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weakness, the sa'necari closed tighter around him. Another blade found him and
Isranon responded by killing the one nearest him. He knew then that he would
never reach Rose. His awareness began to gray along the edges. He could no
longer take in all of them. At least he would not rise, sa'necari always made
certain of that when they killed one of their own.
Margren retreated into the crowd, fading slowly from the gathering until she
reached the farthest edge to watch a moment before withdrawing completely.
Isranon reached the foot of the stairs and stood looking up at Bodramet. He
swayed on his feet, fighting to stay upright. Four rushed him from the back
and sides. He struck the step hard, cracking his knees against the edge. A
blade entered his ribs and fangs his neck. Isranon fell face down, twisted,
and put a blade into the eye of the one sucking blood from his neck. The
sa'necari released him and Isranon dragged himself forward step by step.
Bodramet's expression turned incredulous and he moved back a short distance,
gesturing for those around him to stop the youth. They allowed Isranon to
reach the top and then fastened on him. Isranon's blades slipped from his
fingers. Bodramet kicked them down the steps. The youth struggled briefly,
making small, suffering animal noises and then lay still.
* * * *
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Dane walked deeper into corridor, kneeling now and again to scratch notations
on the paper he carried. There had been several enormous soul vaults in
Dragonshead during the years of the first godwar, long before the present
Pantheon of the Light came, before the sa'necari existed, before the lineages
of vampires now existent had been created. Dane knew, because he had been
there. He had spent centuries slumbering beneath a fallen building before
waking when the debris was disturbed. His God wanted the contents of the soul
vaults before the sa'necari could stumble on them or the Trickster find them.
Although the Trickster was of the light, Dane's God considered her almost as
dangerous as those who served the hellgods. Dane allowed the dark ones to make
their own guesses about what he was. Rumor and ignorance were his favorite
tools and had served him well. His liege-god was Ishla the Tinkerer, only
survivor of the original pantheon, who had summoned the eight other gods from
across the void to defeat the hellgods. She had a penchant for creating
creatures that mimicked the creatures of darkness to infiltrate their ranks,
match their powers and destroy them. Her peoples were scattered and few in
numbers, still finding themselves again, but they served her faithfully. Dane
was certain the Trickster had spies here also, although he had failed to
discover them.
"Dane!"
He glanced back and saw several of his people running toward him. He met
them, catching one who stumbled to his knees. "What has happened?"
"The sa'necari killed Corcyr and Rhium. They took Rose."
"Margren declared an orgy," added another of Dane's folk.
"Come on." Dane started back. "They're using Rose to get Isranon."
* * * *
Dane found his second in command standing at the edges of the orgy with five
other of his folk. The vampires had established themselves within the mouth of
the open corridor at the edge of the great hall to hold a direction for
retreat should it become necessary. They watched the spectacle of the youth's
struggle, their faces a mix of anger and indignation. Blood mad vampires were
the first to be discovered, tracked to their lairs and destroyed by the humans
and their allies. For that reason the vampires, especially the royals like
Dane's group tended to destroy their rogues as the first sign of it. The
sa'necari, on the other hand, seemed to all gripped by the blood-madness.
Having their own realm, they had become too habituated to simply taking what
they wished to.
A good two spear-widths separated them from the sa'necari who seemed to have
not yet noticed their presence. They murmured uneasily amongst themselves as
Dane arrived just minutes after Isranon had passed the midway point. The youth
was in pain, but moving stubbornly forward.
"He has nerve." Dane said, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "He is a better
mon than the rest of them."
"Of a mon twice his years and experience," answered one of Dane's companions.
"He makes it. Mark my words," said one of them. "He makes it."
"Bodramet will simply kill him."
"They're supposed to let them both go. That's the rules," replied another.
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"Have you ever known sa'necari to play by the rules?" Dane asked.
"There's nothing we can do. They outnumber us," said another. "Filthy
death-eaters."
"Margren was here a moment ago," said another. "She's vanished now."
Dane nodded, stroking his sword hilt. "We'd never reach him. I'll not waste
your lives for nothing. We can pay some of them back before we leave here."
Dane's hand tightened on his sword's hilt until his knuckles whitened.
Isranon's body jerked, his shoulders arching backwards and Dane's second
cursed. "They stuck him! Damn it, they stuck him."
Four yards from Bodramet, Isranon went down again and the vampires cursed.
"He would have made it... He would have if they'd kept their blades out of
him!"
Bodramet laughed at Isranon as the Dark Brother forced himself up again.
"Dane!" Hekatarys came up to them. "The prince is on the bluffs. He returned
early."
Hope lifted the corners of Dane's eyes and eased the grim set to his mouth.
"I'm going to fetch him. Watch and remember." Dane ran down the hallway.
Finally Isranon got within two yards of them only to be dragged down and this
time he did not get up. Dane's vampires started to rush out, but his second
stopped them.
"There is nothing we can do, but die. Let us hope Dane returns quickly with
Mephistis."
Rose began to weep as Bodramet shoved her to her knees beside Isranon's still
body. Isranon lay in a huddled, unmoving ball, his blades inches from his
nerveless fingers. He bled from many wounds. Bodramet touched him and found
some waning life remaining. "You chose the wrong sa'necari," he told her.
"Bring him. I will finish this in my chambers."
Bodramet shoved Rose at two others. Troyes and Gareth dragged her away.
* * * *
Dane reached the bluffs atop Dragonshead and found Mephistis and his guards
dismounting in a clearing near the inner circle of the ruins. His abrupt
entrance sent swords sliding from sheathes before they recognized him.
Mephistis gestured for them to sheath their weapons. He turned, drew a long,
wrapped object from his saddle, and started toward Dane.
The prince had a pleased expression. "I have brought Isranon a gift for his
birthday. I remembered it and returned early." Then the look in Dane's eyes
registered. "What is it?"
The bitter edge in Dane's voice was a sharp as well-honed steel. "They're
making him walk the gauntlet. They're killing him." The fact that Mephistis
had brought Isranon a birthday gift, made him want to weep at the image of joy
lost in the desolation of death. He remembered his promise to Isranon to carry
the tale of his death to Nevin. Isranon would never accept the undead state
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and would seek the true death if he rose  but when sa'necari killed sa'necari
they did it well and their victims never rose.
Rage suffused Mephistis' face, he gestured for the horses to be attended to
and for the others to follow. "How could you allow this?"
"I was not present. Margren called an orgy for Sowayn while I was exploring.
They murdered two of my people and took Rose. Isranon went after them." Dane
would miss Corcyr and Rhium, but their deaths would not hurt as much as
Isranon's. They were warriors, while Isranon always seemed somehow sacrosanct. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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