Blood Lies (Dark Brothers of the Light #9) (14 page)

"I always liked a challenge. I'm in," said
Teague. "Nans is not going to scoop up all the glory from this
venture."

"Merick and Father Telamon have both made
your case to me," Koejelus said after a nod from Merick. "Count us
in."

Edvarde clapped his hands excitedly. "A
gathering of heroes to fight the dark one, what a tale this will
make. I'll send one of my best scribes along with you to record it
all."

"Your hunger for knowledge and history will
get you killed," said Nans.

Edvarde chuckled. "You've been saying that
since I was sixteen. I'm sixty-seven now."

Veranoctem 12, 1077

Two days after Stygean's fight with Jingen,
Nevin trotted to overtake Father Telamon, calling out in a
distress-triggered brogue, "I dinna tell ye aboot the boy to ha' ye
go off in a fit."

"Had I known the boy was being punished so
severely, I would have spoken up sooner. And I'm not having a fit.
I've been thinking about it for days as it is."

Nevin exhaled an explosive sigh.

Father Telamon gave the lycan a quick glance
and went back to muttering distractedly under his breath as he
walked briskly along the corridor, his robes swishing about his
ankles. "My fault. My fault entirely. Boy wants to learn. I offered
to teach. I had no idea about the needs of adolescent
sa'necari."

"Which is why ye ought to have asked," Nevin
growled, lengthening his stride to keep up with the agitated
priest.

"It's all very strange and new to me.
Treated him like a troubled young mage – I've had more of those in
my congregation than you can imagine which is typical for a city
like Ildyrsetts. With the fall of Charas, we're second only to
Rowanhart in the number of mages. We've a growing body of talented
refugees, mostly young, many children whose gifts barely managed to
get them this far."

"Galee destroyed Charas..." Nevin pulled at
the split corners of his disfigured upper lip, eyes narrowing.
"We've been hearing rumors of it since last summer. It might pay to
speak with some of the survivors."

Father Telamon halted in front of the door
to Isranon's suite. "It will take much persuasion, Lord Nevin.
However, I can think of two or three that might be willing to
enlighten you as to how the City of Magic fell."

Father Telamon lifted his hand to knock, and
Nevin stopped him with a curt gesture. "Allow me, Father."

Nevin knocked and Isranon answered. "Who is
it?"

"It's me, my brother. I've brought Father
Telamon. He wishes to speak with you about Stygean."

"Come in."

Nevin entered first.

Isranon sat at the table, reading. He closed
his book and looked at them with an edge of weary irritation.
"Everyone of any importance has been coming by to discuss my
apprentice and his actions."

"You need to hear the good father out."

"I would just as soon not. I have listened
to enough opinions on it."

"But you see," protested Father Telamon, "it
is all my fault."

Isranon gestured for him to stop, lowered
his head, and then tilted it up at Nevin while motioning them to
sit. "You brought him here to defend Stygean, my brother?"

"Yes." Nevin settled into his chair and the
priest did likewise.

"Nevin, you swore last summer that I would
never win Stygean over. That you wanted to cut his heart out and
eat it."

Nevin straightened abruptly, color rising in
his cheeks. "I know him better now. He loves you like a father. You
never have any time for him, so he went seeking it elsewhere. He
went to Father Telamon."

"And I gave the boy the wrong information."
Father Telamon massaged the bridge on his nose, stubbornly holding
onto his determination even as a fit of nerves threatened him. "I
treated him like a temple novice or a young mage. I told him to
fast. While I only meant food and drink, Stygean took it to mean
blood also. I caused what happened."

"It doesn't alter matters."

Nevin haired over, snarling. "You're growing
more unreasonable by the day, Isranon. Ever since you got here.
More and more and I won't put up with it."

Father Telamon blinked and looked ready to
dive under the table. He bit his lower lip, fighting not to become
overwhelmed by all the possibilities that being caught between an
angry lycan and a sa'necari could provoke.

Nevin struck the table with his fists. "It's
your damnable pride. You've extended it to the lad and now you're
embarrassed by him. That will not do, Isranon. I raised you. I
taught you to be better than this. You're being unfair to the
lad."

