PRINCE OF THE WIND (16 page)

"What kind of bargain?"

"He sold his immortal soul to Raphian in exchange for being freed from the accursed existence in the Abyss. He swore a blood oath to Raphian to do the beast’s bidding."

"As Suzanna did," Riain injected.

"Foolish woman that she is," Atramentous conceded. "One day she shall join those who have made the same terrible mistake, but until then, she wields the power granted to her by Raphian. But she has no more power in a place such as this than does her Master. Here, you are safe from Suzanna de Viennes."

"I can’t stay here the rest of my life."

"Nor can you be expected to. But if you were a Nightwind, you could go wherever you wished."

"How? I will have no truck with Raphian. I will make no blood oaths with such evil!"

"Patience, young one. Patience and I will tell you how! But let me finish my tale of the hapless WindRealm warrior."

Riain kept silent, though it was not his nature to do so.

Atramentous folded his hands in his lap. "The chieftain was drawn back from the Abyss by his agreement with Raphian and set in a lair from which he could listen to the cries and sadness of womankind. Female misery was like sweet music to his ears. He had no way of knowing that the cries that so amused him would one day be a siren’s call he could not resist."

"How so?" Riain asked, his gaze intent on the sorcerer.

"Uxumia and her remaining daughters were incensed that the chieftain had escaped the fate they had reserved for him. They had wanted him imprisoned for all eternity in the waste and mire of the Pit. His punishment was to know no end, you see. But they feared Raphian and could not scorn Him for allowing the chieftain to leave the pit. Then one day, the Sisters of the Black Rose, as they called themselves, led by the second and third-born daughters of Uxumia, made a pact of their own with Raphian. They would also do the demon’s bidding in exchange for the Resurrection of their sister."

"Raphian raised her from the dead?" Riain gasped, horrified at the notion.

Atramentous shook his head. "Not even Raphian has such power. He simply reanimated the corpse, and though she is dead, so does she walk the earth. In order to remain, she must have Sustenance to preserve her."

Riain shuddered with distaste. "I don’t care to know what that means." He frowned. "Why did they want to bring her back to the world of the living?"

"So she could exact her own brand of revenge on her murderer."

"Which was?"

"To make it so the only time he could leave his lair was in order to help females who needed otherworldly aide to make their lives more palatable."

"He had to serve the ones whom he had cursed!"

"Not only serve them, young one, but be at their beck and call, a slave to their slightest whim."

"That must have been hateful for the warrior."

"Hateful, aye, and a punishment he suffers to this day! It was their desire to make him suffer as much as possible, of making his immortal life and the lives of his kinsmen miserable."

"He could not escape them even in the Abyss," Riain commented dejectedly. "No more than I can escape Suzanna."

"True, but there was one thing the Sisters of the Black Rose did not take into consideration when they made their bargain with the Beast. It is the same miscalculation on Suzanna de Viennes’ part that will allow you some modicum of revenge."

Riain held his breath.

When Atramentous knew he had Riain’s undivided attention, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Raphian is male, and as such, His favor always has been and always will be given to the male of the species. Though he trucks with females who come to ask His help, He does so begrudgingly. He gave the chieftain—as he had given many before and has given many since—unique abilities to circumvent the Calling of the womenfolk who conjure the chieftain and those of his kind from the Abyss."

"There are others like him?"

"Many are the NightWinds, young one. They are legion."

"NightWinds," Riain repeated, savoring the word. It conjured images of rampaging demons whirling about the moonless dark. He wasn’t sure he liked the image.

"A NightWind is a mystical being with powers no ordinary man can know. He is like an invincible sword, cutting a swath through the black hearts of those who would stand against him and those for whom he has feelings. He can protect his own better than any ten mortal men."

"But he is in alliance with Raphian," Riain protested.

"Not all the chieftain’s kinsmen swore such vows to the Beast. Over the centuries, some have sworn alliance to other powerful entities, like T’En Erse."

Riain frowned. "I have not heard of that One."

"Ah, but She is just as powerful as Raphian, and the abilities She confers to Her followers are far beyond the scope of mortal man!"

