Part Eighteen
by
“My
king! I bring news!” shouted a young man as he raced across the campsite,
heading pell-mell for Arris, who was slouched on a pile of cushions.Sliding
to his knees as he came within sight of the king, the messenger bowed his
head and mumbled, “I hail thee, Arris the Demonslayer, overlord of Y’dan.”
“Yeah,
yeah, the news, boy, let’s have it.”The
king was bored.Though the army had
been camped in the mountains for weeks, he hadn’t seen so much as a demon’s
toenail, much less a living, breathing example of the scions from hell.
“Demons,
your majesty, hundreds of them!” the young man exclaimed breathlessly.Now
he dared to look up and was rewarded with the sight of Arris leaping from
his chair.
“Well,
why didn’t you say so?” he shouted exuberantly, jumping up and pacing to
and fro, erratically.“This is fabulous
– I mean terrible news!We must attack
them at once.”The king ceased his
pacing and grabbed the messenger, shaking him forcefully.“Tell
me more, at once!”
Briefly, the messenger stammered out
what the half-dead scout had told him and then handed over the scout’s
proof – an ichor stained, broken sword blade.
Barely
able to contain himself, Arris accepted the blade, shaking with glee.“Demons,”
he whispered.Reverently, he dipped
his fingers in the ichor, cursing when the thick yellow fluid burned his
flesh.
Behind
him, the scholar Porthyros emerged from the king’s tent.He
was carrying a large tankard filled to the brim with freshly made tea.His
gaze went from the messenger to the sword in Arris’ hand and a tiny smile
sprang up on his sallow features.It
was about time.Now maybe the brat
would stop whining.For weeks, all
he had heard was, “Thyro, when do I get to kill one?” and he was heartily
tired of it.Soon, he
thought in satisfaction, I will no longer heed the words
of this puling boy who dares think he is the next master of the world!Rich
visions of gold and jewels taunted him as he approached his king and diffidently
proffered the beverage.
“Did
you hear, Thyro?Demons!” Arris babbled,
absently taking the mug and draining it dry.
“I
did, your majesty.Shall I call the
squad leaders?” he asked, accepting the tankard back with a small bow.
“Yes,
at once!I must prepare!” Arris dove
into his tent and shortly, the clatter of armor and weapons could be heard.
“You
heard him, boy.Go find the generals.”Porthyros
dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand.Oh
master, your plan goes so perfectly.The
scholar scanned the mountains to the east, wondering if all was going according
to plan.If so, then shortly, he
would leave Arris to his fate and join his master high in the snows and
watch the dawning of a new era.
Does
she come?he wondered, searching for
any sign that his master’s plans were coming to perfect fruition.She
must come!Is it not written?How
many times had he heard his master muttering about crazy prophecies and
destined events?Azhani would be
here with an army, because the fates willed it so.
The bitch had to die by Arris’ hand, or kill the king.Then the victors would find themselves surrounded by an army of demons, all waiting to kill for their master.Ecarthus would have his key, and he, Porthyros Omal, would have a kingdom!I must make ready. It will soon be time to leave Arris to his fate.
A
self-satisfied smirk settled on his narrow-featured face, making passersby
shudder and avoid the rat-like little man.
%%%
Azhani’s
army left the Ystarfe Pass after three weeks of bathing in blood and gore.The
hatchings grew more frequent until there were no more egg-filled caves,
only long nights of fighting demons and praying for the sun.Two
thousand men and women gave their lives to the fangs and claws of the spawn
of hell, leaving a bare four thousand to face the horrors still to come.
Each
loss deeply scarred the warleader’s heart.Every
time she had to stand pyrewatch and listen to the priests sing the death
chant, tears scorched her cheeks and anger flamed in her gut.For
days following a funeral, Azhani would be fierce in battle, fighting with
a frenzy that seemed almost otherworldly.
Tales
of her fighting spread as those in the army compared what they had seen
of their warleader before and what now walked among them, blue eyes brightened
by some inner fire that fueled them to face the demons every night.They
loved her.From the lowest cook to
the lieutenants that gathered every morning to give the death tolls, they
revered their Warleader.There wasn’t
a man or a woman among them, who wouldn’t follow her to the gates of Hell
itself, had she asked it of them.
Whispered
over cups of warmed mead or mulled wine, was the tale of how Azhani had
single-handedly held back a wave of demons when her entire patrol had gone
down.The warleader had been a whirlwind
of death, holding the monsters back until King Padreg’s patrol could race
to their rescue.Of the forty soldiers
in the unit that went down under the demonic onslaught, thirty-eight lived.
One
of the soldiers who had lived through the assault made a song about it,
taking the warleader’s hated nickname and turning it into a title of pride.The
Banshee of Banner Lake became Banshee to the men and women who fought and
died for her.Y’dani minstrels had
christened her with the name to drive fear into the hearts of all who heard
the tale of her defiance of Arris.The
soldiers took that fear and turned it around, making the warleader’s cry
into the balm that was sent to shield their souls from destruction.Azhani
Rhu’len, Y’Syr’s Banshee.
Azhani
despised it, but she allowed the name to stick because it gave them something
to cling to when they were staring into the glowing eyes of death.Padreg
tried to tease her about it, until he heard what he and those who were
considered to be a part of the warleader’s camp were called.“Banshee’s
Pride” they were, the warleader’s steadfast pack of followers, whose loyalty
was never to be questioned.
Knowing
of the warrior’s dislike, Kyrian never addressed her lover by the hated
nickname.She understood that part
of her lover’s reluctance stemmed from humility and part came from remembered
pain.Azhani was one of the most
humble people the stardancer knew, and that kept her from basking in the
glow of worship that seemed to permeate the entire army.
Gormerath’s
lengthy legend increased as well.The
ancient sword flamed like a torch when Azhani wielded it in battle, cutting
through demon after demon without ever needing the touch of a whetstone.The
warrior privately swore to Kyrian that the sword knew when demons were
near, emitting a bone jarring hum when the evil beings came within a certain
distance of her.
Kyrian
also felt that the blade must have some kind of healing properties.Wounds
that should have bedridden the warrior for days, mended overnight, with
no magical help from any of the stardancers.
Thus
far, the stardancer had managed to avoid direct confrontation with the
demons, though she had seen the remains of the devastation daily.Each
time one of the soldiers passed, she stood with Azhani and sang the songs
of ascendancy, wordlessly holding on to the warrior’s hand as she cried.Those
were the nights they loved the fiercest, clinging tightly to one and other
and seeking solace in their love.
The
stardancer glanced down the road they traveled, spotting her lover at the
head of the column.Yesterday, a
plume of smoke in the distance had caught their attention and today, they
were following an old mining trail toward Barton town.The
sun was just beginning to set when they rode into the town.
