PRINCE OF THE WIND (17 page)

* * *

Atramentous folded his arms over his chest and watched the Transition take place. He paid scant notice to the thunderous pounding as strong shoulders were applied to the panel. His attention was locked on the writhing, panting creature struggling to hold onto the last vestiges of humanity.

"As it has been from that first day," the sorcerer whispered, "and will ever be from now until the end of time, there will be those of your kin who will know intimately the taste of the Destroyer’s kiss. Just as your predecessor, Syntian Cree, knew the evil and suffers it to this very day."

The heavy oak portal splintered behind Atramentous. He turned reluctantly to ascertain how long he had before those on the other side breached the door.

"Riain!" Christine Cree’s terrified voice was like the shriek of a banshee.

"Not all of your kin will be so cursed, for not all are as foolish as you and Syntian," Atramentous said in an offhanded way. "But those who are will not be able to escape my vengeance."

The sorcerer began to change.

As the door crashed open and Chrystallusian warriors spilled into the room, the sorcerer turned in mid-transition to face the prince’s would-be rescuers.

"By the mercy of Alel!" one of the warriors shouted.

* * *

Christine saw what was standing over her son’s bed—and recognized it. She fell to her knees, knowing she had come too late to save her son. She barely felt the warriors plucking her from the floor and hurrying from the room. She barely heard the frenzied shouts of fear or the clash of swords as warriors strove to protect themselves and her from the evil that had overtaken her son. As she sat slumped against the wall, her wide eyes intent on the carnage inside the room, she began to sob uncontrollably.

"As Syntian Cree scorned my embrace, so has Riain Cree scorned another woman who loves him," the specter crowed as her corporal body began to fade. "Beast is one, beast is the other! In this place Raphian could not claim him for Suzanna de Viennes, but I go where the Destroyer may not. I have claimed him for Suzanna, but he is mine as well. He is Dearg Dul’s and I have marked him as my NightWind!"

One moment Uxumia Dul’s dead daughter, Dearg, was standing before them, and the next she was gone, her taunting laugh echoing through the walls.

Aidan Cree and Duncan Brell were the warriors to join the fray. Their strong sword hands were needed to bring the creature to its knees and help to restrain it in iron manacles around its wrists and ankles. Slipping on blood pooling on the thick Ionarian carpet, the Chalean king and his advisor struggled to avoid the snapping jaws and razor-sharp talons that had already disemboweled two Chrystallusians and mortally wounded another. The unearthly howls as the creature fought to get free of its shackles made the hair stand up on Christine’s neck.

"My son," she sobbed, staring into the scarlet eyes glaring back at her.

* * *

Mariah Shimota hunkered beside her friend and gathered Christine in her arms. She glanced at the bloodbeast, heard its barely recognizable voice as belonging to anything human, and shivered. She was thankful Miyoshi was far, far away from the evil that Riain Cree had become.

"Not far enough away! Here’s a present from Suzanna!"

Maniacal laughter sounded as something skidded across the floor and landed beside Mariah’s thigh.

The Chrystallusian Empress looked down and screamed. Gazing up at her was the severed head of her lovely third daughter.

* * *

"There is a man who can help him, but I hesitate to suggest it," the Emperor said. His voice was tired, infinitely sad as he silently mourned his child.

"Why?" Aidan asked.

"Because it is Atramentous Takei of whom he speaks," Kento Hyorndi answered for his Overlord. The High Priest of the Lotus Temple stood beside the Emperor’s chair and never took his eyes from that man’s pale face.

"The sorcerer who visited my son," Christine said in a hollow voice.

"That was the
image
of the sorcerer who visited your son, Your Grace," Kento corrected, "not the man, himself."

"Atramentous is a good man," the Emperor put in. "He was cast out of the Brotherhood because he could not countenance their evil."

"And you think he can help Riain?" Aidan queried.

He, too, was paler than normal, Christine thought. She knew, like the rest of them, the sight of the severed head of Riain’s betrothed would not leave him. Strong warrior that he was, the inability to rid himself of the memory concerned him, and Christine knew it. Death and dismemberment were a way of life to a soldier, and over the years, he’d witnessed both. But no death had disturbed him—any of them—as greatly as had this senseless act of cruelty.

