Artesans of Albia: 02 - King's Champion (56 page)

Suddenly realizing what she was doing, he shrieked, “NO!” and tried to clamp down his shield. Yet he couldn’t force her out. She had twined her psyche around his innermost soul and was inextricably linked to him now. With the pain of her violation wringing a hoarse scream from his throat, he almost passed out.

Grimly, Sullyan held on to his consciousness. Denied the release of oblivion, Rykan began to struggle physically, as if that could help him. She let him use his strength, knowing he could hurt her no more.

Feeling the continuing leach of his powers, he cried, “But you can’t do that! I’m not willing! I refuse to surrender my power! You can’t do it!”

“Oh, but my Lord,” she hissed, “I believe you will find that I can.”

“How?” he groaned, the terrible pain growing as his inner being slowly tore apart. “How is this possible?”

She gazed at him, all the while drawing out the heart and core of his power, filament by agonized filament.

“Do you really not know? Why do you think I laid claim to your life instead of just the sum of your power? I knew you would never help me willingly, and your metaforce alone would not suffice if you refused the Hierarch’s terms. No, my Lord, I need your very soul for this task, and it was you who gave me the means to take it. Do not think to complain. You would have been spared this pain had you acceded to the Hierarch’s request, but it is too late now. Do you not remember the words of the ancient bargain?”

“Bargain?” he rasped. “What bargain?”

“I will explain. When someone willingly gives their essence to another as a gift freely given, they also give influence over their psyche. You are a Master-elite, my Lord. Surely you have heard this?”

“What are you talking about?” He was almost screaming. “I gave you no gifts, freely or otherwise!”

“Oh, but you did, my Lord. On four brutal occasions, as I recall. Count Marik even watched you. Surely you remember?”

His eyes bulged as understanding crashed upon him.

Her gaze was hot and vengeful, her voice a hiss. “By the power of your seed within me, seed that you gave with such savage pleasure, you gave me your essence. With it I was able to work past your spellsilver, and with it I am able to reach within you now and take what you would deny me.”

She extracted another strand of his soul, causing him to gibber in horror and pain. The import of her words and the agony of this appalling rape sent shockwaves through Rykan. He trembled violently like a dog with ague. The consequences of her actions clearly terrified him, and with good reason. His body might not immediately die without its soul, but his mind would suffer irreparable damage. He would become a husk—a helpless, drooling, mindless husk—and she knew that to a vital, virile man like Rykan, this was a fate far worse than death. A swift, clean death by either sword or metaforce he could have borne, but to linger on for days, maybe months if she chose, as an object of scorn or pity to his enemies? No, that he could not bear.

Desperation entered his eyes and he pleaded with her. “I beg you, Lady, don’t do this!”

“Oh, is it ‘Lady’ now, my Lord? Is it begging?” she snapped, her eyes hot with remembered pain and shame. “I seem to remember begging you when you forced yourself upon me time and time again! My voice went hoarse with pleading, but what good did it do me? What mercy did you show?”

Rykan stared at her, seeing no remorse and knowing he was doomed. She had all but sucked him dry and he had no resistance left, no defenses against her taking that last fundamental spark of psyche that made him who he was.

Suddenly, her expression softened.

“Yet I will have mercy on you, my Lord. For I am not like you, and even now, after all you have done, I will not become like you. I will not leave you naked, helpless, and torn, the way you left me, to die shivering and terrified in the dark.”

Slowly, gently, causing him no further pain, she extracted the final thread of his psyche. She knew that the watchers around the arena had no indication of the dreadful suffering she had to endure in order to absorb his soul. It was alien, strange, it did not fit anywhere inside her and it made her feel foul. She wished she could cast it from her, but she needed it, at least for a while.

Weakly, her left arm hanging by her side, she staggered to her feet. Rykan still lay half-slumped on the ground, his features slack, his eyes dull and staring. There was still a spark of intelligence there—she had left him a shred of his mind—but the shock of her violation rendered him numb.

She walked unsteadily to where her sword had come to rest. “Now you understand how it feels, my Lord.” Reaching down, she took the blade into her right hand and approached him once more.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his dull eyes unmoving.

