The Kingdoms of Evil (81 page)

"No, my lord," Bloodbyrn craned her neck to look up at him. "What me must do now is rest, and plan for tomorrow."

Feerborg shook his head. "I can't. There's still a chance Feerix hasn't replenished his energy." He looked back down at Bloodbyrn, who was disappointed, but not surprised, to see the lightning in his eyes again, "Which is why I have to strike now."

"You 'have to' do no such thing, my lord," said Bloodbyrn. "Now, pick me up before I develop an aneurism in my spine."

He reached down to take her hand, and Bloodbyrn allowed herself to be lifted, saying, "This is not a problem to be solved with brute force, but with political manipulation. As you can see, I have already sent Feerix to converse with my father, who will, I am sure, convince lord Feerix not to continue with his challenge."

Bloodbyrn briefly assured herself her legs would support her weight and, from her newly elevated position, confronted her lord. "This newest gambit of Feerix's bears all the signs of a contingency plan pushed too soon into action. I have no doubt that the Dark Prince will back down from his threats. Now, however, there exists a greater danger."

"You mean the fact that Feerix revealed that he's not doing what your dad tells him?"

"Well, yes. Indeed," said Bloodbyrn, somewhat surprised by her lord's perspicacity. "With whom has he allied himself? We must consider, my lord," she held up a finger, "a third party, a mysterious puppeteer, who—"

"Who kidnapped Istain? Duh." Feerborg smiled, and Bloodbyrn had some difficulty deciding if she liked or disliked the expression. It certainly made his eyes crinkle in a most agreeable way. "Holding my old college buddy ransom? I don't think Feerix has had a friend in his life. Unless, he's a hell of a lot smarter than I think he is, Feerix would never come up with a plan like that."

"I concur!" Bloodbyrn stated, "Political acumen is high among the skills the prince has not troubled himself to acquire. And this plan shows much acumen indeed." Bloodbyrn tapped a nail against a tooth, meditatively. "In truth, I regret I did not think of kidnapping your friend myself."

"Tempest above
,
Bloodbyrn."

Bloodbyrn glanced back upon at her lord's face. His physiognomy, so familiar now…what mixture of emotions did it express? Bloodbyrn had always been taught that tenderness was the death of strength, so how was it that the two could intermingle so well in that face, one above the other?

Bloodbyrn brought a hand up to his brows, to rub that impossible expression away, then found herself simply resting her hand on his face.

"Anyway, Feerix's been in Clouds-Gather with us since I got here," Feerborg said, accepting the touch as if it was natural. "At very least, he has an ally out in the provinces, but I think it's more likely that one of the provincial lords is behind this whole duel thing."

"Indeed," Bloodbyrn said again, "those are…" she squinted up at him and reluctantly removed her fingertips from his skin. "My lord, those are precisely the conclusions I have reached, myself. I wonder if, perhaps, greater progress might be made if, from this point onward, we were to combine our mental processes. So as to avoid redundancy."

He nodded, "Okay. So who do
you
think is behind Feerix? I mean, aside from you and your dad. Who benefits if I'm pushed off the throne?"

"At risk of puncturing my lord's sense of self-importance, that question is less relevant than who benefits if
my father
is pushed from his position
behind
the throne."

"Ah." Feerborg's face darkened, "So who would that be?"

"We must consider anyone with the intelligence to formulate this plan of kidnap, the power and opportunity to do so, and a political alliance against my father's." Bloodbyrn had of course thought of all this long before, but she reiterated the logic for edification of her lord.

"What about my uncle? Wrothred? He's next in line for the throne after Feerix, isn't he? Maybe he wants us to finish each other off before he steps in?"

Bloodbyrn suppressed a sigh. Clearly more edification was needed. "Lord Wrothred, while both powerful and clever enough to arrange for the kidnapping of your friend, has a heart, which lies firmly in
our
clutches. It would be against his interests to topple you."

"To topple your dad, you mean."

Bloodbyrn waved that away. "I think it is more likely to be one of my family's old rivals, such as the Duke Sloverre DeSangaise."

