Children of the Sun

by Linda Winstead Jones

  In anger Maccus lashed out at her, but she moved quickly and his claws missed her. He quickly contained his rage and drew away.

  “We could have such power, you and I and our child,” he said. His lips were malformed, but she understood him well enough. The medallion he always wore around his neck hung against a furry portion of his chest, and she studied it for a moment. In her time here he had never taken it off. It was precious to him. That was where his magic rested, she realized. Now that her mind was clear again, she knew many things.

  She glanced at Joryn, at the creature who had once been Joryn. She knew it was him thanks to the streak of red fur that started at one ear and traveled back. And she knew it by the flame in his eyes.

  Step back, he ordered.

  Not yet.

  The fire in his eyes grew brighter. Now!

  Keelia rushed toward Maccus, not away. She reached out, knowing she had one chance, and no more. Needing an infusion of strength her hand changed in an instant, and an appendage that was part human and part wolf grabbed for the medallion Maccus wore and ripped it from his neck.

  He howled as she dropped to the ground and rolled away with the medallion clasped in her hand. She felt the small stone that was built into the backside of the metal, and she knew this was the stone she had come here to claim. Without ever looking at it, she turned the medallion about and swung her arm mightily. She smashed the cursed medallion, stone side out, into one of the rocks that had been used to form her wedding site.

  Maccus shrieked, but the inhuman sound changed before it was done. He and his soldiers returned to their human forms, as Caradon all over the world were now changing. Though Keelia’s gifts remained less than they had once been, she felt the shift to the pit of her soul. It was momentous. Painful and startling and unexpected.

  Something other than the mutants howled in outrage. The demon who’d orchestrated the design of the atrocities, the evil thing which had planned her marriage to a monster, felt pain as well. It was weakened and startled and defeated. Not permanently, perhaps, but this was a battle it had lost.

  Keelia realized with sadness that returning the creatures to their Caradon selves did not return their souls. Those who had not fought to hang on to their souls, as Joryn had, would remain monsters of another kind, but monsters without the strength of mutated bodies and the guidance of the Isen Demon.

  An angry wizard and his men rushed toward Keelia, but she was not afraid. This was not her time to die, she knew it with all her heart.

  Down!

  She obeyed Joryn’s silent command and dipped down, covering her head with her arms and making herself small. He didn’t have much time. Some of the enemy soldiers were already slipping into their feline forms, and Joryn would soon follow. There was a full moon over head, after all, and he would not have much of a window between his short time as a mutant and his transformation to his wildest form. As a cat, he had no gift of fire. As a cat, he could not save them.

  The time he had before the change was enough. Without using his hands, he called upon a wild and furious fire that burst into Maccus and his soldiers, instantly consuming them in flame. They screamed as desperately as they had when the curse had been ended, trying to escape the inescapable for a moment or two. Then all was silent as they fell dead, one after another dropping to the ground.

  Keelia grabbed the dagger she’d thrown aside, the dagger with which she’d drawn her mate’s blood, and she began to cut Joryn’s bonds. Before she was finished, he began to shift. All was silent as he transformed into a yellow mountain cat with a streak of red down one side.

  With her heart in her throat, Keelia dropped to the ground and wrapped her arms around the mountain cat’s neck. She had almost killed him. She had held a knife to his heart and drawn blood. She had betrayed him, giving away his location to Maccus, telling the monsters how to restrain him... allowing him to be brought to this cursed place for sacrifice. He had every right to kill her, here and now. If he felt that was right, she would not fight back.

  But he did not attack. He allowed her to rest her head on his neck and hold on tight.

  “I never thought I’d willingly hug any kind of a cat, much less a Caradon,” she said, trying to make her voice sound lighthearted and hide the tears that dampened her face. She could still feel a connection with Joryn, but it had changed, as he had. His thoughts now were primal and uncomplicated.

  Joryn was not entirely dark to her. She knew that man or cat, he would not hurt her. He would not leave her.

