Children of the Sun

by Linda Winstead Jones

  The wizard saw her uncertainty and his smile dimmed. “I have dreamed of this moment for so many years. Before the Isen Demon promised you to me, before I knew it was possible that I could actually have you for my own, I dreamed of bringing you here.”

  Keelia tore her eyes from the wizard’s face and studied here. Purple-tinged wizard’s light, along with ordinary lanterns and candles, illuminated this cave which was much more than a cave. She saw a number of naturally formed doorways which would lead to other rooms, or to an exit perhaps. The ceiling was high above, the smooth stone floor covered here and there by woven rugs. Like the Anwyn homes which were built into the mountain, this cave had been fashioned into the finest of dwellings. There were many furnishings, and some of the walls were covered by colorful tapestries. Having made the difficult climb, she wondered how they had come to be here.

  Magic had been used in some cases, she imagined, but not in all. Some of the pieces had simply been constructed here. The wizard had been building this home for many years.

  For her.

  “Promise to behave yourself and I will remove the binding talisman.”

  Keelia wasn’t sure how she was supposed to make such a promise when she couldn’t move or speak.

  The wizard reached out and grasped the stone that had immobilized her. As he lifted the stone and moved it past her eyes, she noted that it was different from the ones the creatures wore, different from the one that now lay against her chest.

  Again she realized she had been enchanted, so she fought. Inside, where the wizard could not see, she did battle with herself. A part of her saw this man as handsome and kind. She instinctively thought of him as a friend, one she could trust with her darkest secrets and her very life. She knew this was not true. No wizard who used his gifts to create twisted monsters was kind. No man who used his magic for darkness was her friend. She fought very hard to retain her senses, but it wasn’t easy. In fact, it would be very easy to drift into the world this wizard had built for her, to allow herself to be sucked into what he offered her, body and soul. It would be very much like falling into the blackness she saw in his eyes.

  In doing so, she would lose herself. Keelia breathed deep and prepared to strike as soon as she was able. She could kill the wizard and the beast who had carried her here if her moves were well planned. Once they were dead, she could search at her leisure for the stone—given that there weren’t more of the monsters waiting around every corner. It didn’t matter; she had to try.

  The wizard stopped moving while the binding talisman still hung over her head. She was unable to move or speak still, even though the stone was no longer touching her. Did the new talisman have the same effect? Had he simply exchanged one immobilizing spell for another? No, this was different somehow.

  “Do you wonder why I have dreamed of you? Why I have gone to such lengths to prepare a home fit for a queen?”

  She did wonder a little. She had not dreamed of this wizard at all, not in her entire life. She had never so much as glimpsed him in a vision until she reached for information about the twisted Caradon and the reason for their existence.

  “My name is Maccus. Perhaps that name resonates in the depths of your soul or in your very heart.”

  Keelia found that she could shake her head a little. She was still influenced by the original talisman, but as it no longer touched her, she was regaining some control of her body. Her fingers curled. A muscle in her jaw twitched.

  “No?” Maccus said. “That’s surprising. I did expect that my mate would know me when she saw my face.”

  Her voice was a raspy whisper as she answered, fighting still for control of her body and her mind. “You are not my mate.”

  His green eyes went hard. The black flecks there seemed to grow. “Do not pretend to be ignorant of your prophesy, my queen. Our prophesy, I should say. The Anwyn Red Queen and her Caradon lover, her Caradon mate. The prophesy as you know it is not entirely correct, of course. Prophesies rarely are easily understood, and through the years they might become distorted.”

  Keelia held her breath. It was not possible that this evil wizard was her mate. It was Joryn who called to her, Joryn who invaded her dreams.

  Joryn who did not want her.

  She wanted to fight, but gradually her will faded and even though she did not move, it seemed that she drifted toward the wizard. Perhaps Maccus was right and she was meant to be here, with him. Perhaps he was not as evil as she had envisioned, but was simply misguided. “Distorted, how?” she asked, her voice rasping.

