04 - Rise of the Lycans (28 page)

Stubbornly, he tried to climb to his feet, only to feel a second bolt pierce
his side. An agonized wail tore itself from his lungs, even as he realized that
the Death Dealer was deliberately avoiding any vital organs. He was shooting to
subdue the prisoner, not kill him.

Viktor’s not done with me yet,
Lucian guessed.
He has something
worse in mind.

Unable to throw off the shock and pain, Lucian collapsed onto the floor of
his cage. A third bolt struck his back, narrowly missing his spine. He writhed
in agony as the caustic silver poisoned his body. The flesh around the wounds
grew hot and inflamed. Pulsing veins throbbed with every heartbeat. Blood
streaked the whites of his eyes. He whimpered and gnashed his fangs. The
accursed silver kept him from assuming wolfen form….

The door to his cell swung open, but Lucian lacked the strength to lunge at
his visitors. He could only thrash helplessly upon the dirty straw while a Death
Dealer crouched over him and painfully snapped off the wooden shafts protruding
from his body, leaving the barbed silver points lodged in his tortured flesh, where they burned like acid. Rough hands grabbed him beneath the shoulders
and dragged him from his cell. Every bump sent an excruciating spasm through his
entire body. A steel gauntlet cuffed him for good measure.

“Time to pay for your crimes, you murdering mongrel,” Sandor cursed at him.
“Hell is waiting for you.”

Lucian could have sworn he was already there.

Sonja faced her accusers in the crypt.

Her father gazed down on her from his throne, while the rest of the Council
also sat in attendance. As ever, Tanis stood at the Elder’s right hand;
apparently he had not yet dared to ask for her seat on the Council. Sonja
thought she detected a certain unease in his manner, as though he feared that
she might expose his own complicity in Lucian’s escape.

He need not worry on that score. The scheming scribe had upheld his end of
their bargain; she had no intention of betraying him. Enough blood had been
spilt already. Why should her own fall bring down anyone else?

Let Tanis escape with his miserable life.

She stood alone in the center of the mausoleum, above the buried tombs of
Marcus and Amelia. The bronze circular plaques felt cold beneath her feet. Iron
manacles chafed her wrists. Death Dealers were posted along the walls of the
vaulted chamber to discourage any thought of escape. Silence rained over the
somber proceedings, broken only by the crackling of the torches and braziers. An
ornate chandelier hung above her head. Wooden shutters covered the stained-glass windows, keeping out the sunlight. Expectant eyes turned to her father,
waiting for him to declare the trial under way.

Sonja wondered what he was waiting for.

The mystery was answered when, moments later, Sandor and his elite guards
dragged Lucian into the crypt. Shackles bound his wrists and ankles. An
involuntary gasp betrayed her dismay as she spied fresh bloodstains blossoming
across his ragged brown tunic. His face looked gray and clammy. Purple shadows
sagged beneath his bloodshot eyes. Distended blue veins throbbed across his
brow. He seemed dazed and sick, almost in a stupor. Sonja recognized the
telltale signs of silver poisoning.

Lucian, my love! What have those bastards done to you?

She glared accusingly at her father, who showed no sign of remorse. He merely
nodded in satisfaction as the soldiers tossed him facedown onto the floor. They
held on tightly to the ends of his chains. Fettered like a dog, Lucian wearily
lifted his eyes to meet hers. Aching to comfort him, she started to step toward
him, but the Death Dealers drew their swords, warning her away. It seemed this
was as close together as they would be allowed to come. Clearly, Viktor intended
Lucian to bear witness to her trial.

Or was he to be tortured before her eyes?

Coloman stepped forward to present the case against her. A creature of
Marcus’ creation, he no doubt relished the opportunity to embarrass Viktor
before the Council.

“The accused has broken the laws of the coven,” he proclaimed. The severity
of his tone made clear the enormity of her offense. “She has consorted with animals. She has abetted in
their escape. She—”

Sonja spoke out in her defense. “And I have saved this coven many times
over!”

This was no idle boast. On more than one occasion, her quick wits and ready
sword had spared her fellow vampires from disaster. It was she who had once
rescued the Lady Amelia when the female Elder had been ambushed by a pack of
werewolves. And had she not once ridden through enemy lines to secure
reinforcements when the castle was under siege? And personally captured a mortal
vampire hunter who had crept into the castle by daylight with mayhem on his
mind? Truly, she had never shirked from her duty to protect her people….

