Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
“She’ll have the ability to skip across the shoal waters to a mark of six fathoms and take us fairly close to the seawall of the Ceannus camp,” Jaborn said. When the men turned to give him a surprised look, he shrugged. “I spent time on a pirate ship before I died.”
“Six fathoms is…?” Iden asked.
“Thirty-six feet,” Arawn answered.
“That’s a lot of water to close over our heads,” Phelan commented.
“The Misery River is forty feet deep in some places,” Owen stated.
“Not where we were swimming,” Phelan grumbled.
“We’ll take a jolly boat in,” Arawn reminded them. “There’ll be hardly—if any—
moon tomorrow night so we won’t have to worry about being seen. We’ll just row very quietly, beach the boat, wriggle under the opening between the land and the Net, and slip over the seawall, do what needs doing.”
“They’re rowing out to pick us up,” Phelan commented, nudging his chin toward the boat being lowered into the water from the schooner. “What the hell are we going to do with the horses?”
“Good question,” Iden said. “I’m not leaving my mount out here on the beach.”
“A few of the
Bonnie Doneen
’s crew will be taking care of them for us. The horses will be waiting for us in Mezza when we sail back this way,” Arawn said. “Mezza is 101
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about ten miles north of us. There’s no need for you to worry. The beasts will be well cared for, Iden.”
“How can we be sure the mounts will be there when we return?” Phelan queried.
“I’ve never had much trust for Diabolusians.”
“Can you think of anything else to worry about, Kiel?” Arawn snapped. Phelan sniffed. “I’m sure I could think of something if needs be.”
The Prime Reaper bared his fangs at the younger man then threw his leg over his horse and slid to the ground. Sometimes Phelan tended to rub him the wrong way. Going out into the water to help the crewmen pull the small boat to shore, Cynyr and Owen explained to the men who would be caring for the horses that Reapers held their destriers in high regard.
“We will guard them with our lives, milords!” one of the men swore, his hand to his heart.
“You will if you intend to keep that organ beating in your chest and out of my claws,” Phelan snapped as he handed his reins to the sailor.
“Kiel,” Arawn growled in warning.
“I’m just saying…” Phelan mumbled as he climbed into the boat.
“Shut your fucking mouth and don’t say anything!” the Prime Reaper ordered.
“We will take good care of the horses, milord,” the sailor promised Arawn, touching a finger to his forelock.
“What the hell’s the matter with Kiel?” Cynyr asked Owen in a low voice as the two of them took up the oars.
“That time of the month, I guess,” Owen said with a shrug. “You know how his kind get.”
Jaborn leaned forward and asked Owen what exactly that meant. “Is Lord Kiel a half man?”
Owen cocked a shoulder. “I don’t think he even knows, Kasid. He has this way about him that just seems off-kilter sometimes, you know? He visits whorehouses just like the rest of us without mates do but—”
“For what purpose do you do this?” Jaborn interrupted, shock shifting over his dark face. “Are not Reapers only allowed to mate with one female?”
“Orally, Kasid,” he said with a wink, “a Reaper can get relief. He just can’t penetrate the whore or he’s bought her.”
Glyn had been listening to the quiet exchange and tapped Owen on the shoulder.
“It’s never come up before but—”
“Take matters into your own hands then,” Owen quipped.
Glyn hissed at his best friend. “Damn it, will you be serious?”
“What pearl of wisdom do I need to impart to you today, child?” Owen inquired. 102
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“A Reaper is only allowed to mate with one female,” Glyn said. “To actually penetrate one female. But if it isn’t a female he wants, does the rule still apply to a half man or can he have multiple sexual partners?”
The Akhkharulian glanced over at Phelan as the younger man took a seat beside Iden. “It is forbidden on my world to be a sodomite and if one is caught, the punishment is death. I do not like to think a Reaper could be such an abomination.”
“We don’t look at half men in that way over here, Kasid. A man or woman’s sexual preference is their own and not governed by law,” Owen said. His eyebrows drew together. “As for multiple male partners? You’ll have to ask Lord Kheelan about that. If I had to make a guess though, I’d say a mate is a mate whether female or male.”