The
smell was terrible.A thick miasma
of death shrouded the once thriving trading community.Azhani’s
descriptions of the place after the demonic invasion the previous year,
were nothing close to what they saw now.
Around
the town stood the ruins of a wall, the wood splintered and smashed by
massive forces. Not one house
remained standing.Fires still smoldered,
adding a thick, oily smoke to the noxious atmosphere.There
was no sign of life, anywhere.Liberally
littering the streets were the corpses of mutilated bodies, the stench
of decomposition making it difficult to get close enough to the piles of
flesh to determine whether they were mortal or demon.
The
army rode in horrified silence, some with tears staining their smudged
faces as they passed the destruction.An
aura of evil pervaded the town, making the atmosphere oppressive and chilling.Shaking
uncontrollably, Kyrian guided Arun to the center of town, relieved to see
Azhani and her lieutenants gathered around the remains of a well.
The
warleader’s face was deeply lined by sorrow and heartbreak and Kyrian nearly
cried out at the bleakness in her lover’s dark indigo eyes.She
didn’t need words to tell her that Azhani needed her.Leaping
from Arun’s back, Kyrian carefully picked her way through the rubble until
she was beside her lover, worming her way under the warrior’s arm and wrapping
her arms around her.
Azhani
looked down at the sudden appearance of her lover and smiled wearily.How
does she always know when I need her?
“Hey,”
the warrior said, returning the hug one-armed while keeping the other free.Gormerath’s
song was distant, but present.
“Hi,”
Kyrian said, continuing to snuggle against the warrior’s side.“I
missed you, so I just had to come find you.”
The
tips of Azhani’s ears turned bright pink, causing Padreg and the others
to smile.
“You
are well and truly snared, my friend,” Padreg said, clapping Azhani on
the shoulder.
“Look
who’s talking,” Azhani said as Elisira joined them, catching Padreg’s mail-covered
hand in her own.
Smiling
sheepishly, Padreg brought his lady’s hand up and kissed it.“Well,
at least we were caught by the best.”
“No
argument there,” Azhani agreed, brushing a quick kiss over Kyrian’s forehead.I
know you’re gone, Ylera.I swear
that Arris will die for his crimes, but I no longer feel as though killing
him will bring you back.
Commotion
at the other end of the town sent the group scrambling.Four
scouts were hurriedly running into the street, carrying a blue-robed figure.
“We
found him in a shrine,” one of the scouts was saying as Azhani arrived,
seconds after Kyrian.
The
stardancer was already singing, her hands limned in a brilliant yellow
aura as she tried to heal the other priest’s numerous wounds.Padreg
gasped in shock as he recognized his old friend Jalen, the scholarly priest
who had helped him escape Arris’ guards the year before.
Opening
his eyes, the man looked around and tried to speak, but all that came out
was a rough croaking noise.Azhani
ripped the waterskin from her side and drizzled a few drops into his mouth.He
swallowed and finally, hoarse, wheezy words emerged.
“Azh-ani
Rhu’len?Paddy?Am
I hall-ucinating?” he mumbled, faltering over the words.
A
cot had been set up and the scouts laid the priest’s broken body down while
Kyrian continued to sing.Another
stardancer appeared, linking his hand with Kyrian’s and singing a descant
to her song.Starseeker Vashyra also
arrived, kneeling beside her fellow priest and took his hand, praying softly.
Dropping
to his knees next to Kyrian, Padreg took up his old friend’s hand and squeezed
it gently.“We’re here, Jae,” he
whispered, forcing back the tears that burned in his eyes.Jalen
looked terrible.Blood sluggishly
flowed from deep cuts in the priest’s belly, and through the crimson fluid,
the chieftain could see the pale pink of ravaged bowl and intestine.Elisira
put a hand on her beloved’s shoulder and squeezed, lending him her support
as tears slipped down his cheeks.
“Couldn’t
stop them,” Jalen said, his voice stronger now that Kyrian’s healing had
taken effect.“Came in at night and
destroyed everything.”
A
strangled howl came from Azhani and she buried her head in her hands, sobbing
brokenly.Paul, Orra, Mattie – they
were all dead?
Allyndev,
seeing his mentor in pain and knowing Kyrian could do nothing for her while
she was singing, handed Azhani a skin filled with elven wine.“It’s
not an answer, but it may help,” he murmured, bowing his head.
The
warrior drained it in three swallows.
“...Sent
them to the elves three months ago, when the mines were overrun with larvae.A
few of us stayed behind, to tend the shrine,” Jalen coughed and blood flecked
his lips.“I couldn’t let the Ecarthans
win; I had to keep the Twins alive in Y’dan.”
“Of
course, my friend,” Padreg soothed.“Rest
now; let the stardancers work.”
Only
now noticing Elisira, Jalen managed a smile.“So
you finally found the one, hmm, my friend?Did
you marry her?”
Padreg
smiled sadly.“Not yet, Jae.We
wanted to wait until the time was right.”He
reached up with his free hand and covered Elisira’s.She
squeezed his shoulder silently.
Kyrian
and the other stardancer stood, their song ended.“We’ve
done all we can; it’s in the hands of the gods now,” she said, going over
and burying herself in Azhani’s desperate embrace.
“It
will feel good to sleep,” Jalen said drowsily.
“Then
rest, my friend.We will be here
when you wake,” Padreg assured him.The
priest’s eyes fluttered shut.
Azhani
clung to Kyrian.They weren’t dead.Her
friends – the people she had known since she was a child were still alive,
safely ensconced across the border, in Y’Syr.Her
heart was hammering in her chest and tears continued to fall, but it was
relief that flooded her now, not sorrow.
The
fear that had ridden on her shoulders since they had entered the shattered
town, vanished, and was replaced by a giddy sense of release that made
her feel as though she was floating.Yes,
there were dead to mourn, but they were few; only a small group of miners
and trappers had refused to leave their homes behind.Paul,
Orra and their family, as well as many other families, had fled, rather
than face the demons again.
Azhani wallowed in her lover’s embrace,
trading soft kisses until she felt able to face the army.Taking
a deep breath, the warleader looked up and began giving out orders.
“Vashyra,
take the mages and cleanse this place.Padreg,
you and Eli gather the men and set patrols of no less than fifteen soldiers
each, no more than three miles outside of town.Allyn,
take fifty men and find us a place to camp.”
“What
about outside the shrine?” one of the scouts suggested.“It’s
still intact and it’s upwind of this place.There’s
a well and plenty of space.”
“Perfect.Allyn,
take those men and go check it out.”Azhani
frowned, trying to place the scout’s name.“Tal,
you go with them; show them the way.”
Everyone
scattered to his or her various jobs.A
chair was brought for Kyrian, who flopped into it tiredly.Brother
Jalen slept peacefully and Kyrian wondered if she should bestir herself
enough to clean him up, or wait until he woke.