  “Our union will not bring peace, my love.” Maccus’s smile seemed very real again. He truly was quite handsome, and Keelia felt what was left of her will seeping away. No, she felt it being ripped away. For a moment she knew it was some wicked enchantment that made her feel this way, and then she forgot. She no longer wished to harm the lovely wizard, even when he said, “Our great alliance will bring complete and utter chaos.”

  ***

  Maccus studied the Anwyn Queen, a contented smile on his face. He’d waited such a long time for this moment, and she was everything he had hoped she would be.

  Still influenced by the enchantment, she seemed dazed. Sleepy, perhaps. Very tired. Exhausted as she was, she still looked much better than she had when Eneo had carelessly dumped her on the floor.

  The queen had arrived here stained and battered from difficult travels, but thanks to his attentions, she would soon no longer look scruffy and dirty as a common farmer’s wife.

  He bathed her himself, even though there were servants who could see to her care. She seemed to be alarmed by their twisted bodies, but in time she would come to accept that they were better off than they had been as ordinary Caradon peoples, and she would accept them as her subjects.

  It was with great care and admiration that he bathed her body with the finest of soaps and the softest of rags. Poor dear, she had not enjoyed a proper bath in such a long time. She sat in a tub of warm water, her knees drawn up and her head resting against the rim. The water glistened on her fair skin. She was more beautiful, more tempting, than he had imagined she would be.

  He wanted her so badly, but the Isen Demon would destroy him if he didn’t follow the plans precisely. No woman, no matter how beautiful, was worth a demon’s wrath. Maccus attempted to remove the crude silver bracelet on her wrist, hoping the soap would make the task possible, but it fit too tightly. No matter. In time he would see it removed, even if he had to cut it off. It was plain. Ordinary. Not at all worthy of a queen.

  When her body was clean, Maccus washed and combed her hair, taking care not to yank out the fine strands, even though they were terribly tangled.

  She was compliant throughout the ministrations, thanks to the talisman around her neck. It was a temporary measure. In short order he would replace it with something more powerful. Something stronger which would ensure that she was entirely his. Already the magic which was obvious in the swirl of energy was slowing. Fading. Soon his queen’s talisman would be nothing more than a pretty rock, but for now it did the job quite well.

  When the queen was clean from head to toe, Maccus assisted her from the tub and dried her body and her hair with a velvety towel. She raised her arms when he commanded it. She turned about at his instruction. She stood very still and allowed him a moment of admiration for her fine, naked body before he continued.

  He clothed her in a proper gown. The frock he provided was not the shimmering gold color usually worn by the Anwyn Queen, but instead was fashioned of a silky purple and blue fabric adorned with pearls. The color of the fabric changed when she moved, catching the light even where there was little. The dark colors made her skin appear luminescent, and her eyes were brilliant when they did not have to compete with the gold of her gown. In deference to her hot blood, the gown had been made without sleeves, and there was a long split up one side of the skirt, to allow air to circulate. Maccus wanted his queen to be comfortable.

  The shimmering purple gown also mat
ched his own ensemble, as was proper since they were to be mated. They would be in unity in all ways, down to the clothes they wore.

  His queen remained silent, and extremely cooperative. She seemed drugged, she was so lethargic, and he longed to see the sparkle in her eyes and the incredible strength in her fine body. For now it was important that he keep her in such a state. In short time she would accept him, understand him, love him. Only when that was accomplished would he gradually ease the enchantment that made her his.

  Only then would she know her full power, her full promise. How he longed to see that power, to share in it.

  There were steps to be taken, steps that had to be taken in the proper order. The Isen Demon’s instructions were very clear. Maccus was to wed the Red Queen in a blood ceremony that would taint her soul, and only then could she be his in all ways. He had heard that Anwyn Queens were quite sensuous, and having bathed his queen and admired her body, he was quite anxious to discover that sensuality for himself.

