Frank-EReturn

by The Exile's Return [lit]

  Darcy had managed to browbeat Lord Brodrig MacLachlan into putting her in charge of the MacLachlan forces in Hell's Widow. The youth seemed terrified of her at times, which both bemused and disturbed the brothers who had grown up with her and become inured to her temper.

  They were supposed to drive out the sa'necari and go home. Instead, Darcy had turned it into an occupation. The lycan residents were happy to have them. The humans, from whom Darcy had begun to extract reparations, groaned and growled.

  The three brothers were beginning to worry that Darcy was about to get them into more trouble than they could handle.

  "So what are we going to do about Darcy? Artair sipped from a tankard of mead.

  Eanruig tilted his head with a sidewise nod. Marry her off?"

  Tobrytan choked on a swallow of mead and nearly spewed it back in his tankard. Pity the poor sod that gets stuck with her."

  "Tie her up and send her home? Eanruig suggested.

  "Not bloody likely, Tobrytan scoffed. She'd come back madder than a wet hornet as soon as Suisan cut her loose."

  "I would start by sending a letter to Lord Duncan suggesting that she used undue influence with Brodrig. Artair drew circles on the table with his finger. He might call her home."

  "She needs to be turned over someone's knee and paddled, said Tobrytan, adding, But I'm not going to be the one to try it."

  "What about asking Finn MacIver to take her off our hands? She seems sweet on him. Eanruig gazed at Tobrytan hopefully.

  The three brothers shared a conspiratorial glance and burst out laughing.

  CHAPTER THREE

  TREACHEROUS REUNIONS

  Kynyr had been gone more often than home for a month and Kady missed him. Married life had not turned out the way she expected it to. She was deeply involved in Kynyr's private warand very likely a target for his enemies. Morning sickness complicated everything and there were days when she could barely drag herself out of bed. Although just six weeks pregnant, she had begun lazing about at every opportunity in a comfortable robe and carpet slippers. Kady had worked hard all her life, and being able to do absolutely nothing if she wished felt like heaven.

  She had a caretaker who often served as a butler, three nibari slaves, a stablemaster, Kynyr's uncle Trevor Sinclair and his wife Mary, their four children, and Iollen Newell and his wife Aghavie living with them. They all fussed over her, which sometimes amused and sometimes irritated her.

  Trevor had her coming up to the salle to train twice a day. The current salle was a converted drawing room. The foundation for a permanent salle had been laid, but most of the work would have to wait until spring.

  Word had gotten out that Kynyr was the prince and heir to Red Wolf. There were still people who wanted to dispute the fact, but Sheradyn Kelly had verified it and the talk was dying down. The abused daughter of a tavern owner had become a princess and was well on her way to being a warrior as well.

  It had been only a matter of time until a member of her family showed up. However, the last thing she had expected was to have her sister, Larena, weeping at her kitchen table. It was late and most of Kady's household had gone to bed. Trevor and Mary had insisted on sitting with Kady and Larena in case Kady needed moral support.

  It soon became clear that she did not need it.

  "For the Gods sake, Larena. Don't just sit there crying. Tell me what's wrong. Kady gave her sister an impatient glare and ran her fingers through her fluffy short hair. The oil lamp cast orange highlights on her flaxen curls. She had given up trying to look harsh, yet she went nowhere without her kendaryl blades strapped to her forearms. They had been a courting gift from Kynyr.

  Her seventeen-year-old sister Larena lowered her handkerchief. I'm ... pregnant."

  "That's nothing a dose of tansy won't fix."

  "No. No, I don't want to lose it. Larena looked panic-stricken. I love him."

  "Have you told the father? The entire conversation seemed surreal. Larena had been one of the first to condemn Kady after her love affair with Cullen Blackwood that had tarnished her reputation.

  "He's married."

  "Oh, shit. How could you be so stupid? Kady knew she was being snide and insensitive, but she could not seem to rein it in. She fought with her temper, which wanted to berate Larena in no uncertain terms.

  Larena cringed and her crying worsened. I love him."

  "Hereward will toss you out on the street for this."

  "I know. That's why I'm so frightened."

