The Scarecrow (Master of Malice Book 1) (6 page)

Reen cast a swift glance over his shoulder to check the second man. He could not afford to be disturbed or have the man cry out. He needn’t have worried. Eyes screwed shut, sweat pouring down his face, teeth chattering in terror, the other servant was past all conscious thought or action.

Well and good!
Reen turned back, staring into the eyes of the man before him. He bared his teeth in a decaying smile. He slowly raised the tip of his cane and heard the faint, pleading whimper that escaped the captive’s throat. Drinking in the man’s essence, Reen placed the tip of the gnarled cane against the raw patch on the muscular chest. He leaned on it, hard.

Immediately, he was falling, surrounded by terror, blasted by screams. The scarecrow’s arms cartwheeled as he flailed for balance, but the sensation lasted only a second. This was the moment of vulnerability; the one moment when he could be thwarted, cast out, denied. But he already knew the fellow no longer had the ability to resist him. This cataclysmic wailing and shrieking was the only release permitted the tortured man, and even this fed the scarecrow’s black soul.

As he fed, Reen felt himself swelling. Twisted bones straightened, feeble muscles grew strong, and his skin regained a semblance of youth and vitality. Briefly, Reen regretted the weakness that prevented him from absorbing what he needed the other way, the more pleasurable way. Then he reminded himself sternly that such activities would have to wait. Much as he craved them, his need for physical strength was such that he must take it the simplest way possible, with the least cost to himself. Those other pleasures, the darker pleasures, would come later.

Before he damaged the man too severely, Reen withdrew from his essence. He removed the tip of the cane from the man’s bubbling flesh and watched dispassionately as the drained body crumpled to the floor. Let it lie! It would recover soon enough. He couldn’t afford, just yet, to reduce it too much. Soon—ah, soon, he promised himself—he would do as he willed and not have to concern himself with the well-being of his creatures. For now, much as it galled him, he needed them alive.

He turned toward the other man, his body now firmly fleshed, his movements sure. His lips once more broke into a sinister smile as he registered the blind panic on the older man’s face. He approached the gibbering servant, savoring the moment, drinking the terror, laughing at the tears that flowed as the captive’s gaze swung from the glowing tip of the cane to the ruby red points deep within the terrible gray eyes.

Once again, silent screams rang in Reen’s mind.

+ + + + +

“I
’m not sure I can do it, Brynne. How can I bear to let him go? Are you sure you can’t stay and begin his training here at the castle? I could have rooms made available to you—a whole suite if you like! You’d have free rein; you wouldn’t be distracted by the duties of the garrison, you could devote all your time to my son …”

And to you.

Brynne Sullyan faced the distraught King of Albia. They stood in the quiet of the sunlit nursery. Seline was nowhere to be seen and Eadan had just gone scampering off in a state of high excitement to fetch his favorite wooden sword, without which he’d go nowhere. Sullyan sighed as she faced up to the inevitable battle of wills she had been both expecting and dreading this morning.

“Elias, my friend, you already know my reasons for insisting Eadan come to the Manor. I am not free. I have a duty to the General and my company, as well as to you. The facilities of the College are what Eadan needs. The support and experience of his peers will go far toward encouraging his emerging talents. And besides, you saw how keen he is. Have you not promised him this from the moment he could understand your offer? How could you disappoint him now?”

Elias’s blue eyes misted over at her argument and he opened his mouth to reply, but Sullyan was in no mood to endure his stalling tactics. He had made the decision and she would see him abide by it.

“Have no fear, my lord. He will come to no harm with us. We will nurture him and care for him as surely as you would. He is one of us, and precious, doubly so as he will grow to be the first Artesan King of Albia. Do you think any of us would see that jeopardized?”

“Of course not, Brynne, I understand that. It’s only that I will miss him so much, and you know how I’ll also—”

“I know you will miss him, my friend.” Sullyan didn’t want to hear the rest of Elias’s sentiments. “And I am sure he will also miss you. I will be in regular contact with Taran as usual, and you will get a daily report on his progress and well-being. You are always welcome at the Manor, you know that, and Eadan will want regular visits from you so he can show off what he has learned. Let him go, Elias. You know you must.”