“Sit
and rest, my love.I’m going to find
us something to eat and search for survivors,” Azhani said quietly, squatting
down to kiss her lover quickly.
“Okay,”
Kyrian agreed willingly, letting her head drop back.Cloudy
gray skies suddenly parted, allowing the barest sliver of the setting sun
through.The golden light bathed
the small town all too briefly and then vanished behind the clouds once
more.
%%%
Over
several candlemarks, the ruined town of Barton vanished.Priests,
mages and soldiers worked in concert to remove the miasma of destruction
that clouded the tiny valley where the trade town was housed.The
structures that had withstood the damage were taken over by the army as
housing and headquarters, though the main body of troops camped a few miles
away in the forest.
In
the town square, a bonfire burned.The
ruins fed the flames, helping to send on the souls of the townsfolk.Demon
carcasses were left where they lay, or brought into areas where the sun’s
rays would work to dissolve the hellish corpses.
Any
useful items found buried in the rubble were immediately cleaned and brought
to the shrine to be put into service.Chairs,
clothing, linens – everything was treated to a thorough cleansing and then
distributed to the soldiers for use.Surprisingly,
many large stores of foodstuffs were discovered.The
priests gave thanks for the bounty while the cooks took the windfall and
added some variety to the meals.
Trapped
under the fallen roof of the old inn stable, a gaunt, near-dead female
hunting cat and her young kits were found, near dawn.As
the debris was removed, her weak cries could be heard, driving the soldiers
to work nonstop until she and her family were extricated.Coaxed
into the arms of the waiting men and women with food scraps, the large
mother cat and her kits quickly won the hearts of the army.
Throughout
the day, wherever she wandered in the camp, warm, dry spots were hastily
offered and plenty of food shared.A
small platoon of men and women even volunteered to risk life and limb to
bathe the knee-high cat and her kittens.
Azhani
took the existence of the cats as a sign that the gods approved their mission.The
gift of precious animals like hunting cats was not one she would lightly
ignore.Trained to hunt alone, or
alongside partners, the felines could easily bring down a deer on their
own.The animals had been created
centuries earlier by Firstlanders who discovered that their ship cats did
not fare well on land.A larger species
of native feline proved capable of breeding with the ship cats, producing
a strong, agile, smart and loyal hunting animal.Already,
the kits were gravitating toward the men and women who would be their handlers
and friends for the rest of their lives.
The
mother cat, named “Avisha” by the soldiers, was lying by the warrior’s
side, her head pillowed on Azhani’s boot and her dark golden eyes slowly
roving the camp.Reaching down, the
warleader rubbed the cat’s thick, chocolate brown furred skull, smiling
at the thundering purr she received in turn.
Avisha,
whose name meant “miracle”, was a welcome addition to the hunting squad.After
only two days of recovery, the skilled huntress had helped take down a
large wild boar, the meat of which was a welcome addition to stew pots
around the camp.
Sitting
back in the chair, Azhani allowed her head to roll about on her shoulders,
wincing as several loud pops and cracks echoed around her.She
sighed wearily.The cleanup of Barton
had taken candlemarks and yet there was always more to do.Azhani
could see the first twinkling of stars and knew that soon, she would lead
another patrol into the surrounding mountains.Tempted
to visit her homestead, she had purposefully assigned herself to the northerly
route, asking Padreg to take the southern quarter.It
would be too painful to see the home she could not live in, and even more
devastating if that home had been destroyed.
Earlier
in the day, Starseeker Vashyra had received a magical sending from Queen
Lyssera.The Y’Syran navy, with help
from Y’Nor’s ships, was engaged in battle.Dark
ships sailed by Ecarthan priests and Killigarni pirates, were infesting
Banner Lake and its larger tributaries.
On
the plains of Y’Nor, priests disguised as bandits were attacking the clans,
keeping the plainsmen from sending more than token assistance northward.Regardless
of their troubles, Lyssera promised to send supplies and reinforcements.The
other message to come in that day was from Ambassador Kuwell.His
news was welcome indeed.On the morning
that Azhani’s people had ridden into Barton, Kuwell and his men had arrived
in the Y’droran Mountains, having cleansed the land of demons.
The
warleader heaved a great sigh of relief, satisfied that she would not have
to look over her shoulder so much.Not
that she would ignore that avenue completely – that would be sheer folly
– but she could rotate the rear guardsmen forward, leaving the soldiers
more time to rest during the day.
Avisha
reached up and playfully batted at the warrior’s fingers.Smiling,
Azhani spent some time wrestling with the big cat, careful not to incite
the feline’s more ferocious instincts.The
hunting cat had a vicious set of very sharp teeth and claws and Azhani
did not want to become a pincushion.
Over
by the fire, Kyrian and Elisira worked on dinner and quietly talked.The
stardancer looked up and watched her lover play with the cat and smiled
gently, amused by the precious sight.Elisira
followed her friend’s gaze and chuckled lightly.
“She’ll
be something with children, don’t you think?” the noblewoman quietly commented.
“Yeah,”
Kyrian said dreamily.
“You’ve
found yourself a good one, Kyr, I’ll grant you that.Always
thought you would, too,” Brother Jalen said, smiling fondly at the stardancer.
In
a corner of the campsite, Padreg was teaching Allyn the finer points of
Y’Noran combat.The distant thunk
of practice swords clashing heavily against padded armor, threaded past
Azhani’s senses.Turning, she looked
at the amazing shrine that Brother Jalen and the Barton townsfolk had built.
Set
outside of the protective town wall, the single story structure spread
out in a rambling sprawl under three large trees.In
the very center of the building was an altar dedicated to Astariu and Astarus,
who were the twin gods of Y’myran.Rising
up from the altar were two intricately carved statues.Cradling
a rock crystal bowl filled with water, the serene expressions of Astariu
and her twin brother Astarus gazed out into the temple, welcoming all.Fragrant
incense burned in tiny cups, the blue-gray smoke wreathing upward to enshroud
an oil lamp that was suspended from the ceiling.
Spread
outward from the altar were bedrolls filled with priests and mages in various
states of sleep.Flashes of saffron,
crimson and azure fabric peeking out from under dark woolen blankets, denoted
the men and women who had drained themselves working to set Barton town
to rights.Suppressing a smile at
the symphony of snores coming from within the temple, Azhani reached down
and grabbed her gorget and began removing a broken buckle.
Princess
Syrelle exited the chirurgeon’s tent, bearing a heavy load of bloodied
bandages.Seeing the warleader, she
nodded a hello as she passed by to toss the ruined cloth onto the fire.Azhani
waved back, approving of the way the young woman had fearlessly undertaken
the task of learning battlefield medicine.The
princess passed by Allyn and the two nobles exchanged shy smiles.
