PRINCE OF THE WIND (23 page)

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"His name is Cree," Amardad informed those gathered in the banqueting hall. "He is Reaper!"

There was a polite smattering of applause, a bored look or two, until Teos, one of Lord Amardad’s guards, challenged the new arrival’s right to sit at table.

One moment the cambion was laying hands to the Reaper, the next, his broken body was being dragged away by its shattered arms.

"Well done, Cree!" Lord Amardad shouted, holding aloft a flagon of chilled boar’s blood.

Riain studied the insolent look of the cambions, the sultry looks of the ardat-lile, then took his place at Amardad’s right hand. He said not a word to the man seated beside him nor did he answer the questioning look of the female across from him. He bent to the food placed before him and began to eat.

"It changes us, yes, it does," Amardad remarked as he leaned back in his chair and hooked an arm over the back. He thrust out one long, heavily-muscled leg. "It makes us more than we ever thought to be."

Riain grunted in answer and took up his flagon of mead. He tasted the brew, frowned, then poured it on the floor.

Hushed silence followed; every eye turned to Amardad.

"The mead was not to your liking?" Amardad questioned, a deadly timbre in his tone.

Riain looked boldly at his host. "It was sour."

The two men stared at each another for what seemed an age. When at last Amardad’s lips twitched, then stretched into a knowing smile, the guests relaxed and quiet sighs rippled down the table.

"So, Cree," Amardad said, "she wants you. Do you want her?"

Riain looked at the tyrian-haired beauty sitting across from him. His gaze shifted slowly over her curvaceous form, then settled on her delicate face. As her ruby lips parted and her tongue slipped from between glistening white teeth to lick at her mouth, he shook his head. "I’d rather hump a mangy dog," he said, then went back to his food.

Gasps sucked the air from the room; every eye flew to Lord Amardad.

Amardad blinked, snapped his head toward the woman. Her eyes narrowed and her crimson lips drew back over extended fangs. He stiffened and glared at Riain. "You dare to insult Lady Amira, Shepherdess of the Ardat-lile?"

Riain laid down his fork, picked up his linen napkin, and wiped at the grease on his lips. Deliberately, he shifted in his seat until he locked eyes with the Lord of Abbadon Keep. "She is your woman and it would be sheer folly on my part to beard the lion in his own den." Holding Amardad’s stare, he creased his napkin in precise folds, then placed it on the table. "I have a lady of my own and I would tear the entrails from any man or beast who dared lay hands to her. Why would you be any different in the care and regard of your own lady?"

Across the table, Amira snorted. "I am my own woman, Cree. If I wish to bed a male in Milord’s keep, I will bed him." She cocked a brow toward Amardad. "With or without his consent."

Riain nodded. "But you’ll not bed this one, Milady. Even with his consent—or command."

Another gasp shot through the banqueting room.

"You think not?" she flung at him.

Riain gave her a deadly, exacting smile. "I
know
not, woman."

For the space of a dozen heartbeats, the Reaper and the Ardat-lile stared at one another. Neither smiled and neither gave away the thoughts hiding behind their carefully blank faces. When at last Amira demurely dropped her eyes, Riain had no doubt he had won the battle.

"Be careful of her," Amardad said. "She does not give up easily."

Riain inclined his head in acknowledgement of the warning. "I am told you have a potion that will aid me in keeping out of Suzanne de Viennes’ reach."

Amardad drew in a long breath, then exhaled slowly. "A poison, not a potion." He cocked his head toward the doorway. "Let us speak of this in private, Reaper."

Riain glanced down the table to Atramentous, but saw the sorcerer engaged in conversation with a beautiful young boy. He tried to gain his teacher’s notice, but soon realized he was being ignored.

"Such is the way of the Molong." Amardad chuckled.

"What does that mean?" Riain asked as he stood.

Amardad’s eyebrows shot upward. "You do not know, Reaper?"

"If I did, would I have asked?"

Laughter rumbled from Amardad’s wide chest as he threw an arm across Riain’s shoulders. "As I said, it changes us!"

Amardad led Riain down a long corridor filed with smoky tendrils, drifting from bundled rushes stuck in the damp walls. He escorted him deeper into the bowels of Abbadon Keep until they came to a thick oaken door. He laid a hand on the studded panel.

