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"Nothing. Only that I didn't do it. Stygean hunched his shoulders.
"Did they believe you?"
"Yes. They compared my genes to your come."
"Good point. Jingen pursed his lips thoughtfully.  I should have washed her
out when I finished with her. Now I need to pick another one."
"How can you take this so calmly?"
"I am sa'necari. Have you no gratitude? I just got you your vengeance on Jun.
Remember how he beat you?"
Stygean dropped to the ground cross-legged, his chin sank to his chest, and he
blew out a heavy breath.  I liked Nolly."
Jingen shrugged.  She was cattle. There are plenty of cattle here. I will be
more careful next time. I won't leave anything of myself behind."
"There should not be a next time, Stygean said, his voice trembling with the
sudden onset of reaction.
"There must be, Jingen pointed out.  After all, you said that if I did one,
then you would."
Stygean's eyes widened and then narrowed again.  I don't want to...."
Jingen's eyes flashed with anger.  Are you sa'necari or not? Have you just
joined the cattle or are you still a predator?"
"I am sa'necari, Stygean said so softly Jingen could barely hear it.
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
KILLING FOR MY SINS
Isranon slept uneasily. He had been forced to resort to the Sanguine Rose
again to ease himself. Sanguine Rose was a cocktail of powerful drugs and
herbs in a troll's blood base. Troll's blood had an intense effect upon
hemovores, passing along some of the creature's regenerative qualities for as
long as it lasted in the imbiber's system. It was not a healing potion for
humans. Coupled with the drugs that laced the blood, Sanguine Rose eased pain,
brought sleep, encouraged healing, and, in very large doses, produced
hallucinations.
He floated in its warmth and the dreams came, memories of terrible of things.
The day of the attack upon him by five of Anksha's other blood-slaves had left
him permanently crippled in body, although he hid it well.
Shirtless in the summer heat, Isranon sat again beside the tiny postern gate
they called  Anksha's Gate, waiting for her return. This was where she
entered and left the grounds on her hunts. He had liked sitting on the boulder
near the odd gate even before he had known that it was Anksha's. The deepest
part of the thickets in the most tangled portion of the far northwest section
of the garden concealed the gate from casual eyes. It was wrought of high
quality steel twisted into the shape of lions leaping. Bone runes were set
into the stone of the arch that held it. Isranon could not read those runes
and often wondered what they said. No darkness emanated from them, and the one
time he had touched them he had felt a clean savagery in their depths like a
wild beast's, something whose mind was not turned to evil for its own sake.
Isranon smiled. A small pouch with candy in it for Anksha hung from his neck
on a leather thong. He had just sat down on a boulder with his flute in his
hands when the five sa'necari emerged from the trees around him.
Isranon stood up.  What you do want?"
"To speak with you, Bodramet said, coming nearer. Bodramet was nearly as
powerfully built as Isranon. He wore his black hair oiled and gathered at the
base of his skull in a dozen tiny braids.
Isranon stepped back without realizing the others had closed behind him and he
had placed himself into their hands. Power slammed into his head from four
directions. His shields snapped up, only to buckle instantly before their
onslaught, the backlash of power making his head ring. Isranon dropped the
flute, reacting where others would have reeled or fallen. His magic
overmatched, he struck instinctively with his hands, knocking Ennis into the
bushes and doubling Petros over with a solid jab to the solar plexus that
whooshed the air from his lungs. He glanced around for an avenue of escape and
saw Bodramet close the distance between them.
Pain seared through Isranon. He dropped his eyes to Bodramet's hand and saw
the long carving knife being shoved into his mid-section. The point emerged
from his back as Bodramet ripped it upward. Desperate to gain control of the
blade, Isranon grabbed at Bodramet's fingers, trying to pry them off the hilt,
struggling to prevent him from moving it in the wound or piercing him again.
Bodramet slammed Isranon with a lance of power through the chest, reaching
into his being to wind his spells through the Dark Brother's core. As he
sobbed for air, Isranon's hands came loose from the blade-hilt and he grabbed
at his chest.
"Half-a-mon, you should have taken what I offered. Bodramet gave the blade
another twist and Isranon shuddered.  When sa'necari kill sa'necari they do it
well."
Gareth stabbed Isranon. The blade went in to the quillons and the deathtree
runes seared his skin when they touched it.  The Master of Blood sends
greetings, Isranon."
"The price of heresy is death, Ennis growled, rising from the bushes and
drawing his blade. He lunged at Isranon and sheathed the blade in his ribs.
Isranon stiffened, then jerked, and opened his mouth to scream.
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Laughing, Yoris popped one of Anksha's scarves into Isranon's mouth as he
plunged the runed blade into his back. Petros whipped a second scarf around
Isranon's head to secure the first one, swiftly knotting it tight.
"Traitor, Petros snarled as he caught Isranon's shoulder, slipped his blade
in.
Blinded by pain, Isranon faltered. His hands dropped first to his sides, and
then clutched at his wounds, his shoulders hunching. Too late ... too late ...
I brought this on myself.... I defied them ... I broke the teachings...
Yoris caught him by the arm and stuck him again, slamming the Master of
Blood's runes hard against Isranon's bare flesh. The runes left a blackened
burn on Isranon's skin.
The dark magics of the demon-forged blades wove a flaming web of agony through
Isranon, burning like venom in his veins and arteries. Isranon reeled away
from them, struggling to keep his feet, heading for the trees. The sa'necari
were on every side; and no matter which way he turned, they stabbed him. Again
and again the hell-runed quillons met his skin as the blades entered his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]