Everliving Kings (the Heroes of Darkness Saga) (15 page)

18

Prince John opened his eyes to find he was l
ying on a plush couch near a good sized fire. Oddly enough, his head did not thump as is so often did when he awoke, and he could make out hushed voices somewhere near him. When he finally decided to sit up and find out where he was, the first face he recognized was that of the Archbishop.

“Oh, good heavens, I am so glad to see you Mathew
, is Marion with you?” he asked.

“No, my
Lord, she will join us on the morrow.”

Prince John smiled, “Oh, good then. You know
I had the most alarming and realistic dream…” The Prince let his thoughts trail off as he looked around the room and realized he was not back in London. That thought could only mean he had not been dreaming as he had hoped, and it was confirmed, when Sheriff Brewer turned around and smiled at him.

“Ah
you’re Grace, I am so glad to see you are awake and rested, I know the trip from London is not an easy one. I must apologize for not letting you rest when you arrived.” He said with a bow.

Prince John nodded, only half listening and looked around the room wide eyed until he saw the source of his nightmares. To his horror, Anya smiled and curtsied as if she were greeting him at a royal ball. “You! I did see it! Bishop quickly, you must pe
rform the rite of exorcisms! That girl is a demon! A fang toothed devil here to take our souls!” he shouted in hysteria as he climbed backwards over the couch.

The
Archbishop put his hands up to calm the terrified Regent, “You’re Grace please calm yourself, you may hurt the Lady Anya’s feelings. She is no danger to you I can promise you that.”

“What? Has she bewitched you as well? GUARDS!” he bellowed now convinced everyone in the room was out to get him and drag him off to hell. Crouching down behind the couch he clasped his hands together and slammed his eyes shut. “Oh, please dear
Lord, I can change! I swear I can!” he mumbled.

Anya could see the monarch was on the verge of a nervous-breakdown, so she called on the one power that conquers all….lust, the true driving force of love.

“Julnar.” She whispered, knowing full well the almost dead girl would hear her and come to her master’s call. Just as she had hoped, as soon as Julnar entered the room to see what her master needed of her, the Prince stopped his blubbering, and stared slack-jawed at the young woman.

“Yes, my lady?” Julnar asked with a slight bow as she reached the
Risen girl’s side.

Not missing a beat, Anya stepped forward and waved a delicate hand towards the still cowering ro
yal. “Julnar, I would like to introduce you to the ruler of this land, Prince John of Aquitaine.”

The Regent blinked, before blushing in emba
rrassment and climbing back over the couch.

“My
Lord I would like to present to you my…handmaiden, Julnar. She is also a victim of my… curse.” 

As the
Risen had expected, the stunning beauty snapped the nobleman out of his hysteria and now had his complete attention.

“Oh my poor dear, how dreadful! I assure you I will do whatever it takes to aid you both
!” He proclaimed as he gently took Julnar’s hand.

Anya flashed a quick smirk at the stunned
Sheriff before leaning forward and saying, “Show him your fangs Julnar.”

The young woman obeyed her creator and opened her mouth for the Prince to see, causing him to gasp and step back, dropping her hand in the pr
ocess, just as Anya had intended.

To cover his embarrassment, the Prince cleared his throat, “Hahem, yes, well, Mathew, what do you think can be done to help these
… young ladies?” he asked of the Archbishop.

The
Archbishop raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Well, my Lord, while you were resting, the Lady Anya and I went over that very same question. It would seem this affliction must be stopped at the source of the evil. I am afraid we must get Lord Rathbone himself to agree to an exorcism. If we can drive the beast from him, then the young ladies should also be free from its influence. They have shown no aversion to holy objects or prayers, and I have even given them both the rite of Holy Communion while you rested. As you can see they are in good health and good spirits, so I can only conclude we must get to the root of the problem.” He finished with a shrug.

At that the Sheriff saw his opening, “My
Lord, perhaps if you were to ex-communicate him from the church the demon would give up the pursuit of his immortal soul.”

The
Archbishop frowned at him in shock, “My word that would be a drastic move! I have no intention of condemning the poor fellow to hell if I can help it! How do we know this demon has not preyed upon a good Christian man? Hmm? What then?”

Anya thought briefly about telling the holy man her father was far older than the religion itself, but held back, knowing to do so would be to give away her own ruse.

“You’re Grace,” the Sheriff tried again, “he is on his way back here to claim his ‘prisoner’. Now I was hoping that by holding a royal festival this would give the lady Anya sanctuary as we sorted out just what to do. I have already sent a payment off to the French mercenaries my Lords and they now work for me. So far we have blocked him at every turn, but we don’t yet know why he went to Edinburgh, or should I say who he went to meet.”

