King's Dragon (Crown of Stars 1)

Alain sat among the hounds and let their hot breath, their heavy bodies and wet tongues, the friendly lash of their whipcord tails, surround him. Devil’s or daimone’s get they might be, but he trusted these hounds, for they trusted him.

They growled when Biscop Antonia came from the feast with her clerics to look in on the prisoner.

“We are leaving in the morning,” she said sternly to Master Rodlin, “and Count Lavastine has given us leave to take the Eika prisoner into our entourage. All must be ready so we may leave early. Be sure the hounds are chained this night.”

She went away again, quickly enough, but right away Master Rodlin berated Alain for not chaining up the hounds. “They’ll be taking the Eika monster away in the morning,” he said. “And good riddance.” He left, looking irritated.

Alain was not sure whom he meant: good riddance to the Eika prince or to Lady Sabella and her entourage, who had pretty much eaten every scrap of food in the stronghold and were in addition commandeering five of the best horses from the stable? But even if Master Rodlin meant their visitors, it was also true no one would care if the Eika prince was killed or hauled away in a cage. Or if he vanished mysteriously in the night, never to be seen again. Why should they care? He was a savage, was he not?

But did not Our Lady and Lord create all things on this Earth? Was not every living thing beloved in Their eyes? Certainly not all creatures, human or otherwise, lived within the light of the Circle of Unity, and so such ungodly creatures might behave without mercy or in ways that ran against the laws of the church, but was it not then a service to Our Lady and Lord to bring them to the knowledge of the Unities?

What if he was wrong? If he had misunderstood that overheard conversation between Lady Sabella and Biscop Antonia? But it would be worse not to be wrong and to fail to act.

He made his decision at dusk. After chaining all but the two most loyal hounds, he took off the wooden Circle of Unity given him by Aunt Bel and hurried over to the cage.

“Sit, Rage. Sit, Sorrow,” he commanded. The two hounds sat, obedient to his command. He unlatched the cage. The Eika prince watched him but did not attempt to speak. He slid the Circle on its leather string over the prince’s head. Then, with a deep breath caught in for courage, he loosened the chains that bound the creature hand and foot and let him go free.

The hounds remained strangely silent. Nor did they leap forward to attack the prince.

The creature flexed his arms and legs, stretching. Then he turned.

He was fast. Alain didn’t see the lunge coming until it was too late. The prince grabbed hold of Alain’s left arm. With a powerful, almost careless swipe of one hand, the Eika prince slashed the back of Alain’s hand with the white claws that sprouted from his knuckles. Blood spurted out. Alain was too horrified to move, too appalled at his own stupidity: Now I will die. But surely the Lady and Lord will forgive me, if the error rose from compassion. The hounds did not stir, did not bolt forward to attack the prince, and that itself was a marvel.

The Eika prince raised Alain’s bleeding hand to his mouth and lapped up the blood. Alain was so appalled he felt dizzy. He could only stare as the prince cut his own left hand with his claws and lifted the hand … for Alain to do the same, to return the gesture.

“Go free,” said the prince. “Paier sanguis.” Pay blood.

Sorrow whined. Rage growled deep in her throat, her head turning to look toward the gate.

There was no time to waste. Gagging, Alain took one lick. The blood was staggeringly sweet, like honey. He reeled back. His vision clouded. He heard, distantly, the murmuring of a small group of people as they advanced across the outer court. He heard the soft scrape of metal knives rustling against cloth. He smelled the fetid odor of the latrines, as if the people he heard were downwind from the latrines, although with the wind this night that should have been much too far away from the stockade for him to be able to hear or smell such things.

“Mi nom es fil fifte litiere fifte.” Then the prince was gone.

Alain dug his knuckles into his eyes, rubbing hard. The hounds nudged him, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a shadow on the ladder. It climbed, threw itself over the top, and vanished from his sight. He ran.

He got to the top of the ladder in time to see a thin wink of shadow fade into the forest. Gone free. Alain’s hand throbbed. He touched the cut to his lips reflexively, tasting the sharp tang of blood.

The forest is alive at night with strange creatures. Bare feet sink into the loam of last autumn’s fallen leaves. It is cool, and dark, and leaves skitter in the night breeze in patterns of shadow made plain against darker shadow.

Alain shook himself free. There! He saw a party of six people emerge from the palisade gate beside the latrines. Oddly enough, the taste of honey still lingering on his tongue, he knew at once the figure in the center was Biscop Antonia, although it was too dark to make out more than the suggestion of their presence.

They were coming here.

He scrambled down the ladder and unchained the hounds. He would face Master Rodlin’s wrath in the morning and pretend to be asleep tonight. It was the coward’s way; he knew that. He ought to confront her … but she was a biscop! A great woman of the court. He was nothing, no one, not compared to those of high rank.

He hid in the lean-to while they tapped on the gate.

The hounds leaped and barked and growled. After a while, the biscop and her party went away.

“All is prepared,” he heard the biscop say with his newly uncanny hearing as she and her clerics walked back toward the palisade. “It is necessary that we act. We must find another to consecrate at the altar. One who will not be missed.” The words faded into a sudden vision of running at a steady lope through the night forest.

Mi nom, the Eika prince had said, using the Salian words. My name is Fifth Son of the Fifth Litter. Alain shook his head. He was still dizzy, from fear, from excitement, from guilt, from the taste of blood. He had heard wrong.

“One who will not be missed.”

The hounds whined. Sorrow finally nosed loose the latch on the lean-to door and shoved inside, pressing himself up against Alain, licking his face and then, like a healer mending wounds, the fresh cut on his hand.

There was only one person in this stronghold besides the Eika prince who would not be mourned or missed should he vanish. Fear nosed his hand and licked his fingers.