Prince of Fire (15 page)

The writings in the margins were even less precise than the body of the prophesy. The drawings were almost maddening, and in one margin there was written,
Those who are called must choose between love and death, between heart and intellect, between victory of the sword and victory of the soul.

Ariana had chosen between life and death when she'd had to decide in an instant whether to return to Sian and the battle or rest easy in the Land of the Dead. Sian said he'd been offered a similar choice when she'd asked him to take her life if Diella rose up and claimed possession of her body.

What of the others? What of Lyr and Keelia? They had been called just as she had, though they didn't vet know of the prophesy Sian's grandfather had written on his deathbed. For Ariana, the decision had been an easy one. Sian proclaimed he'd faced no real choice at all, that he would not have killed her even if doing so would've saved the world. Realizing how detached Keelia could be, Ariana wondered if the choice of the soul, the choice of love, would come as easily for the Queen. And Lyr... Lyr was so young, and he was a soldier who would be naturally inclined to choose the sword.

Ariana had realized that the growth of love in this world made the demon weaker, that the might of that powerful energy sapped the Isen Demon's strength. Her cousins wouldn't understand that fact. Not yet. Not until she had the chance to speak to them, face-to-face.

"Your grandfather should've been more specific."

Sian wrapped a protective arm around her. "My grandfather wasn't
specific
when he was well, and he was quite ill when he penned this prophesy."

His arm was warm, his body close to hers was comforting in a time when comfort was treasured.

"I just wish I knew .. ."

Sian rolled up the paper she'd been studying and moved it out of her reach. Though she was tempted, she did not try to snatch it back.

"We are not meant to know," he said logically and with a maddening calmness. "Not yet."

The rain increased and pattered more loudly against the tent above their heads, making Ariana glad for the shelter. And for the privacy. "I could not do this without you," she said, dismissing her worry for a moment. Or two.

The wizard's light extinguished, Sian's lips met hers, and Ariana gladly put war, demons, and her cousins from her mind.

7

The bite on Joryn's leg healed quickly, as was usual, but he could almost feel the poison in his blood. It did not weaken or sicken him, but still... he sensed the wrongness of the venom.

As they traveled, Keelia chattered often, in a way she had not in the time he'd known her. She spoke about her family—parents, brothers, and a spoiled sister; aunts, uncles, endless cousins—telling tales from long ago as if he knew them, or ever would. The concept of family was not entirely wasted on him, but he did wonder at Ihe wisdom of maintaining such strong bonds over the years. He did not tell her that he found her tales odd. His wound—and the fact that she could not see with any certainty the result of it—had made her anxious, and the chatter apparently calmed her nerves. He would wager that the Anwyn Queen was not often uncertain.

In the two days since the attack, Joryn had often wished that he'd swallowed his pride and obeyed her early morning command for sexual gratification. Their coming together would've felt just as good as if he had commanded
her
to please
him,
he imagined. It would have been as pleasurable as if she had begged, as he'd angrily suggested. Being constantly close to her did nothing to ease his natural desire for her... though he tried to convince himself that he would've felt the same for any woman in this situation, even if she were not so beautiful or so brave.

There was no trail to speak of in this wooded terrain, but he could tell that others had walked this forest not so long ago. Unnatural disturbances marked the paths they had taken. A broken twig, a bush's branches moved aside, a scuffed place in the dirt or in fallen leaves. Keelia seemed not to see these disturbances, and yet she continued to move in a direction that possessed the markings of other travelers.

She marched before him, her path taking them down for a long ways, and then up and across the mountain in a manner that was not at all arduous. Still, the journey was beginning to tell on her. Her hair was tangled, and her gold gown had been snagged on brambles and branches in several places and was also ripped along the hem. She scratched her own skin often, but she seemed not to feel the pain, and like him, she healed quickly. There was determination in her stride and even in her chatter.

Without warning, she stopped. Caught by surprise, Joryn took one step too many and ran into her. When she stumbled at the collision, he steadied her with his hands on her bare arms. She did not shake him off as she once would've, but instead turned her head up to the bit of sky they could see through the treetops.

"A storm's coming. A big one." She sighed. "We don't have time for this delay, but I'm afraid we won't make much more progress today."

Joryn studied the blue skies with skepticism. "It doesn't look like rain, much less a storm."

