PRINCE OF THE WIND (18 page)

"Aye, but she was not a sorceress!" Aidan snapped.

The sorcerer shook his head sadly. "The moment she bid Raphian’s help, she became one. I am surprised your lady-wife did not remind you of that, then warn her son accordingly."

Aidan hung his head. "We were more concerned with keeping him out of her clutches than remembering a curse from centuries ago!"

"Those who do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it."

"What gods-be-damned curse?" Duncan asked, his teeth clenched.

"The Cree men," Atramentous answered, "were cursed long ago by the greatest sorceress to ever spring from mortal loins. The first chieftain of the Cree clan was a man named Syntian, and it was upon his head the curse was flung. He spurned the sorceress’ daughter, Dearg, and because he did, Dearg Dul slew his wife. In his fury, he slaughtered Dearg, tore the beating heart from her body and consumed it, and drained her of her blood. Vengeance was sure and exacting upon him, but he found a way to escape the punishment by signing a blood pact with Raphian, the Destroyer of Men’s Souls. Though Syntian escaped, the Sisters of the Black Rose meant to see no other Cree male would. The curse strikes only those Cree men who refuse the attentions of a descendent of Uxumia Dul."

"Suzanne de Viennes is not a descendent of that vile whore!" Aidan complained.

"Nay, but as surely as we sit here talking, she conjured the Dead One, asked her aid, and received it. A woman scorned is a deadly enemy, Your Grace. This is something we men should never forget."

Aidan buried his face in his hands. "How were we to know?" he sobbed, "she would do such a thing?"

"Had your son been warned, perhaps he would have thought twice before accepting the potion given to him by my lookalike."

They all glanced up as Lo Ching entered the room.

"There has to be a remedy for the brew given the boy," Duncan ground out. "Some kind of antidote!"

"It is not the brew that has caused the problem," Atramentous said and took a small jar the size of a hen’s egg from Lo Ching’s crippled hands.

"Then what is?" Duncan asked. His gaze went to the jar. "And what’s that?"

Atramentous lifted the jar where the light from the candles could pierce the darkness inside the glass. "This is the problem, Sir Duncan," he replied and extended the jar.

Duncan frowned sharply, but took the glass vessel from his host. He stared at the thick red liquid sloshing around inside, then glanced at the sorcerer. "This is blood."

Atramentous nodded.

"A jar of blood," Duncan snorted. "What is of importance about—" He stopped, and brought the jar closer to his face, peering inside.

Something inside the jar slithered close to the glass, then darted away.

Brell handed the jar to his host then, wiped his hands on his breeches. "What the hell is that thing?"

"A most evil entity, Milord. It is called a revenant worm."

"That is inside my son?" Aidan asked.

Atramentous sighed. "I am afraid so. There was a single larva Dearg Dul gave to the prince. Now, the larva is reaching maturity and will lay its spawn in his body. The colony will attach to the young one’s liver and kidneys to feed from his blood."

Duncan’s face turned an unhealthy shade of green. He slapped a hand over his mouth, gagging.

"And those things can’t be killed," Aidan said in a defeated tone.

"Not without killing your son in the process," Atramentous replied. "The only way the parasite can die is by burning."

"That thing has made him the beast he has become?" Duncan gasped.

"Aye, Sir Duncan."

Aidan shuddered and ran a hand over his face. "This beast unleashed within him…" He looked to the sorcerer. "There is more, isn’t there?"

Atramentous sighed heavily. "In order to remain human and not revert totally to the bloodbeast he is now, your son must drink blood to feed the revenant worm. The thought is repellant to us all, but there is no way around it. By taking the Sustenance, by feeding the parasite, your son will gain some small amount of freedom from the hold the parasite has on him. Failure to feed the parasite will result in insanity. Your son will Transition once every four months—that can not be stopped—but there is a drug that will lessen the severity of the Transition and give him some small measure of peace in between cycles."

"And what drug is that?" Aidan asked.

"Tenerse."

"By the gods, no!" Duncan exploded, coming to his feet in a lithe bound. "I’ll not allow the boy to be fed that monstrous brew!"

