Prince of Fire (27 page)

Maccus left her bed, turned slowly, and faced the creature Keelia did not like. The furry thing began to speak, but Keelia paid the words little mind. She couldn't concentrate very we/1 these days, and the beast's words were garbled. Trying to decipher them would take much too much effort on her part. Maccus was walking toward the thing. He would handle the matter, as he would handle all.

Before she could close her eyes and drift away, die thing screamed. Keelia sat up and squinted, trying to comprehend what had happened. Maccus smiled. The creature's furry arm was oddly twisted. The beast, Eneo, kept grabbing at his misshapen arm and screaming.

"There now," Maccus said with satisfaction. "He hurt you, so I hurt him. That is fair, is it not?"

She should feel sympathy for every living thing, but this creature had attacked her and Joryn; it had tried to kill Joryn and it had kidnapped her. It had
dropped
her on the
floor,
"He is very loud," she said, and then she, dropped back to her soft bed. Maccus took the wounded monster from Keelia's chamber, and soon all was quiet again. She drifted back toward sleep and the dreams that were always the same. Joryn was searching for her, and she didn't understand why. It wasn't as if he loved her or ever had. Maccus loved her. She fiddled with the stone of her new ring, even as she dreamed.

* * * * *

Druson ran, his mind racing as it had since the moment die Grandmother had laid her hand on his forehead. He had to hurry. He had to reach Joryn in time. There wasn't much of it to be had. Not much time at all.

He couldn't remember when he'd last slept or eaten, but that didn't matter. If he didn't get to Joryn in time, all would be lost. All lost.

This was the shortest way. Somehow he knew that to be true. There was much knowledge in his head, and while he could control nothing, now and then a bit of truth simply popped into his mind. He was to take this wooded path to the rocky trail, down and up to unprotected granite and a dangerous trail. If he hurried, he would arrive soon enough. Something had slowed Joryn down. Something, something. Something bad.

Druson knew where Joryn was, but he didn't understand
how
he knew. His mind was jumbled and dancing and too full. Much, much too full. The future, the past, the magical possibilities, the spells, the songs. Why so many songs? He had to share some of this knowledge with Joryn, so he would know what had to be done.

And to think, he had once suggested killing the An-wyn Queen.

One of the songs began to spill from his mouth, one unexpected word after another tumbling out in an odd and beautiful sort of way. He had never known he could sing in tune. The voice was not his own, and yet... it was. The song he sang as he ran was of love and tragedy and... birds. Why birds? He didn't even like birds.

The Grandmother had always been quite fond of them.

At first, Druson didn't realize that the harsh bark of laughter was his own. He stopped and looked around the wooded path, into the trees, into the shadows, and then he glanced up. The skies were almost dark again.

Two days until the full moon. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

Druson began to run again, his energy seemingly boundless. It was impossible to grasp every thought, every memory, every piece of knowledge in his mind. Some were more important than others, and those were the ones that repeated again and again, so he would not forget.

Save Joryn.

Save the Anwyn Queen.

Save the world.

There it was again, that odd harsh laughter that echoed all around him. This time Druson didn't so much as slow down.

13

He was lost. He'd been lost since morning. By the gods, he'd been lost for days. Weeks. He'd been
lost
long before Keelia had been taken.

Joryn stopped and turned about, studying the landscape in all directions. This part of the rocky mountain was dotted with caves, but none called to him as being different from any other. None struck him as being the
right
one. Perhaps he needed to climb higher. Perhaps he needed to backtrack and take a trail he had bypassed.

The moon would rise in a few hours, and unless his luck changed, it would be the last night he passed as a man. The curse ... the infection ... would claim him, and without Keelia here to take his life, he was doomed. He glanced over a ledge and studied the long drop. Everything he had ever been taught, every fiber of his being, screamed that to take one's own life was wrong. Others who'd been infected had done it, though, and he could not blame them. Had they gone into the Land of the Dead or even into the land in-between, or had they been whisked to an eternal punishment?

He couldn't even consider such an act in any case, not while there was still a chance that he and Keelia could to put an end to the curse.

To take his own life was not only morally reprehensible, if Keelia needed him he could not think only of himself. If there was even a possibility that she was in danger and needed his help, he could not take the cowardly way out. Who would've thought he'd ever put the needs of the Anwyn Queen, or any other Anwyn, above his own?

