Twilight's Dawn (43 page)

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Authors: Anne Bishop

Tags: #Fantasy fiction, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Witches, #Epic

BOOK: Twilight's Dawn

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*Saetan?* Sylvia called again, her voice fading.

He found her sprawled on the landing web, trying to push herself to an upright position and too weak to do it.

He rushed over to her and dropped to his knees, lifting her enough to hold her against him. “Sylvia, what . . . ?”

Demon-dead. He knew the scent, knew the feel. How could he not know after ruling Hell for so many years? She was demon-dead and fading. Both of her Jewels, the Purple Dusk and her Birthright Summer-sky, hung around her neck and she wore both her rings. Only a drop or two of power left in each of them.

“Saetan.” Her voice was barely audible, but she still found enough strength to grab a fistful of his jacket. “I know how you feel about interfering with the living, but I’m begging you. Help me save my boys.”

He didn’t ask questions. He simply called in a small vial, flipped off the top, and closed his hand around it to give the contents a moment’s warmth. Then he pressed the vial against her lips and said, “Drink.”

She swallowed once, then tried to get away from him. He held her tight, and held the vial away from her to prevent her from knocking it out of his hand.

“Hell’s fire,” she gasped. “What
is
that?”

“A vial of Jaenelle’s undiluted blood,” he replied dryly. “If you think it’s bad now, you should have tried it when she wore Ebony. A couple drops of
that
used to feel like you swallowed lightning.”

“You’re a mean bastard.”

“And you want my help, so stop being a whiny girl. Just hold your nose and take your medicine.”

“I am
not
whining, you—”

He poured the rest of the blood down her throat. Since he and Geoffrey usually split one of those vials, he knew exactly what he’d done to the woman he loved—which was why he let her swear at him until she wound down enough to sound sane again.

He vanished the vial. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then we can . . .”

That was when he realized what was wrong with her legs.

Using Craft to take part of her weight, he picked her up and headed for a guest room located near his own suite of rooms.

*Lucivar!* he called on a spear thread.

*Father?*

Jolting Lucivar awake would hone the sharp edge of an always-sharp temper, but he’d deal with that when he had to. *I need your Healer at the Keep. It’s urgent.*

*We’ll be there.* Lucivar broke the link.

Draca waited for him at the doorway of the guest room. When she saw Sylvia, she looked into the room. A marble slab appeared, heavily padded and floating on air.

*It iss more practical,* Draca said.

Nodding, he went into the room and laid Sylvia on the padding.

“All right,” he said, winding a soothing spell through his voice. “Let’s take a look at you.”

“No,” Sylvia said.

He ignored her, pulled aside the torn coat and shirt, and stared at the knife wound that had killed her. He vanished the coat and shirt, then hesitated over the brassiere. It shouldn’t matter now, but it would, so he didn’t remove it. Instead, he called in a blanket and wrapped it around her so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed when Lucivar thundered into the room.

Which Lucivar did a minute later, followed by Nurian.

“Mother Night,” Nurian said as she rushed over to the slab. She reached out, her hands hovering over Sylvia’s ruined legs. “What happened?”

Saetan put his arms around Sylvia, pressing her face against his shoulder. “You need to make a clean amputation, then force the healing to create a closed stump.”

“But she’s . . .” Nurian swallowed hard, but she met Saetan’s eyes. “I don’t think it can be done when the flesh is no longer living.”

“When it’s done within a few hours of dying, the body still remembers what it feels like to be alive and will respond.”

Nurian looked at Sylvia’s Jewels and shook her head. “It would drain her beyond surviving.”

“She’s just had fresh blood. That will sustain her and provide you with what you need to draw for the healing,” Saetan said.

“Whose blood did you give her?” Lucivar asked.

“Jaenelle’s.”

“Half a vial?”

“A whole vial.”

Lucivar looked at Nurian. “Do it.You’ve got more than enough power to work with, so tap everything you need because you only get one chance at this kind of healing. If more blood is needed, I’ll supply it.”

Holding Sylvia close, covering her face with one hand, Saetan watched Lucivar call in a small knife and efficiently cut away the trousers while Nurian began making the cleansing brews she would need.

Lucivar studied the jagged bones and torn flesh, saying nothing, but Saetan had the impression those bones told his Eyrien son a great deal.

There wouldn’t be pain, because the numbing spells would take care of that. Some discomfort, yes, because flesh so newly dead still remembered, and the potency of the blood he could provide for her would keep her close to the line that separated the dead from the living. At least for a little while.

When Nurian was ready, Lucivar shifted Sylvia’s hips, straightening the legs. He pressed his hands on her thighs, holding her in place.

She cried, and it ripped at Saetan’s heart. Lucivar’s body blocked most of her line of sight, but Saetan still covered her eyes so she wouldn’t get even a glimpse of Nurian’s work. And while he held her, he sent out a call to his other son.

*Daemon.
Daemon!
*

No answer.

*Jaenelle!*

No answer.

*Surreal!*

No answer. Which meant they weren’t at SaDiablo Hall or in Halaway. Or anywhere in that part of Kaeleer, for that matter. Of course, if they were riding the Winds, they couldn’t hear him.

