Prince of Magic (22 page)

Men and women, young and old, armed with whatever weapons they could steal or fashion, they were a ragged-looking army. Ragged but hungry for blood and unfettered by morals.

He kept to himself the belief that his legion could easily decimate Fynnian's soldiers if he commanded it. Fynnian didn't need to know, and besides… they were
all
his soldiers.

Under the light of a full moon, Ciro studied his legion. Fynnian had provided a fine, large, white horse for Ciro to ride upon. His army consisted of more foot soldiers than horsemen, but in time that would change. As they marched across the country, they would take what they needed, including horses.

When they marched through a village, they would leave nothing behind. They would take what they wanted and destroy all else.

He spoke loudly enough that all could hear them, even though the men stretched partway down the mountainside, and more continued to come. He could see them coming, trudging forward lit by moonlight and determined to be one of his Own.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

The answers were shouted and whispered and silent. He heard them all.

"Will you follow me wherever I lead you?"

Again he heard every answer, and those responses fed him almost as well as a soul and a mouthful of blood. These soldiers were not just his to command, they were a part of him. An extension of his power. An extension of the demon itself.

"Will you live and die at my command?" This time he shouted, and every answer, every one, was shouted aloud. The mountain shuddered, and he smiled.

"Do you love me?"

The answer was tremendous, and unshakably affirmative.

They would soon march down the mountainside, but not yet. Ciro had business to attend to first.

An anxious Fynnian followed Ciro into the house.

"This is not necessary," Fynnian argued. "The servants know to keep Rayne isolated and safe, and—"

"I did not ask for your counsel," Ciro snapped. "And if you think you are still in command, I will be glad to prove that you are not." He glanced back at the old man who followed him. Fynnian remained useful and might be so for a while. As long as he didn't get in Ciro's way, he would continue to live. If he faltered, however, there would be no hesitation.

Inside the house, Ciro made his way to a plain door that looked as if it might open onto a storage room or a pantry. Instead beyond the door there were narrow, steep stairs that led down to a cool cellar. The house had been built to accommodate the mountain, and this part of the dwelling was on the side of the mountain. Below the floors were the rock of the mountain itself, and one high, small window would allow a hint of light to touch the room each afternoon. Rayne would like that. She would enjoy the fleeting warmth of sunlight each day.

He heard her pathetic pleading before he reached the bottom of the stairs. She was begging one of the servants who had been assigned to keep watch to release her.

Ciro began to speak before Rayne or the servant could see him. "The man knows better than to release you, my beloved, as I would know of his betrayal immediately and would return here in a moment's time to eat his soul and drink every drop of his bitter blood."

The servant in question shuddered, knowing Ciro's claim to be true.

Ciro stopped in the center of the well-lit cellar to ' admire his future bride. His betrothed. The flames from many oil lamps and candles flickered, so that light seemed to dance over Rayne and the old man who had her keeping.

He would not be cruel where his bride was concerned. Rayne had all the comforts she might desire here in this cellar. A small but comfortable bed. A padded chair. A stack of books. Paper and pen. The servant he had arranged to care for her would see that she was well fed. Tonight she was dressed in one of her favorite gowns, a pale blue frock that was girlish and spoke of propriety and decorum.

The chains which shackled her to the stone wall allowed her to move to all of the comforts he had provided for her, so he could not understand why she cried and pleaded.

"Sir," she said, her eyes wide and beseeching. "Please release me. I will tell no one what's happened here. I'm sure this is simply an unfortunate misunderstanding."

He grinned at his future bride. The purity of her soul shone around her. That purity called to him, but it also kept him from her. Still he grinned, because he knew that when he returned, he would have the power to take what he wanted, and she would be here waiting for him.

"I'm going off to war, my beloved." He ignored her pleas and walked toward her. She backed away as far as she could, but had nowhere to go, thanks to the shackles and the cold stone wall behind her. "Think of me while I'm away." He caught up with Rayne when she had moved as far as her bonds would allow. He touched her chin with one finger and lowered his mouth to hers. He could not take her soul, and it was not time to take her body, but he could take a kiss.

When his lips were almost on hers, she turned her head away.

Angry, Ciro clutched her face in one hand and held her fast. This time when he took his mouth to hers, she could not move.

He opened his mouth wide, and though she fought him, he forced her to do the same. She was very warm and she tasted good, as he had known she would. Ciro was vaguely aware that his beloved was beating against him with her small fists. The chains that hung from those fists clanged. Her tears dampened the kiss, and they tasted salty and good. She pushed against his arms and his chest, she even tried to pull his hair. He paid no mind to her efforts and the keening noise she made. No mind at all.

He thrust his tongue into her mouth and she tried to squeal and push him away, but he held fast and moved his tongue in and out of her mouth, mimicking the act she was so afraid he would force upon her now.

She had no need to fear. Not today. The time was wrong for the making of his son, but when he returned, the time would be right.

When he returned, Rayne wouldn't fight him this way. When he returned, he would be strong enough to make her do anything he wanted. She wouldn't dare fight him after he returned to her victorious.

Just to make her squeal, he cupped her breast and gave the nipple a tweak. Her entire body shuddered, not with anticipation but with fear.

He liked it, so he bit her lip lightly and tasted a drop of her sweet blood.

Ciro finally released Rayne and backed away. She was so beautiful with terror in her damp eyes and one small drop of blood on her bottom lip. He wanted another taste, but the blood of others would soon enough satisfy that need. He wanted souls to sate the hunger, but for now tainted souls would do, and there were plenty of tainted souls awaiting him.

