04 - Rise of the Lycans (17 page)

But first there was an important lesson to be taught, to any foolish mortal
who might also be contemplating a change in the social order. Viktor raised his
arms to address the remaining human nobles.

“Now… does anyone else wish to be heard?”

The trembling men could not bow their heads fast enough.

Janosh’s broken body left a crimson trail in its wake as a pair of Death
Dealers dragged it out of the great hall. Viktor had left the corpse lying on
the floor for the remainder of the nobles’ visit, as an object lesson to his
fellow mortals, but now it was nothing more than carrion. The humans had hastily
departed Castle Corvinus following their audience with Viktor, choosing to brave
the perilous roads and wilderness rather than spend another hour enjoying the
“hospitality” of the coven. Disappointed vampires and council members had
trickled out of the chamber as well, seeking their own private diversions, so
that the hall was now all but empty. Janosh’s blood still stained the floor and
column, however, and the reek of mortality lingered in the air.

First Lucian, now that unfortunate mortal,
Sonja thought.
Will this
ghastly night never end?

Standing by the throne, she contemplated the gory streaks left behind by
Janosh’s remains. The abrupt slaying of the recalcitrant noble troubled her.
Janosh had been foolish to defy her father, but surely there could have been a
less drastic way to discipline him? Tonight’s ugly events had shown her a
ruthless side of her father that she had always overlooked before.
When did
he become so cruel, so callous?

Or had he always been thus, and she had simply been too blind to notice?

She and her father had the great hall to themselves. At his request, she had
stayed behind when the other council members had retired for the evening. Now he
came up behind her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. For the first time in
her life, she flinched at his touch.

“Morning is upon us, my child,” Viktor said in a conciliatory tone. “It is
time we left this wretched night behind.”

On that at least they were in agreement. “Gladly.”

He turned her around to face him. His azure eyes examined her fondly.

“You are the most fearless warrior I have ever seen. And you make me proud.
But you were born into your elevated position. You have no idea what it means to
earn it.” He fingered the golden pendant about her neck. “There are difficult
decisions ahead of us. I would like your help with one of them.”

She supposed that, in his own way, he was reaching out to her. Despite the
atrocities she had witnessed tonight, she could not help feeling slightly touched by his obvious desire to
mend the rift between them. “Of course, Father.”

“With Lucian gone,” Viktor declared, “we need to promote another lycan in his
place.”

The warmth of the moment vanished abruptly, supplanted by a sudden foreboding
that she did her best to conceal. “Father, what do you mean ‘gone’?”

Was not lifetime imprisonment punishment enough?

“Coloman fears that he will stir up the other lycans,” he said with
deliberate casualness. His eyes searched her face for any untoward reaction. “We
must remove him expeditiously.”

Sonja realized she was being tested. It took all her discipline to keep her
dismay from showing upon her face. “This is difficult,” she said coolly. “He has
been with us for so long.” She pretended to give the matter some thought, as
though replacing Lucian was simply a minor household arrangement. “Perhaps
Thrasos? Or Gyorg? They would be most trustworthy.”

Her blasé tone hid an almost overwhelming sense of panic. Was her father
truly intending to have Lucian put to death? Or perhaps buried alive in some
forgotten oubliette like William? Either prospect filled her with despair.

Let it not be so!

Her answer seemed to satisfy her father, however. “Excellent suggestions. I
will consider them strongly.” Smiling, he leaned forward and kissed her on the
forehead before leaving her alone in the bloodstained hall with only her hidden
fears and guilt to keep her company. A bell tolled the hour, heralding the dawn.

Time was running out for her and Lucian.

Returning to her chambers, Sonja pondered her options. Her mind was awhirl;
it seemed that over the last few hours her entire world had turned upside-down.
It struck her as tragically ironic that, after two centuries of immortality, it
had taken only one night to reduce her life to tatters.

