Lunatic (30 page)

Merely a taste.

What else could the Leedhan ... the Leedhan do ... ?

His eyes started to close. Silvie said something, but he couldn't hear it.

Fog enveloped him. Shaeda, punishing him for succeeding, only to die of blood loss ...

Horses and riders shuffled toward them. Johnis felt hands reach for him. He jumped and tried to wrestle free.

"Easy," said the Scab.

"That's a lot of-what happened down there?"

"Look at him, Cap'n. He's almost glowing. And his eyes ..."

"Help the woman," the captain said. "Tie them up." He crouched and took the amulet from Johnis's hand. Johnis tried to struggle but couldn't.

Immediately the Black Forest returned.

The captain concealed the amulet. The forest disappeared behind the veil once more. "What in the name of Teeleh was that?"

"Black Forest. Shataiki," Johnis rasped. "I told Marak ..."

"Sucrow is going to want that," another said.

"It's for General Marak to decide."

They were taken up the path to the rim of the canyon, this Teardrop from Hades. Johnis was placed on the ground, on his feet, wrists bound behind his back.

Before him were almost two dozen of Marak's men. Evidence of a fight. Dead Eramites, mostly, it looked like. And a few throaters.

The dead Scabs would be left. Four rebels were bound and waiting. And Warryn and the remaining throaters were also under guard.

Johnis felt his mind tumble down the tunnel. Shaedas presence enveloped him. He did not resist. She was truly an entitylovely beyond comprehension.

And she was right. His amulet worked. Sucrow would believe now, now that all these men had seen, now that Marak's own captain had seen the eclipse.

Every last albino would die. Johnis's mind began to spin. Sucrow would kill him.

"Don't give it to the priest," he said to Cassak. He looked over at Silvie. Only then did he notice everyone was staring at him. "What now?"

The captain. "You, using an albino magic?"

"Are you a fool?"

"You're doing it again," Silvie said. "Your eyes ... Your wounds ... and mine too ..."

The warrior holding him let him look down. Sure enough. The bites and scratches and wounds sustained in his battle with the Shataiki were ...

Healing.

His mind sharpened.

Shaedas thoughts interposed with his own, and he couldn't tell which was which. No longer cared. She made him invincible. Omnipotent. Tasted so good ...

"Shaeda," he whispered.

Rough hands dragged him forward. "Let's hope you two haven't started a war," Cassak growled. "Move along. Marak and the priest can sort this out."

ucrow lit the last of his candles and settled to read the old Leedhan legends. Ever since the boy and girl had come, his interest had been kindled. He'd poured over the account and learned much, studied the ceremony the boy Josef kept going on about.

And his plans for the female ...

Sucrow sneered. She was a lovely little wench, wasn't she? A perfect specimen for the Great One, His Excellency, Teeleh. The greatest among the Dark Ones.

A knock at the door.

Sucrow looked up, scowling. "Enter," he snapped. The wretch obeyed and went to both knees, groveling. Sucrow circled the little fool. "I should let Marak hang you just for existing. You're late. Again."

"My priest, forgive ... There was much to-"

"Raise your head, boy. At least pretend to have a spine." Sucrow dug his nails into the back of the servant's neck and drew blood. The servant shuddered but didn't cry out. Sucrow raked deep along the bloated, flaking, already pained flesh.

His servant cried out. "My lord ... forgive me." He sat straight on his knees now, however. That was a beginning. Little weasel couldn't stand at attention correctly in the presence of Teeleh's high priest.

"Forgiveness is for the weak. I am disgusted at tolerating your incompetence. Why are you here, wretch?"

The servant was out of breath. Fresh from the desert. He held up a scroll with Warryn's mark on it.

"My lord."

"About time," Sucrow muttered. He tore it open and scanned it, reading everything that had taken place, including the skirmish between Eram, Cassak, and his serpent warriors.

"Cassak?" Sucrow swore. "Why was I not notified of this immediately? I am weary of that albino-loving general's defiance!"

"There is more, my lord."

"Well, out with it."

"As in the scroll, my lord, they have retrieved the amulet. Everyone present has seen the lair of these ... Shataiki."

"Where is it now? The youths are dead, I presume."

The servant shook his head. "The general has all three, my lord."

"The general. Eram?"

"No, my lord, Marak."

"Order him to bring me the amulet and to kill the whelps. And take the fruit from the boy as well."

"Regrettably, my lord ... Marak has refused."

Sucrow ground his teeth. "Stand up. Your groveling irritates me." He poured a glass of wine. "Tell him to obey my orders or I will see him tried for treason. I want that amulet."

"He ... he said you would say that, my priest."

"Finish, fool. You try my patience."

"He said that because you have executed his family and not allowed him to execute vengeance in his own manner regarding the slave, he will not turn possession of the amulet over to you."

Sucrow slowly turned from the man, tracing one of his braids. So this was it. Out of nowhere had come this amulet and with it the power to make or destroy all that mattered.

Rage boiled through his blood.

He would crush Marak for this.

And Qurong, if he got in the way.

In a matter of days, he would rule the Horde, and every single albino in the land would be dead.

"We will see," he said softly. There was a tremor in his voice. "We will see."