Hmm,
it looks like Allyn has mended his fences, the
warleader thought, smiling in satisfaction as she watched them interact.It
was easy to see that Allyn and Syrelle were moving from friendship toward
something more, and Azhani spared a moment to wonder if she should interfere.No,
let it happen.Those Y’Syran stuffed
tunics need a little shaking up.
“Food’s
done,” Kyrian called out, holding up a steaming bowl of stew and wobbling
it enticingly.
Setting
aside the busted piece of armor, Azhani stood and meandered over, taking
the bowl and a kiss from her lover.
“Mm,
smells great,” the warrior muttered, nuzzling Kyrian’s ear.
The
stardancer chuckled throatily, tipping her head to capture her lover’s
lips again.“Glad you like it,” she
said, pulling away to serve up another bowl for herself.They
sat together on a bench that had been saved from the town.
Padreg
and Allyn showed up about then, drenched in sweat but grinning like a couple
of kids who had just gotten away with eating an entire handful of sweets.
“Have
fun, boys?” Azhani asked as she took her first bite.
Allyn’s
grin got even bigger.“I knocked
him flat on his backside, Master Azhani!”
Raising
an eyebrow, Azhani looked to Padreg for confirmation of the young man’s
boast.
The
chieftain nodded and said, “Kid’s fast, Azhi.I’m
impressed.”
“Maybe
you’re just getting old, Paddy,” Brother Jalen piped up, chuckling at the
expression on his friend’s face.
“Old?If
you didn’t look like three day old cartwheel fodder, I might be tempted
to show you just how old I am!” Padreg teased, walking over and leaning
down to gently embrace the priest.
Elisira found a chair and shoved it
under Padreg’s bottom and ordered, “Sit down you big ninny.”Flopping
back, the Y’Noran king laughed and accepted his bowl of stew graciously.
“Dev
still sleeping?” Allyn asked, looking over at the shrine, searching for
his friend.
“Yeah,
I can see his feet sticking out from under his blankets,” Kyrian said around
a mouthful of food.“But I think
Syrelle is still over at the chirurgeon’s, if you’d like to tell her that
dinner’s ready.”
She didn’t have to mention it twice.Allyndev
dropped his armor and his practice weapon in a pile outside of his tent
and raced across camp to the large, white pavilion that served as the chirurgeon’s
tent.
Shaking
his head, Padreg wondered aloud, “Did he just grow wings on those feet,
or am I seeing things?”
Azhani
shrugged.“Love makes you do the
strangest things, Paddy.”
The
Y’Noran chieftain shared a smile with his fiancée and nodded.“I
suppose you are right, my friend.”
Clearing
his throat, Jalen asked, “Speaking of love, Paddy-me-boy, why is it that
you chose midwinter to stand before the goddess?”
Padreg
flushed and looked down at his feet.“Well,
ah, I was actually going to marry Elisira as soon as we returned to Y’Nor,
but, ah, I got to watching Azhani and Kyrian and you know how meddlesome
we Y’Norans can be...” he laughed weakly.“Well,
anyway, I thought maybe I could spread a little of my happiness around
and...” his voice petered away under the intense gazes of the group.
Azhani
grinned openly.She was very interested
in hearing this.Beside her, Kyrian
added her own smile and attentive gaze.
Fidgeting
uncomfortably, Padreg hurriedly said, “Eli told me how deeply Azhani had
loved Ylera Kelani, and how wonderful it was that Kyrian had come into
her life.I thought, maybe, that
I could tempt the fates into giving Azhani a measure of happiness.”He
shrugged and looked at Azhani, then at Jalen.“So
I planted a seed and hoped for a lovely flower.”
“You
are a sap, Paddy.I love you, but
you are a sap,” Elisira said, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek.
“So
that’s what Lyss meant by a promise,” Kyrian said abruptly.At
Azhani’s look of confusion, she added, “Just before you revealed Var’s
treachery, the queen told me about a letter she had received from Padreg.She
mentioned the promise and neither of us could figure out what it was about.I
had forgotten about it until just now.”
Everyone stared at Kyrian, amusement
sparkling on their faces in the form of teasing grins.
“What?”
the stardancer asked innocently and then took a bite of her food.
“I
love you, Kyr,” was Azhani’s response.
“I
love you, too,” Kyrian replied, though the response was somewhat garbled
from the food she was chewing.
Nodding
his head, Padreg said, “Yes, asking Lyssera to pass on the message seemed
to be the best way to gently remind our sword swinging friend that life
moves on.”He shared a look with
the warleader.
“I
hadn’t forgotten,” Azhani said quietly, reaching out to take Kyrian’s hand
in hers, their fingers automatically twining together.
Padreg
only smiled.
“Well,
now that you don’t have to wait, why not have the ceremony now?” Jalen
blithely suggested, causing both Padreg and Azhani to turn ghostly white.
Elisira
and Kyrian exchanged glances, both biting their lips to keep from laughing.
“Should
we be insulted?” Elisira slyly asked, giving both Padreg and Azhani arched
looks.
“Elisira,
beloved, I would be happy to bind my fate with yours.”The
Y’Noran bowed his head and sighed heavily.“Yet,
I
would rather not taint such a blessed event with the blood of war.If
it would please you, though, I will lay aside my misgivings.”
The
noblewoman reached her hand out and laid it against Padreg’s bearded face. “No,
my love.I agree with you.Our
day should be filled with sun and the scent of home.I
am content to wait until midwinter or beyond.What
about you, Kyr?”
Caught
with her spoon halfway to her mouth, Kyrian dropped the utensil into her
bowl and pretended to ponder the question.“Well,
I think,” she lingered on the word, tilting her head to look at Azhani.Sweat
glistened on the warrior’s brow and she returned a hopeful look to her
lover.“I think that whatever the
two of you decide to do is wonderful, Eli, but I’m not sure Azhani and
I are ready to make any kind of commitment.”
Surprising
herself, Azhani calmly said, “No, that’s not true.I
am ready.”She looked into Kyrian’s
startled eyes and smiled.“I was
ready the night I came to you, my love.”They
shared an intense look and then Azhani rose to begin pacing around the
fire.“My friends,” she said quietly,
“May whatever day you choose to join, be special.”
“Thank
you,” Elisira said.
“With
my lady by my side, it could not be anything else,” added Padreg simply.
Azhani
smiled and turned away, kneeling before Kyrian.Taking
the stardancer’s hand, she stroked her thumb along the palm before bringing
it up and pressing her lips against the warm skin.Kyrian
smiled lovingly and cupped the warrior’s face in her hand.