Swallowing a snarl of impatience, Saetan continued to wrap soothing spells around Sylvia until he felt her go limp. Laying her down, he smoothed the hair away from her face.

Lucivar gave him a sharp look.

“I did that,” Saetan said. “Her mind needs to rest. Lady Nurian, can you do without us for a few minutes?”

“I’ll be fine,” Nurian said.

He and Lucivar stepped out of the room and moved a few paces down the corridor.

“A blast of power hit her knees, blowing them out and taking the lower part of her legs with them,” Lucivar said, keeping his voice low. “If she was shielded, whoever did this wore an Opal, a Green Jewel at the most.”

“How can you tell?”

Lucivar gave him an odd look. “Because I know how her legs would look if I had hit her with my Red strength.”

Of course. “Her boys are in trouble.”

Lucivar nodded. “There must have been a fight somewhere. Did she bleed out from the legs?”

Saetan shook his head. “She probably would have bled out if none of her guards survived to help her, but a knife between the ribs is what killed her.”

“What did Daemon say?”

“He’s not answering.”

“All right. You look after Nurian, and I’ll go to the Hall and find out what’s happening.” Lucivar hesitated. “Do you think her boys are going to become
cildru dyathe
?”

“I hope not, but I do need to talk to Daemon about some children who have become
cildru dyathe
in the past few weeks.”

“I’ll let him know.”

Saetan watched Lucivar walk away. His sons were strong leaders and powerful men. He would trust them to take care of the living while he took care of the dead.

THREE

A
lert for anything or anyone who didn’t belong around his home, Daemon watched Jaenelle and Surreal hustle Beron and Haeze into the Hall, followed by Ladvarian. Just as he was about to go inside, he heard hooves and carriage wheels coming up the drive. He stopped and nodded to Beale, who closed the Hall’s front doors. Then he turned and waited for his visitor. Considering the hour, it didn’t surprise him when Rainier stepped out of the horse-drawn cab. What did surprise him was Lucivar’s sudden appearance on the landing web. He’d expected to see his brother, just not this soon.

*Give me a minute, Prick,* he said.

Lucivar stepped off the landing web but didn’t come closer.

“Report,” Daemon said quietly to Rainier.

“Sylvia’s court is furious,” Rainier replied. “Her Master and Steward had no reason to think any harm would come to their Queen. They had the impression that the guest rooms were already stuffed with people, which was why Lord Haeze’s family fumbled over having even one escort staying with Sylvia.”

“There were no other guests,” Daemon said.

“This was a trap set for Sylvia?” Rainier shook his head, as if answering his own question. “No. I was told the first invitation didn’t include her.”

“Unless she’s visiting close friends, a Queen usually travels with at least one escort,” Daemon said, “so Sylvia’s presence could have been inconvenient if she’d arrived with one or two of her First Circle in attendance.”

“According to the Steward, the second invitation was extended to Sylvia’s family
as a family
, not to a Queen and her sons. They gambled she would sympathize with another woman’s desire to reciprocate invitations without beggaring her own family.”

“Unfortunately, they gambled correctly.”

“Prince?”

He heard the alarm in Rainier’s voice, but chose to ignore the question under the word. “I brought Haeze back with us. The boy needs protection from whatever is wrong in that place. I’d like you to talk to him and find out everything you can about what’s been going on around his house and the village. You may have to circle around this, but I want to know why his younger brother wasn’t at home.”

“Done.” Rainier looked at the Hall, then at Lucivar, who was still waiting near the landing web. “Did Sylvia come back with you?”

“No,” Daemon said softly.

Rainier took a couple of slow, steady breaths. Then he approached the Hall’s doors, which opened before he could reach for the knocker. When the doors closed again, Lucivar walked up to Daemon.

“How bad?” Lucivar asked.

“Beron’s hurt, and at least half of his injuries were caused deliberately by the bitch Healer that family hired to take care of him. Jaenelle’s working on him, has been since we found him. She says he’ll be all right—and may the Darkness have mercy on that family if she can’t bring him all the way back to full health.”

“Mikal?”

“Sylvia told Tildee to run. We haven’t found her or Mikal yet.” Daemon blew out a breath and watched the white plume it made. “You’ve seen Sylvia?”

“Yes.”

“Has Father?”

Lucivar looked sad and grim. “Yes. She made the transition to demon-dead and reached the Keep before draining her Jewels completely. He poured a vial of Jaenelle’s blood down her throat.”

Daemon huffed out a pained laugh. “Well, that should give her temper plenty of scratch and kick.” The moment he said the word
kick
, he felt grief clog his throat. “I brought her legs. I wasn’t going to leave any part of her there. Now I’m not sure what to do with them.”

“Saetan wants to see you. He’s troubled by some
cildru dyathe
who have appeared in the Dark Realm recently. You can ask him what should be done.” Lucivar shifted his weight, rubbed his hands together.

“Do you want to go in?” Daemon asked.

“I figure you have a reason for standing out here in the cold.”

That simple. It usually was between him and Lucivar.

He blew out another breath just to watch it plume in the cold night air. “If you were Tildee, where would you run?”

“You already know the answer, old son.”

“I’d like confirmation that I’m thinking like a Sceltie.”