Blood Lies (Dark Brothers of the Light #9) (5 page)

Alons glanced back. The five yellow-manes
were nearly upon them, and beyond those came the rest of the pack.
There must have been thirty or more of them – more than enough to
overwhelm their entire encampment. Then the yellow-manes reached
them: two setting upon Alons and three going for Horst, drawn by
the delicious purity of the unicorn.

Claws slid off his flawless chainmail as
Alons struck a ghoul in the neck hard enough to break bone. The
creature went down in the snow and did not move. The other attacked
from Alons' left only to get stunned by a shield in its face. Alons
veered into a ghoul attacking Horst's open left. His companion
screamed as Alons drove his sword into the ghoul's back, gave it a
twist, ensuring a smooth release, and popped it out. As the
creature fell, Alons saw that Horst's arm hung useless, bleeding
from shoulder to wrist.

To the right of Horst, two yellow-manes
crowded each other to reach him. The unicorn and rider turned at
bay. Claws shredded Horst's makeshift armor and tore his side open.
Lion accounted for one of the ghouls, biting a chunk from its belly
and spitting out a mouthful of entrails. Rage carried Horst through
the pain long enough to hack through the remaining yellow-mane's
shoulder.

Then they were riding hard again, Horst
doubled over in the saddle, clutching his torn side, and Lion
running beside him.

Alons glanced behind him. "There's dozens of
them."

Horst nodded, his features twisted into a
harsh grimace. "Don't look back."

"I'm praying for a miracle."

The unicorn, as if sensing the desperate
condition of his rider, put on a burst of speed when they neared
the gates to the previously abandoned ducal estate.

Alons made the sign of the Lady as Horst
outdistanced him.

Ahead of them, Father Franz Bachmeier strode
confidently out of the gates to stand in the middle of the street
with a black-clad crone, whom Alons had never seen before. Four
children followed the strange pair carrying baskets. He tore his
attention from them, glancing about for Horst, but his friend had
already gone through the gates and become lost from sight. Alons
glimpsed an overloaded wagon and the edges of many tents standing
in the yard, which had not been there when they left to scavenge
that morning.

A shield wall formed behind Franz and the
crone: the ten remaining men and fifteen of the women. They carried
golden shields with the white unicorn rampant of the White Lady and
long spears. Alons wondered where they had gotten them.

"Birthe! What the unholy hell...." Alons
blinked at Horst's wife, hearing her giving orders to the spearmyn
with the same unyielding determination he had so often seen her
husband display.

Two little boys strode calmly down the
street towards Alons and the pursuing ghouls. They were both
strangely clad.

The boy on the left wore a fur lined leather
jacket and a leather cap that buckled under his chin. A pair of odd
spectacles sat on his head. He settled the green tinted spectacles
over his eyes to keep the flurrying snow out of them. Then he
lowered his hands to the silver pie pans hanging from his belt. "On
three, Bodi!" he shouted to his companion.

"On it, Pieface!" came the reply. Bodi
tucked a book into his pocket and drew his wooden sword,
brandishing it with a shout of "Sillior!"

Alons felt a surge of dread upon realizing
the two boys were going to charge the ghouls and no one was trying
to stop them. He threw himself from the saddle, running to
intercept the nearest boy, the one with the wooden sword. A shout
from the crone snagged Alons' attention, and the boy got past
him.

"Funsies!" The crone wiggled her fingers at
the on-coming demons. "Flux!"

Four demons suddenly lost the contents of
their bowels, spreading lines of black waste across the snow. They
flew through the air in a short arc, clutching their bellies, and
finally collapsed in the snow groaning. A bright silver disk flew
past Alons, taking the head off a demon before curving around and
returning to the child who had thrown it. The wooden sword in
Bodi's hands hummed with power, and the boy caved a ghoul's head in
with it.

The two children who remained beside Franz
and the crone put glass globes into their sling shots and let fly
against the rear demons. Some of the balls exploded into flames,
others into a green slime that made the demons shriek and claw at
themselves, trying in vain to scrape it free only to have it adhere
to the flesh of knobby fingers and their claws, while the third
kind gave off a terrible stench that made the demons engulfed by
the foul cloud stagger about, clawing at their eyes and opening
rents in their faces as mucus flowed from their mouths, nose, and
eyes.