  As the moon moved across the sky, Keelia gave in to the call of the wolf and allowed herself to change. Wolf and cat ambled away from the smoldering bodies of Maccus and his soldiers, to escape the horrific scene and rest farther down the mountain.

  ***

  Joryn woke to find Keelia’s naked limbs entwined with his own. They were safe; he was a man again; she was his.

  The ground beneath them was rough, but he did not care. He rolled Keelia onto her back, waking her. She sighed and wrapped her legs around his hips, and then he was inside her.

  As sexual liaisons went, he was not at his most finessed. He needed Keelia with a desperation he had never before experienced, and he practically cried out at the sensation of her body accepting his. Their joining on this morning was fast and hard and over too quickly. While he was inside her, fire danced on air around them. In the past the loss of control had alarmed him greatly, but not today. Not today.

  Sated, Keelia sighed and ran her hand down his side in a possessive motion he found he liked very much. “So,” she whispered. “What now?”

  “I don’t have any idea,” Joryn said honestly. “Do we need to decide at this moment? We’ve done what we set out to do. There will be no more monsters.”

  Keelia’s expression was suddenly solemn. “There will always be monsters. Even those beasts who were freed last night, those who have returned to their original bodies, remain soulless and evil. They will not have the strength they once had, but they are still enemies to be fought in days to come.”

  “Don’t we get even a quick victory celebration?”

  She raked her fingers through his hair. “I think we just did.”

  He thought of all that Druson had said while they’d been imprisoned, and wondered if it might possibly be true. Had Anwyn and Caradon long ago been one people? Was Keelia not only Queen of the Anwyn but also Queen of the Caradon as well?

  Would they create a child who could fly?

  He wondered if Keelia could still read his thoughts, but if that was the case, she did not reveal it. Perhaps the intensity of the situation had created an atmosphere where they could communicate without words. Perhaps it was an ability she could turn on and off, and at the moment the ability was inoperative. He tried to slip into her thoughts, but if she knew he was reaching out to her, she didn’t show it.

  Maybe their mental connection was an ability that would come and go, and he’d never know when she might be peeking into his head.

  “I need to make my way back to The City,” she said. There was a touch of sadness in her voice.

  “I imagine your army is still searching for you.”

  “Yes. How will I ever explain what’s happened? They’ll think I’ve gone entirely mad if I tell all.”

  With her bare skin against his, he didn’t want to think about her returning to her Anwyn palace and him returning to... to what? The Grandmother, his teacher, the woman who had cared for him most of his life, was dead. Druson really was entirely mad. The idea of returning to The City of the Anwyn with Keelia was still impossible to comprehend. Whether he could believe that they were mated or not, there was no place for him there. In truth, there was no place for him anywhere.

  All that was left for him was the blessed freedom he’d always loved, an independence which now seemed oddly desolate.

  He did not wish to think of such a life, so he leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth, suckling deep. He touched Keelia, he teased her, he made her m
oan beneath him, and then he made love to her again. More properly this time. Slowly, deeply, and with a desperation as true and real as before, he claimed the queen as his, even though he was not yet sure how he would be able to keep her.

  ***

  Keelia slept and dreamed of flying. She had wings in the dream, and she soared above the valleys at the foot of the Mountains of the North and then turned up, exhilarating in the rush of the wind on her face as she soared higher and higher until she was flying above the mountain itself. Heavens, it felt so real. She could feel the wind in every feather of her wings; she experienced the power of the welcome wind against her face.

  She woke not as pleasantly as she had earlier. She and Joryn were no longer alone. His strange friend had found them, and he came bearing a plain cloth sack of clothing and food he’d collected from the wizard’s caves.

  “Get dressed quickly,” the man Joryn called Druson said, his voice too fast and high to be normal. “If they find you naked, they will be displeased. Hurry, hurry!”