"Through this portal lies the diseased heart of hell," Amardad said. "Only those who wish to cease enter here." He stroked the wood as though it were a lover, then turned. "Come, Reaper."

Riain studied the door for a moment, then fell into step behind his host. "What do you mean by ‘those who wish to cease’?"

Amardad looked at the Chalean. "Cease to exist, my friend. As you will one day feel." He stopped at another door, opened it, and stepped aside for Riain to enter. "Through here is one of the Pathways to the Abyss and through there"—he pointed to a door at the end of the corridor—"is one of the Gateways to the Maelstrom."

"I have heard of the Maelstrom. I am told it is the only place I can go to escape Suzanna."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

When Riain entered the Great Hall that led to the Abyss, he knew a fear he could barely control. His flesh crawled as though a hundred worms wriggled beneath it. The hair on the back of his neck prickled; sweat dampened his forehead and underarms.

"Being this close to the very essence of evil takes a toll on a man," Amardad stated. "Each time I have reason to come here, I leave a portion of my humanity behind." He pointed to a brace of throne-like chairs placed beside a roaring fire.

As unnerved by his surroundings as he was, Riain forced himself to sit calmly in the great chair allotted to him. The back was tall, intricately carved with gargoyles, hard as slate, and as cold to the touch as the grave. The wood against his body made him feel clammy and distinctly uneasy. As he looked down at the carved arms, the thought of these hideous arms surrounding him, imprisoning him, flitted through his mind. He shifted uncomfortably.

"I feel the same way," Amardad said, "but in order to do the business at hand, we must bide our time here a while."

"For what?"

"Not for what, my friend, but for who."

Before Riain could ask for whom it was they awaited, the room grew as cold as the ice caps atop Mount Serenia. The light dimmed to a mere flicker.

"You do not wish to look fully upon His face, Cree," Amardad whispered. "Believe me, you would not."

A stench began to form. Riain gripped the arms of the chair. "Raphian!" he hissed, his heart thundering. Inside his body, the Revenant Worm slithered, seemed to coil in upon itself.

"Far worse than that One, my friend."

At the far end of the room, a pale red glow appeared. With it came a sound like the clicking of deathwatch beetles. As the sound grew louder, the red glow spread, up the far wall and along the ceiling, like the creeping roots of a weed. It continued down the wall across from Riain, then dropped to the floor where it began to pool.

"Be respectful of Him and do not speak unless you are spoken to."

Riain nodded, riveted on the crimson pool as it began to lift from the floor in a slow, cyclonic band. As it spiraled—broader at the top than the bottom—the clicking sound elevated and the temperature decreased.

"He is your only hope, Cree. Listen and do as He says or you will suffer the consequences. Do you understand?"

"Aye," Riain muttered.

The cyclonic band ceased its revolutions and became a slender pillar of a bright red substance that appeared to wave within the perimeters of its shape. The pillar took on the shape of a tall, thin man with long arms and legs, and a head far out of proportion to his body. The facial features were blurred, though mobile, and the lengthy, tapered fingers twitched.

"Let me do the talking," Amardad insisted.

"Be my guest," Riain said with a shudder.

The facial features solidified. Riain had to look away, for so gruesome was the image, he could not bear to look upon it.

"And whatever else, do not get out of that chair!" Amardad warned.

"Don’t worry. I doubt me my legs would lock in place!"

"Why have you come, Ben-Alkazar?" the demon asked.

Riain gripped the arms of his chair, for the sound of the demon’s voice set his teeth on edge.

"We have a new revenant, Master," Amardad answered. "His name is Cree."

"Creeeeeeee," the demon hissed.

"He was bitten by the Dead One, Dearg Dul."

"If he is Dearg Dul’s, why have you brought him to Us?"

Amardad cast Riain a quick look, then turned back to the demon. "Revenge, Master. He seeks revenge against a human female."

Riain risked a look at the demon and had to swallow the gorge that shot up his throat. The being was so vile, so corrupt, it was a blessing the lights were so dim. He had no doubt that, should the full power of the demon’s appearance be seen, it would drive the viewer insane.

"Creeeeee? Do We not know another revenant named Creeeeee?"