  Remembering how frightened she had been after their father withdrew his protection and before Cahira had taken her in, Kady heaved a loud sigh of resignation. There was no way that she couldin good conscienceallow her sister to suffer as she had. I know I'm going to regret this. She turned to Trevor. Would you take her home to get her things and move her in here?"

  "Are you sure you want to do this? Trevor scratched at the cinnabar stubble on his chin. He was a large wolf, standing six foot three, two hundred and sixty pounds of muscle, and intimidated many people with his sheer size.

  "I can't let her end up on the street. I'm sure you can handle Hereward. She refused to call him Dad any longer.

  "You can't believe how grateful I am, Larena sobbed.

  "You'd better be. Kady's lips tightened.

  * * * *

  At midnight, fourteen-year-old Rachel Wiggins found herself irresistibly drawn from her home. She passed along the darkened streets beneath a waxing moon and turned down Cheshire Road. Rachel wore a nightgown and a robe, for she had been preparing for bed when the come-hither spell seized her. A sense of dreaming unreality clung to her awareness and wrapped her in its smothering folds. Half an hour later, Rachel Wiggins stood in Malthus sitting room blinking away the fog that had forced her to his home. II don't know why I'm here."

  Malthus had always made her feel uneasy, although she never showed that in the tavern because he gave good tips. He was one of four humans living in Wolffgard proper. The others were Atreius Ivanstern, the apothecary; Luciano Albertus, a spiritworker and palm reader who had opened a mage shop; and Bella Montegna, Luciano's assistant. They were all dark-skinned, black-haired Waejontori.

  Malthus face filled with predatory cynicism. He stroked the long strands of his mustache and pulled at his oak leaf beard in a gesture that Rachel had always disliked. You don't. I do."

  He stalked toward her, reeking of sexual threat in every angle of his body. A sick fear seized her and she backed away from him, shifting into her hybrid form, which stressed the seams of her clothing. Don't touch me."

  She swiped her claws at him. His hands shot out and grasped her wrists, pinioning them in one hand. Rachel jerked and pulled but could not free her hands. She brought her leg up to strike him in the groin. Malthus deflected it with his hip and hit her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

  Rachel gasped for air, unable to speak as his fingers stroked her throat and a sharp pain plunged through her. Her hybrid form wavered and departed.

  "Scream if you wish. No one can hear you. Malthus dragged her stumbling into the bedroom and forced her down.

  She whimpered as he opened her robe and pushed her nightgown up. Another swift strike of dark magic slammed through her, rendering her paralyzed by pain. Malthus removed her clothing and fastened her wrists and ankles to the bedposts.

  He extended his necromantic senses and inhaled the fragrance of her terror.

  "There will a little pain, Larena ... Rachel, he corrected with venomous compassion oozing from his voice.

  Rachel regained her wind and shrieked. You've been with my sister!"

  "She's four weeks pregnant by me."

  "You're a monster."

  "You'll change your mind when I'm finished with you."

  Malthus removed his clothing, revealing his smooth, unblemished body. Blood healed all and there was not a mark upon him. His skin, hairless except for around his genitals, had the texture of silk. His muscles were so well defined that he looked as if he had be
en cast from copper.

  Rachel twisted and jerked in vain. Please, Malthus. Don't do this. I've never done anything to you."

  "You've enticed me for months. This is your fault entirely, Rachel. You made me want you."

  Malthus knew he had hit her fears and insecurities when she wailed, My father will kill me."

  "He'll think you're a slut like your sister Kady. Malthus stroked his hardening spear. How many dogs has she had inside her? Close to a dozen I'd guess."

  "Bastard. Bastard, she chanted the word as he climbed onto the bed and settled between her legs.

  "I'm not riting you, Rachel ... although I'm tempted to. Relax. Be calm. I'm just having a bit of cunt, Rachel. You'll get used to it."

  She writhed and pulled at her ropes. Tears ran down her cheeks. Please, don't."

  Malthus put his hand on her belly and held her still. First your body and then your mind."

