Bloodsongs (44 page)

She could see his breathing, the ebb and swell of his body, as he slept. It made a kind of counterrhythm to the pounding surf. Overhead, sea birds began to dip and circle, calling their eerie, high-pitched cries. She watched them until the aching pressure behind her eyes grew too great.

What am I going to do?
she worried, glancing yet again at her lover. The scarlet cloak hid his face from her. She didn't want to hurt him, though his silence had cut her to the bone.

She sagged back against her tree and closed her eyes, unaware of the moment when sleep finally stole upon her. With a sigh she tumbled onto her side.

Her last thought was of Telric.

 

She awoke suddenly from a bad dream. The last orange glow of the sun stained the Calendi as it sank below the rim of the world. She had slept the day away. She rose slowly, wondering why Telric hadn't roused her. She looked around. calling his name.

He wasn't under his tree. There was no sign of him anywhere.

A weird sensation crawled up her spine. Ashur was gone, too, but when she called his name the unicorn emerged from the forest chewing a mouthful of flowers. She went to him and ran a hand through the thick mane, along his muscled neck, taking a measure of comfort and security from his presence. Ashur licked her hand and tried to nuzzle her shoulder.

But the saw-toothed edge of some indescribable fear remained with her.

She moved to the spot where Telric had slept. The mossy grass showed the imprint of his body, but the ground was cold. He had been gone for some time, then. She leaned down, then lay down in the same place exactly as he had lain. She closed her eyes and waited.

The sensation became a raw jangling that made her flesh creep. She leaped up, rubbing herself and cursing bitterly. A red haze of anger clouded her vision.

Unmistakably, the taste of Kel's magic lingered in that spot. But what had her son done this time? Why had he made Telric his only target?

She swung up onto Ashur without taking the time to saddle him. She shot a glance at the horizon. The sun was down, its last rays fading.

It was the night of the new moon.

She kicked the unicorn's flanks and raced along the cliff trail, giving no thought to the treacherous turns and narrow edges, knocking aside limbs that slapped at her face. Her father's fortress loomed above the trees, threatening and full of menace as evening gathered around its parapets.

Frost knew why her witchcraft had returned. Her mother's suicide, like a blood sacrifice, had powered the spell that stole her magic. But when Kel brought Reimuth back to life, he inadvertently negated her final spell. The result was that Frost was a witch once more. She could feel the power singing within her, and the song was one of purest, white-hot fury.

She swore to Tak, the witch-god, and to Orchos, who ruled the realms of the dead. If Telric had been harmed, there would be all the hells to pay. Nothing would protect Kel or Reimuth. Kin or no kin, she would rip out their hearts!

At the fortress gates she jerked Ashur to a halt. The air was acrid with her son's magic. Sophisticated wards, visible to her witch's senses, sealed the massive iron doors against her. The pattern of her son's spell glowed, a faintly traceable outline of crimson radiance, constantly shifting and changing, deadly to touch.

The pathetic fool! Was he really so overconfident? Did he expect her to walk up and knock?

She lifted her gaze to the darkening skies, and her mouth fell open in a soundless song. Clouds formed, gathered, and thickened in response to her call, black and impending. Sheet lightning rippled through the heavens. A blast of thunder shook the trees. Frost molded the storm with her song, shaped and bent it to her will. A jagged blue bolt flashed. She shook her fist; thunder answered.

She called the wind. It came ripping through the forest, slashing leaves from their branches, swirling them in its powerful wake. Trees bowed before its force; limbs cracked and crashed to the ground.

Do you feel it, Reimuth? By giving you your life, Kel has given back my power. Even as a child I knew you feared my magic. It came so easily to me. You were a great sorceress, but you had to sweat over your stupid chants and potions and grimoires and talismans. Did you think I couldn't feel your jealousy? That's why you shunned me while you pampered my brother. You turned him against me, Mother. You killed him as surely as I did.

Frost raised both her hands; tiny lightnings coiled and crackled about them.
You were right to fear me, Reimuth. You could never do this!

She slammed her hands together. The night split open with impossible thunder. A single alizarine bolt blazed downward from the clouds. All of Kel's careful, clever wards were as nothing. The gates exploded open on melted, smoking hinges.