Alons' perceptions of reality, already
strained by the circumstances of the past few months, crashed. For
an instant he did not know whether to gibber or weep or fall to his
knees and give praise to the Lady.

The shield wall broke as the myn charged
forward to put an end to their adversaries. Desperate to do
something – anything – Alons went after the little boy with the
wooden sword, grabbed him by the collar and brought him up
short.

The boy gazed up at him, frowning. "Let go.
I got a bodacious date with destiny."

"Go back to the women and children. Back
where you belong." Alons watched the ghouls warily as the survivors
of the initial onslaught rallied; their ululating cacophony sending
a shiver up his spine despite his familiarity with their
noises.

The myn from their camp broke into orderly
groups of five. Alons could hear Birthe shouting orders amidst the
ghoul chorus. They were not fighters like Alons and Horst, but they
were managing admirably. Whether Horst realized it or not, he had
become second to their leader, Frantz, and the people obeyed Birthe
without question, assuming that she spoke with the voice of her
husband.

The boy pulled lose, glanced back and saw
the crone nod. "Name's Bodisaniwi and I'll be back." Then he ran
for the courtyard.

Alons watched the orderly chaos of Birthe
directing her five units of five. He counted ghouls as they dragged
them past him to burn the remains in the courtyard. Ichorous blood
– if blood it was – a purple so dark it verged on black, streaked
the snow behind the corpses, leaving long trails to the gates.

"Forty," muttered Alons. "If not for our new
allies, they would have overwhelmed us."

He trudged toward the gates and Abby joined
him, sticking her big nose in his face and pulling on his ears.
Battle always left him with an odd, emotionless clarity. And that
mood always provoked Abby into attempting to distract him.

"Stop that." Alons chuckled reluctantly when
she kept it up and batted at her in feigned disapproval. His mood
shifted, thawing first into amusement and then into joy. Alons
slipped his arm under her neck and pressed her big equine cheek
against his own. "I love you, Abby. You've brought the light back
into my life. You're the only female I've ever loved, so be gentle
with my heart, you outrageous beast."

:
Love you
.
: She whickered, brushing her words across him with her mind voice
as well.

Alons walked with his arm around her neck,
playing with her ears and hugging her over and over again. He
halted just inside the gates, his brow furrowing. Something more,
lost amidst the strangeness, had been missed. He turned about and
stared back down Meinhardtstrasse. Alons' eyes went back and forth
between the wagon standing in the courtyard and the street.

The wagon had left no tracks.

Alons approached the wagon cautiously as if
it were a viper that might rear up and bite him.

Abby nudged him into the wagon's side. :
Silly human. Dyna's ability to get myn into and out of trouble
is both legion and legend, but her wagon doesn't bite.
:

Alons caught the edge, steadying himself,
his cheeks burning. He regarded all the strangeness with interest.
He ran his fingers along the side of an overloaded wagon sitting in
the courtyard with four stout horses standing in their traces.
Seven tents stood with their front panels rolled up, displaying the
goods beneath them. Behind them were twenty-odd horses, caparisoned
in elegant saddles and bridles. Armor and weapons occupied one
tent, and Alons could see where his fellows had gotten their
shields and spears from.

:
Dyna found me. I was lost and looking
for you. She had my sire and his harem in tow.
:

"Who is she, Abby?"

:
She's a peddler who sells second-hand
magic items and many other things.
:

"She's more than that."

:
Her secrets are her own. She's here as
a favor to the White Lady. She's been visiting all the little bands
of survivors
. :

"Then that's enough for me."

"Alons! Alons!"

A desperate female voice snapped his
attention around and he saw Dietlinde, Horst's sister-in-law,
running toward him. Her dress had blood stains, yet she looked
unharmed. Alons quickened his step and caught her as she
stumbled.

"What is it?"

"Horst. I can't get the bleeding stopped.
Those mother-damned creatures tore his side open."