Nuzzling her lover’s hand, Azhani quietly
said, “My beloved; every day I wonder what kindness I did to the gods.When
the darkness nearly overwhelmed my soul, you soothed both the hurts of
my body and my heart.I called you
friend and you came, standing beside me when I was alone.Now
I call you my love, for you are that and so much more – what name can you
give the healer of a soul?There
would be no greater honor I could do than to stand before the gods on winter’s
solstice and name you my wife.Will
you share my life and claim the right to cherish our love together and
in the company of friends?”
As
if the warrior’s words had touched Heaven itself, rain began to fall.Tears
pricked at Kyrian’s eyes and by the time Azhani reached up to touch her
cheek, they had spilled over and were dripping into her stew.The
warrior brushed a tear away and Kyrian leaned into the touch, her eyes
drifting shut.
She
blinked away the rest of her tears as she opened her eyes and whispered,
“I have no words, my love.”Bending
her head forward so that her brow touched Azhani’s she said, “Everything
and the universe in your eyes; that’s what I see when I look at you, Azhi.”She
drew back, shaking her head slightly.The
bowl of stew dropped away as she slid to her knees and took Azhani’s hands.“I’ve
never met anyone who could make me forget the rain.In
the circle of your arms, the sun is always shining.”Looking
up, she smiled blissfully and whispered, “Yes, Azhani, I will join with
you on Winter Solstice.”
Elisira
leaned over and whispered to Padreg, who was surreptitiously brushing tears
from his eyes, “If you can top that, I’ll eat my shoe.”
A
gleam of something wicked sparkled in the Y’Noran’s eyes and he whispered
back, “Have you acquired a taste for old leather, my lady?”
Startled,
Elisira replied, “No, but...”
“An
unwise wager made in haste, will flatten a pouch quickly,” he advised smugly,
wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.
She
playfully shoved him and said, “You really think you can be more romantic
than that?”
Shrugging,
Padreg said, “Of a sureness, my lady.T’would
be of light labor.”
Azhani
and Kyrian, who were still locked in each other’s eyes, suddenly stood
and walked away from the fire, heading for their tent.
Archly,
Elisira said, “Oh really?”
A
wide grin spread across Padreg’s face.“Yes,
love.It is but a matter of applying
the lessons of the heart.”Putting
actions to words, he stood and lifted Elisira up, cradling her in his arms.“My
lady,” he said gruffly, juggling her slightly to get his balance.“It
has become chill.Allow me to escort
you to the warmth of our humble abode.”
Carefully,
he walked the few steps to their tent, ducked inside and then gently laid
her on their bed.Taking one of their
soft towels, he slowly began to dry her off, helping her to remove the
damp clothes and slip into her sleepwear.
“Eli,
from the moment I saw you I knew that you were something special.You
spoke with educated grace and your words had more than merit - they had
sense.Astride an uncommon horse,
you rode with the poise of one born to the hoof.Your
beauty outshone the brightest bird in Arris’ unfriendly flock and when
you smiled, blessed Astariu, I was truly lost!”A
shy, almost wondering smile transformed his rough-hewn face.“I
had to travel across the kingdoms to find you, but when I did, I knew the
journey was worth the ride.It would
please me, my lady Elisira, if you would consent to wed.”
Breathless
and quite well warmed by Padreg’s gentle care, Elisira reached her hand
out and drew the Y’Noran down beside her.“I’m
glad you didn’t take my bet,” she whispered, kissing him gently.“Because
I would have lost.”They kissed until
their muscles cramped.
“Well?”
Padreg prodded teasingly as he stood and began changing into his nightclothes.
Sitting
up, Elisira rested her chin in her hand and pretended to think about it.“Hmm,
I don’t know... do I want to spend the rest of my life with a wild Y’Noran
barbarian who thinks living in tents and chasing horses is fun?”A
grin spread across her face as his expression grew worried.Leaping
up and wrapping her arms around him, she blurted, “Of course I do!I
love you, Padreg, oh goddess, but I love you!”
“I
love you too, my sweet,” he murmured, kissing her fervently.“With
all that I am.”
%%%
The
news of the double proposals spread through the encampment like wildfire.Soon,
all anyone was talking about was the upcoming nuptials and the damned rain.Harvest
came and went.Night after night,
Azhani’s army clashed with the forces of hell and destroyed them.
Supplies
from home arrived early one morning via a mass teleport spell.Reinforcements,
food and equipment appeared in three giant pops that had all of the mages
and several of the priests running from their tents wondering what was
causing the magical racket.
Calmly
assuring everyone that this delivery had been scheduled, Starseeker Vashyra
quickly assigned several of the acolytes to escorting the newly arrived
soldiers to their posts.Confusion
reigned in the camp until everyone had been settled, causing several minor
altercations.Surprisingly, Allyndev,
Syrelle and Devon stepped in to aid Azhani and Padreg in settling the minor
disasters, until all were satisfied.
Having
decided to wait until they were home in Y’Nor to marry, Padreg and Elisira
spent time talking with Brother Jalen about the kind of ceremony they wished
to have.Both agreed that they wanted
to stand on the plains, surrounded by their loved ones.Kyrian
and Azhani, however, avoided discussing any details, preferring to concentrate
on ridding the mountains of demons.
It
was late morning and Azhani and her lieutenants were gathered in the building
that served as their headquarters.Standing
as the last of her men entered the room and sat down, the warleader quietly
greeted the room.“Good day, all.Unless
there’s something pressing, I’d like to begin today’s meeting by hearing
from our recently returned scouts.”
Tal
Gwyeth, the elven leader of the scouts, stood at the warleader’s nod.“My
lords, ladies... and Banshee, I bid you good morrow.I
trust you are all rather tired, so I will make this brief.”As
people nodded, he smiled thinly and walked over to a large map that was
tacked to the wall.Pointing to a
valley three days westward, he said, “This is the farthest point of our
last mission.We have cleared out
all caves we could find, though those were precious few.The
demons have risen, and they are hungry, though you surely know this.What
you may not know is that here, here and here,” the scout tapped three places
along the map, each within a short distance of the other.“King
Arris and his army have engaged the demons.We
believe that his tactics are unsound and will shortly result in his defeat. Without
reinforcements, or a change in battle plans, the king’s men will be overrun
in six days.”He turned and faced
the room.
Azhani
stepped up and tapped the star that marked Barton town.“So
they’ll come for us next,” she said calmly.
“Or
head into Y’dan unhindered,” Padreg said quietly, his words carrying through
the room easily.
The
group erupted.Questions and speculations
flew around the tent for several minutes while Azhani just stared at the
map.
Arris
is out there, fighting demons? All
of Azhani’s conceptions of the selfish, power mad king, started to waver
on their foundations. And losing, too,
she thought, looking over Tal’s written report.
He’s probably just doing it for the glory, a
more cynical side of her said.
Oh
goddess, what do I do? I can’t just let them slaughter Arris’ people, no
matter how much I hate him.