  But patience was called for. Patience and restraint.

  Maccus led his queen into the main workroom, where he placed her in a chair he’d had built specifically for her. It was a throne fit for a ruler such as she. She would be comfortable there.

  Thus far everything had proceeded as planned. The queen was here and manageable, thanks to his enchantment. Her lover was coming this way... and he who touched fire was intent on saving the woman he had allowed to be taken. When he arrived here, the Anwyn Queen would kill her Caradon lover, and bathed in his blood she would gladly and of her own free will wed Maccus. The children that might’ve been those of a lowly Caradon with minimal magic would now be Maccus’s.

  What children they would be.

  The Isen Demon spoke to him, as it did on occasion. It is not only through death that I take control. Real power lies not in death but in life. My children will rule the world. My offspring will make all others tremble.

  Maccus smiled as his Anwyn Queen dropped her head and dozed off.

  Poor dear. She’d had a difficult day.

  ***

  Without Keelia to guide him, Joryn had to trust his instincts alone. This high on the wizard’s mountain there were few trails to choose from, and as he continued upward, he believed himself to be on the right trail. Still, he was not entirely certain as he would’ve been if Keelia had been with him.

  He vacillated between being angry and worried. Was she so annoyed with him that she’d continue on alone, sneaking away from him and going after the wizard on her own? Or had she been taken? Kidnapping her so silently wouldn’t be an easy task, but neither was it impossible. He’d done it, after all, and he knew that the wizard’s monstrosities intended to take her. Why had he allowed her that unnecessary moment of privacy? Why had he not kept his eyes on her every moment of every day and night?

  Deep down, he wished fervently that she’d simply left him. In anger, she had slipped away. If that was the case, she wouldn’t be in danger. If she’d run from him, she would not be in the hands of monsters or evil wizards.

  She was peeved, that was all. She’d slipped away to teach him a lesson, and soon she’d appear with a smile on her face and a haughty, “Worried, Caradon? Serves you right for denying me what I want.”

  But that didn’t happen. He finally admitted to himself that it was not Keelia’s way to run when her wishes were not granted. No, she’d face him down, tell him he was wrong, and fight for what she believed in. She would not run. As he accepted that, a chill danced down his spine.

  As he climbed endlessly, Joryn felt as if he were being watched even though he heard nothing, smelled nothing other than the stench of the Caradon monsters that was in every rock, in every breath of air. If it was in his power, he would kill them all.

  He had begun this task to save the pitiful creatures, and now he valued the life of the Anwyn Queen far more than all the cursed Caradon mutants combined.

  He should’ve told Keelia why he could not take the chance of leaving her with a child, but he’d expected they had more time for such conversations. Not much, but a little more time. A day or two in which to find the courage to tell her... or not. She was much stronger than his mother had been. Perhaps a child in her care wouldn’t be shuffled off into the charge of those who could better handle the growth of an unexpected power. Maybe Keelia would not drop the child into the lap of a teacher, as Joryn had been dumped upon the Grandmother for instruction and care.

  Keelia had mentioned the instruction of Anwyn wizards, but she had never said she’d literally give the child away and then depart in the dead of night...

  Joryn walked up the trail quickly, his aim the top of the blasted mountain. He walked, and ran, and cursed, all through the night and into the morning. He could not forget that his task here was about more than one woman of another species, one woman who called to him as no other ever had. At the moment, stopping the spread of darkness was second in his mind—second to finding Keelia alive and well.

  ***

  Through the fog, Keelia realized that this was what she’d always wanted. A mate who loved her, a forever love, a connection on a soul-deep level. Maccus loved her. He adored her. He would never ever leave her. Her bones felt as if they’d gone mushy and her brain wasn’t much better, but she knew that much. He’d made this place comfortable for her, down to a soft bed and a chair much like her throne back in The City.