Isranon stopped short, swallowing back
words. His expression went weary. "Maybe I have been too hard on
him. Once I have gotten some rest, I'll go talk to him."

"Good. And we have more news. Father Telamon
has informed me that there are refugees here from Charas who might
be able to tell us how the city fell. Knowing the enemy's tactics
would be a great help when we finally enter battle."

Isranon perked up. "Indeed it would."

At the change in their tones, Father Telamon
relaxed with a sigh and began to explain in detail about the state
of the mage-gifted refugees who still sheltered in the Cathedral of
the Morning Light in Ildyrsetts.

* * * *

A knock on Stygean's door woke him. Crisp
sunlight lanced through the windows, striking his unready eyes with
spears between his parted lashes. His neck ached, but most of the
pain had receded. He felt dizzy and sick to his stomach. Stygean
knotted the edge of the blanket in his fist, wanting to turn onto
his side; held back by the pain and weakness.

"Go away. I'm sick."

Jun walked in with Farris. "You need to
feed. And we don't wish Farris to develop blood bloat during a
pregnancy."

Pregnant? Farris?
Shame burned in
Stygean's cheeks, certain it could only be his seed growing within
her. He tipped himself over and curled tighter into his blanket.
"I'm going to throw up."

Jun came over, bringing Farris and took hold
of Stygean's chin, turning his head to find the mark. "It's closed
well. You're fortunate it was Isranon and not Haig or I. Accidents
happen."

Stygean shivered at the threat in the tall,
angular vampire's voice.

Farris caressed his head. "It has been
months since you touched me, Stygean. I wanted it to be my
blood."

Stygean said nothing. He wondered how long
he would live with so much hatred around him – hatred he had
created. If someone decided to stick a knife or a fang into him,
the others would simply look the other way – what they did for
others they would not do for him. He was sure that was what Isranon
had meant about trust. He closed his mouth tightly, refusing to
bite Farris.

Jun grabbed Stygean's hair, twisted his head
around and pressed Farris' arm to the boy's lips. "You will open
and you will feed or I will take you and make you."

"Let go of him!" Nevin snarled, entering the
room, followed by Father Telamon. The lycan moved close to Jun. He
haired over to the highest point of the hybrid state and forced the
vampire's fingers loose from Stygean's hair.

"The little bastard won't feed."

"Kalirion be merciful," Father Telamon
gasped, frozen in his tracks by the sight of Jun's huge fangs as
the vampire snarled.

The sound of fear in Father Telamon's voice
made Nevin pivot and put Father Telamon behind him before shoving
Jun away from the bed. "Touch him again and I'll rip your bloody
throat out. I'm the lad's
guurmondru
. If you have issues
with him, bring it to me. Don't take it out on him."

Farris quailed at the naked animosity
swirling about the chamber, dropping to her knees into first
position, arms behind her back and head tilted. Father Telamon
recovered himself, dropping instinctively to his knees and
sheltering Farris in his arms.

Jun barred his fangs at Nevin. "He killed my
Nolly."

"Amiri says he's innocent and I'll take her
word for it – as should you."

Jun took a step toward the bed and Nevin
brought his huge claws up. "Touch him and die, Jun."

The vampire met Nevin's eyes, saw the
unrelenting steel in them, and reconsidered. "You're making a
mistake."

"Or you are."

Jun spun on his heel and stomped out of the
room.

"Bloody hell, Jun's on another tear,"
muttered Nevin. He eased Farris out of Father Telamon's grasp,
pointing at a chair in a corner of the room and motioning with his
chin for the priest to sit down there.

Father Telamon dropped into the chair as if
his muscles had turned to water. "I'm sorry, Nevin. I'm not as
young as I used to be ... nor as brave."

"Catch your breath, Father. I'm not about to
allow something to happen to you any more than I am Stygean." Then
Nevin grasped Farris' arm, urged her onto the side of the bed. He
stroked Stygean's hair as if he were a disturbed cub. "Come on,
lad, you need to feed and get strong again."

"What's a guurmondru?"

"Feed first and then I'll tell you,
Stygean."