"Good-bye, beloved," he said. "When I return, we'll be married."

Rayne shook her head in denial, but said nothing.

"We will be married," Ciro said. "There will be a priest of my choosing in attendance, and we will have a few witnesses as our guests. And if you do not happily agree in front of them all to be my wife, I will kill them one at a time until you do." He continued to smile. "I'll start with your father, if he lives that long." Ciro cast a glance at a cowering Fynnian, who had wisely remained silent throughout the exchange. "And then I'll continue with the kitchen help, and perhaps that one mousy maid you like so much."

Rayne managed to force out one hoarse word. "Why?"

Ah, she was so naive. "Because I love you, of course."

Sian paced in front of the emperor. He had bungled everything, hadn't he? The news about Ciro, the truth of the prophesy, giving in to his desire for Ariana… he had bungled it all.

Arik waved a hand at the pacing enchanter. "Sit."

"No, thank you. I really must be going." Ariana's army was gathering at the gates at this very moment, preparing to march. Ariana's army. If there were any words more ridiculous, he had never heard them.

"Stay a few days," Arik said. "I've missed you. I've missed your entire family. Did I ever tell you about the time your father and I ventured into the village where your mother lived? It was long before you were born, of course. Your mother was just a girl, and was already a celebrated witch in her village."

"I'm very sorry, but I can't stay," Sian said. "I must go."
Now
.

Arik looked disappointed. "I'm sorry to hear that. It seems as though you've been here no time at all, and you were so busy, we had little time for visiting." He nodded slightly. "I wish you well on your journey."

Now was the time to nod in return, to wish the emperor well, and to depart. If only it were so simple.

"There's something I must tell you first," Sian said. "I do not wish to tell you, I would do anything not to tell you, but recent events have taught me that secrecy between friends is not beneficial, even if it seems as though it might be."

"You have bad news."

"Yes," Sian said simply.

"Is it… Ciro?"

At that moment, Sian realized that Arik already knew his son was not coming home. The emperor did not know why or how, and he did still hope, but he possessed a father's intuition that told him all was not well.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is."

Sian knew no way but the blunt truth, and so he told it, from the meeting in Level Thirteen to the second appearance of Diella in his chambers. The light in Arik's eyes dimmed significantly as Sian told what he knew, as the last of his hope was snatched away.

Finally, he knelt before the old man's chair and took two trembling hands in his own. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "If I could change this for you, I would."

"I know," Arik whispered.

"If Ciro comes here, do not let him into the palace. He is no longer Ciro, but a monster without a soul. He might look like Ciro, but what lurks beneath the skin is not your son."

"Perhaps something of Ciro remains, and I can—"

"
Nothing
of your son remains," Sian said, boldly interrupting the emperor in a way few dared to do. "Do not allow him to fool you into believing that he can be saved. He can't."

The emperor sighed, downhearted. "This changes everything," he whispered.

"I know. I'm so sorry to be the one to bring you this news."

"I will always grieve for my son, and I would like to remain here and convince myself that you are wrong and he can be saved. My responsibilities demand more of me. I cannot die without an heir," Arik said in a low voice. "The resulting struggle for power would tear this country apart."

"Then you must get well," Sian said. "You must marry again, and have more sons." He did not think it was possible that Arik would recover to that extent, but if the battle against darkness was won, and the darkness that had infected the emperor was gone, then it was possible.

If Ciro and the demon who had taken him were destroyed, then Arik might live to produce another heir. He was still young. Many previous emperors had produced children well into their seventies, and when he recovered, Arik could do the same.

But if that opportunity did not arise, the country would be, as the emperor said, torn apart. "In order to allay the confusion that would arise if something were to happen to you…"

"If I were to die," Arik said bluntly.

"If you were to die, then," Sian repeated calmly. "You must name another heir or a trusted comrade to follow you. A relative or a minister, perhaps."

Arik's pain showed all too clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his once-strong hands, but his voice remained relatively calm. "Even if I name a minister to follow me, there will still be war. Another will claim the throne, and sides will be chosen, and in the midst of this unholy war of yours, a struggle entirely human will also take place. There must be blood for the successor to be accepted. In the past, bastard sons have been named emperor."

"I am aware." In fact, Arik had been a bastard child who took the throne from a legitimate son who had been a vengeful and unworthy leader.

"Do you believe my ministers and priests, the people of this country, would think less of me, or of him, if I revealed at this late date that I have a son by a woman I never married? A son I never claimed, as I did not want him to suffer the heartbreak I suffered as a child who was always looked down upon as less than one who was legitimate?"

Sian experienced a shiver of surprise. Arik, who had always been so upright and truthful, had a hidden illegitimate son? "Is he worthy?"

"Oh, yes."

"Is he old enough to assume the throne?"

"Yes," Arik whispered. Tears filled his eyes. "I did not want him ever to know," he said. "It might seem cruel, but in my own way I only wanted to protect him. He had a good life, I made sure of that. He had everything he ever needed, including a loving family and a name not my own. My son had a good life," Arik insisted again. "And now, in the name of Columbyana, I must strip from him everything he holds dear. Will I be forgiven, Sian? Do you think me a terrible person, a terrible father, for keeping this secret so long?"

Sian was dismayed by the way the emperor held his hand so desperately. His health could not take this kind of strain.

"My lord, you do not need my approval or forgiveness. When the time comes, you might need to ask those things from your son, but—"

With a surprisingly strong hand, Arik gripped Sian's chin. "But I am doing just that. Do you?" he asked. "Can you forgive me?"