Furious that he had the gall to repent after all he had done, she hissed, “How dare you! It is too late for rue, my Lord, far too late!”

Standing before him, she stared down at her father’s blade, its bright edge stained with Rykan’s blood. “No,” she murmured, “I will not dishonor this blade with yet more Andaryan blood.”

Rykan’s eyes flashed briefly as his terror resurfaced. He understood she was going to kill him and welcomed it, but this refusal to use her sword panicked him anew. She laid the blade awkwardly on the grass and reached instead for Rykan’s heavier weapon. Carefully, she pulled him to his knees, his head hanging, his eyes closed. There was no resistance, no defiance or fight left in him. She had stripped him of everything. Stepping back, she regarded him critically.

Groaning with pain, she brought her left hand round, using her right to clasp the charred fingers around Rykan’s sword hilt. She held them there by covering them with her other hand. Without a thought, she damped the agony of shattered wrist bones and raised the heavy sword high past her right shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she gathered what little strength she had left.

* * * * *

A
t that precise moment, Taran was lying bound and gagged over his horse’s withers, a knife of spellsilver thrust through the ropes against his skin. He saw nothing. Had he seen it, he would have recognized the stroke Sullyan used to sever Rykan’s head. It was the same stroke he had used to kill Jaskin. He would have approved of the way she handled it and the neat, efficient job it made of striking off the defeated lord’s head.

But he didn’t see it, and he had no idea how the contest had ended. He didn’t see the Hierarch, along with Robin, now freed from Anjer’s arms, run to catch the exhausted woman who collapsed, shaking, in the gory aftermath of Rykan’s killing. He didn’t see her anguish as the two men supported her in their arms. He didn’t hear the cry she gave as she summed up Rykan’s power, the power that should have been equal to hers, the power that should have been sufficient to remove the poison eating into her soul.

“It is not enough, Timar, it is not enough! I took all he had to give, but it is not enough!”

He did not see her, defeated and despairing, sink into hopeless oblivion.

Albian Characters

Amanus Elijah.
Taran’s deceased father. An Artesan Adept.

Bethyn Sullyan.
Major Sullyan’s mother, now deceased.

Bull, aka Bulldog, aka Hal Bullen.
Major Sullyan’s aide.

Cal Tyler.
Taran’s Artesan Apprentice.

Dexter.
A sergeant at the Manor under Captain Tamsen.

Elias Rovannon.
Albia’s High King.

Falkerk.
Weaponsmaster at the Manor.

Goran.
Master cook at the Manor.

Hal Bullen.
See ‘Bull.’

Hanan.
Chief Healer at the Manor.

Hyram.
General Blaine’s valet.

Jessy.
Sister to Robin Tamsen, now deceased.

Mathias Blaine.
The Manor’s senior officer and General-in-Command to High King Elias.

Morgan Sullyan.
Major Sullyan’s father, now deceased.

Parren.
A captain at the Manor.

Rienne Arlen.
A healer, and Cal’s lover.

Robin Tamsen.
A captain at the Manor under Major Sullyan.

Solet.
The Manor’s stablemaster.

Sullyan.
A major at the Manor under General Blaine.

Tad Greylin.
Young kitchen boy at the Manor.

Taran Elijah.
An Artesan who is desperate to learn his craft.

The Baron.
Mysterious ally of Rykan, Duke of Kymer.

Andaryan Characters

Aeyron Pharikian.
The Hierarch of Andaryon’s son and Heir.

Almid.
One of a pair of giant twins, members of Ky-shan’s pirate band.

Anjer, Lord General.
General in overall command of the Hierarch’s forces.

Arif.
A lieutenant in Rykan’s forces.

Arlow.
An Andaryan Baron, chamberlain to the previous Hierarch.

Barrin.
A lieutenant in the Hierarch’s forces.

Calder.
A jailor at Duke Rykan’s palace.

Deshan.
The Hierarch’s Master Healer, also a Master Artesan.