Stygean sighed and opened his mouth, his
fangs came down, and he fastened on her. He took only a few
swallows and then pushed her away. "I can't. I can't."

Nevin settled on the bed, gathering Stygean
in his arms, stroking and patting, murmuring lycan comfort noises.
"Long ago and faraway, I raised another sa'necari boy who was just
as confused and troubled as you are."

"Who was he?"

Nevin gave him a wry smile and a wink.
"Isranon."

* * * *

They had not been gone long when another
knock came. This one was hesitant and uncertain, making him wonder
who it might be. He ignored it despite his curiosity. The door
creaked open and someone wearing soft shoes slipped inside, closing
the door behind them.

"Stygean?"

He rolled his eyes. "Go away, Chinisi. If
anyone catches you here, they'll kill me."

She came and sat on the corner of his bed.
"I don't understand. It isn't as if I said you were trying to fuck
me, which you weren't. Although I confess, Jingen made it sound
like the two of you intended to try that."

Stygean groaned. "Go away, Chinisi. Please
go away before you make things worse."

"Why?"

"Because I want to fuck you," Stygean
snarled bluntly.

Chinisi's eyes widened and she slapped him.
"You're a horrid little boy."

Stygean slapped her back. "You wanted me to
be horrible a few days ago. Well I am. I've been with a dozen or
more females. I haven't tried males, but I will eventually."

"You're lying. You're just a little
boy."

"You know about the nibari?"

Chinisi nodded.

"
They know better than to
say no to a master"

"So you…."

"Yes. My master taught me different and I've
learned, but I'm not a nice person."

"But you're what? Thirteen or fourteen?"

"Thirteen."

"I'm older than you are. I'm fourteen. Just
turned."

"I turned thirteen six months ago."

"Not an entirely bad age gap…. So you think
I'm pretty?"

Stygean licked his lips. His fangs were
coming down again, but this time it was lust and not need. "Yes.
Now go away."

"You aren't going to … you know… try and
outrage my honor?"

Stygean had no idea what she meant by that
phrase, but he felt certain that trying such a thing would get him
into even worse trouble. "No! Now please go. I don't feel well and
all this talking is making me tired."

Chinisi rose to go and saw the mark on his
neck. "One of them bit you?"

"Yes. They took me to the edge. I'm not
going to feel well for days."

"I'm sorry," she said and left.

* * * *

Jingen slipped into Stygean's room late that
night and regarded him thoughtfully. "So he took you to the edge,
did he? Would he notice if I took you that last little inch and you
died? Or would they consider that he had miscalculated in his
feeding?"

Jingen squeezed his eyes shut, looking at
the verge of tears and then fighting it back. "We were going to be
heroes. We were going to do our duty as true sa'necari. The price
of heresy is death. That fucking renunciate is a heretic. How could
you betray everything we stood for? Now you're a heretic, and the
price of heresy is still death."

He rubbed his shoulder where Stygean had
bitten him as it throbbed. Jingen's fangs descended and he bent
over his sleeping fellow apprentice, running his tongue across them
at the thought of putting them in and taking enough to still his
rival's heart. Then he heard voices and footsteps in the corridor.
He recognized one of them as Randilyn's – no doubt coming to check
on Stygean again. His upper lip curled back in a soft snarl of
resentment. "You never really were my friend. I see it now."

Jingen crouched low and slipped out to visit
his mother. Once everyone had settled in, the blood-slaves had been
moved from the barracks into cells beneath the mansion so that
Edvarde's people would feel safer. As soon as that had been done,
Jingen had suborned the jailor and was allowed to see her alone at
any hour he wished. She looked tired and worn as she raised her
eyes to him.

"My son," Disharyl said, taking him into her
arms and holding him tight.

"You're not withering, Mother?" he asked
when she let him go.

She shook her head. "My will keeps me
strong. I will have my vengeance first."

"Vengeance, yes." Jingen gnawed on his lip
for a moment. "I would like to have it on Stygean." Jingen opened
his shirt and showed her the mark again. "He pinned me down and
fed."

"Filth!"

"It was because of a girl. He knew I wanted
her and took her for his own. He hurt and humiliated me in front of
her."