The sandy-haired King gazed into Sullyan’s warm eyes, hearing her unspoken plea. He knew she referred not only to his protests over Eadan, but also his desire to keep her near him. He sighed, a sentiment she silently echoed. She knew he couldn’t help his feelings, and feared he would not be able to dispel the specter of loneliness that would descend once she was gone.

He dropped his gaze and Sullyan saw capitulation in the weary slump of his shoulders. His defeated aspect pained her; it was what made her dread the end of each tour of duty at the castle. She longed to reach out to him, take him in her arms for comfort, but she didn’t dare. She had to keep her distance, for both their sakes. If she did not, if she once let slip her guard, they might well step beyond safe boundaries which could never be re-erected.

Fortunately, Eadan reappeared at that uncomfortable moment, clutching his toy sword. He was followed by his nursemaid, Bessie. The little boy was in a state of rare excitement at the thought of his coming adventure, and he capered around his father, waving his sword, crowing his delight and dispelling Elias’s somber mood. It was hard to feel despondent when Eadan’s joy was so infectious.

Despite his closeness to his father, Eadan obviously felt no fear of leaving him and traveling with Sullyan to the Manor, two days’ fast ride away from his home. During his adventures following his rescue from the Baron’s clutches at only one year of age, he had shown no anxiety at the many strange sights and sensations he experienced. Indeed, he seemed to form an attachment to Sullyan even then, due in part to her ability to perceive and understand his emerging psyche.

He was also close to her son, and to Rienne’s daughter. They were always at the castle when Sullyan was there, and to Eadan, they were part of his family. So although he was leaving his father behind, he was going with people he knew and trusted. Morgan’s colorful and exciting descriptions of life at the Manor whetted the little Prince’s appetite all the more. That and the promise of training both in metaphysics and in sword play—Eadan’s chief joys—would have persuaded him even had he been reluctant.

Elias could not hide a smile as he watched his son’s antics.

“Oh, very well. I won’t be difficult. But I shall expect daily reports, as you’ve promised, and I’ll be over to see him very soon.

“Eadan,” continued Elias, having to repeat the boy’s name firmly to get his attention. “Eadan! Come here, I want to speak with you.”

The little boy stopped brandishing the toy sword and stuck it through his small belt. Sullyan noticed with a smile that someone had made for Eadan a replica of her own leather weapons harness, which could be worn either around the hips or crosswise over the chest. Years ago, when she first began her own training, Ardoch had suggested this arrangement as it enabled her to draw her sword from across her back with either hand when she fought on horseback, a valuable talent which she had unwittingly developed before the more conventional teachings of the King’s swordmaster could train it out of her. She wondered whether the Torlander had been encouraging Eadan to do the same thing.

Elias knelt down in front of his son and regarded him seriously. Eadan’s eyes were a blue-gray, softer than his father’s.

“Eadan, I want you to behave yourself while you’re at the Manor.” Elias held up a hand to forestall his son’s protestations. “I’m not speaking as your father now, but as your King.”

This statement had an immediate effect on Eadan. He straightened his back and lifted his chin, well aware of his status as a Prince.

“I want you to remember, while you’re learning, that you are the Heir to the throne,” Elias continued. “You must work hard and obey your teachers, and you must not let me down by behaving badly. I want to be proud of you, Eadan, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Papa.” Eadan gazed up at his father trustingly.

“And there’s something else.” Elias glanced slyly up at Sullyan where she stood smiling down at them, Bessie beside her. “I want you to look after Brynne for me. Can you do that? Because I love her very much, you know, and I think you do too, don’t you?”

“Yes, Papa.” Eadan approached Sullyan and took her hand, his young voice firm and serious. “I’ll look after her, don’t worry.”

His tone and the look in Elias’s eyes caused Sullyan’s heart to lurch. She stared at Elias in defiance, knowing he was paying her back for her resistance to his wishes. He knew she had scant defenses against either his or Eadan’s love.

She tore her gaze away from Elias and turned to the little boy. “Do you have everything you need, Eadan? We had better go. Major Tamsen will have gathered the men by now and we must not keep them waiting.”

Bessie smiled at Eadan and ruffled his blond hair. “I’ve sent his things down already, Lady.”