The
Archbishop shook his head, “But a royal festival is not church ordained, it would not carry with it the power of sanctuary.”

“It would my
Lord if the church was involved in some way, would it not?” Brewer asked knowing full well the answer already.

“Well, yes, but the church does not preform jousting contests!”

Prince John could not help but snicker, “Unless it involves altar boys!”

Before the Bishop or the
Archbishop could complain about the Regent’s rude remark, the Sheriff blurted out, “What about a wedding?”

The room went silent as the clergy and Prince John exchanged confused looks. “Well, yes, that would qualify.” The Archbishop said at last.

Sheriff Brewer let a smile peek through his beard, “Well then, my noble gentry, may I formally introduce my intended, the Lady Anya, Matron of Nottinghamshire and Devonshire.” He said with a wave of his hand. Anya curtsied and smiled as he spoke and once more the room was dead quiet in shock.

Prince John smiled from ear to ear and shou
ted, “WINE! We need to celebrate a wedding! Well, so long as the church does not mind?”

The Archbishop flushed red in the face, “Um, no, my
Lord, as I said I have already given the Lady the rite of Communion, I see no reason for the church to interfere, besides we my yet find a cure by the end of the week.”

Anya nodded at the Sheriff as they exchanged confident looks; things were going well so far, now however they needed to face her father, Zog himself. Without a doubt
, that would be the biggest hurdle to their plans so far.

Anya had no doubt Zog
and his shifter-wolves were nearby, but with a Prince practically in her pocket and fifty thousand French mercenaries on standby, she could not help but stop and smile.

19

Robin Hood opened his eyes to find the forest darkness enveloping him. It always amazed him how fast the blackness of night would consume the daylight deep within the woods.

On a normal evening, he would rest and listen to the stirrings of the nocturnal creatures as they woke to go about their night, but today had been a
nything but normal.

Over and over again he watched his mother’s life slip from his grasp as his mind refused to dwell on anything else. He wanted to blame the foolishness of Sir Guy, or the long flowing dress his mother had been wearing, but he knew deep down he was the only one to blame. He was
the one who refused to listen to Hearn’s warnings. He had insisted on seeing his family just once more even though he knew it was a risk.

“Once you have accepted this responsibility, you must live every moment as Robin in the Hood!” Hearn’s words echoed in his memory. Denying he understood the weight of his decision would get him nowhere and he knew it. Again it all came full circle back to him. Had he not ventured back to his family estate, his mother’s fate would have been different.

Once he and Tuck had returned to the cave, still covered in his mother’s blood, the channel told him, “Hearn says you know why she died. You were told not to return home and yet you did. The fates took that as an act of uncertainty, so they closed that door in your face. You are Robin Hood now until the day you leave this world.” And he would say no more after that.

So there he sat, listing to the forest creatures
and their nightly habits, feeling empty and alone.

One would think, after such a glaringly obv
ious kick in the gut from the universe, he would at least be given the chance to at least catch his breath, but Robin Hood is special, and those who accept that role must learn that lesson.

Robin noticed the wind change just a bit, as the warming rays of the sun had now long since r
etreated. This shift brought with it a strong scent, like a mix of wet hair and horse sweat, just enough to get him moving before the creature sailed out of the darkness, and crashed into the tree where he had been reclining.

When he reached his feet he found he had a
lready drawn his sword, and to his amazement, the creature was gone. Robin began to step backward, toe first to check his footing, and scanned his vision back and forth, looking for movement in the darkness. Something heavy snapped a branch off to his left, causing him to step in that direction and swing his sword down to his left. He felt his sword hit something and bite down but he could not be sure if it was the thing that had attacked him or just a tree he had hit; that is at least until he heard an angry growl and felt something large crash into his chest, knocking him backwards.

Robin let his momentum carry him over backwards until he was able to roll back to his feet
. Once upright again he found his opponent was already advancing. With the darkness of the forest, and the speed of the creature, it was hard for him to tell just what it was that he was fighting, but he could hear growls and the thing’s heavy breathing, so a bear was the most obvious choice.

The creature attacked him again with a swing of a massive paw, and forced Robin backward into a small clearing. Once free of the tree line
, the glow of the full moon gave him his first good look at what he was fighting.