"Can you suggest something else, Your Grace?" Kento returned.

Christine took her husband’s hand. She was weak from crying and ill from not being able to hold down any food or drink. Her hands trembled. "We must do all we can to help him. I can not bear seeing him as he is."

"Surely he will not stay as he is," Duncan said. He looked from one to another of those gathered. "Will he?"

Kento rolled one shoulder. "We have no way of knowing. I am not familiar with this curse placed on him."

"Two women—two curses," Mariah Shimota said in a listless voice. "What has this child done to deserve such evil?"

Christine looked at her friend. She would not have blamed Mariah had the woman cursed Riain for the brutal murder of her daughter. But Mariah had not. She had seemingly accepted the tragedy and been seeking ways to help Riain. It had been her idea to send the boy to Atramentous Takei.

"He is a Cree," Kento replied and turned his gaze from his silent Emperor to the Chalean king. "Generations of your kind have been known for their infinite cruelty and savageness on the battlefield. Your enemies cannot long stand against the brutishness of your berserkers, Milord."

"You will not insult my guests," the Emperor said tonelessly.

"It wasn’t an insult, my friend," Aidan said. "It was a gentle reminder."

"A reminder of what?" Duncan asked.

"That we should go after the de Viennes bitch and destroy her and hers," Aidan replied. "That would rid us of one accursed woman and her insane obsession."

"She has Raphian on her side," Christine warned.

"And we have Alel on ours. Who do you think will win?"

"Take your son to Atramentous," the Empress insisted. "Perhaps he will find a way to rid you of both curses."

"And if he doesn’t?" Duncan asked.

"Then perhaps he can find a way to end our son’s life," Christine whispered.

Mariah gasped. "You don’t mean that!"

Christine looked her lifelong friend in the eye. "I would rather see him at peace than at the mercy of either that dead one or Suzanna de Viennes." She wiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks. "Or changed into the nightmare he is at this moment."

"Why has no one mentioned the McGregor boy?" the Emperor inquired. He looked up, his red-rimmed eyes haunted. "What has happened to him? Is he alive? Dead?" A single tear drifted down the man’s cheek. "He loved our Miyoshi, and she, him. What has become of him?"

"His father has gone to search for him, my love," Mariah answered.

"They’ll not find him," Christine said, her eyes steady on Mariah. "You know that, don’t you?"

"Why not?" Aidan demanded.

The two women stared at one another, each knowing the other’s thoughts and each having come to the same conclusion about Raven McGregor.

"Take your son to Atramentous," Mariah repeated. "Perhaps there is a way he can help Raven, too."

"Raven McGregor is dead," Christine insisted. "Else he wishes he were."

An undulating howl came from the bowels of the temple. Those assembled tensed.

"How far is it to this sorcerer’s abode?" Aidan asked.

"Fifty miles," Kento replied. "Just north of the Shiku Pass."

"Then ready us an escort. We’ll leave at first light."

Another unearthly yowl came from the cells below.

"The gods help us," Duncan breathed.

"They will, Milord," Mariah prophesied. "They have to."

Climbing the stairs to the passageway leading back to the palace and their chambers, Queen Christine was not as assured as her friend that the gods would intercede on her son’s behalf.

After all, he was no longer human.

"They are here, Master," the wizened little man informed Atramentous Takei.

The sorcerer nodded absently, but did not look up from the ancient tome he was consulting. One arthritic finger traced a particular incantation to its conclusion, then scrolled up the page to find a particular rune. Atramentous tapped the rune three times as he pondered the significance of the drawing, then he closed the book and stared into the distance, his eyes intent on an image only he was capable of seeing.

"I am ready for them, Lo Ching."

Lo Ching bowed deeply, then turned. His feet were twisted, his legs bowed so badly his walk was painful to watch. With his short, stubby arms swinging at his side in order to keep his balance, the man waddled to the door and bid his master’s guests enter.

* * *

Aidan Cree tried to smile at the misshapen man, but the gesture died on his lips. Pity welled up in his heart and he had to look away, catching Duncan’s uncomfortable look.

"Lo Ching is quite used to his infirmities, Your Grace," Atramentous said as he swept his gaze among his visitors. "And has accepted the Fate that made him so."