Glyn nodded and he too was staring at Phelan. “How would Kiel know if he was a half man or not unless he actually put his cock in another male?”
Jaborn shuddered and sat back. “Please, I do not want to hear of such sickness.”
“I suppose he could have had another half man lick his stick at some point,” Owen said. “Wouldn’t you think he’d know then?”
Arawn was the last man to climb into the boat, taking the place on the seat beside Jaborn. He crooked his finger, motioning Owen closer. When Tohre leaned back, the Prime Reaper wrapped his hand around Owen’s neck and squeezed hard.
“I heard every word you said and I’m sure Kiel did too,” Arawn growled, his eyes blazing. “One more speculation from either you or Glyn about Phelan and I promise you I’ll spread-eagle you to the beach and allow Kiel to have his way with your teenytiny stick. How’s that?”
Owen’s face turned bright red and he risked a look at Phelan sitting in the back of the boat. Kiel smiled nastily back at him then doubled his fist, put it up to his open mouth and—with his tongue poking at his jaw—pretended he was doing something that turned Owen’s complexion from red to green.
Cynyr howled as Arawn ordered Owen to start rowing.
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Chapter Ten
The
Bonnie Doneen
quietly lowered its one hundred-pound anchor into the midnight black waters, the heavily greased windlass making no sound at all as the giant hook slipped below the surface. Running without lights, the ninety-six-foot, sleek, twomaster, gaff-rigged ebony ship sat two hundred yards from the seawall of the Ceannus camp like a lurking phantom—undetected by the lookouts in the seven towers that shined light down on the enemy site.
There was no moon in the dark clouds above the schooner. The air was cooler than the Reapers would have liked but with a trace of rain hovering about them and a light fog drifting in, it made for a murky night that better hid them from sight. With hand signals, the jolly boat was lowered just as silently as the anchor had and it settled without sound. The seven black-clad men climbing barefoot down the rope ladder one by one moved like the wind and equally as purposeful. Taking up the oars from which the safety chains had been removed, Iden Belial and Kasid Jaborn began rowing, thrusting the black-stained oak oars softly in the water so no splash could be heard. The boat glided silently over the waves. Not one word was spoken by the men as each of them protectively stroked the thick oilskin bags that held their laser whips, guns and holsters, and dragon-hilt daggers. In two of the bags were three arming devices to blow to hell and back the Ceannus starship and headquarters building. The bags would hang from straps buckled to their waists as they swam.
Although a few of them normally wore small gold hoops in their left earlobes, two wore wedding rings and four wore gold medallions around their necks, on this night the adornments were gone. They would each go naked into the ocean, fashioning magically their clothing—uniforms, boots and hats—on themselves when they reached the beach.
The rowers ceased their movements and allowed the oars to rest gently in the oarlocks, winding hemp around the oaken implements to keep them in place since the safety chains had been removed. Silently, Glyn Kullen slipped over the side of the boat and—treading water—reach up to take the anchor from Phelan, sinking noiselessly beneath the surface to make sure the anchor made no sound as it touched the bottom. One by one, the men eased themselves over the side of the jolly boat and with light movements of their feet to avoid splashing, set out for the shore, trying to ignore the bone-chilling feel of the water.
Having been given the exact location of the breach in the Net’s circumference it was toward that spot they moved.
Crouched low as they came up the beach toward the seawall where the Net did not extend all the way to the sand, the Reapers stretched out on their bellies, pushed their 104
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oilskin bags ahead of them then took turns wriggling like eels under the gap. They then separated, hiding in the shadow of the seawall. They brought forth from the very air around them their clothing then quickly opened their oilskin bags and put on their weapons. Armed, Cynyr and Glyn went north to begin systematically taking out the guards on the first three towers. Iden and Phelan went south to do the same for the four towers located there. Arawn and Jaborn headed for the starship docked at the far side of the encampment as Owen made his way toward the main building to shut down the Net so air strikes—should they be necessary—could be sent in by the High Council and Morrigunia could fly in to extract the Reaper bloodsons.