“You have killed your own kind!” Coloman asserted. But that, his darkening
expression seemed to imply, was the least of her offenses. “And you have
commingled bloodlines, resulting in the
thing
germinating within you.”

The other council members looked appropriately appalled and horrified by this
reminder of Sonja’s gravid condition. They recoiled from her as though she were a
leper. Orsova, of all women, sniffed in disgust. Only her father’s face remained
unmoved. His gaunt features were as fixed as carved granite. No one spoke up on
her behalf.

“Your past glory does not excuse your present guilt,” Coloman continued. “Nor
does your lofty station as a member of this Council.” He turned to face his
peers. “The punishment for these crimes is death. How vote you?”

A chorus of “aye”s sealed her fate. A muscle twitched beneath Tanis’ cheek,
but he held his tongue. All eyes turned to Viktor. As the reigning Elder, he
alone had the authority to pardon Sonja or reduce her sentence, perhaps to life
imprisonment or banishment. Sonja had little expectation that he would do so;
his scathing words upon the ramparts had made his feelings clear. Still, she
looked hopefully into her father’s eyes, praying for just a trace of
understanding, if not mercy. He was still her father; she did not want their
last moments together to be as complete strangers to each other.
Let us
not part as enemies….

Lucian’s appeal was less restrained. Lifting his head, he shouted frantically
at Viktor. “She is your own daughter!”

But her father’s eyes were as hard as sapphires.

“Aye,” he said coldly.

Sonja felt like an orphan, condemned to death by a man she no longer knew.

“Take her to the chamber,” Coloman commanded the guards.

“Nooo!” Lucian howled. He tugged helplessly at his chains like a dog on a
leash, the fervor of his exertions reopening the wounds beneath his tunic. Fresh
blood soaked through the threadbare fabric. “You cannot do this!”

Coloman raised an eyebrow at the lycan’s protests. He glanced at Viktor for
guidance. The Elder nodded gravely.

“And bring him,” the boyar added.

The guards hauled Lucian to his feet, even as their comrades escorted Sonja
toward the door. He thrashed helplessly in the Death Dealers’ grip. The chains between his ankles scraped
loudly against the floor. He called out desperately to the seated Elder.

“NO! VIKTOR!”

The execution chamber was hidden away in the turret of a tower overlooking
the courtyard below. Cobwebs hung from the domed ceiling. Shuttered windows kept
out the sunlight, at least for the time being. A large wooden post, reinforced
with riveted iron supports, occupied the center of the doleful chamber. Sonja
averted her eyes from the stake. She did not want to think about what the post
was for.

The guards shoved the condemned prisoners into the turret. Forcing Lucian to
his knees, they chained him to a pair of iron rings embedded in the floor.
Exhausted by his struggles in the crypt, he was easily subdued by the armored
soldiers who clubbed him into submission before turning their attention to
Sonja.

Very well,
she thought.
Do your duty.

Outnumbered and unarmed, she did not fight back as they shackled her to the
stout oaken column, binding her arms uncomfortably above her head. Their grim
faces betrayed neither anger nor regret as they secured her bonds, then stepped
away from the post. Sonja held her chin high, determined to face the end of her
immortality with dignity. Her composure faltered, though, as she felt her baby
stir within her. The realization that she would never look upon her child’s
face, and that its innocent life would be snuffed out even before it began, tore
at her heart. The life inside her had been conceived in love; it was no
abomination, no matter what the Covenant said. If anything, it was living proof that lycans
and vampires were meant to live together in harmony.

My father is destroying more than just his own flesh and blood,
she
thought.
He is slaughtering the future.

The doors opened to admit Viktor and the rest of the Council. Their velvet
robes rustled like cobwebs as they entered the chamber. They spread out along
the circumference of the turret, so that they surrounded both Lucian and Sonja.
Viktor faced his daughter but did not address her. Instead he nodded at a burly
Death Dealer by the name of Soren. Palace gossip had it that the bearded
Irishman, who had been recruited into the coven generations ago, was first in
line to take Kosta’s place as the new overseer of the lycans.