For a moment, Feerborg's night-black eyes squinted at her, as he her lord had detected the tiny shudder that still arose in Bloodbyrn's breath at the mention of that name. Whatever suppositions the Despot might have made, however, he chose not to voice them. "But he's all the way in Sangboise. You think he got together with someone further west? Like North or South…whatever those places are called?"

"Sausyarr Despot North Ftaghor and Bleergoth Despot South Ftaghor, one, the other, or both, could have aided the plot by capturing your man, yes." Said Bloodbyrn, nodding. "I suppose they might even be the minds behind it all."

"Them or the old guy," said Feerborg, "the one with the idiot grandson."

"Teirchoke the Jaded, Despot Noggor?" said Bloodbyrn, "I had not considered him. He is certainly both clever and desperate enough to make such a bid for power, but his despotate is nearly as far from the Bulwarks as is the Duchy of Sangaise."

Feerborg looked briefly pensive, but then shook his head, onyx eyes focusing on Bloodbyrn. "All of this is beside the point with Istain still being held by Feerix."

"Forgive me, my lord, but
your
safety is of greater importance." Bloodbyrn corrected, "Fortunately, all we must do is force Feerix to retract his challenge, as I said—"

"And then what?" Feerborg interrupted, "go on as if nothing had happened? So, okay, you're not going to kill me tomorrow, Feerix, when do you want to get together for martial arts lessons?"

"Most likely," said Bloodbyrn. "Remember that we are in the dungeons, and there are no slaves here, where they might hear sensitive information screamed out by prisoners. Only you, I, and Feerix himself are cognizant of his challenge to monomachy. If we can give Feerix a suitable reason to remain loyal to my father, we can all simply pretend the challenge did not occur."

"Okay, but what about Istain?" Feerborg demanded. "At very least, Feerix'll keep him as a hostage. "

And a useful hostage he would be indeed, Bloodbyrn considered, if only the Do-Gooder could be wrested from the clutches of their rivals. "Indeed," Bloodbyrn agreed, "it was most unwise to demonstrate your feelings for him before witnesses."

"We have to rescue Istain," Feerborg said. "That has to be our first priority."

Bloodbyrn considered the depth of feeling she saw in her lord's face as he made that command. "Yes," she said, "it might be, at that. But how can we find him?"

Feerborg had several ideas of how to do this, but they were notable more for their enthusiasm than their utility. "So what am I supposed to do?" He demanded when she told him this, "Sit back and wait for your daddy to fix everything? Bloodbyrn, I know he doesn't have my best interests in mind. I doubt he even has
your
best interests in mind. Hell, if I was him I would just let Feerix kill me and then marry you to him."

Though Bloodbyrn's skin had prickled with nervous goose-flesh, she made great effort to keep her voice calm. "That is a ridiculous idea, my lord."

"Is it?" Feerborg glared at her. "The message Feerix gave to me, before I provoked him into revealing his own agenda, that message was from your dad. I assume it was basically the same thing your dad said to you, himself: 'Stop gibbering with me, shut up and obey orders, or I'll kill you. Am I right?"

Sweet bodily fluids. Bloodbyrn, mind whirling, tried to seize the question he offered her, to answer it with something that would re-direct her lord's terrible, dangerous, analysis. But, for the first time she could remember, the words would not come.

Feerborg's beautiful black eyes bored into hers. "I thought so. Hell, I wouldn't put it past the old reprobate to snatch Istain up himself. Use him as a lever on me." He leaned closer to her. "That won't happen, Bloodbyrn." His voice grew lower, "Will you help me make sure it doesn't?"

Bloodbyrn could not control the impulse to glance at the scar on her wrist, and the corresponding one on his. "My lord," she said, "you cannot plan to act contrary to the wishes of my father."

"Can not?" He said, "Or may not?"

"I meant the word in its most literal interpretation, my lord," Bloodbyrn said. "You are not able, at this time, to act in any way that would lose you the support of my father and his party. Lose them, and from what power base would you protect yourself?"

The Ultimate Fiend thought, and Bloodbyrn found herself actually wondering how he might answer.

"Well…" he looked at her, lightning still flickering over his eyes. He looked like a predator contemplating its meal, a life-twister examining his deformed experiments, like, in fact a Despot of Skrea.