Working like a well-oiled and efficient machine, the men slipped like dark specters through the night. Each knew his job, his strength, and had the ability to deal death as silently, quickly and dispassionately as any raptor diving on the thermals after its prey.
* * * * *
It was to a vast cadaverous room the four of them had never entered that they had been summoned in the dead of night. They had been given no choice of whether or not to obey the High Council’s order for unsmiling guards had issued the order and had marched behind them to the meeting place. Taking the zigzagged stairs farther and farther below ground, Bevyn and the three women—Aingeal, Danielle and a very reluctant Lea—descended in silence, each wondering what was about to happen. Now they sat on plush, black velvet chairs ranged in a circle along with the three Shadowlords, the three women who were the gatekeepers of the High Council’s chamber, Healer Dresden and four men they had yet to meet. The round room had a high-vaulted ceiling with walls as black as pitch. Placed midway along the soaring walls were numerous long, cast iron torches set five feet apart and hanging in broad brackets. Flickering flames from the torches provided the only light in the room. Beneath their feet was a thick black carpet with two goldenrimmed circles. The outside circle was emblazoned with five strange blue symbols painted on a golden background. The inner circle encompassed much of the room and its background was black. A five-pointed star with intersecting lines lay in the center of the large circle. Triangles formed where the outside lines of the star met with the inner most-like constituting a pentagram and with each triangle dyed a different color. The top point of the star was behind the Shadowlords and dark blue in color. The eastern point was dark deep green while the western point was dark brown. The southeastern leg of the star was gray and the southwestern was red. The pentagram in the center of the star was a black.
No one spoke so that when the High Lord drew their attention to him with a lift of his right hand, every eye and ear was directed to him.
“The Reapers have begun their work this night. It is our duty and our privilege to do what we can to ensure their mission is a success. Toward that objective, we have assembled here to provide a Circle of Protection for our warriors. The Circle has been 105
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handed down to us from the beginning of time. In it is represented the Five Elements of Emotion.”
Lord Naois, who sat to the High Lord’s right held up his hand and continued. “The first element is water and from it we draw our fear.”
In unison the Shadowlords chanted, “May our warriors have no fear of their enemies.”
“The second element,” Lord Dunham said from his position at the High Lord’s left side, “is earth and from it we draw our sympathy.”
Once again, the Shadowlords spoke. “May our warriors have no sympathy for their enemies.”
Argent, the silver-haired gatekeeper of the High Council who sat to Lord Dunham’s left held up her hand. “The third element is wood and from it we draw our anger.”
“Great is the anger of our warriors toward their enemies,” the Shadowlords said. Argent’s blonde sister Aurelion held up her hand next. “The fourth element is metal and from it we draw our grief.”
“Our warriors will show no grief for the deeds they must perform,” spoke the men of the High Council.
Corallin—the third sister and red-haired gatekeeper—named the last element. “The fifth element is fire and from it we draw our joy.”
“Sublime will be the joy of our warriors when their mission is completed,”
prophesied the Shadowlords.
Once more the High Lord held up his hand. “From the limitlessness of space we have drawn our existence and it will be to the infinity of it we shall return. We ask the Guardians of the Universe to hold us in the palms of Their mighty hands.”
Healer Dresden held up his hand, drawing attention to him. “Before the Five Elements of Emotion came the Four Elements of Creation. Creation was given to us by the Guardians of the Universe and it sustains our life.”
One of the unknown men raised his hand. “The first element is air. It is that which signifies new beginnings, clarity, diligence and discernment. We invoke Raphael of the East to aid us.”
The gatekeepers chanted, “To our warriors grant clarity of purpose, diligence of performance, discernment of what needs doing and a satisfactory end to their endeavor.”
The second unknown man put up his hand. “The second element is fire. It is that which signifies energy, courage, strength and loyalty. We invoke Michael of the West to aid us.”
“To our warriors,” the three sisters said, “grant the energy to perform their duties, courage and strength to see those duties to fulfillment and the loyalty to defend one another as brothers in arms.”
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The third man lifted his hand. “The third element is water. It is that which signifies compassion, healing, conscience and tranquility. We invoke Gabriel of the South to aid us.”