Keelia caught Joryn’s hair in her hands and forced him to look her in the eye. Green to gold, male to female, soul to soul. “I command you to join with me, Joryn.”

  As this was her world, he did not protest. Instead he smiled again, wickedly so, and stroked her thighs as he spread her legs wide and entered her body, as she had commanded. He moved slowly at first, not entering her fully but teasing her. Bringing her to the brink of release and then backing away. Her hips moved with and against his, gently at first, and then more insistently. At her urging he moved faster and deeper, until she raised her hips up off the soft grassy bed and he buried himself deep.

  Her release was like no other. Harder, fiercer. It came wave upon wave, until she had no choice but to scream, in pleasure and relief and joy. Her body lurched and trembled, and as her own orgasm faded, she felt Joryn’s release.

  He settled his head on her shoulder and whispered something in her ear. Soft words. Sweet words. Words she could not quite understand. At the moment, she didn’t care. The lightning they created had satisfied her yearnings, and she was satiated. Happy. Content.

  She sighed and opened her eyes to reality to find Joryn watching her intently. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Keelia smiled widely. “Yes, I’m very fine, thank you. Very fine.”

  “What happened?” His expression was puzzled. “You didn’t move for a long time, and then you... your body jerked a little bit.” He swallowed hard, judging by the workings of his throat.

  “Did it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmmm.” Keelia lay back and closed her eyes, quickly headed toward sleep.

  “Are you ill?” he asked.

  “Not at all.”

  “Then what...”

  “Good night, Joryn.”

  He mumbled something beneath his breath. From the tone she suspected his words were not, “Sleep well.”

  ***

  He had never seen the Anwyn Queen so blasted happy. She’d slept soundly, and awakened with a smile on her face. Not once all morning had she ordered him to do anything at all. Once he was almost certain he heard her humming a cheerful tune.

  It was decidedly odd.

  By late morning they’d moved into a wooded portion of the mountain, taking a well-worn path that led them upward. The shade was nice, and he liked the scent of the forest. He had begun to sense and smell that more of his people had passed this way recently, perhaps on this very pathway. That was not unusual, as they were moving deeper into Caradon Territory very quickly. Five more days, at this rate, perhaps six, without running into trouble, and they would reach the Grandmother. Then what? He would have to rely on the Grandmother to tell him what came next.

  He knew that Keelia sensed the Caradon presence as well, by the way she studied the paths and the woodland darkness with such care and wrinkled her nose on occasion. She smelled the native people of this land as he did, but to her it was not a familiar or pleasant scent.

  Still, her odd cheerfulness lasted until they came upon the pitiful creature by the stream, where they’d stopped to drink and bathe.

  Joryn immediately and instinctively placed himself between the creature and Keelia, drawing his knife and holding it ready. He wasn’t sure what good, if any, the short blade would do against the mutant who looked as if its transformation from cat to man had been halted. There were tufts of hair and patches of skin, a misshapen snout, and almost human eyes near catlike ears. The body was stooped and malformed, but the muscles seemed sturdy enough. The arms were more human than animal, but the claws at the ends of those arms were sharp.

  Fire was available at a flicking of his fingers, if the blade was not enough as a weapon, and Joryn was ready to call upon that fire. He lifted the hand which did not hold the dagger, ready to use his gift, but a gentle hand on his arm stilled him.

  “Wait,” Keelia whispered as she came to stand beside him. “I don’t think he means us any harm.”

  He or it? To Joryn, the creature seemed much more like a thing than a Caradon or a man.

  “Look at the eyes,” Keelia said gently. “He is not one who has chosen evil. There is no talisman around his neck, and I do not detect anger, only pain. Such horrible pain.”

  Keelia made a move as if she intended to approach the mutant, but Joryn stopped her with a firm hand. “Do not move closer. Any creature in great pain is capable of lashing out.”

  She obeyed his order and stopped her approach, but she did not return to her place of safety behind hi
m. She directed her words to the creature. “You were bitten,” she said.

  The creature tried to speak, but could only make a pitiful sound that was somewhere between man and animal. Finally it nodded once.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Keelia sounded truly sympathetic. Still, Joryn half expected the queen to command the creature to complete its transformation and move on, but apparently she saved her directives for him.

  The creature by the stream lifted its claws and pointed at Keelia. This time it struggled to make near-word sounds. “Thy. Ah. Mo.”

  Keelia took a step toward the creature, in spite of Joryn’s warnings. “Please, again?”

  “Thy. Ah. Mo.” Each word was half-growl, half-word.

  Joryn sniffed the air. Someone was coming.

  Keelia lifted a hand to her forehead. “Think your words here. Direct them to me, if you can.”

  The green-eyed mutant nodded his head quickly, closed his eyes, and then said again as he concentrated, “Thy. Ah. Mo.”

  Keelia spun around quickly, her eyes widening. “There are more.”

  Five mutants, much like the one they had found by the stream and yet distinctively different in their fury, burst from the woods and effectively surrounded Joryn and his Red Queen. It was the first time he had been so close to the monstrosities bent on violence, and for a moment his heart stopped. They were so unnatural, so horribly wrong.

  There was no time for dwelling on the horror. Joryn drew Keelia close to him and surrounded them with a circle of fire. The flames, which quickly grew high and powerful, might scare the creatures away. Many wild creatures were afraid of fire, and these things might be no different. He still needed the Anwyn Queen to end this horror, and even if all else failed, he had to protect her.

  The creatures moved closer, not at all intimidated by the fire. One of them stuck a misshapen claw into the flame, and twisted its mouth in what had to be an attempt at a grin.