The boy released Sullyan’s hand and scampered out of the room, heading toward the stairs. Elias and Sullyan followed at a slower pace. They emerged into the chilly morning sunshine, the hard frost of the night before glittering on the cobbles. Sullyan was stirred as always by the sight of the ordered ranks of men waiting obediently behind their captains; her life mate and lover at their head. She pulled her sheepskin-lined leather jacket tighter against the cold and nodded to Robin as she walked by Elias’s side toward the smaller group awaiting them.

Elias went to speak to Prince Aeyron, as the tall Andaryan was returning to his own realm this morning, and the two of them moved apart from the others to exchange farewells. Sullyan smiled up at Rienne where she sat atop her gentle spotted mare, a well-wrapped Taric cradled sleepily in her arms. Elisse was sitting on the saddlebow of her father’s iron-gray, and Morgan was on Robin’s horse, twisting around to watch Eadan as he ran over to Sullyan’s huge warhorse, Drum, and began petting the great black’s nose.

Sullyan gazed at him before turning to the last member of the party, the one who wouldn’t be returning with them. At the end of Sullyan’s sojourn at the castle, Taran’s fulltime duties as Court Artesan would recommence. She usually had a word with the Adept before leaving, but today she had more than King’s business on her mind.

“Taran, will you walk with me, please?”

He raised his brows. This wasn’t her normal leave-taking.

She moved some way apart from the others, aware of Robin’s eyes upon her. Taran regarded her curiously as she turned to him. He had no idea what was on her mind. Jinella wasn’t in attendance that frosty morning; she had already returned to her mansion.

Sullyan gazed up at the tall Adept. “Taran, are you happy here?”

The question took him by surprise and he frowned.

“Yes, Brynne, you know I am. I’m sorry to see you all go, of course. I can’t help missing your companionship when you’re not here. And I’ve enjoyed teaching that young scamp you call a son. He’s been keeping me on my toes, I can tell you.”

“You have made a good start with Morgan, my friend. Robin and I want you to know how much we appreciate what you can offer him. He already knows not to take his talents for granted. That is a very valuable lesson and confirms we were right in asking you to help him learn.”

Taran ducked his head, uneasy at her praise, a legacy from his father he still found hard to shake.

“There’s no need to thank me. I’ll do whatever I can to help him. And he’s not a difficult lad to like.”

This gave Sullyan her opening. “You are very natural with him. So natural, in fact, that I confess I am a little surprised you and Jinny have not yet started a family.”

Now Taran did blush and Sullyan plainly saw his discomfort. “We’re not wed,” he said shortly.

“And why is that?”

Her question made him glance at her sharply. “Has Jinny said something?”

“Can you blame her?” Sullyan allowed some of her irritation to show. “I, of all people, know what it is like to believe yourself barren, and to fear the person you love will not want you because you cannot bear children. Is it a wonder she is unhappy?”

“Barren?” Taran frowned in puzzlement. “I didn’t know she thought she was barren.”

Battling Elias’s inappropriate emotions and wheedling had thinned Sullyan’s patience. Her voice was sharper than usual. “Oh, Taran, for goodness sake! What did you expect Jinny to think? How long have you been together? Three years? And you have not exactly been celibate all this time, have you?”

Taran flushed crimson. He never could get used to her complete disregard for modesty or the sensibilities of others.

She stared at him, exasperated. “Why did you not tell her you were preventing her conceiving? And more to the point, why are you? Do you not want children?”

The tears that came into his eyes melted some of her frustration. He was an honorable man, a gallant one, but his sentiments sometimes made him go further than necessary. She sighed deeply and touched him on the arm.

“Jinny is unhappy. She thinks you have not asked her to marry you because she has not conceived. You need to talk to her. You must tell her what you feel and you must make up your mind about what you want.”

Taran hung his head and Sullyan softened.

“She is good for you, my friend. She makes you happy and she shares your passion. That is what you need. Do not deny yourself the chance of happiness just because it is not quite the happiness you truly desire.”

Taran turned away. That was the crux of the problem and they both knew it. Taran could enjoy Jinny’s company, he could make love with her and find release for the intensity of his emotions, but, in his deepest heart, he felt it was second best. And that was unfair to Jinny, who gave herself freely and honestly, loving him while still being aware of a special part of his soul that she could never touch. And that, Sullyan knew, was why Taran held back, why he used his powers as an Artesan to prevent the conception of a child. For a child would cement their relationship and bind them together forever. Taran wasn’t sure either of them was ready for that.