Aidan blushed. "I meant no disrespect, Milord."

"None was taken." Atramentous indicated a brace of cushions off to one side, bidding his guests to take a seat.

Duncan frowned, obviously looking about for any danger that might be lurking.

"We are quite alone, Sir Duncan," the sorcerer explained. "No harm will befall your monarch in my abode."

Aidan put his hand on his friend’s arm and squeezed. He cocked his head toward the cushions. "We have to trust this man, Dunc. He looks to be the only help we’ll get for my boy."

Duncan tucked his lower lip between his teeth and nodded. He waited until Aidan was seated before dropping gracefully to the floor and sitting, crossing his legs beneath him.

Atramentous clapped his hands. Lo Ching eased back a rice paper screen and walked into the room beyond. He was back almost instantly with a tray of steaming green tea and a plate of crescent-shaped biscuits.

Having been in Chrystallus for many weeks, Aidan was used to the intricate social rituals required to do business with the people. Though it set his nerves on edge to sit politely, crook his little finger, and swill liquid he considered one step above horse piss, he nevertheless did so knowing no business would be conducted until the last of the brew had been consumed.

"You had a pleasant journey through the Pass, I hope?" Atramentous inquired as Lo Ching poured the tea.

And small talk had been engaged in, Aidan added to his thoughts, with a grimace. "It was not as arduous as I was led to believe."

"Ah, but then the snow season is not at its height, eh, Lo Ching?"

"Precisely so, Master," the twisted man answered.

"The Pass can be treacherous when the snows are heavy."

For twenty minutes, Aidan shifted on the cushion, a forced smile on his lips. He answered as politely as he could the questions put to him, but his mind was on his son, who at that moment was locked in an iron cage in a wagon outside Atramentous’ stronghold.

"He is as comfortable as he can be, Your Grace," Atramentous said as he lifted a napkin to daub at his lower lip.

"It’s freezing out there!" Duncan snapped.

"But the young one’s body temperature is so high, he does not feel the chill of the wind or the moisture of the light snows, Milord."

"Can you help him?" Aidan asked, his eyes boring into his host.

Atramentous nodded silently. He clapped his hands and relaxed against his cushion while Lo Ching cleared away the tea tray. Folding his arms into the sleeves of his intricately embroidered robe, the sorcerer lowered his head and seemed to be contemplating his lap.

Aidan looked at Duncan, whose frown deepened. Neither knew how to handle a situation such as this. Aidan, like Duncan, was a man of action and preferred to act rather than contemplate a situation.

"Your lady-wife understands, as you do not," Atramentous said as he lifted his head, "that I can not undo what has been done to your son."

Aidan winced. Christine has said as much, but he had not wanted to believe her. "You can change him back," he stated, his voice gruff. His pugnacious gaze locked on the sorcerer. "I was told you had the ability to—"

Atramentous held one slim hand aloft. "I have the means to change him back into a human, aye, but I can not undo the curse placed on him by the Dead One."

"Why not?"

"Because he drank of her brew and the brew is now in his system."

"Then flush it from his system!"

"It is not as easy as that, Milord." The sorcerer looked up at Lo Ching.

The man bowed and disappeared behind the rice paper screen once more.

"Your lady-wife has told you of the Nightwind curse," Atramentous stated.

"I know about Nightwinds," Aidan agreed. "The Crees have long since known of the evil of Uxumia Dul and her Sisters of the Black Rose."

Atramentous cocked his head to one side. "Yet you saw no reason to inform your son of the danger." He blinked. "Why is that, Your Grace?"

Aidan threw out a hand. "There was no need to warn him of something I thought could never happen. He was to be married to—" He stopped, seeing in his mind the head of Miyoshi Shimota rolling across the room. He swallowed. "He was in no danger from a sorceress intent on possessing him, and that is the curse, is it not?"

Atramentous nodded slowly. "That is the curse."

"I don’t understand," Duncan said, his eyebrows slanted downward. "What curse are we talking about here?"

"The Curse of the Black Rose," Aidan mumbled.

"I am curious, Your Grace," Atramentous said. "Did you not consider Suzanne de Viennes a threat to your son?"