Alons kept his arm around her shoulders as
he quickened his steps. "I saw Father Franz talking to Dyna. He'll
know what to do." His brow furrowed deeply, and he muttered at
Dietlinde. "By Our Lady, I would have fetched Franz immediately had
I known Horst was hurt that badly. Forgive my lack of diligence,
Dietlinde. Forgive me." He went on and on like that, never giving
Dietlinde a chance to answer as he hurried her around the
wagon.

Father Franz and Dyna stood arm in arm,
leaning together like a fond old couple a few feet inside the
courtyard. The four children were nowhere to be seen.

"Your pardon, Father Franz, Horst needs you.
The creatures tore Horst's side open and Dietlinde can't staunch
the bleeding."

"On my way. Stay and talk to Dyna. She's
brought us aid and is offering us a very kind deal."

Alons started after them and Dyna's hand
came down on his arm, halting him with surprising strength for a
withered old woman.

"We gotta talk, Alonzo."

Alons flinched. "Alons."

"Yeah, we gotta talk. I was supposed to have
this talk with Horst, but he's in no condition to listen. I can
only stay a few days. Then I have to get back to Red Wolf; there's
a war in the offing up there."

"There's a war here, Frau Dyna."

"You folks already got help coming. I'm
needed more up there. Me and some friends is all the lycans
got."

"Lycans! I have always wanted to meet one.
The world is filled with enchantment and ever have I longed to see
it." Alons' voice went wistful, until he noticed that Abby was not
with him. He looked about. "Abby? Abby, where are you?"

The wynderjyn trotted around the end of the
wagon. :
Here, Beloved. I was talking with my sire,
Glimmerdeign. He's bonded Horst and is worrying.
:

"So he's been bonded by a sacred steed, as I
have. I am not surprised. He's a good and pious mon." Words spilled
out of Alons as fast as he thought of them, despite his efforts to
hold it back. "I could not keep Abby with me in Nubyrlon. It would
have gotten me burned alive as an apostate. So I hid her on my
estate. When I got free of the fallen city, I went home for her. I
found the estate burned to the ground, my servants slain, and Abby
gone." Alons started to walk off again and once more Dyna stopped
him.

"Yah, she told me all of that and with twice
the detail. Come on, We're going to my place for a little talk,
Alons. I need to bring you up to speed on things."

Alons disliked her strange way of speaking,
but refused to be rude to her. "Which tent?"

"Not a tent. Come a bit closer, Abby." Dyna
placed one hand on Alons and the other on Abby. Golden light
engulfed them, and Alons' body tingled violently.

The snowy courtyard vanished. The tingling
ceased. Alons dropped to his knees with a cry, burying his face in
his hands. "Sweet Lady! Where are we?"

"My garden and I think you need a drink."
Dyna snapped her fingers, causing a silver tray to appear with a
multitude of glasses and three bottles of liquor.

Alons peeked through his fingers,
straightened and ran his gaze across the lovely garden filled with
blue flowers of every kind imaginable. A quiet pool of sparkling
water spread near enough for him to dip his fingers into it. An
image formed in the surface:

A group of children played in a town
comprised of tree houses and quaint white cottages trimmed in
bright colors. Alons became gradually aware of the absence of
adults. A little girl with sparkling frosty hair raced through on
the back of a one-horned goat, brandishing a wooden sword. A pack
of children chased after her, laughing.

"Is this real?"

"Ayup. Place's called Summersnow."

"Can you tell what they are saying?"

"Damned if I know," said Dyna. "I've never
figured out how to make a talkie out of it." She pushed the tray
closer to him. "Have a drink. Settle your nerves."

Alons eyed the three containers. A
tall-necked, pot-bellied bottle of sapphire blue liquid suggested
wine. The short, stout earthenware jug suggested whiskey. The third
was a cut crystal, rectangular bottle with a golden liquor that
Alons could not decide its nature.

"What are they?"

Dyna patted the blue wine bottle. "That
one's from Faewin. It's Blue Dreams. One of the finest wines you'll
ever taste. The jug is Dragonsbreath. It's potent stuff. It'll
knock the top of your head off if you're not used to strong liquor.
Lycans love it. That one there..." She touched the cut crystal.
"Now, that one is the smoothest whisky on the continent. It's
brewed by a family in Doronar, and they are the only ones who drop
the e out of the whiskey."