  She had no desire to return to The City and her family. Everything she’d ever wanted was right here, with Maccus.

  Since coming here she’d slept quite a bit, and when she slept, she dreamed. Annoyingly, she dreamed of Joryn. Joryn who had made her scream in pleasure and in anger. Joryn who had denied her when she’d needed him most. Joryn who had said he would never love her. The dreams disturbed her and she tried to shake them off, but when she dozed, he was there.

  He was looking for her.

  Keelia awoke with the dream still with her, too clearly and too real, to find Maccus sitting on the side of her bed. She would’ve moved—toward him or away, she wasn’t quite sure which—but she couldn’t. She was no longer immobilized but her limbs were heavy. Her muscles were lax. Her heart—numb.

  Maccus took her limp hand in his. “I made this for you, darling.” He slid a cold silver ring which was enhanced with a large green stone onto the middle finger of her left hand.

  “It’s very pretty,” she said, her voice a bit mumbly. “Does this mean we’re married?”

  He smiled at her. Oh, he did have a nice smile. “Not yet, my love. This is simply a token of my love and fidelity, my devotion and my desire. Never fear, we will be married very soon.” He gently removed the talisman she’d worn since coming here. She noticed, as he took it away, that it did not sparkle as brightly as it had when he’d first put it around her neck. It remained pretty, but the colors no longer danced. For a moment Maccus watched her closely, as if he expected some reaction. Eventually, he relaxed and leaned in to kiss her forehead, as a friend might.

  “It’s very pretty,” she said again, and her mind began to wander. She was a little bit hungry, and still tired. Always tired.

  All her life she’d suffered with a strong will. She’d argued with her parents, her sister, her brothers and cousins. She’d always stubbornly fought for what she thought or knew to be right. Strong-willed, her father had said with a mixture of pride and aggravation.

  At the moment, she had no will at all. Her will was Maccus’s. He would make all the decisions which needed to be made, and she had only to lie here and be adored.

  “I want to give you many pretty things,” he said, reaching out to caress her cheek. “When you are my wife, every day will be filled with gifts and beauty and love. That’s what you want most of all, isn’t it, darling? Love. Someone who will always be here for you. Someone who will adore you.”

  “Yes. How did you know?” It was hard to keep her eyes open, but she managed. This small chamber was for sleeping, but in addition to the soft bed there were wa
ll hangings to cover stone walls, and many, many candles to offer light. There was even a bowl of scented oil burning, giving off light as well as a lovely smell. He had done all this for her.

  “I have always known, love.” Maccus wrapped his fingers around Joryn’s silver bracelet and attempted to remove it. He had made the attempt before, and so had she, but the thing would not move. Maccus seemed annoyed, but not terribly so. Eventually he ended the effort.

  “When will we marry?” Keelia was anxious for these days of beauty and gifts and endless love to begin. It seemed like a very nice way to live.

  “In two days, just before the full moon rises.”

  Full moon. The words tugged at her brain. Something was going to happen under the full moon, but it hurt to try to remember what that might be. Better simply not to think at all. Better to let Maccus do all the thinking for her.

  The horrid creature who had kidnapped her walked into the room as if he had the right to enter her chambers uninvited. Perhaps she was feeling tired and less than determined, but she was still a queen. Keelia lifted her hand and pointed. “He hurt me. I do not like him.”

  “Eneo is harmless,” Maccus said, taking her hand and caressing the palm.

  “He dropped me. On the ground.”

  Maccus sighed. “He did, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.” Keelia’s eyes were already heavy, and she wanted nothing more than to drift back to sleep.

  Maccus left her bed, turned slowly, and faced the creature Keelia did not like. The furry thing began to speak, but Keelia paid the words little mind. She couldn’t concentrate very well these days, and the beast’s words were garbled. Trying to decipher them would take much too much effort on her part. Maccus was walking toward the thing. He would handle the matter, as he would handle all.