To think that only yesterday Lucian and I made love in the old tower…

Heavy drapes and wooden shutters shielded the room from the lethal sunlight
outside. A blazing hearth kept out the winter’s chill. A lighted candelabra cast
dancing shadows upon the intricate runes adorning the walls. A plush carpet
absorbed her footsteps as she returned her burgundy surcoat to an imported
mahogany armoire across from the vanity. As she did so, her swinging pendant
tapped against the wooden door of the wardrobe. Lifting the amulet off her
chest, she stared at it in melancholy. Memories of happier times flooded over
her:

No more than a child, she beams up at her father as he gently places the
pendant around her neck. The gift is perhaps the most beautiful thing she has
ever seen; that her father trusts her with so precious an object makes her feel
very special indeed. She vows to cherish it always. Bending low, he softly
kisses her on the cheek and she throws her tiny arms around him, treating him to
the biggest hug she can manage. A warm chuckle greets her embrace and he lifts
her easily from the floor.

Snug in her father’s comfortable arms, she feels secure in his undying love….

The idyllic memory faded, leaving her back in the present. Sonja’s throat
tightened and she wiped a tear from her eye. Everything had seemed so simple
once; why must she now choose between her heritage and her love? Her father and
Lucian?

She glanced around the opulent bedchamber, perhaps for the very last time.
The familiar furnishings tugged at her heart, which felt torn in two directions.
Treasured heirlooms, many of them inherited from her mother, ornamented the
shelves and dressers. Her armor was mounted proudly upon its rack. Her favorite
incense perfumed the air. Castle Corvinus had been the only home she had ever
known, but there was no future for her or Lucian here. And no hope for Lucian at
all unless she took decisive action before night fell once more.

Tanis,
she thought.
I must find Tanis.

Casting her doubts aside, she made up her mind at last. The pendant slipped
from her fingers, falling back onto her bosom, as she closed the door of the
armoire. She would not be needing her fine attire any longer. A gown of chain
mail was all she required now.

And a sharpened dagger.

The castle archives were Tanis’ exclusive domain. Centuries’ worth of
ancient scrolls and manuscripts, many dating back to the very birth of the
coven, were squirreled away in the numerous wrought-iron pigeonholes lining the
walls. Literacy being both rare and underappreciated in these benighted times,
few besides Tanis ever consulted the dusty chronicles. Which was just as it should be, as far as he was concerned. There were secrets buried in the
archives that were best left undisturbed.

At least for the present.

The scribe sat at his desk, diligently chronicling tonight’s memorable events
on an unrolled sheet of parchment. Inkwells and goose quills cluttered the
desktop, alongside loose scraps of paper, leather-bound tomes, and other
scholarly paraphernalia. A flickering beeswax candle had burned down almost to
its base, the melted wax spreading out like a greasy fungus across the bottom of
the candle holder. A penknife waited to sharpen the points of the quills as
required. An empty goblet needed refilling.

Pausing to dip his quill in an inkwell, Tanis yawned and rubbed his eyes. It
had been a long night and he was eager to retire to his own quarters, but he
felt compelled to record the day’s happenings while his memory was still fresh.
The devil was in the details, as the saying went, and he was loath to let any
crucial nuance be lost to history.

Now then,
he mused,
how best to describe Janosh’s untimely demise?

Inspiration struck and he put pen to paper once more:

“The insolent mortal, whose overweening pride and avarice led him to forget
the sacred obligations he owed his liege, met his just reward when Lord Viktor,
in all his awful glory, smote him before the transfixed gaze of his entire
court. The varlet’s brains were dashed against the unforgiving walls of the
great hall as the mighty Elder delivered swift and terrible justice to the
unworthy noble….”

Intent upon his literary efforts, the scribe failed to hear the stealthy
approach of footsteps behind him—until a powerful hand suddenly grabbed him by
the collar and flung him against a nearby rack of scrolls. The impact rattled
the dusty shelves. Something cold and sharp pressed beneath his chin and he
looked down in alarm to see a long steel dagger at his throat. Sonja glared at
him, her unsmiling face only inches from his own. Cold brown eyes threatened him
with instant extinction. An armored elbow dug into his chest.