  Rachel gave a loud ululation of despair as her maidenhead tore and he filled her vacancy with his occupant. Malthus savored her terror and humiliation, feeding upon it as he thrust into her warm wet hole. The savagery of his penetration caused her pain and went on for a long time. As Malthus aged it became harder and harder to achieve ejaculation when a death was not involved, although he never failed to get there.

  She sobbed brokenly. Bastard. Bloody bastard."

  Contempt edged Malthus chuckle. He had elected to make this one a rape, rather than a seduction, just to keep it interesting. You're enjoying it."

  "I hate you. Her voice had gone hoarse with screaming that went unheard in the night.

  Malthus reached completion, exploding inside her with a moan of satisfaction. He rolled off Rachel and crouched beside her, his now flaccid member coated with her maiden's blood. Not for long."

  His fangs descended from their sheaths. She screamed in fresh terror as he lunged into her brain with his gifts and savagely twisted a coercion into their gray depths. Malthus knotted it tightly. Rachel would feel ill and weak for a few days as a result of his doing it this fast, but she would recover.

  Her eyes went unfocused.

  "How do you feel about me now, Rachel?"

  She answered in a hollow voice. I love you, Malthus."

  He cut her bonds, rose from the bed, and tossed her clothing at her. Get dressed and get out of here. I have work to do."

  Malthus contemplated his options as he watched her dress. Using the bitches instead of the dogs would change the direction of the game and, with a little bit of luck, catch Kynyr off guard.

  * * * *

  Kynyr went hunting for private justice. Padruig Caimbeul had insisted upon doing matters as close to legal as could be achieved, and as a result the Butchering Serpent murdered him. When Caimbeul had been young, his beliefs had been different. Kynyr had been reading his book: THE WISDOM OF FIREBORN LAW: the sayings of Padruig Caimbeul.

  He had been at odds with Caimbeul more often than not; yet reading those words on the pages, challenged by the profundity of Caimbeul's early philosophy, left Kynyr with a poignant ache for having failed to discuss it with him before he died.

  "I'll bring vengeance for you, Caimbeul. I brought it for Cullen in Hell's Widow. Now, I'll bring it for you."

  The murderous attack upon Caimbeul had been recorded upon a memory stone. Kynyr had viewed the stone, seeing the attack through Caimbeul's eyesas had Claw. Of the eight myn who had attacked the lawgiver, one was dead and another had been arrested and was being put to the question.

  The masks had obscured the faces and voices of the assailants. One had been clearly a very powerful sa'necari. The rest lycans. Yren and his dead friend, Nesswen, had had several things in common. They both worked at the Sanctuary Refugee Camp. They both knew Malthus because of working at the camp and were regularly seen with him. They both belonged to a juvenile gang of troublemakers called the Lycamornots. There were between fifteen and twenty young wolves, at any given time, working at the camp; and all of them were either members of or could be linked to the Lycamornots.

  Kynyr had a hunch as to the identity of the big lycan who had pinioned Caimbeul while the others stabbed him. Three of the biggest lycans in Wolffgard were Todd Sinclair, Raonul the smith, and his apprentice Torquil Anderson. Torquil had a connection to Malthus and the Lycamornots.

  Whether Malthus was the Serpent or whether he was merely acting for the Serpent remained to be proven. Malthus connections to the ruling family by way of his marriage to Kynyr's aunt Merissa and the fact that Malthus was popular with the lycans in the village because of his dedication to providing for the refugee camp, as well as other acts of Noblesse Oblige made him a hard target to hit. Belgair and many of Claw's guardsmyn were very taken with Malthus.

  Kynyr had several angles to work from, and he considered all of them: discredit Malthus so that he could be called out and killed; force Malthus to come after him through a pattern of pissing contests; identify and take out Malthus followers and sycophants, most of whom would not be missed and whose deaths could not be directly connected to Kynyr.

  With that in mind, Kynyr had left his horse, Bucky, at his Gram's home and set out on foot for Sanctuary. A tiny sliver of waxing moon interrupted the darkness with fingerling patches of shimmering light, leaving a subtle edging upon the leaves of maples leaning across the road, their riotous colors muted by night. Kynyr had postponed going after Malthus lackeys a day longer than he had wanted to, because it had been dark of the moon, which his people considered an ill-omened time when dark things crept out, evil things happened, and it was generally bad luck to be caught out at night.

