By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles) (14 page)

The dust stirred by the gryphon’s wingbeats was not hidden by the Unseeing spell, and a huge cloud had been churned by their landing. Gem had been quite impressed by the sheer power and grace of their mount, for it had plunged in free fall until it drew perilously close to the ground, then suddenly opened its great wings and beat them furiously, lighting as gently as a feather.

If Gem had possessed lungs, she’d have been holding her breath.

“Do you suffer from exhaustion?” she asked. Her senses could track the gryphon’s position. She suspected that Lord Grey, too, had no problem monitoring the invisible creature’s location.

“Not often,” replied the gryphon, “in the ssensse of exssausstion asss a ressult of effort. We do occasssionally need to ssleep, but not asss often asss humanss.”

“Actually, they sleep very lightly, and if roused, they tend to strike first, and identify later,” added Lord Grey. “So do be careful to warn Lian not to wake Gil by touch.”

“I’ll remember,” said Gem. “I didn’t perceive any signs of habitation as we descended. This place still appears to be abandoned.”

Gilaeshar said, “Yess. However, there are ssome ssmall nuissansse creaturess. Large ratsss.”

“How large?” asked Gem with some concern. There were some rather alarming varieties of rat that had developed by long association with magical areas. Certain species of these were very large, indeed, and could be a danger even to an armored man.

“Lunch ssized,” the gryphon answered, a gleam in its eye. It didn’t seem concerned.

“Big, then,” surmised Lord Grey. “I’ll erect a ward against the living should one manage to get past Gil. However, rats are usually too intelligent to approach a large supernatural predator like a gryphon.”

Gem possessed several spells which would hold even a horse-sized rat at bay, but her energy reserves hadn’t yet recharged. She fervently hoped that by the time they were ready to move on that she’d have recovered some of her power.

The gryphon reached around to its back and gently cradled the sleeping prince in its massive, taloned claw. Examining its talons, Gem observed that they were sharp indeed. This treatment roused the unconscious prince, and he mindspoke feebly,
Gem?

You’re safe for now, Lian,
she sent to him. Her voice roused him into full consciousness. He feigned continued slumber.

Where are we?
he asked, laying limply in the gryphon’s claw as it set him softly on the ground.

The abandoned village of Whitefall
, she said.
We’re here to locate an herb that Lord Grey says can restore the damage to your spirit energy. He said without it you’d be asleep for days or even weeks.

Lian considered the information.
It must have been the meal I ate with the goddess. I remember it was incredibly hot, though it didn’t hurt to eat it. Maybe it was curative, somehow
.

Gem replied,
I think perhaps we need to have a long talk about that encounter some time.

She continued,
You’re still weak and essentially helpless, so I suggest we see how effective the necromancer’s curative is. The herb is called Holy Wort, and it generally grows in cemeteries.

Lian chuckled silently.
Hence the ghost town? I know Whitefall’s supposed to be abandoned, but we should be vigilant for brigands and such. What’s happened other than my illness?

Gem quickly filled him in on everything that had transpired. Lian was intrigued by her report of Lord Grey’s limitations.
Hmm, might be handy to know. Okay, do you see any point in playing dead any more?

Gem could think of no reason to continue to feign unconsciousness, so Lian began to “stir.”

Lord Grey exclaimed, “Awake? Amazing, Highness! You possess the recuperative powers of an ogre!” There was genuine surprise in his voice.

Pleased, Gilaeshar added, “Or a gryphon.”

“Indeed,” said the skull.

Lian said, “Gem has filled me in up to this point.”

Lord Grey said, “Good. Can you stand, Prince Lian? This will go faster if you can help locate the herb. Additionally, Gilaeshar won’t have to leave you to search for the plant.”

“I will try,” said Lian, holding his head against a very real headache. His left arm was still completely numb, but except for the flesh around his shoulder it had warmed some. The point where the wraith had touched him was still bone-chillingly cold, or at least it felt that way to him. He described the sensation to the others.

Lord Grey was concerned. “I didn’t realize it was that bad. You shouldn’t even be conscious, much less able to stand, and most men would have died, I think.

“Do you shield his soul somehow, Lady Sword?” he asked, taking her by surprise.