"Sit down, Duncan," Aidan said tiredly. When his friend did not immediately do so, Aidan made the demand again.

Duncan shuddered violently, then plopped down on the cushion, his sinewy arms folded over his wide chest. His angry gaze locked on the sorcerer; there was murder in the pale stare.

"I will put this to you in a way you, as a warrior, will understand, Sir Duncan," Atramentous said. "If the prince had been wounded in battle and his injuries were such that he was in terrible pain, would you give him the tenerse mixed with vinegar to lessen his agony?"

Duncan thrust out his lower lip. "That is a narcoticus. It is an acceptable treatment for grave injuries but—"

"And if it had been a poison administered to your prince, would you give him the tenerse mixed with tea leaves to counteract the effects?"

"That is a treacle and you know gods-be-damned well I would!"

Atramentous locked gazes with Duncan Brell. "You have seen the agony he is in at this moment. You have stood at the cage and looked into the eyes of the beast he has become. Tell me—do you think he knows what he is?"

"By the gods I pray not!" Duncan said, his lips trembling.

"Ah, but your prayer would go unanswered, Milord. He not only knows, but is incapable of asking for help. He is going slowly insane with the knowledge that this is to be his life until his last breath. Knowing him as you do, do you think he wishes to remain as he is?"

Duncan shook his head and swiped at the moisture that had formed in his hard eyes. "I know not!"

"The tenerse will reverse the Transition and will help to regulate subsequent Transitions."

"But for him to have to drink blood—" Duncan turned away, his shoulders hunched.

"The Sustenance will soothe the parasite and keep it from driving the young one mad with blood hunger. Without consumption of the necessary nourishment, you would not like to see what your young man would become. Would you keep him caged for eternity?"

Aidan flinched. "You speak of eternity. There is more to this than just the consumption of an outlawed drug and the swilling down of blood, isn’t there?"

The sorcerer drew in a long breath, then exhaled slowly. "There is."

"What ain’t you telling us?" Aidan demanded.

"When she cursed your son, Dearg Dul did more than infect him with the revenant worm."

"The tenerse…"

"The brew was an additional punishment insidiously planned and carried out, Your Grace. He will no longer be able to exist without it, for he is now addicted. But there is evil worse than addiction."

"She turned him into a Nightwind demon!"

Atramentous shook his head. "That is not what she did."

"I have seen the beast he has become!" Aidan shouted.

"You saw a beast, true, and thought it a Nightwind. Nightwinds are common among the Crees, but this thing your son has become is rare and has not existed for centuries."

"What are you talking about?"

"Were you not there when Dearg Dul claimed him as her own? Did you not hear her words?"

"I don’t remember! It all happened so fast and we were battling him, trying to get him under control. She said something—"

"She said she had marked him and he was hers," Duncan whispered, his face chalk white. "What does that mean? What did she do?"

"She bit him. Here." Atramentous pointed at his neck. "That is how the larva was injected into his system."

"A maggot," Duncan mumbled. "A maggot from a dead thing." He shuddered violently and slumped against the wall.

"You may not understand what I will tell you now," Atramentous said, "but it is vitally important you remember it. Though she is dead, Dearg Dul can convey life and that is what she has done to your son."

"But not a natural life," Aidan said in a broken voice.

"Nay. It is a most unnatural life she has given him. It is the life of the Undead. It is the life of a Reaper, the consort of the Gatherer."

Aidan Cree stared through the bars at his son. Riain was hunched at the far corner of the iron cage and glaring back at him with scarlet red eyes filled with murderous rage.

"I am here, my son," he whispered.

A low snarl resonated from the long black snout and sharp fangs that dripped a thin stream of saliva.

"We are going to help you."

Ears flattened against the coarse dark fur of an elongated head and there came another warning growl. Hackles rose as the thick body lifted from the ground, the head lowered, and the snout twitched with anger.

"You don’t have to remain like this, Riain," Aidan said in a broken voice. "Atramentous—"

The reverberation of the howl brought everything in the courtyard to a standstill. Another piteous howl made the sorcerer’s servants back away from the cage and scurry into the stronghold, glancing fearfully over their shoulders.

"Riain." Aidan fell to his knees, his face buried in his hands.