  Keelia took the purple sleeveless gown Druson offered her. At least he hadn’t retrieved the heavy black dress she’d left lying near Maccus’s body. For himself and for Joryn, he’d stolen dark purple trousers and matching vests.

  For a moment she studied the bracelet which remained on her wrist. This plain piece of silver had kept her from losing all of herself to Maccus and his wicked enchantment. It carried within it a part of Joryn, somehow, and though she could not explain how, precisely, it had saved them all.

  “Who’s coming?” Keelia asked as she dressed. She did not attempt to rush the process, since Joryn had seen her naked many times, and Druson seemed not to care that she was unclothed. His mind was definitely elsewhere. “You know, you know, they’ll be here soon.”

  “Do they mean us harm?” Keelia asked, not terribly afraid. She had her claws and Joryn had fire, and in addition to the clothing, Druson had taken a fair number of knives from the wizard’s cave, including Joryn’s plain but serviceable dagger.

  “Not you, My Queen,” he said reverently.

  My Queen. Odd for a Caradon, other than Joryn, to address her as such.

  Even odder, when she was dressed, the graying Caradon presented himself to her and dropped down to one knee, placing one hand over his heart and bowing his head. “I am yours to command, My Queen.”

  Keelia ordered the odd Caradon to rise, and he did. “Do they intend to injure Joryn?” she asked, since he had made it clear she was in no danger. She tried to see who was coming, but her mind was blank. Whatever dark magic affected her abilities, it had not died with Maccus. Not entirely. She saw some of what was to come, but certainly not all.

  “Oh, yes,” Druson said with a nod of his head. “They most certainly mean harm to Joryn. You must protect him. He is still necessary.”

  “Thanks so much,” Joryn said dryly. “When I’m unnecessary, you’ll allow them to do away with me?”

  “If it is the proper time—” Druson began.

  “Do you know when these enemies will reach us?” Keelia asked, interrupting the Caradon. It would be impossible to climb in the cumbersome skirt, so she gathered up the fabric of her gown and tied it so that the hem stayed well above her knees. In this way she’d have some freedom of movement.

  “Oh, yes,” Druson said. “I know. Come this way.”

  “You didn’t say when...”

  But Druson was gone, scampering down the path that led away from Maccus’s cave.

  ***

  Everything hurt so much. He burned. Every inch of his skin, his face, his eyes. Maccus lifted his head from the ground to see the bodies of his soldiers around him. They had died in agony, but for some reason he had not. Then again, perhaps he had died and then had been restored to life by the Isen Demon.

  Even taking a breath hurt, but Maccus did breathe. His clothes had been burned away. His skin had likely once been as black as that of his fallen soldiers, but as he watched, it repaired itself. New skin grew, quickly and almost painlessly. He was not finished with his task; that’s why he was not dead. That’s why the Isen Demon saw to his repair.

  Not yet able to walk, Maccus crawled over to the glint of metal that caught his eye. The stone in the center had been destroyed, but the metal work of the medallion was untarnished by flame. He lifted the broken chain, then lay there in the dirt and repaired it with fumbling, pained fingers as his body healed. When that was done, he lifted the medallion and placed it over his head. Instantly, he grew better. Stronger. The speed of his recovery increased dramatically, even though the talisman was damaged.

  He lay in the dirt and felt himself grow stronger inside and out.

  What had gone wrong? The whore had been his. He’d felt it to the depths of his... well, if he’d had much of a soul, that’s where he would’ve felt it. She’d been so easy to charm, so simple to enchant and make his. What had broken through the enchantment?

  At this moment the whore of a queen should be in his bed, pregnant with his child, begging him to fuck her again and again.

  Instead she had ruined everything.

  No, not everything.

  The queen and the child could still be his. There were two nights of the full moon remaining in which to accomplish his goal. Two nights in which he could make her his bride and give her the child which was required as repayment for all the powers he’d been given.