Riain looked up expectantly. "What are these abilities?"

The sorcerer’s voice went lower still. "The abilities to shapeshift and timejump, and in the doing, escape those hot on their trail."

Shapeshifting was something Riain already knew about. It was rumored there were Chalean warriors capable of such a feat. But timejumping was something altogether new to his world.

Atramentous smiled. "What would you say if I told you that you could journey from this world to the OtherWorld in the blink of an eye?"

Riain gasped. "The OtherWorld is but a myth! A troubadour’s tale to entertain on a winter’s night!"

"It is as real as this realm in which we exist." Atramentous leaned closer. "It is gained through the Sinisters. Know you of this place?"

Riain’s eyes grew wide. "I have heard talespinner’s stories of it, but it is legend, nothing more."

"It is as real as you or I. The OtherWorld lies just beyond the mists, and it is through the Sinisters that the Fifth Gateway lies to that land where no Sister of the Black Rose may venture."

"The Fifth Gateway? I have heard of the Four Gateways into the Abyss. The Four ways of Evil—Death, Pestilence, War, and Famine. Is this another way into that evil place?"

Atramentous shook his head. "The Fifth Gateway is into Elysium, my sweet prince, to the Land of Milk and Honey. To, Tir-Nan-Og, the Land of Forever Young where there is no death, no disease, no unhappiness, and no want. There lies the FayWorld, an exceptionally beautiful place where it is ever Springtime."

"It sounds too good to be true," Riain said suspiciously.

"And would you call the Abyss too evil to be true?" Atramentous countered. When Riain hesitated, the sorcerer laid a firm hand on the prince’s shoulder. "If one is real, why can not the other be equally real?"

The weight of the hand on his shoulder brought a sense of disquiet to Riain, and he wished the man would remove it. No sooner had the thought drifted through his mind than the sorcerer drew back his hand.

"Think on this," Atramentous said, his gaze fusing with Riain’s. "There is a land where Suzanna de Viennes can not follow you. It is a place where none of her kind may enter. Is this not a place you would like to gain?"

Riain nodded. "Aye, but—"

Atramentous swept his right arm outward. "Behold," he said, and as he did, an arc of brightness flooded the room.

Riain put up a hand to shield the intensity of the light, squinting, for the brightness hurt his eyes. He turned his head, unable to look.

"Behold!" the sorcerer repeated.

The intensity of the light dimmed to a level Riain could tolerate. He slowly lowered his hand and turned his head toward the light.

He gasped.

Before him was a vista of unparalleled beauty, an upside crescent window into a remarkable world that took away his breath and filled his senses with such delight, he could barely stand the sensations washing over him. There were trees so vivid a green they seemed to glisten in the twilight. The bubbling stream meandering toward him was flecked with silver, though no moon nor stars nor sun hung in the violet sky to cast reflection upon the tumbling waters. A sensuous scent of gardenias filled the misty air and put his soul at rest.

"Imagine living in this idyllic world with your Lady-love, Riain James Cree," Atramentous whispered. "Where no death nor illness nor old age will ever lay its ugly hand on either of you—and no Suzanna de Viennes to make your life a living hell!"

Riain shivered as the man’s breath spiraled through his ear and seemed to make its way into his brain. He gripped the sheets in his fists and kept his vision locked on the fantastical world before him.

"Imagine it, young one," Atramentous breathed.

Riain could well imagine it. He could hear the churning brook, hear the flutter of unseen birds sailing across the violet horizon, the crunch of a doe’s hoof on fallen pine needles. He could see the solidity of the rocks beside the stream, the texture of the bark on the trees. He could smell the gardenia mixed with a hint of honeysuckle and he felt refreshed.

But it was a world he would not want to dwell in alone, he thought. No matter how beautiful, there was loneliness just below the surface that concerned him.

"She would be with you," the sorcerer said. "Maeve or whomever you choose to take with you."

"Maeve," Riain whispered.

"Maeve, the fair. The Morrigan." The sorcerer swept his arm the opposite way and the splendid vista vanished.

"No!" Riain cried, feeling the loss to the depths of his being.

"It can all be yours. Just say the word."