But
wouldn’t it be so sweet to ride up with salvation at your back, and just
sit there, and let him die? the same
voice taunted.
Standing,
Azhani cleared her throat, getting everyone’s attention.“Prepare
the troops; we ride in the morning.”
%%%
“I’m
going with you,” Kyrian said as they exited the command tent and headed
for the shrine.
Azhani
stopped and looked at her lover.“Kyr,
this isn’t going to be like it has been.I’m
planning to make an all out attack on the demons that are harrying Arris’
men.”
“I
understand,” the stardancer said, nodding her head slowly.
Shaking
her head, Azhani said, “Love – I know how you feel about fighting, and
–“ she fought for words that wouldn’t offend.
Kyrian’s
fingers on her lips stilled her speech.“I know,”
she said calmly.“And I’m scared,
but that doesn’t mean that I can’t be useful.Maybe
I won’t be on the front lines, guarding your back, but there are going
to be a lot of injuries that need tending; injuries that the chirurgeons
can’t handle.You know that, and
you know that most of the other Stardancers have to stay here, to take
care of our own injured.”
Azhani
stepped forward and cupped her hand over Kyrian’s cheek.Stroking
the healer’s face with her thumb, she said, “There’s no one I’d rather
have at my back, Kyr.”She sighed
heavily and bent her head down to briefly kiss the stardancer.“I
wish I didn’t need you so much.It
would be easier to argue with you.”
Kyrian
smiled wryly and shrugged.“Well,
I told you I’d follow you through the forest.”
A
long ago conversation filled Azhani’s mind and she smiled in memory.“I
almost left you that night, you know.Just
a few minutes more, and I would have been gone, lost in the woods,” she
said sadly.
Reaching
up to cover Azhani’s hand, Kyrian said, “I’m glad you stayed.”
“Me
too,” Azhani said, bending down to kiss her lover once more.“Me
too.”
~Chapter Thirty-Six~
Gods
blasted, useless piece of ...words
escaped the young king just then as he drove off another demon, evading
its wickedly gleaming claws and hacking off a chunk of flesh and fur.Cackling
madly, he spurred Tyr’s sides and chased the monster down and skewered
it over and over again.The beast
collapsed, emitting an eerie shriek before dying.
“Por-“
the name was on his lips briefly before he clamped his mouth shut, biting
his tongue until he felt blood.Porthyros
was gone.Anger and fear tussled
inside his chest, until anger won out and he cursed the scholar once more.Damn
you, Thryo!Damn you for abandoning
me just when I needed you the most!
Wheeling
around on his horse, he hunted the battlefield for another demon to kill.There
was a brief lull, so Arris took the time to shake the demon’s caustic blood
from his blade and unhook his waterskin.Swishing
the lukewarm fluid around in his mouth, he once again mourned the loss
of his mentor and friend.Since the
scholar had left, there had been no one to make him his favorite tea. He
had tried to duplicate Porthyros’ recipe, but so far, all he ended up with
was a musty tasting brew that a drunken man wouldn’t touch.
Spitting
out the now fouled water, he took another drink and slung the skin around
the saddle horn.He yawned, hearing
his jaw crack.Killing was exhausting
work, something he had not realized until he and his army were forced to
fight from sundown to sunup every day.
A
patch of shadows moving over the snow, caught his attention.“To
me!” Arris cried out.The king watched
as a new wave of demons poured down a crevice and into the valley.What
soldiers that could break away from their battles, joined him, desperately
trying to hold back the tide of gray, noxious smelling bodies.
Arris
fought the walking nightmares, grateful to face a demon he could easily
slay.Since the day his mentor vanished,
leaving the camp and the king’s life without even a note of good-bye, the
king had found little peace.It wasn’t
enough that he fought real monsters in the darkness – in the light of day,
his dreams were as chaotic.Storm
tossed and filled with luridly horrible visions, his sleep gave him little
rest.Without the soothing presence
of his friend, and the calming tea that had been his constant companion
for nearly ten years, Arris felt torn apart by the day to day demands of
being king.
Supply
reports, the lists of the dead and injured, even the accounts of enemy
dead that had once held his attention, now palled, forcing the king to
play intricate mind games with himself just to stay awake while his lieutenants
spoke.It was during one of those
sessions that the first bubble of memory burst open, creating a vision
of time that seemed to slip and meld, forming pictures that couldn’t possibly
belong to him.
Blood
soaked his hands and tunic, and he was looking down at the body of a beautiful
elven woman, but her name escaped him.In
his vision, he heard himself say, “Bitch!” and watched as he viciously
kicked the body.The tiniest of groans
escaped the woman and he felt how he had grown excited by her pain.Revulsion
rippled through him, as the memory sparked that excitement anew.
Other
memories arrived on the wings of dreams, the most terrifying of which was
the one that he wanted so desperately to believe was a lie, yet knew deep
in his soul was the truth.The dream
would begin with the sound of footsteps as he walked quietly down the castle
halls and entered his father’s study.The
king would be seated at his desk, oil lamps burning low and a fire crackling
on the hearth.Spread before Theodan
was a scroll, filled with the florid black calligraphy that his father
had insisted he learn.Arris would
greet his father softly and offer him a cup of tea – a cup that he had
prepared and carried to Theodan as a special treat.
The
young king always shuddered in his sleep as he watched his father drink
the soothing draught, for he knew what no one else did – that cup was laced
with the most toxic of poisons.Honey
and mint masked the taste, and the results were slow acting, but gratifying
all the same to the scheming young man in Arris’ dream.Theodan
died, and with his death, Arris ascended the throne of Y’dan.
Shaking
his head to clear away the encroaching memories, Arris hacked at the reaching
claws of a demon, allowing himself to feel deeply satisfied at the gout
of ochre yellow blood that spurted from the stump of the monster’s arm.The
king grinned wickedly.No, he had
not killed his father.The old goat
had simply kicked his last, leaving the kingdom in the capable hands of
his brilliant, heroic son.
Arris
beheaded the demon, watching silently as its furry body crumpled into the
moonlit snow.Blood pumped out of
the neck, spattering Tyr’s legs, causing the horse to dance away.Blood
on the snow...New
memory erupted, blacking out Arris’ vision.Azhani
Rhu’len, standing before him, her chin raised defiantly as he proclaimed
her to be an Oathbreaker.He shivered
and tried to thrust the vision away.Gods,
no... I can’t... I don’t want to see her face.
He silently begged the gods to steal
away the images, but they marched on relentlessly.The
woman he had loved turned away from him, denying him his deepest dreams
– to share the rule of Y’dan by his side.Her
love belonged to another - to...to Ylera Kelani, the elven ambassador from
Y’Syr.Beautiful, intelligent, and
a gentle soul, Princess Kelani was a joy to be around, and Arris would
admit that he genuinely liked her.