  He had barely passed the town limits when he spotted his quarry returning from the camp: Torquil Anderson.

  The big smith's apprentice walked with his head lowered, lost in thought, a faint frown on his blunt heavy features. A sword rested at his hip in a long leather sheath.

  "Hello, traitor."

  "What did you say? The big mon stopped in his tracks, startled, and then relaxed as Kynyr moved out of the shadows and into the middle of Cheshire Road. Well, if it isn't the bastard prince. Bored with your wife already?"

  Kynyr ignored the insults. I see you've started carrying a sword."

  "Malthus has been training me. Torquil shifted uneasily, eyeing the shorter wolf. Kynyr had a reputation as the best swordsmon in Wolffgard, which made the others reluctant to fight him, including Torquil.

  "Draw."

  The steel and ice in Kynyr's glance made Torquil flinch. I'm no match for you, Kynyr."

  Kynyr drew Ladyfaith from the sheath at his shoulder. Draw or die where you stand."

  Torquil kicked a rock at Kynyr and drew.

  Kynyr glided to the side, avoiding the clumsy missile. Torquil thrust at Kynyr's head. The prince grabbed the end of the apprentice's blade, entangling it from above with Ladyfaith and slid the point into Torquil's chest like a knife through warm butter.

  The sword fell from Torquil's hand as he staggered back, clutching at his chest. Kynyr plunged Ladyfaith into Torquil's belly and jerked it out.

  Torquil sank to his knees, eyes dulled by shock and anguish. Damn you, Maguire."

  "Does it hurt? Kynyr sneered.

  "I'm ... dying ... damn you. Torquil hunched over, holding his wounds, blood leaking between his fingers.

  "Of course you are. Now you know how Caimbeul felt when you stabbed him. You urinated upon him as he lay dying. I mustn't forget that."

  Kynyr kicked Torquil onto his back, wiped Ladyfaith clean with a handkerchief, and sheathed her. Then he opened his pants and pissed in Torquil's face.

  The big lycan choked and coughed up blood. Malthus ... will kill you."

  "He'll try."

  Kynyr closed his pants and retrieved Torquil's sword, thrusting it into the big lycan's heart with a twist that destroyed the organ. Torquil shuddered, his eyes staring sightlessly at the night sky.

  The Prince of Red Wolf squatted beside the corpse, pulled a piece of paper from his pouch with words printed la
rge upon it: If Truth Dies . The signature beneath the words read Always Faithful."

  He drew Torquil's knife and used it to pin the paper to his dead chest. Dragging Torquil's body to the side of the road, Kynyr left it where it was less likely to be found before full daylight.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BETRAYALS

  By the time that Malthus returned from his assignation with Rachel, the household slept. He stole through the gardens, eluding the patrolling guards, and entered through the servants door. He went up to his study, where he gathered two mismatched drinking cups and a bottle of wine. He headed downstairs to the dungeons where he found only one guard on duty, sitting at a small table near the stairs. Evidently, the lycans did not expect trouble. He recognized the guard as dull-witted Gorgarty Burr, Belgair's least favorite guardsmon.

  "Hello, Gorgarty. Malthus waved the bottle at him and sat down. I was feeling restless and don't like drinking alone."

  Gorgarty eyed the bottle with interest. I'm not supposed to drink on duty."

  "One drink won't hurt you. I won't tell anyone."

  Malthus extended the bottle to him.

  Gorgarty took it and pulled the cork out with a grin. He sniffed the rim and his grin broadened. This is good stuff."

  "I always buy the best. I used to drink at odd hours with Claw, but since his illness...."

  Gorgarty poured for them. Yah. The old bastard's dying."

  "That makes Kynyr the heir."

  "I don't like him. He thinks he's too good for anything. Threatened me, ya know. Gorgarty gulped the wine down in a single go.

  "Really?"

  "Over Kady. She asked me to slip her the bone, so I did. I cocked her up good and she screams rape. Everyone knows you can't rape a slut."