Above the shattered gates the raven sculpture teetered and pitched backward. It hit the earth with a loud crack, and the bird's head rolled a few paces away from the body.

Frost didn't give a damn. For generations it had stood perched above the gates, the emblem of her family. If anything, broken it seemed a more fitting emblem. She looked away from it and fixed her gaze on the three figures in the courtyard.

She guided Ashur past the ruined totem. Telric took no notice of her. A dim aura of ensorcellment shimmered around him. In one hand he held the emerald Eye of Skraal. All his attention seemed focused upon it. In his other hand was the unlit Lamp of Nugaril.

Molten gold had been poured to make a circle, and Reimuth stood in its center. The runes and glyphs within the circle were also of gold. As Frost rode under the gate her mother spun about; her face mirrored desperation and anger. “Get out!” she raged, and she lifted her hands in an arcane gesture. “You can't interfere, not now!”

Her words were barely audible over the wind that screamed through the courtyard. It extinguished the torch in Kel's hand as he leaned forward to ignite Nugaril's Lamp. The dark hair whipped wildly about his head. The lightning reflected eerily in his eyes as he cast the useless torch aside and glared at his mother. His voice rose above the gale.

“Shut up, Grandmother,” he shouted at Reimuth. “Stop waving your hands about like a fool.” He moved away from the circle and smiled at Frost. “This bitch is mine alone.”

Frost brought Ashur to a stop and glowered scornfully at her son. A simple nudge of her knees and the unicorn would pierce him through. It could be over that quickly.

But it would be too easy.

She pointed to Telric. The Rholarothan was oblivious to all that had transpired. It only made her angrier to see him so helpless. “Release him, Kel.” Her voice was so low it grumbled in her throat, yet she knew he heard. “Or by the gods of Tartarus Lake, I'll boil the flesh from your bones.”

 

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

Shall I sing, O gods,

And play upon the lyre

Songs unsung for you, alone

And if I sing, O gods,

Will you love me

If I falter

If I mumble

Words unheard by man before

May I continue, gods,

Until the last song is sung

Until my heart bursts

And the whirling stars become not stars

But fevered, fading illusions

And if I sing, O gods,

Will you dance?

 

Kel clenched his fists at his sides. “He's mine, Samidar,” her son snapped defiantly. “While you tried to turn Grandmother against me, I lured him into the woods and set my mark upon him!” An ugly emotion warped his features. It was not her son, but a total stranger who railed at her. “You tried to take Reimuth away from me; instead, I took your lover from you.”

His hand dipped into the loose front of his tunic. Frost didn't know what he had hidden there, and she didn't wait to find out. She'd have no more of his tricks. With the merest thought she shaped the wind and hurled it at him. It flung him backward through the air, and he fell with a choked grunt, flailing in the dirt. He struggled to rise, but the wind held him pinned.

“You've done enough evil, Kel,” she said bitterly. “If you won't release him, I'll wrest him from you.”

Another voice shouted over the gale. “What about me, daughter?” Reimuth called. “Are you strong enough to wrest him from me?”

Before Frost could react, her own wind turned against her. An invisible hand smashed her from Ashur's back. Its power rolled her relentlessly upon the ground, tumbling her as if she were a helpless plaything.

Then, Reimuth let go a shriek, and the gale lost direction. Breathless, prostrate, Frost looked up as Kel flung a fragment of the cobbled pavement at his grandmother. “I told you to stay out of this!” Kel shook his fist as Reimuth dodged the second missile.

Frost scrambled to her feet. She almost felt sorry for her mother. Reimuth was blind to Kel's insanity, seeing only a replacement for the son she'd lost and a hope for the future of her family. Even now, she had no true understanding of her grandson's madness. Her face mirrored only hurt and confusion at his rejection of her aid, and Frost had to wonder if Reimuth might not be as mad as her grandson.

But the time had passed for such concerns. She thought, instead, of Telric. He stood unmoving, unnoticing, like a dead man on his feet. She had a vision of the corpses they had fought in the cemetery, creatures of Kel's magic. Now, Telric was a prisoner of that same magic, and damn her soul before she would surrender him to it!