Bile
rose in his throat.So why was it
so easy to see the elven woman’s blood staining his hands?How
was it that he knew, intimately, how loud she could scream for mercy?Why
was it that the image of blood on the snow brought up images of his father’s
warleader tearing through a mass of men and women, leaving behind torn
and bloody chunks of quivering flesh?Why
was it that those images both satisfied and enraged him?
Arris
struggled to rein in his thoughts, to control them and direct them toward
the present, but all he could do was watch helplessly as flashes of the
past drowned out the sight of the present.
What
had he done?Pressing the heel of
his hand to his aching temple, Arris felt his world twist nauseatingly.
Where
are you, Thyro?I can’t stand the
hole in my head!
A
horn sounded.Was it Porthyros?Had
he returned with reinforcements?Did
his oldest friend not abandon him, but leave to seek help instead?Arris
whipped his head around to greet the new arrivals and nearly fell off his
horse.
It
was Azhani Rhu’len, riding at the head of an army.Y’Syran,
Y’Noran and even, Y’droran banners snapped in the wind that was raised
by the thundering of hooves along the snow.Sitting
proud atop a beautiful warhorse, garbed in the traditional armor of the
elven nation’s warleader, Azhani Rhu’len, the woman he had banished from
Y’dan, the woman who had scorned him, spared him but one brief, hate-filled
glance.Judgment on a horse’s back,
had just ridden into his valley.
Arris
watched in amazement at the surreal sight of the warleader confidently
leading her people in and driving back the demon tide.His
nearest lieutenant took the gods’ gift and began using Azhani’s soldiers
to draw out the wounded men and women of the Y’dani army.
It began to snow.Soon,
the field was slippery, and staying mounted was nearly impossible.Endlessly,
the demons charged on, pouring out of the mountains, seeming to rise up
from the stone itself.The screams
of the dead and dying echoed around Arris, yet he stayed still, letting
the battle wash around him.
Suddenly,
Tyr went down, his throat torn out by crimson-coated claws.Time
slammed into the king in a rush, snapping the sense of shocked lethargy
away and replacing it with raw anger.Rolling
away, Arris shouted in rage and charged the demon, hacking it to bits.
His
vision blurred, but he continued to fight on, his sword flickering in the
moonlight.Death paced him as he
blindly carved his way through demon after demon, until he was fighting
side by side with the woman he both loved and hated.He
looked at her, seeing her face clearly through the battle haze.She
was beautiful, she was terrible and she was everything he had dreamed she
would be, since the moment he realized he was in love with her.
She
ignored him.
He
wanted to speak, to say the words that puddled in his throat and begged
to drown his tongue, but his voice had left him.What
could he say?How could he defend
his actions?What excuses would cause
her to forgive him for stealing her life, her love and her honor?
I’m
sorry.I had to do it.I
had to kill your beloved and strip you of your title so that you would
love only me?Insanity.She
would never hear the real truth behind the words, only the hurt that they
had caused.He laughed brokenly.
Was
he insane?Arris couldn’t grasp reality
anymore.It shivered and fled his
touch like a wild bird escapes the falconer’s jess.Without
Porthyros – without the man whose calm voice and soothing tea had always
made him feel as though he could conquer the world, he was only half there.
That
damned, stinking tea!I never wanted
it, Thyro!You made me drink it!Clarity
blazed across his mind as he remembered – saw what he would not see – that
the drink had bourn the same toxin that had taken his father’s life, only
in milder, less deadly doses.
He
went to throw down his weapon and drop to his knees to beg for Azhani’s
mercy.His mind, still in the thrall
of the drug, refused to allow the muscles in his hands to unclench.Instead,
they tightened further and Arris watched in horror as the sword raised
to strike down the woman who had haunted his dreams.
Arris
pivoted to face Azhani, scathing words of hatred poised on his tongue.
Cold,
dark eyes met his, boring deep into him, daring him to make a move.His
drug-controlled will fought to overpower her calm determination.The
krill thrall gave way, leaving Arris drained and unable to speak.
Turning
away from Azhani, he sought another enemy, one he could face with impunity.The
half-elven warrior was an opponent he would never master.Somewhere,
out in the wilds of Y’myran, another Arris wandered.That
Arris would know how to be a king.He
would have no trouble charming the headstrong warleader into serving him.
This
Arris could only fight, and pray that he saw the dawn.
%%%
The
first rays of sunlight touched the mix of snow, blood and muck and sent
the demons scurrying off to their caves.Azhani
nearly dropped where she stood.A
full day of riding, only to fight all night, had exhausted her very last
reserves.
Across
from her, no more than six feet away, was Arris.He
too looked absolutely drained.Leaning
on his sword and panting, he looked up at her.Blood
trickled from a scalp laceration, staining half of his face in red.
“Oathbreaker,”
he croaked.It might have been a
taunt, but it sounded more like a plea.
“We’re
not on Y’dani soil,” Azhani sneered weakly.“So
stuff your false accusations up your ass, Arris.You’re
lucky I haven’t got the strength to rip your intestines out and feed them
to the crows.”
He
shook his head.“I have no more quarrel
with you, Azhani.I-“ he wiped his
face and looked down at it.“So much
blood.There’s so much – gods, how
can there be so much blood?”The
king broke, tortured sobs tearing out of him and wracking his entire body.
Azhani
watched him, pity and hatred wrestling with her conscience.
Kyrian
walked over and handed Azhani a cup of warm tea.She
looked over at the weeping king and asked, “Is he okay?Should
I-“
“Leave
him,” Azhani said coldly.“He’s not
worth your time.”She turned away
and sipped at her drink, watching as the sun’s first rays painted the horizon
in pale amber hues.
The
stardancer couldn’t just let the man sob like he was.Her
heart broke each time Arris cried out and she started walking toward him
to try and offer some comfort.
Through
his tears, Arris could see the crimson robed priest come for him.Red
– like blood – blood, the thick, coppery fluid that stained his hands and
painted the altars of Ecarthus’ unholy temples.He
shrank back, quavering in fear.Those
memories – the shockingly vivid images of the carnage that took place in
one of that demon’s temples, was more than enough to send him screaming
into the forest.
The
rising sun glimmered off the silver Astariun token on Kyrian’s chest, catching
Arris’ attention.Goddess.Good.Astariu,
blessed lady of life and healing. The
chants of childhood echoed in the king’s mind, breaking through is fear.
He
staggered toward her, intending on falling at her feet and begging her
to forgive him for his sins, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw
something gray and huge dart out of a clump of bushes.
“No!”
he shouted.Drawing on every last
reserve, he raised his sword and leapt in front of the startled stardancer.