The creature was massive and covered in a thick hide of long coarse dark fur. The head was long and thick with a snout full of large jagged teeth, and topped off by two huge pointed ears.
The eyes of the beast flashed bright red as if lit from behind as it glared at him behind a very human-like frown.

With another short growl, the creature launched itself at its stunned target, and clamped its jaws down on its victim’s left shoulder.
Robin had moved just in time to avoid having the monster tear out his throat, but now felt those sharp teeth sink down into his shoulder. He knew he had to get free or this thing would tear his arm off, so in desperation he swung Albion down on the creatures head, in what sounded like a hammer on anvil collision.

The creature yelped in pain and jumped back away from what it thought was an easy meal. Robin watched the creature’s massive back legs wobble as it shook its head, just before collapsing unconscious to the ground.

That was when the pain hit him. Robin dropped to his knees, let go of his sword, and reached a hand up to touch what was left of his mangled shoulder. His hand came away covered in blood, as he could only stare in shock. He looked up from his bloodied hand to take another glance at the creature he had struggled with, but to his horror, he could see only a naked man lying face first where he was sure the creature had fallen. Before he could piece together this strange mix of clues a large wolf with blazing yellow eyes trotted out of the forest and stopped just inches from his face. Robin wanted to curse Hearn, the Hunter God of the forest, for sending these monsters out to punish him for his disobedience, but he could not make a sound.

Pain shot through his body making it difficult to breathe never mind fighting back. Robin waited for the wolf to finish him off by tilting his head back to expose his throat, felt the world spin, and then blackness took him.

20

“My Lord, Lord Rathbone is here to see you and retrieve his prisoner.” The servant said with a bow.

Sheriff Brewer nodded and waved a hand t
owards the man, “Yes, well it’s about time, show him in.”

They sat in the main dining hall, around the huge single slab of oak that served as the
feast table. The Sheriff had deferred his usual seat at the head of the table to Prince John, and sat just to his right. The Archbishop sat next him, with the Bishop Brewer next to him. Anya sat opposite the Sheriff and next to the Prince, but had sent Julnar back up to their room to hide her from her father.

Lord
Rathbone entered the dining hall behind the servant, and dropped into a low bow, waiting for the Vampire to make the first move. To his surprise, it was the shifter King to his right who spoke first.

“Your Majesty, so good
tis’ to see you again.” He said through a smile and an exaggerated bow.

Prince John’s eyes went wide as he rose to his feet, “You! What in the nine hells are you doing here O’Connor?”

“What? Ya don’t know? Well I was sure ya came all dis way ta pay yer respects ta the true King o’ Ireland, did ya no?” he teased.

The Regent laughed out loud at that, “I was going to say the same thing to you O’Connor! When are you going to admit your ancestors got their butts kicked by mine, and give me the respect you owe me?”

Now it was the shifters turn to laugh, “When you kick my arse, ill kiss yers. Till then yer still jus’ an imposter wi’ no claim ta me islan’, no matter what may ha’ happen in da past.”

The Prince dropped his smile at the threat, and slammed a fist down on the table. “I am your monarch! I am no barbarian chieftain born with a blade in my teeth!”

Sheriff Brewer stood up and put his hands out to defuse the growing tensions, “Gentlemen, please, I am sure there is a better way to solve this than bickering.”

Both men glared at the Sheriff for being foo
lish enough to step between a three hundred year old family feud, but it was the Prince who spoke first. “This savage has challenged my honor, and he knows damn well I have no way to defend it! I don’t know how to sword fight! In fact drinking is the only thing I have ever been good at! I…”

“I accept!” Shamus
roared, causing the Prince to blink and frown at him in confusion.

“You accept what?” the Regent shouted back.

The Irishman smiled from ear to ear and said, “A drinking contest, I accept. If that’s the only way to defend yer honor, then so be it. A drinking contest, last man standing is declared rightful King o’ Ireland!”

The Prince continued to stare at the Irishman with his mouth hanging open in shock. “How dare you! Fine! Have it your way then! It will be worth it just to get all of you whiny dress wearing types to bow down and behave! The second day of the festival we will hold the official drink-off for the crown of Ir
eland! Hell, even if I lose it will be worth the hangover just to be rid of you annoying Irishmen!”

Shamus O’Connor smiled and bowed in r
esponse.

Turning his attention to
Lord Rathbone, he pointed a finger at him and grumbled, “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

The noble bowed his head and said, “I am here to retrieve the prisoner I left behind. Come Anya, it’s time to go.” He commanded.

Prince John frowned at him, not at all in the mood for the tone of the man’s voice. “Is it true then this girl is in fact your daughter?” he asked.