“Not that I’m aware of,” she replied, “although his mother could have bound me with such an enchantment.”

Lian said, “I can’t think of any reason why Mother would have kept such a thing from you, Gem. Perhaps the Key is somehow responsible?”

The skull said, “I doubt it. Such an endowment would have added an unnecessary complication to the creation of the thing. Lian, I advise you not to mention its name again, nor its creator’s. And we need to agree upon another name for you; one that we will all use.”

Lian nodded. “Call me Alan. It sounds enough like my real name that I shouldn’t forget to answer to it.”

Gem added, “You might also be able to cover a slip should someone call out your real name, though I’m afraid that if it’s gotten to that point, it will be too late.”

Lord Grey said, “You never know. Alan is a good, short, common name. Or at least it was a few hundred years ago.”

Alan
nodded. “It still is, especially in the west. I speak the Bryhiri tongue fluently, and I resemble them in general. If Gem can maintain a reliable glamour over her appearance, I might have a chance.”

“If she can’t, it will be as if you are carrying your father’s crown and scepter. I guarantee that your enemies are well aware of the existence and description of your sentient weapon,” the skull said coldly.

“Lady Sword, it is my opinion that it would be best if you refrained from speaking unless it’s absolutely necessary,” he continued. “Intelligent weapons aren’t unique, but they are rare enough that it could provide a clue to his identity.”

“Elowyn already warned us about that,” Gem said. “Once my magic is partially restored, I’ll be able to spin an illusion with some permanence. What shall we call the object?”

“I suggest we just call it a marble,” Lian said. “It’s about the right size, and certainly the correct shape. It will appear to be nonmagical to sensing spells, correct?”

Lord Grey said, “Yes. You think fast on your feet, even in the shape you are now. Let’s head into the cemetery, and find that Holy Wort. The sooner we’re on our way, the better.”

Lian stretched. “I agree. At least it isn’t cold up here.”

“That’s the spell I cast, Prince Lian, or rather, Alan” Lord Grey said. “It shields you from the cold, though it won’t actually make you warmer. Nor will it have any effect on the touch of a wraith, before you ask.”

“My thanks, regardless, Lord Grey,” Lian replied.

“Your servant, Alan,” said the necromancer.

The gash of the collapsed mine extended into the burial ground, though it seemed to have missed the graves. Most of the graves were marked only by a small wooden tablet, the words weathered and illegible. Lian and the gryphon stayed away from the gash, for the ground nearby it looked unstable. Lian, still weak and unsteady from his wound, kept a careful eye on the rough terrain beneath his feet.

“What’s that?” he asked, catching sight of a metallic gleam in a debris pile next to a small vault.

The gryphon swiveled its enormous head, his forward-looking eagle eyes able to perceive details that Lian couldn’t see. “Rat boness,” it said, “and ssomething metal.”

They warily approached the pile, which had been picked clean by scavengers. Most of the bones from the pony-sized rat had been scattered across the graves.

Lian picked up the metal piece. It was a crossbow bolt, the shaft broken off close to the head. “Goblin work, I’d wager,” he said, turning the bolt over in his hand.

“Agreed,” said Lord Grey. “And fairly recent, or it would have rusted. It isn’t enchanted.”

Lian looked around, sniffing the air. “I’d venture to guess that there are goblins here as well as extremely voracious scavengers. Do you sense any ghouls?” The marks on the bones indicated that they had been gnawed upon, a clear sign of the presence of ghouls.

Lord Grey said, “No. There are no Undead in this cemetery, buried or otherwise. With a cataclysm like that cave-in nearby, there should be some kind of restless dead, so I surmise that the bodies have been removed.”

“No bodiess?” asked the gryphon, cocking its head in thought before returning to his vigilant watch.

“So there has been a necromancer here, too?” asked Lian. “Something to make the dead rise?”

“That is a possibility,” the skull admitted, “but I think it likely he’s moved on. There isn’t much here to attract the attention of a mage.”

Lord Grey’s reasoning didn’t make much sense to Lian, who was familiar with the work of necromancers. This town seemed perfect to house one, for it was far from the living, and here he could perform his magics undisturbed. Most necromancers preferred to experiment with the dead, which was definitely not popular with townsfolk.