Skin
popping and bubbling under the sun’s light, the demon hit Arris at full
speed.The king ignored the acidic
ooze that coated him, eating through his armor and clothing, trying with
all his flagging strength to push the beast off of him.The
priest was trapped beneath him – he could feel her struggling to get away.Her
movement told the king that she was alive, allowing him to focus on the
dying monster that held them down.
The
demon got one leg up and between them, kicking downward like a cat with
its razor sharp claws.Blood filled
Arris’ mouth as he screamed."No!" he
shouted hoarsely. "There will be no more blood on my hands!"With
a last burst of power, he thrust his sword upward at an angle, pushing
until he felt the blade break through the monster’s ribs and pierce its
heart.The demon roared once, and
died.
Kyrian
finally freed herself and Arris rolled his head up in time to see her scramble
away.“Did... it,” he wheezed, and
then passed out.
%%%
“Hello, my son,” said King Theodan as he turned to greet the man who his boy had become.
“Fa-father?” Arris stuttered, staring into the face of the first man he had killed.
Death had washed the years from Theodan’s face, leaving behind the smooth, calm visage of a handsome man.The elder king bowed his head.
“Oh my son,” he whispered, reaching out to touch Arris’ battered face.“I’m so sorry.”
“No, father.It is I who am sorry,” Arris cried, feeling tears gather in his eyes.“I’ve been so bad, father.I’ve done so much...”The young king’s throat convulsed, as bile rose at the memories of his actions.
Theodan drew his son into his arms.“I know, son.I know it all.It’s all right, though.Don’t you worry.”He comforted the weeping boy.
“You’ll pay for all of your evils.”The voice changed, rising from his father’s deep baritone to the silken tones of Ylera Kelani.
Pulling out of the embrace, Arris stumbled away.Where his father had been, now sat the elven princess.Once beautiful, now the ambassador was a ghoulish sight.Pale skin had turned waxen, sagging to reveal the white of bone.Maggots crawled over the never-healed wounds that his daggers had made and silken hair now fell in matted clumps over a blood soaked dress.
“What’s the matter, Arris?Don’t you want to lie with me?You seemed so willing before.Or is it my Azhani you want?Does she still excite you, my lord?Come, my king.Show me how much you want my body.”The ghastly form reached for him and he cried out, scrambling back.
“No!You’re dead!Go away!No!”
Claw-like hands grasped his ankle and drew him back into the dead woman’s embrace.Rubbery, cold lips pressed against his and an ice-like tongue thrust into his mouth.He gagged and struggled, fighting with all of his strength.
“You’re mine now, dead man.Your soul is mine!”Once again, the creature holding him metamorphosed, only now he was held in the clawed hand of Ecarthus, eater of souls.Glittering red eyes gazed into Arris’ and a wicked grin cracked the demon’s face.
Fear choked the young king and Ecarthus laughed, opening his mouth wide and letting the eerie sounds of mirth fill the air.“Yes, feed me, boy.Your terror is so delicious!”
%%%
Arris
awoke to the sound of singing.Blinking
open his eyes, he saw that the red-robed priest was kneeling over him,
her hands hovering inches above his abdomen.An
aura of a bright, almost painful shade of yellow limned her hands and she
was softly chanting a healing prayer.Her
hands came down to rest on his ravaged flesh and ice-fire pain lanced through
him.It was unlike anything he had
ever experienced, surpassing even the ripping agony of the demon’s claws.
“Oh
gods, stop, please!” he begged as tears flowed from his eyes.The
dream was still very real and he didn’t know whether or not this torture
was a part of that, or something new and even more hideous.Miraculously,
the priest backed off, though confusion clearly marked her face.
Kyrian
looked up at Azhani and said, “I don’t understand.I
can’t heal him.”
The
warleader stared at her lover helplessly.
“I,”
Arris spoke slowly, pain lacing his words.“I
belong to Ecarthus now,” he whispered, bitterness acidly plain on his tongue.“The
goddess cannot touch my soul.Ah
gods, what have I done?” he cried plaintively.With
his dream still fresh in his mind, he looked over at Azhani.Her
eyes were hard, unreadable and he sighed heavily.“You
hate me.I don’t blame you.I
would –“ he coughed and blood flecked his lips.“I
would ask you to forgive me, but it’s too late.Just...
promise me, Warleader.Promise me
that you’ll save them.Save my kingdom,
Azhani Rhu’len.The armies are yours.”
Spotting
his squire, Arris lifted his head and weakly shouted.“Hear
that?You’re hers now, boy!All
of you!Hers!I
command it.Follow Azhani.She
is the Warleader now.”He fell back,
displacing a drift of crimson stained snow.
“Yes,
my king!” the boy smartly saluted and ran off to tell everyone else.
Arris
coughed, wincing at the pain in his stomach.“Damn
that Porthyros to the lowest hell!I
would do murder for a pot of his tea right now!”
Azhani
offered him hers, but he only spat it out.
“Gah,
too sweet.”His eyes started to glaze
as he stared up at the gray sky.Light
snow drifted down, coating his lashes.He
closed his eyes and sighed.“I can
feel him, you know,” he said, his voice deepening.Arris’
eyes popped open and he stared up at Kyrian, the intensity of his gaze
causing her to shiver.“He’s eating
my soul,” he whispered.He smiled
beatifically.“I wonder... what it
will be like...” As his voice faded off, he took one, shuddering breath
and then went limp.
Sadly,
Kyrian looked down at the dead king, covered him with his cloak and said,
“He might have been a monster, but he saved my life.”
Mixed
emotions roiling plainly on her face, Azhani whispered, “I know.”She
stood and walked away, heading toward the Y’dani army.
“I
hope you find your peace, Arris of Y’dan,” Kyrian said softly, stroking
the fine black hair off of his face.She
moved to stand, but stopped when something caught her attention.Lowering
herself to her knees once more, she lifted his hand and curiously inspected
it.
The
king’s hands were coated in blood and muck, but she could clearly see that
the fingernails were a ghastly shade of greenish black, one of the signs
of krill poisoning.
“Oh
goddess...” Kyrian whispered breathlessly, still staring at the dead man’s
hand.“That tea... I wonder if...”Expending
just a little more power, the stardancer hummed a few short notes and scanned
Arris’ body.Eyes widening at what
she saw, Kyrian was hard put to contain a whistle of surprise.
The
king had been krill-thralled for years.The
drug had meshed completely with the young man’s system, tainting every
breath with its hallucinogenic poison.Wearily,
the stardancer stood, letting Arris’ hand fall.
Looking
down at the dead king, Kyrian said, “No wonder you were loonier than a
box of square wheels.”She shook
her head sadly.“I’ve got to tell
Azhani.It’s not an absolution, but
it might help her to understand you, Arris Theodan.”
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The story and characters of Banshee's Honor are copyright to the author, 2002.