She gestured, and her witchcraft surged forth to do her will. All around Kel the cobblestones ripped themselves from the earth and battered him. He cried out in pain and surprise and threw his arms up to guard his face. There was a loud crack, audible over the rushing wind, and Kel screamed. He clutched his ribs and sagged to his knees.

Blood flowed from his nose and from cuts on his brow and mouth. One eye swelled nearly shut. Supporting himself on one hand, he shot her a look of pure hatred. But the pummeling continued. A rock struck him in the back, another in the cheek. Dozens of stones and fragments spun around him, a deadly vortex that slowly was stoning him to death.

A chill unlike anything she had ever felt raced up her spine, and sickness gnawed her gut. She was killing her son, the only child of Kimon's blood. She had given him life; now she was taking it back. She trembled, and tears sprang unbidden from her eyes and trailed thickly down her face. But she did not relent, and her power did its awful work.

Then, she heard the chant. It grew in volume and intensity. From the corner of her eye she saw Reimuth's outstretched arms. The swarming stones around Kel slowed and fell to the ground as Frost felt the sharp edge of her mother's magic interrupt her own.

“I won't let you have him!” Reimuth called angrily. “I told you! I
warned
you!”

This time, Kel did not oppose her aid. Unable to rise, his face caked with blood and dirt, he took advantage of the distraction his grandmother had provided and reached within his tunic. His hand came out in a tight fist. Scarlet fire danced between his knuckles. He pointed at Telric and shouted, “Kill her! Kill the loveless whore! Now!”

Too late, Frost remembered the amulet that Kel had used to control her at Dakariar. Carefully but swiftly, Telric placed the Eye of Skraal and the Lamp of Nugaril on the ground. Then, with a savage cry, he yanked his sword from the sheath and charged at her.

A moment of indecision nearly cost her her life. At the last instant she sidestepped, thrust out one root, and tripped her friend. He rolled without losing his weapon and regained his feet. In a smooth motion, he turned to face her again.

She pulled her own sword free and looked around wildly, hoping to gain time, trying to think. She glimpsed Reimuth watching from the circle. Was that an expression of fright her mother wore? Kel raised up on one elbow, his face alight with a hideous glee.

“I told you, Mother.” He laughed, but his pleasure was broken by a fitful coughing, and he grabbed his ribs. In a voice strained with pain his words reached her. “He's mine; he does my bidding.” He tried to laugh again, and again pain seized him. A trickle of crimson stained his lips. “To free your lover you'll have to kill me,” he finally managed. “And to do that you'll have to kill him. Do you appreciate that, Mother? Do you hear me laughing?”

Telric circled her, looking for an opening in her defense. Suddenly he lunged, but instead of thrusting, his blade sliced in a high arc and whistled toward her head. Steel clanged and blue sparks flew. Twice more they engaged and Frost jumped back. Telric followed relentlessly. His eyes were vacant and staring, yet he moved with dazzling speed. Unexpectedly, the tip of his sword split her right sleeve open, and she knew the warm wetness of her own blood as it ran down her arm.

Telric gave her too little time to think. She feared to use her witchcraft against him. It wasn't really Telric attacking her; she didn't want to hurt him. Yet she couldn't continue to fight defensively. Sooner or later, he'd cut her badly and it would all be over. She used her sword to block his blows and searched for some quick way to stop him.

“Telric!” she shouted into his face when he closed again. She deflected his stroke, but the Rholarothan slammed into her, knocking her down. His sword bit into the earth where her head had struck as she rolled aside and found her feet. “It's Kel! Fight him!” She turned aside a nearly fatal thrust aimed for her midsection and spat in his eyes. Caught off guard, he stumbled back, wiping at his face. She kicked hard at his chest, hoping to knock the wind from him so she could turn her attention back to her son, but her friend was too fast. He caught her foot, jerked, and toppled her backward.

His blank gaze gave no answer as she screamed his name. The blade that descended to end her life was far more eloquent.

Then, a huge black shadow with eyes of bright flame saved her. Ashur crashed into Telric from the side, smashing him to the ground. The sword tumbled from his grip. He didn't even groan, just lay there, unmoving.