"Aye, Master," Amardad acknowledged. "Syntian Cree, the NightWind."

"Ahhhhhhhh. We remember that one well!"

"The family has been cursed by two females now, Master. And the curse is such that it must stand. But with this one"—Amardad laid a hand on Riain’s arm—"we have come to ask Your help in freeing him of a human female’s power."

The demon moved closer with a sloshing sound as Its body substance shifted. "This female has sold her soul, has she?"

"To Your enemy, Master. To Raphian."

The demon recoiled, drew Itself up as though the very name offended It. Virulent hatred settled on Its hideous face and congealed.

When Riain gagged and turned his head, Amardad’s hand tightened on his arm in warning.

"He asks for a way to escape the human female, Master. He has come for the poison."

A shrill shriek nearly stopped Riain’s heart. If he weren’t already dead, he thought, he would have succumbed then and there, for the sound was so horrendous, so evil, it had the power to terminate life.

"Maiden’s Briarrrrrrrrr!"

Amardad respectfully inclined his head. "Aye, Master. That is what he seeks."

Riain heard the sloshing come closer, nearly suffocated on the horrific stench permeating the air. He tensed as a wafer-thin arm stretched toward him, then cringed, praying to any deity who had not forsaken him not to let the demon touch his flesh.

"Cree!" Amardad hissed in warning.

The vile thing touched his cheek. Riain wanted to scream. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his teeth, and dug his fingernails into the chair arms.

"Ahhhhh," the demon sighed as It caressed him. "This one still has good in his soul."

The slimy feel of the demon’s touch as it slithered from his cheek brought tears of sickness to Riain’s closed eyes.

"Will you help him, Master?" Amardad asked, his voice unsure.

"Help him…"

"Master, he—"

There came a violent flash of vermeil light, then the room plunged into a darkness greater than that of the tomb. Heat flashed through the room on a whirlwind, then left as swiftly as it came.

Riain would have left his chair, but Amardad held him in his seat.

"No!" Amardad thundered.

The rushes along the walls began to flare into life, one by one, with a soft puffing sound. When the chamber was once more lighted, Riain saw a amethyst vial floating in the air before them. With trembling fingers, Amardad reached for the vial.

"I guess we have His answer," Riain whispered.

Amardad passed the vial to Riain. "Do you know what to do with this?"

"Atramentous says that, if I take it, I will put an end to this unholy life I am being forced to endure. I will go to the Gatherer."

"Aye," Amardad snapped, fanning the air as though a bad smell had wafted under his nose. "You will soul-die, all right. The poison can kill the revenant worm as quickly as fire or drowning."

"Drowning?" Riain asked, not having heard of that way to rid himself of the parasite.

"That ain’t a way out, Cree. The revenant worm will not allow you to cross running water, for it fears you will drown. Water flooding the body cavity will destroy it. It can not live in water any more than you or I." Amardad thought about that for a moment. "That’s not entirely true. There are revenants who can exist in water, but those are merfolk. Their revenant worms are like water snakes, another creature altogether."

"If I were to drown—"

"The worm would
not
allow you to try."

Riain held up the vial and stared at the purple crystal. "So this is the only way I can soul-die."

"Other than by fire, aye. And I doubt you would want to try fire."

"No, I would not."

"Let’s say you take the poison and your world begins to shut down. You see the light of the Gatherer’s Realm in the distance and you start toward it, which you will want to do. If you have hidden your tracks well—and you will certainly want to do that—you are well on your way to escaping the de Viennes woman or the Dead One. You are almost to the light when you hear her behind you. If you move fast enough, reach the light, walk or crawl inside, you will be safe. Your soul will die and you will be taken into the arms of the Gatherer and carried to her Realm of Light. If you’re too slow, if you allow one of those bitches to lay a hand on you, the revenant worm will be revived by the evil in her touch and it will feed on that evil. Her touch will keep you from the light and she will drag you back through the Abyss, no doubt causing you physical agony." He threw out a hand. "Like cutting your throat. You’ll be so weak, you will not be able to keep her from administering the antidote and you’ll revive."

"Atramentous explained all that to me."

Amardad stood and began pacing. "I wouldn’t trust everything that one says, boy. He is Molong."

"So you’ve said, but I don’t have a clue what that means."