"My lord," she said, "are my interests not also yours. Did I not say I would aid you?"

He sighed, looked at the spy-less walls, then back to her. "I'm teaching the monsters word-magic, and when they revolt—"

"Pardon?"

"They'll revolt."

"
word-magic
?
"
That was not the secret she had expected. "You refer to Rationalist magic, and my lord that is also impossible. The monsters would be killed immediately if they were found praying to any god but the First."

"You see why it's important then," he said, and his voice was as cold as the abyss those onyx eyes reflected, "that no-one finds out about this, Bloodbyrn. I guess what I need to know...." His white skin seemed to glitter with frost as the Ultimate Fiend gazed upon her, and calculated her worth. "Is if you still need to be convinced to join me."

He stood, the Despot, white face stark and terrible in its frame of black armor below, and billowing black mist above. Twin sparks of actinic light dancing in the black, bottomless sea of his eyes. He did not even voice his threat aloud.

"Oh my lord," breathed Bloodbyrn, "You are finally
learning
!"

The Ultimate Fiend reached down, and drew the smiling Bloodbyrn up to his, still unfortunately armored, chest. "I'm glad you approve," he said, which spoiled the effect, but somehow warmed Bloodbyrn's heart even more than the previous display of villainy.

In which the Ultimate Fiend binds his Concubine to his Will

In his shadow-swathed bed chamber, the Ultimate Fiend of the Kingdoms of Evil lifted his face from the neck of his concubine and said, "Uh…oh. Sorry."

Freetrick sat up in his bed, glaring. Suddenly illuminated by the light from his eyes, Bloodbyrn's upturned face was a pale oval against the black sheets.

"Look," he said, "I want to…you know."

"I do not know." She was looking at him with that striking blank expression. The one that meant she was pissed at him.

"I didn't…well, you didn't…strike it." Bloodbyrn's face disappeared into the darkness. Embarrassment apparently wasn't the proper emotion to make his eye lightning work.

"I did not reach climax, perhaps my lord means?" Freetrick could no longer see it, but he knew her I'm-pissed-at-you-and-now-you-have-to-make-it-better voice. "But why should I?"

"Why should you!?" Freetrick nearly left the bed right then and there, but it was possible that Bloodbyrn wasn't actually being sarcastic. "Because I'm the guy! It's…supposed to be my job to help you…be happy?"

There was a moment of silence, then, "Is that how things are in The Rationalist Union?"

"I thought it was the way things are everywhere. Don't people everywhere have sex the same way?" Then he remembered his experience in the Ceremonial Seraglio. "Well still, you deserve…something too."

"What did my lord have in mind?" Was that warmth coming back into her voice? She was certainly snuggling against him in an affectionate way.

"Well…" Freetrick allowed his hands to run over her curving waist and hips. He had just had sex! And it wasn't over! The Ultimate Fiend quashed an un-manly giggle. "I have formulated a fiendish plan, my dear."

His cry rang off the gray Bleaklands dust, echoing out into the empty spaces under the twisting Maelstrom. Three other creatures twitched back from the light as his talisman flared, but the light faded…

And as the light faded, the lizard-men closed. Hideously elongated fingers twitched and clutched. Eyes huge and vicious stared. Scaled limbs reached, slick with blood, black in the light of the lava pits around them.

"Naobel!" Kendrick called again, but under the Storm, his god's power had faded to a mere glimmer. They had used up valuable reserves of prayer attacking this nest, but there was no helping it. His army needed food.

Kendrick brought up his axe to block the first lizard-man as it attacked. His heave at its chest became a sideways swing that slammed the blade into the ribs of the second. The third, though, attacked from the opposite side, and before Kendrick could overcome his weapon's momentum and bring it to bear, the beast was on him.

Clawed fingers and toes dug into his tough leather jerkin. Fortunately it was small, and Kendrick could grab it by the bony ankle with his left hand and rip it from his body. A snap of his wrist dislocated its knee, and a round-house swing brought the little creature, still squealing, into the face of the returning first attacker. That distracted the monster long enough for Kendrick to hoist the axe, then bring it down.