The howling echoed over the courtyard time and time again, the sound eerie in the late morning.

The crash of something hitting the cage made Aidan look up. He was astounded to see the beast throwing itself at the bars with enough force to break its neck.

"Riain, no!" Aidan and scrambled to his feet. He started toward the cage, his hand extended in supplication.

"Go no further!" was the shrill warning as Atramentous and Duncan ran toward Aidan.

The beast howled and backed away from the bars, only to hurl itself against the restriction still again.

Duncan caught Aidan, physically restraining him to keep him away.

"Riain!" Aidan whimpered, seeing dark blood flowing down the beast’s snout.

"The boy’s blood is black!" Duncan commented.

" ’Tis the parasite that causes it," Atramentous said. "Take your liege lord back to his room and keep him there, Sir Duncan. He is doing more harm than good."

"I’ll not leave my son!" Aidan yelled, but was no match for the Master-at-Arms, who bodily dragged him away.

* * *

Atramentous did not spare the departing men another glance. His entire attention was riveted on the beast. He did not flinch as the heavily-furred body hit the bars over and over again, the head lowered.

"You can break your neck if that is your purpose, young one, but it will heal almost instantly," the sorcerer said in a matter-of-fact tone. "You can not kill yourself in any manner, so what you are doing is useless."

Another tremulous howl echoed across the courtyard, then the creature hung its head and stood, weaving slightly from the repeated crashes into the thick bars.

"I can help you," Atramentous stated.

The beast tried to turn, but stumbled, went down on its front paws. For a moment it crouched in that manner, the back legs trembling, then lowered its rump to the ground.

Atramentous stared impassively at the creature as it gently stretched out on its side, panting with the exertion of its rampage, and began to whimper.

"Do you want my help, Riain Cree?" the sorcerer asked.

The beast tried to lift its head, but it seemed the effort was too great. The scarlet eyes closed and there was a long, hopeless-sounding groan of acceptance of its fate.

"Will you let her win?"

Just once the thick bushy tail thumped half-heartedly against the ground.

Atramentous drew in a long breath, then walked to the cage door. Fishing in the voluminous pocket of his robe, he withdrew the key to the heavy padlock.

For a moment, the creature’s nostrils flared and leathery black lips pulled back over glistening teeth. But even anger seemed too much trouble and the nostrils and lips relaxed.

The sorcerer opened the lock, slid back the door, and entered the cage. He locked the door behind him and pocketed the key. With careful, measured steps, he approached the beast, making no sudden moves or loud noises.

Although the scarlet eyes were closed, Atramentous knew he was being tracked. Now and again, a lethal-looking paw capped with wickedly curved claws would jump. The sound of the dew claw scratching the ground was unsettling.

Approaching the beast with infinite care, the sorcerer hunkered down beside it and put a firm, but light hand on its shoulder. He steeled himself not to flinch as the scarlet eyes opened and one rolled toward him.

"It was not I who did this to you, Riain," Atramentous said. "It was Dearg Dul posing as me. You know this."

The beast lifted its head just a fraction, the lips peeled back, then another loud groan accompanied the return of its head to the dirt.

Gently and with slow, rhythmic movements, Atramentous began stroking the coarse dark fur along the creature’s shoulder and ribcage. "I can not change what has happened nor can I take this curse from you, but I can make it as right for you as my magik will allow."

A soft whimper came from the chest of the beast.

"You are Dearg Dul’s for as long as there is life within your body. That I can not change. But I can make sure you do not suffer the hatefulness of Suzanne de Viennes’ evil embrace on top of this other foul curse."

Atramentous reached into another of his pockets and extracted a vial of tenerse. He held it so the beast could see.

"This is a mixture of the drug she gave you as well as a few distilled drops from the nightshade plant. It will put the creature within you to sleep and the human part of you can rise up and banish the beast for a time."

The creature arched its head, and before the sorcerer could react, it had his wrist between its strong mandibles. Though the needle-sharp fangs did not penetrate Atramentous’ flesh, the pressure was a warning.

nodded. "I know, I know." His free hand continued to stroke the beast’s wiry fur. "Let me help you, young one."