He hadn't been standing on the mountainside studying options for very long when he heard a distant voice that traveled oddly on the wind. Standing very still, he did his best to place that voice. It approached quickly, but was still a distance away. Joryn sniffed the air. It was difficult to be certain, since the stench permeated thesg mountains, but- he was almost positive that whatever creature came toward him was not one of the infected, though he was Caradon. The wizard, perhaps? Or one of his apprentices who had escaped the curse?

Joryn concealed himself behind a boulder, and kept his eyes on the path. Whoever approached was moving with urgency and great speed. The creature mumbled incessantly. Occasionally what sounded like short-lived laughter reached his ears.

If this approaching climber was the man Joryn sought or one of the wizard's apprentices, then when taken, he could lead Joryn to Keelia. If he could save her before the rise of tomorrow night's full moon, perhaps they could end the curse. If not, then she could take his life as she had promised to do. The wait stretched too long ... no, Joryn's patience was stretched too thin. If this man could not lead him to Keelia, then what would his next move be? How would he find her?

At last, the approaching man came running around a bend in the path. Though Joryn had grown impatient, he acknowledged that the man's speed was extraordinary, given the slope of the mountain and narrowness of the trail. He took quick stock, judging his enemy while waiting for the right moment to reveal himself and strike. He brought to life a spit of fire on the palm of his hand, and readied to throw it. Joryn would not aim for the creature... not this time ... but would place the fire in his path.

The enemy had long dark hair liberally streaked with gray, but his body was mat of a younger man who should not have so much gray in his hair. Head tucked down as he ran, the man mumbled ceaselessly and then laughed, which led Joryn to believe that the scurrying Caradon was quite mad.

When the time was right, Joryn rose from his hiding place and directed the fire in his hand to the ground, startling the runner. The man stopped, and his head popped up. For a moment, Joryn was so surprised he didn't think to immediately extinguish the fire that blazed in the middle of the trail.

"Druson?"

How had the fellow student grown so much gray hair amid the dark so fast, and why were his eyes so wild and so incredibly ... old?

"Joryn, there you are," Druson replied, his words quick and breathless. "I knew I would find you, I knew I would. Am I too late? Where is the Queen? I can't believe I once directed you to kill her. I was foolish then. Foolish, foolish." The statement was followed by one of those insane bursts of laughter which held no joy or humor.

Joryn fluttered his fingers and extinguished the fire, then approached Druson slowly. In the past, he had thought Druson to be impetuous and overly ambitious and hasty, but there was very little of the man he remembered uvthis creature. "What happened?"

Again, that awful laughter. "Where to begin, where to begin? So much to tell. So much to come if we don't hurry."

"Tell me what I most need to know. The rest can wait."

"The rest can wait until we save the Queen. We will save her, won't we? We must. We must." Druson's mad eyes locked to Joryn's. "She is our Queen, too."

* * * * *

Ariana and Sian arrived atthe assigned meeting place a full day early. Tomorrow night she would meet with Merin and whatever army he had managed to build in the weeks since they'd parted. After that... well, she wasn't sure what would happen after that. She had intended to have Keelia's psychic counsel before making feat decision. Was she meant to remain on the battlefield, taking souls from the Isen Demon in order to weaken it, and healing Merin's soldiers when she could? Or was she meant to return to Arthes and heal the emperor? Both were necessary but she was only one woman, so how was she to decide?

At the edge of their small, secluded camp, Sian came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her. In spite of the circumstances, Ariana smiled. In the midst of chaos, she had found love. In her heart, she took that as a sign that all would be well, even though her logical mind told her that might not be so.

"Looks like it might rain," Sian said, leaning down to kiss her neck and ignoring the fact that they were not alone. The Anwyn soldiers that had been spared from me search for Keelia shared their camp. "Just a little while ago, I was certain we wouldn't have rain for days."

Ariana looked to the southeast, where dark clouds had formed. Those clouds seemed to be bearing down upon them. Odd, since storms usually did not approach from that direction. A flash of lightning danced across the sky, and a crack of thunder followed. The storm was small, and it was most definitely moving closer. In fact, it looked to be moving directly toward mem.

"I suppose we should pitch tents tonight, just in case those clouds bring rain." As they looked like they would.

The Anwyn soldiers heard the approaching horseman before Ariana and Sian did. They armed themselves with the spears which were their preferred weapons, and spread out in a decidedly military formation. Ariana waved them back when she caught sight of the rider. It was Taran, die young sentinel she had sent to her mother with a very important and cryptic question. Judging by the expression on his face, he had an answer.