Rathbone glared at the girl, “No, that…. Thing is not my daughter. My daughter was the world to me, I would have given up anything for her, but she was taken from me when she was only ten years old. This… harlot
, is the demon who took her from me!”

Prince John and the Archbishop exchanged concerned looks just before Anya stood and marched up to her father, with her eyes blazing with hatred.
“You lying son of bitch! You have tried to kill me every day since I became infected! The only reason you didn’t just do it was because you have been using me to experiment on! Tell me the truth for once, all of the torture you have put me through was just to get back at your brother wasn’t it? You have been trying to find a way to make him suffer as long as…”

There was a flash of movement and a loud smacking sound, before the nobles around the table saw Anya, laying on the floor with
Lord Rathbone standing over her.

“That is quite enough!” Prince John shouted.
“Lord Rathbone, how can you say you wish to help the woman you just struck?”

“My Prince,
” he grumbled fighting to hold back his rage. “I have tried everything I could think of to heal my beloved daughter! Healers, herbalists, soothsayers I have spent years tracking down relics with healing powers, years more tracking her down! This Irishman is said to have great powers of healing, that is why we are here!”

The Archbishop jumped to his feet, “Pagan magic? Is that what you would turn to?”

Without thinking Lord Rathbone shouted back, “Yes, pagan magic! I would shake hands with old scratch himself if he would agree to give me back my daughter!”

Once more the Archbishop and the Prince e
xchanged knowing looks. “I see.” Prince John said as he straightened his tunic. “Lord Rathbone, the only reason I am not placing you under arrest for treason and sorcery, is because of the writ of holy sanctuary! This is a royal festival week, and at the end of this week, Anya will be marrying Sheriff Brewer, who has agreed to take her in for her own protection. You have until sundown after the wedding to leave my kingdom or you will be arrested and executed. Do I make myself clear?”

Lord
Rathbone looked down at the figure of Anya, still lying face down, but now her shoulders were heaving as if she were crying.

He of course was the only other person in the room who knew she was laughing and not sobbing. Without another word he nodded his head, and stormed out of the keep.

Shamus beside him, said nothing during the short march back to their encampment, knowing full well nothing he could say would help. It was clear to him he would still have a chance to talk to the girl sometime during the week, and then perhaps he could convince her to let him try to help her.

Shamus was lost in these thoughts when
Lord Rathbone punched his hand clear through the sidewall of his fancy carriage. “I hate that little bitch!” he screamed as he slammed the wagon in frustration once more.

“I thought you said you wanted ta heal her?” Shamus baited.

The enraged Lord refused to lookup as he growled his response, “My daughter! I want to heal my daughter! Not that demon creature!”

Shamus frowned in thought before asking, “What makes you so sure that is NO yer daughter?”

Ordinarily, Lord Rathbone would have screamed an answer at some fool who dared to question his methods, or his knowledge of the subject, but something held him back. There was something in the way the Irishman had asked him that made him stop and think.

Before he could continue the conversation however, they were interrupted by one of the shifters racing up to find them.

“Shamus! Come quick, its Shawn Little! He’s been hurt an’ he attacked a local!”

When they arrived at the makeshift infirmary, they found Shaw Little was awake and siting up, with a fresh line of blood dried on his face, running from just above his left eye, down his left cheek and stopping at his jaw.

“What happen’ ta you lad?” Shamus asked as he knelt by his friend.

“Oh, Shamus! Im’ so sorry! I dona’ know what happen’. I just remember feelin’ the change commin’ on…an’ then me head hurts!” he stammered more embarrassed than injured.

Shamus nodded and patted the big man on the shoulder before telling him not to worry about it.

Upon seeing the other victim however he was a bit more concerned. Scarlet and the others had gathered around the body of a young man lying prone, with his
left side covered in blood. It was obvious Shawn had bit down on his left shoulder but had not torn the arm off.

Lord
Rathbone, who had followed them, recognized the boy right away. “Robert of Huntington, he traveled with me from the holy land. Will he survive it O’Connor?”

The Irish King knelt down and put his right hand on the young boy’s forehead. “Burnin’ up. Get some blankets fer him and we will see how he does.”

Rathbone frowned at him, “That’s it? Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of healer?” he snapped.

“
Aye… that I am.” Shamus said as he stood with a sigh. “But he’s got the infection now, an’ there ain’t no cure fer dat. If he survives the next few hours…if his body binds with the curse, well then he will heal. If not…then he won’t wake up. There’s nothing else we can do but wait.”