The disappearance of the FayWorld was like putting water in front of a man dying of thirst, then snatching it away before he could take a sip. Riain wanted more of that lovely world and he wanted to be there with Maeve. But more than anything else, he wanted to be where Suzanna de Viennes could not lay hands to him.

"I will not give my soul into Raphian’s keeping. Not even to escape Suzanna."

"You do not have to, young one. You can become a NightWind without signing a blood pact with the demon."

"How?"

"By swearing allegiance to T’En Erse."

When Riain attempted to protest, the sorcerer held up a staying hand.

"Think on this—the Daughters of T’En Erse have need of a champion who will seek out their enemies and protect them, a strong sword hand to keep them safe from the priests and inquisitors who would harm them. You help them, they will help you."

"Help them how?" Riain asked, confused.

"Intercede on their behalf. Much as the hapless chieftain has been forced to help females allied with Raphian. If one such Daughter is imprisoned for her craft, you shall fly across space and time to save her from her unjust fate. If a Daughter is being maliciously maligned by another female, you shall take that female to task and punish her as you see fit. Do what you will to her enemies, but to the Daughter, you will be true."

"That’s all?" Riain asked in a skeptical voice. "I act as her champion and nothing more?"

"If she pleases you and you wish to bed her—"

"I want only Maeve."

"Then Maeve you shall have. She is, after all, Morrigan—a generations-past daughter of T’En Erse."

Riain blinked. "She said nothing to me of that."

"Why would she? To admit being one with the supernatural forces is to risk being condemned by the Tribunals. Would you have her imprisoned for being of the FayWorld?"

Riain looked at the coverlet. His eyes shifted back and forth, and he thought on the things Atramentous had revealed.

"Without the help of the Daughters of T’En Erse, Riain Cree, you will forever be at the mercy of the de Viennes witch," the sorcerer reminded him. "But the goddess and her descendants would be sworn to aiding you as you aid them."

A cold shaft of hopelessness wove its way through Riain and he drew in a long, trembling breath. "What do I do?"

Atramentous held the vial of tenerse up to the light of the bedside candle, so a prism of ianthine light sparkled against the far wall. "This is the Way into the Light, young one. Partake of this special potion and all you have seen will one day be yours. You will become One with the NightWinds with their powers and their abilities, but without ever having to sign your soul over to Raphian."

Outside, the wind rose to a shriek, and the stone walls of the temple vibrated. Rain lashed so hard against the roof, it seemed the timbers would crack behind the weight.

"Hear how He rages?" Atramentous suggested. "He knows you are considering this and have found a way to escape His plans for you." The sorcerer extended the vial toward Riain. "Will you allow Him to win or will you block His efforts? How many more good people must die before you come to a decision, Prince Riain?"

At the reminder of the havoc his actions had already caused, Riain decided he had no other choice. With a trembling hand, he reached for the vial. When it was given into his keeping, he was alarmed at the coldness of the glass.

"Drink of the brew," Atramentous encouraged. "Drink and be One with the NightWinds of the goddess T’En Erse."

Not giving himself time to consider the consequences, Riain uncorked the vial and tipped it to his lips. The salty fluid flowed into his mouth, gagged him, but he swallowed convulsively until the single ounce of potion slithered down his gullet.

"Ah," Atramentous sighed, watching closely as Riain shuddered hard when the liquid spread through his system.

There was a knock at the door, then the knob rattled gently. "Riain?"

Riain recognized his mother’s voice and turned his head to the sound of the knob rattling more forcefully. His world felt cotton-encased and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as Atramentous got up from his chair and stared down at him.

"Will you let her in?" Riain managed to ask.

Atramentous smiled, but the emotion did not reach his eyes. "Not yet."

"Riain!" His mother’s voice held a note of panic. The door vibrated beneath the pounding of her fists.

Heat, rippling like waves from a bonfire, moved over Riain. He stared to sweat profusely. Intense pain doubled him on the bed and he grabbed his belly, groaning from the agony.

"How do you feel, young one?" Atramentous cooed.

"What did you do to me?" Riain’s belly was on fire, and the pain was worse than anything he had ever imagined.