“What have you told my father?” she demanded.

Tanis suddenly regretted taunting Lucian earlier. His brain raced feverishly
to fashion a suitable response. Should he confess to his knowledge, or feign
ignorance? It was hard to think clearly with a knife at his throat.

He did not answer quickly enough for Sonja, who nicked his skin with the edge
of her blade. A trickle of blood ran down his neck, mingling with the cold sweat
breaking out across his pallid flesh.

“What have you told him?”

“Nothing,” he insisted. The murderous look in her eyes convinced him that
lying to her would be a very bad idea.

She withdrew the blade by just a hair. “Why?”

“Wh-why what?”

“Why have you told him nothing?” She spoke cautiously, reluctant to divulge
any more than necessary. “I have heard you have secrets.”

Tanis wondered why she had not killed him already. Could it be that she
required something from him, perhaps information as to just how secret her scandalous love affair remained? A
trace of his usual sardonic attitude crept back into his voice as he surmised
that it might still be possible to talk his way out of this prickly situation.

“Everyone has secrets, milady,” he observed, mustering a shaky smile. “I have
more than most.”

“About me?”

“A few, yes,” he confessed.

Sonja nodded, as though he had merely confirmed something she had already
suspected. “And why keep them secret?”

He faltered, uncertain how best to answer that query. Dare he confess that he
had not yet figured out the best way to exploit that knowledge? What if she
chose to silence him once and for all?

These are dangerous waters indeed….

She seemed to find his hesitation amusing. A heartless smirk lifted the
corners of her ruby lips. “Or is that a secret, too?”

The dagger dug into his flesh once more. Tanis gulped and felt the edge of
the blade scrape against his Adam’s apple. He remembered staring down the length
of Sonja’s sword several hours ago, when he had attempted to block her at the
gate. As before, he sensed that she was not bluffing.

“This game we are playing is boring,” she stated flatly. “And I am not a good
loser, as I am sure you know.”

Fearing for his life, Tanis broke his silence. “Would your father welcome the
man who brought him news that his beloved daughter was consorting with a lycan?”

He snorted at the idea. “He is not well known for his gratitude. So”—he
decided to lay all his cards on the table—“I am not yet in a position to use
your secrets to my benefit.”

Sonja’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of benefit?”

He sensed that they were getting to the nub of this tense negotiation. Perhaps
these were precisely the sort of answers Sonja had come looking for?

“There are twelve council seats,” he said carefully.

Sonja grasped his meaning. “And we do not die often.”

“Sadly, no.” Alas, a hierarchy of immortals offered few opportunities for
advancement. No new member had been admitted to the Council since Sonja herself
had achieved her majority.

“So what if I simply gave up my seat at Council?” she suggested. “Left it to
you.”

Was she serious? Tanis was hesitant to look a gift horse in the mouth, yet
this sounded too good to be true. “And why would you do that?”

Sonja withdrew the dagger. She stepped backward to permit him a little more
breathing room. A wisp of a smile suggested that she had more of a talent for
politics and intrigue than she had ever demonstrated before.

“Can you keep a secret?” she asked.

Touché,
he thought. After a distressing start, this meeting was rapidly
becoming more to his liking. He nodded and smiled back at her.

“I might need something in exchange,” she volunteered.

He was all ears.

Even locked away in the dungeon, Lucian sensed the sun go down. Moonlight
infiltrated the flea-infested cell he shared with the other slaves. Nightfall
meant feeding time as well; scowling guards banged on the walls to rouse the
lycans from slumber, then hurled buckets of raw meat and vegetables through the
bars. The rancid fare splattered onto the grubby straw bedding. Lucian was
dismayed by his fellow lycans’ table manners as they descended on the food like
wild animals, elbowing each other aside in their eagerness to claim the choicest
bits of the miserable slop. Bloody juices ran down their chins as they crammed
the meat into their mouths with bare hands. Gnawing on the bones, they noisily
slurped down the marrow.