“You really think so?” Lian said, puzzled.

Lord Grey said, “He probably just came here long enough to raise a force to bother some nearby village.”

Odd answer
, Gem said.
Maybe this place is warded in some way against his kind. That could explain why the necromancer moved on.

Maybe
, Lian said thoughtfully.
Maybe.

“You’re probably right. I’ll certainly defer to your judgment where necromancers are concerned, sir,” Lian said.

“Iss that the plant?” asked Gilaeshar, pointing a talon toward a fallen headstone which was leaning against one of the dark, twisted oak trees. Beneath it grew a pale yellow wort, its leaves splotched with silver.

“Yes, it is,” replied the skull. “Gather it, Alan, but don’t let it touch your skin. We’ll have to build a fire and set it to boiling. Do you have water?”

Lian nodded. “I have a flask enchanted to hold far more than its capacity. We’ve got about a hundred gallons of fresh water, although I won’t be able to refill it when it’s gone.”

“You are well equipped, aren’t you?” said the skull rhetorically.

Gem said, “He was trained for this eventuality, and his escape planned in advance. I enspelled that flask myself, and I doubt that even Elowyn knew about it.”

And now Lord Grey does
, she said to Lian, mildly recriminating.

We need to either trust him or bury him
, Lian said.
I’d prefer to have him as an ally
.

There are degrees of trust, lad
, she replied.

Make no mistake. I don’t trust him completely. I simply mean that if he can’t be trusted at all, we need to be rid of him.

Gem said,
I was rather hoping you’d planned to be rid of him when my magic has recovered.

No, even then, we’ll need every edge
, Lian said, scratching his chin.
No pun intended
.

I thought you’d given up edge and point jokes ten years ago
, she said with a sigh.

He patted her affectionately and set to building a fire. Before long, his small pot was boiling. At Lord Grey’s direction, he added the Holy Wort slowly, while the skull incanted a sing-song chant in a tongue that Lian didn’t know. It wasn’t the chilling language of the Dead, but instead bore some resemblance to the ancient tongues of the western lands. As the skull sang, the gryphon and Lian both slowly faded into view, the invisibility spell having reached its end.

When Lord Grey had finished, he instructed Lian to reduce the heat to a simmer, and settled in to wait for the concoction to boil down.

“What tongue was that?” Lian asked, munching on a piece of hard bread from his pack. The graveyard was exposed to the chill winds, and he was glad for the necromancer’s ward against the cold.

“The language of an old friend,” Lord Grey replied, fond rememberance evident in his tone. “She taught me how to make this cure using just the water and the chant,” he continued. “The local herbalists in those days had a much longer method for brewing it. It took three nights, and didn’t keep when you were done. Add a little Angelica, and this will endure for Lushran’s cycle.”

“Thank you for showing it to me,” said Gem. “I’d feel remiss if I led you to believe that I don’t know the incantation now.”

“Gladly given, Lady Sword. In my company, you may well have cause to need more of it,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Lian asked, sensing something in the skull’s tone beyond what he was actually saying.

“Only that Undead tend to be attracted to each other, Alan,” he said. “We can expect them to be interested in my presence if we aren’t careful.”

Lian’s brows furrowed in concern, but he didn’t let his attention stray from the potion, which had at first smelled like an odd tea. Now, however, it had the stench of something long dead and sun-baked.

“It’s done, my prince, and just in time,” said the skull. “Dawn approaches, so I advise that you drink it as soon as you can stand the temperature.”

Lian grimaced, yet nodded, removing the pot from the fire and stirring the mixture to help it cool. He wished that his nose, rather than his shoulder, had been numbed, for the odor from the thick soup was nearly overpowering. “How much of it must I imbibe?” he asked.

“All of it, I’m afraid, Alan,” said the skull. “Less might not be enough to completely cure the condition. I have some difficulty judging the extent of your wound, given that you are walking instead of lying there comatose. However, in the absence of Angelica to stabilize the brew, it loses potency quickly. Please drink it.”

He keeps trying to hurry me. See if you can contact the gryphon mentally
, he said to Gem as he dipped a spoonful of the Holy Wort. With an expression of extreme distaste, he ate it.