  He could still do as he’d been instructed, and live to rule these mountains when the Isen Demon’s infection spread so dark and deep no one could think to stop it.

  ***

  It was almost sunset again, and they had not found anyone along the way. No threat at all, no one for whom they had to hurry.

  They came to a small spring-fed pond, and it was there they planned to camp for the night. When it was almost time for the moon to rise, they would store their clothing in a small nearby cave... as there was no more close by to be stolen, bought, or borrowed... and change as was in their nature.

  Druson disappeared, as he often did, and Keelia stripped off the purple gown. She hated to make use of anything that was connected with the wizard Maccus, but it was a pretty dress. It was the custom for the queen to wear gold, but in an odd way it was nice to see something darker and more flattering against her pale skin.

  Still, she would burn the gown as soon as she had the chance. It had the stink of Maccus and his bad magic in the very fibers of the fabric. The custom of always wearing gold could be easily changed, if she wished. She had a feeling that would be the least of the changes coming to her world.

  Keelia waded into the pond, glad of the sensation of refreshing water against her skin, and dipped down to immerse herself. Summer was fully upon them, and even here high in the mountains the air was too warm to suit her. She longed for winter, when the snows came and the cold winds howled and there was ice in the very air she breathed.

  She longed for many things. Winter would come; it always did. Other things she longed for were not so assured. Joryn was her mate, and he should be king. He should sit beside her, as her father had sat beside her mother. He should rule with her, help her, love her, give her babies. Would her people accept him? Would he accept them?

  The moment Joryn stepped into the water she knew it, even though he was silent and her back was to him. She smiled, and let the sensation of his presence wash over her. If she could do so she would forever protect him, just as Druson said she must.

  With his gift of fire, how was it possible that he might need her protection? Perhaps Druson was as daft as he sometimes appeared to be.

  Joryn wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back to his chest. It was very nice, just to be held. Just to be close. There was so much she had to say to him, and she didn’t know how. She didn’t even know where to begin.

  She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Have I told you yet that I’m sorry I almost killed you?”

  “No,” he said, seemingly unconcerned.

  “I’m sorry.”
She kissed his chest, there where the tip of the knife had touched him. There was no mark to show her where that injury had been, but she knew exactly where she had cut him. She had no doubt. “I’m also sorry that I told them where to find you.”

  “You weren’t yourself.”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  “You came around quite nicely in the end.”

  “Thanks to you. When you told me to fight, the word stuck in my brain and worked past all the bad magic.” He’d also said he loved her, but that had been when his life was in danger. He hadn’t mentioned love since, and she wasn’t sure that she could. Or should.

  He laid his mouth over hers and kissed her, deeply and completely. She began to melt against him. Into him. Did he still doubt that they were mated? That they were meant to be? When his hand delved between her legs, she forgot everything else and began to soar, just as she had in her dream. She soared toward joining, pleasure, unexpected love. So it was with great effort that she drew away from Joryn and asked him to wait.

  “If you continue I’ll soon not be able to think clearly, and there’s something that must be done. Now is as good a time as any,” she said.

  “Not thinking clearly is sometimes a good thing,” Joryn argued as he reached for her again, playful and lustful.

  Keelia danced out of his reach. “There will be time for that later, but for a moment, just for a moment, I’d like you to stand very still.”

  His eyebrows arched slightly. “Is that an order?”

  She smiled. “No, it’s a request.”

  With the water hitting him at the waist, Joryn stood as she’d directed. He crossed his arms over his chest and remained motionless as she’d asked. A breeze lifted one lock of damp, dark blond hair, but beyond that he was very still. Keelia took a step closer to him, and he smiled.

  “Don’t move,” she reminded him as she stepped within reach. The water lapped at her skin, and she had a moment’s doubt about what she was about to do. If he turned his back on her, what would she do? She’d be humiliated, and a queen should never invite or even allow her own humiliation. But she was not only queen, she was a woman. She approached Joryn in that way, as a woman.