Soren uncoiled a fearsome whip composed of forged silver vertebrae. “No!”
Sonja cried out as he cracked the lash against Lucian’s shoulders. The barbed
vertebrae tore through his ragged tunic and made ribbons of his hide, burning
his skin even as they sliced through his defenseless flesh, paring it to the
bone. Hot blood streamed down his back. The scalding silver cauterized the
gaping wounds before each new blow opened them anew. Steam rose from overlapping
layers of throbbing scar tissue. Sonja saw Lucian brace himself for the blows,
but not even his heroic heart could steel itself against the searing agony as
the whip viciously lashed his back again and again, shredding meat and muscle,
until he was left gasping on the bloodslick floor. Crimson welts showed through
the back of his rent tunic.

Tears leaked from Sonja’s eyes at the sight of her lover brought low once
more. She suddenly recalled the first time she had ever laid eyes on him, when, as a mere child, she had
breathlessly watched him prevail over her father’s many grueling tests and
trials. How young and handsome he had been then! She had been drawn to him at
once, even before she was old enough to truly know what love was, as though they
had always been destined to be together. The future had seemed bright and full
of possibility.

How then had they come to this dismal pass?

Viktor raised his hand at last, signaling an end to the flogging. Soren
lowered the whip and stepped away from the defeated lycan. Crimson globules
dripped from the silver vertebrae onto the cold stone floor.

Sonja realized that her own penalty was drawing nigh.

Taking care not to step in the pooling blood, the council members filed out
of the mausoleum one by one. Viktor was the last to leave; Sonja held onto the
hope that he might turn and look back at her one last time. Now that the trial
was over, and the other council members departed, perhaps he could spare her a
kindly word or two before they were parted forever? This was their last chance
to say good-bye….

At first, she feared he would not even look at her. But, at the last moment,
he hesitated upon the threshold and glanced back over his shoulder. Their eyes
met briefly. Viktor’s thin lips parted as though to bestow some final message of
forgiveness, but then his jaws clenched tightly shut. Unable to speak, he left
the crypt without a word.

The guards stepped forward to carry out the sentence.

The soldiers exited the crypt, leaving only Soren and one other guard to play
executioner. A heavy oaken door slammed shut. The Death Dealers retreated to a
shadowy alcove at the far end of the mausoleum, where a large iron wheel awaited
them. Squealing metal reverberated through the cavernous vault as the ancient
wheel initially refused to turn. Grunting, the vampires put their backs to it
and gradually managed to crank the wheel in a clockwise direction. Every turn,
Sonja knew, brought her closer to oblivion.

Timeworn gears began to squeak and grind overhead. Sonja swallowed hard as
she braced herself for what was to come. Panic flooded Lucian’s face as he
grasped what was happening. His bloodshot eyes widened in horror.

Be brave, my love,
she thought.
I wish I could spare you this.

The relentless grinding drew her gaze upward. Directly above her, at the very
apex of the domed ceiling, a circular iron hatch slowly dilated. Many yards
away, the Death Dealers backed deeper into the shelter of the secluded alcove. A
tiny crack of sunshine hurt Sonja’s eyes, proving that, just as she had feared,
it was still daylight outside.

A frightened whimper escaped her lips. Her heart pounded in fear.

“No, Sonja,” Lucian called out to her. “Look at me. Keep your eyes on me!”

Averting her eyes from the blinding glare, she stared across the crypt at
Lucian. Now that the fatal moment was upon her, she felt her courage
evaporating. She looked to him for strength and found a measure of comfort in his caring eyes.

“I love you,” he declared.

I know,
she thought. His eternal devotion was the one thing she could
always rely on, even in the hour of her death. “I love you.” Her voice cracked
as their last few seconds slipped away with heart-breaking speed. “Your face
will not be there when this is over, will it?”

He tried to answer her but could not find the words. There was no way to deny
the dreadful enormity of the moment. She cursed her father for forcing Lucian to
witness her death; that would surely be an even more harrowing ordeal than the
one she now faced. Remembering the helpless anguish and frustration she had felt
when Kosta had flogged Lucian before her eyes, she suspected that she was the
lucky one.