Ephan.
A general in the Hierarch’s forces, overall commander of the Velletian Guard.

Falina (Lady).
The wife of General Kryp.

Gaslek.
An Andaryan Baron, secretary to the Hierarch.

Harva.
Marik’s elderly former nursemaid.

Heron.
Sonten’s Artesan commander.

Hollet (Lady).
The wife of General Ephan.

Idriana.
The Hierarch’s wife, now deceased.

Idrimar Pharikian.
The Hierarch’s daughter.

Is-kel.
A member of Ky-shan’s pirate band.

Jaskin.
Sonten’s nephew, who was killed by Taran.

Jay’el.
Son of pirate leader Ky-shan.

Kester.
One of a pair of giant twins, members of Ky-shan’s pirate band.

Ki-en.
Younger member of Ky-shan’s pirate band.

Kryp.
A general in the Hierarch’s forces.

Ky-shan.
The leader of a band of pirates from Andaryon’s eastern seaboard.

Nazir.
A minor noble in Count Marik’s court.

Reece.
One of Duke Rykan’s commanders.

Rykan.
Duke, Lord of Kymer province, and aspirant to the Andaryan throne.

Selmar Pharikian.
Timar Pharikian’s older brother, Heir to the Andaryan throne before his death.

Sh’iye.
A member of Ky-shan’s pirate band.

Sonten.
Duke Rykan’s ambitious general. Lord of Durkos province.

Tikhal.
An Andaryan lord, also known as the Lord of the North. Pharikian’s premier noble.

Timar Pharikian.
The Hierarch, Supreme Ruler of Andaryon.

Torien (Lady).
The wife of Lord General Anjer.

Ty Marik.
Count of Cardon province under Rykan.

Vanyr.
Commander of the Velletian Guard, the Hierarch’s personal Guard.

Verris.
A commander in Rykan’s forces, now deceased.

Xeer.
A member of Ky-shan’s pirate band.

Realms of the World

First Realm—Endormir

Endormirians are sometimes known as ‘Roamerlings’ because of their itinerant habits.
They are small and slim, dark skinned, with brown or black eyes showing hardly any whites. The Artesan gift runs only through the males, and gifted males always become clan-leaders. As Endomir suffers from severe winter conditions, its people cross the Veils into the other realms for the winter months, where they are well known as traders.

Second Realm—Sinnia

Sinnians are tall and milk-haired, with pale skin.
They live in clans and were once nomadic but now live in settlements. All are born able to control their metaforce up to the rank of Adept and are thus considered ‘sports’. Their race often produces highly gifted musicians and storytellers.

Third Realm—Relkor

Relkorians are small, fierce and stocky, notorious for raiding the other realms for slaves to work their mines and quarries.
Their Artesans, both male and female, invariably become slave-lords.

Fourth Realm—Albia

Albia is the human realm.
The Artesan gift runs through both male and female lines, each gender being equal in potential. The craft is currently out of favour due to raiding by both Relkorian and Andaryan Artesans. Albians widely believe that all Artesans use their powers only for gain and control.

Fifth Realm—Andaryon

A warlike race characterised by eyes with slit pupils.
They fight constantly amongst themselves, vying for position within the Hierocracy. The Artesan gift passes only through the male line and females play a minor and downtrodden role. Only the most powerful Artesan can become and hold the rank of Hierarch. Their battles for supremacy are governed by strict, ritualistic laws.

Terms

Artesan.
A person born with the ability to control metaforce and master the four primal elements.

Brine-rum.
Strong liquor, drunk by pirates on Andaryon’s eastern seaboard.

Codes of Combat.
Strict laws governing any conflict between Andaryan nobles.

Demons.
Derogatory term used in Albia to describe those of the Andaryan race.

Earth ball.
An explosive sphere of Earth element formed by an Artesan for use as a weapon.

Fellan.
A dark, aromatic and bitter beverage brewed from the seeds of the fellan-plant.

Firefield.
A barrier formed from the primal element of Fire, through which only Artesans can pass. Firefields formed by those of inferior Artesan rank can easily be destroyed by those of a higher rank.