"Well, it's coming nevertheless." She resumed her journey, but this time the path seemed to veer in another direction. "It won't do us any good to get stuck in mud behind a curtain of rain that obscures our vision."

"I didn't think you needed your eyes to lead you," Joryn said, half-joking, but in part serious.

"Well, I do. This way." She pointed upward, and turned to a more sharply inclined path.

A short while later, Joryn smelled rain on the chilled breeze that slapped their faces and made the leaves flutter vigorously. Not long after that, the clouds completely obscured the sun. And then, the raindrops began to fall.

At first, the thick growth overhead protected them, but soon the rain was falling faster and harder, and the ground beneath their feet grew slick. Their clothes were soaked and the hard rain made it difficult to see where their steps were falling on this dangerous terrain. Still, Keelia seemed to have a plan; she seemed to be heading in a particular direction.

On a slick slope, she stopped and lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the rain. She pointed again with that slender, pale arm that he knew to be dangerous. "There," she said, shouting to be heard above the wicked weather.

"I don't see..." Joryn began, but Keelia moved forward with a quickened step. She veered to the right, stepping onto more level ground. Again her pace increased, until she was almost running.

And then she veered sharply to the left, and disappeared.

Joryn stopped and spun around. The heavy rain, the thick growth, the wind in his eyes, they all dimmed his vision. Still, how could Keelia be gone? In a heartbeat, without warning ... gone.

"Keelia!" he shouted, but it seemed the wind caught the name and carried it away too quickly. He thought of the misshapen creatures and how quickly they'd attacked by the stream. He should've sensed them, smelled them, but he hadn't. Not soon enough. What if they had the Anwyn Red Queen? What if they didn't stop at a bite, but tore out her throat, or her heart, or both? Perhaps it would be a better end than his own, but still... the pictures in his mind made him shudder.

What if they simply bit her as they had bitten him, and when the full moon next rose, she turned into a strong, brave, gifted monster?

A flash of white, the color of Keelia's skin, caught his eye and he spun toward it. From the low entrance to a cave, she waved at him.

She
waved,
as if he had not just imagined her ravaged by the mutant beasts.

He followed her direction to the cave, dipped down, and walked inside. There was little light here, so perhaps she would not see his scowl, or his worry. Not for the first time, he was very glad that she could not peek into his mind, as she did others.

The cave was larger than he had imagined it would be, judging by the entrance. Keelia was able to stand in an area the size of the Grandmother's meeting room, which was small but adequate for the witch and her students. The cave was certainly more than adequate fortwo weary travelers. Given the storm beyond the stone walls, it was quite comfortable. He never would've found it on his own.

The Queen peeled off her wet gown. "If you will build us a fire, our clothes and hair will dry faster."

Joryn directed his special energy to a spot near the entrance, and a small fire leapt to life. It provided not only heat to dry their clothes, but light. Light by which Keelia's skin glowed.

She was so incredibly beautiful. Not for the first time, he wondered why the Anwyn Queen couldn't be ancient and ugly, instead of a gorgeous woman who had picked up the annoying habit of suggesting that they were meant to be mates. For life.

"Your clothing will dry faster if you take it off," she said, gesturing with wagging, slender fingers to the trousers he wore.

"I'm fine."

"I can already tell mat you're aroused, if that is why you hesitate." She cocked her head to one side. "You insist that you don't care for me in any way, you say it is ridiculous that we are meant to be mated, and yet your body responds to mine."

"My body responds to any naked woman," Joryn said, remembering the moment when he'd believed she'd been taken by the mutant Caradon. That feeling of panic had been unlike any other he had ever experienced, but he could not tell her that. Nor could he dwell on it.

Keelia placed her soaked gown a short distance away, draping it on an overhang that jutted out from the cave wall. The thin material would surely dry quickly. She moved closer to the fire, her limbs loose and relaxed, her skin pale and flawless. She shook her hair above the flames, allowing the radiating heat to dry the long, red strands.

Outside the cave, rain fell hard, and the wind howled. A crack of thunder shook the mountain. They'd found shelter from the storm just in time, thanks to Keelia's senses.

It occurred to Joryn too late that he might be better off battling a wicked storm than battling a determined Anwyn Queen.

* * * * *

The rain continued long after darkness fell. They made themselves comfortable, as much as was possible given the circumstances, and Joryn delved into his pack and took out some of the last of the dried meat. He passed a piece to Keelia and partook of a bit himself.