Frank-SQuest

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  LYCAN BLOOD: VOL. I

  SERPENT'S QUEST

  By

  JANRAE FRANK

  ISBN 978-1-60089-074-1

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2007 Janrae Frank

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.

  For information contact:

  PageTurnerEditions.com

  PageTurner Editions/Futures-Past Fantasy

  A Renaissance E Books publication

  THE FIRST MOTHERS

  (The lycans have a primarily oral tradition, although increasing numbers of them are becoming literate. This is the first poem that a young boy apprenticed to a lawgiver learns.)

  We howled to the moon one winter's night

  And she howled back to give us might

  From all the packs gathered neath her light

  She chose among us one single wight

  Tala took that male to her silvery home

  She told the packs to hide, not roam

  From that mating, Navaryn came

  To make us men in more than name

  Navaryn, first mother to us all

  By her blood our shapes are tall

  Pandeena, second mother to us all

  When they howl, heed their call

  They gave us laws, the ways, and speech

  They changed all things within our reach

  The ways of culture we were taught

  To bring us from old Skawtsslund fraught

  By dangers vile and dangers fell

  So goes the ancient, ancient tale

  Navaryn, first mother to us all

  By her blood, our shapes are tall

  The woodland god, at their pleading,

  Opened a Gate Arcane to end our bleeding

  On the strands of Skawtsslund fraught

  With the dangers mankind brought

  Pandeena, second mother to us all

  When she howls heed well her call

  We passed between the pillars tall

  To these new lands beyond man's pall

  We settled here and built our lives

  Where lycan kind can grow and thrive

  In a new world of hope and promise

  Beyond the reach of murdering Thomas.

  THE EXILE'S CURSE

  When the Serpent comes, they all shall perish,

  The Redhands fall like sheaves of grain, until only the Exile shall remain of those who own their name.

  When fireborn law breathes hot upon the root

  One born of fire shall perish for the truth

  The exile's victory shall be his pardon

  Those he claims will rule

  The prince from shadows shall emerge

  To sit a blood drenched throne

  ...Alistar Weems dying words.

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE INFILTRATOR

  On an unusually hot day for late spring, Malthus stood in the middle of the stout wooden bridge spanning the gorge cut through the sheer stone walls by the deep cataract known as the Eirlys River: the rushing roar of the Eirlys made fitting music for the entrance into the lands of one of Waejontor's most powerful lycan clans. On three sides the land descended into rugged canyons and twisted valleys that looked like an impossible giant had ripped his fingers through the soil. Most of the ruling sa'necari culture did not know this valley existed, except for the upper castes and their liegemyn who had used it as a waystation during the years that the late King Baaltrystan's lords still held their mountain fastnesses.

  He clutched two small girls close to him in a protective embrace, and hesitated as the seven lycan guards in gigantic wolf form emerged from the thick stand of fragrant white pine and cedars three spear lengths beyond the bridge where a heavy barrier of brush and briars offered concealment for many things.

  The newcomers looked ragged and worn: the girls dresses were stained and soiled. The hem of the older girl's skirt had come partially loose and dragged in the dirt. Trail dust smudged their faces, forming muddied lines around their mouths and noses where it had mixed with their sweat.

  Malthus wore a brace of long belt knives at his hips, an empty scabbard that had once held a sword at his shoulder, and a scruffy pack on his back. Several pouches hung from his belt. He gazed at the assembled lycans through eyes wide with fear and trepidation. Please help us. I've been told sanctuary can be found here for the children."

  "Come to our side, said a tall lycan in transitional form, stepping forward from among his wolf brothers and speaking with authority. He wore the runes of a lawgiver.

  While considering the lycans, Malthus immediately wondered how someone as young as this mon could have become their lawgiver: he looked to be in no more than his late teens, and the last time Malthus heard, the lawgiver for this place was Nevin Scarface. Malthus began reassessing the situation in light of this.

  Although they traveled swiftest as wolves, they were at their most dangerous in their hybrid shapes. All of the clans had a reputation for caution, especially this one: with their valleys laying in Sharani-occupied Waejontor, they were vigilant against both their old sa'necari overlords and their new ones, the Sharani. One wrong move and they would rip him apart before he could bring his magic to bear. The last thing he wished was for them to discover what he was. However, the lawgiver was young, and probably no challenge.

  Malthus arm tightened around the two girls, squeezing them together against his body while eying the lycans warily. He walked across, his worn boot heels clicking on the wood scarcely heard above the water far below.

  "These are my nieces. Sa'necari born. Their parents were slain. We barely escaped with our lives."

  The lawgiver nodded as if that was what he expected to hear but that it made no difference. These are the rules. No lives are taken by appetite or rite on Clan Red Wolf lands: we are Willodarians. Those who have are unwelcome here. If you are sa'necari, state it now and return across the bridge or be spellcorded. For emphasis he drew the bands and seals from the pouch hanging on his wide leather belt. Someone will be sent to Read you for the taint, and if you have lied, we will execute you."

  "I am not sa'necari, Malthus said. My mother was human, unlike my brother's, so I did not inherit the tainted gene."

  Nikko the lawgiver nodded again with his hand held up to forestall more words from Malthus, and continued in his speech. From the Eirlys River, he pointed at the river, and then indicated the direction of the rest of the landmarks, to the piled boulders and six pines, north to the caves and south to the broad meadows and place of fallen trees. All that belongs to Red Wolf. All must ask permission before feeding on blood; make certain that your nieces adhere to that."

  "They carry the sa'necari gene, but they have not matured into their fangs yet."

  "All the better, replied Nikko. You are welcome here so long as you obey our rules, and you may make a place for yourself among the others who have come seeking sanctuary. The homes and farms on clan land you enter only if invited. You hunt game only if invited. If the Sharani should have reason to pursue you to our borders we will kill you. We are law-abiding citizens of the occupied zone. These are the rules."

  Occupied zone. The words framed in Malthus thoughts with distas
te. These stupid wolves . The young Queen Tomyrilen de Waejonan was beating the Sharani back at every turn and they still considered themselves citizens of the occupied zone. It did not matter to the sa'necari and other Waejontori gathering to her banner that she was the bastard daughter of the late Prince Shintar and a Sharani banewitch: what mattered was that, so far as any one knew, she was the last of the Waejonans. If these foolish wolves continued to obey the Sharani, then she would soon be torching their valleys. We accept them. You have teachers for the children to bring them to the path of Light? Malthus asked.

  "Yes. A Willodarian priest. You look as if you haven't eaten."

  "Not in three days. The children are hungry. I can work with my hands. I am strong. I can earn whatever bread you can provide. I also have plenty of gold to spend, but you needn't know that yet.

  "The Sanctuary Refugee Camp can always use more hands. We are building shelters and houses for the refugees like yourselves. Come and let us see that you are fed. I am Nikko the Lawgiver."

  "I am Malthus Estrobian. My nieces are Ros and Lyrri. I was kandoyarin, serving in Ocealay until I heard about the rebellion. Fearing for my family, I came home. We're all that's left."

  At their names, the two girls smiled shyly at the lycan lawgiver.

  Nikko smiled back at them. Welcome to Wolffgard Village."

  Malthus smirked as Nikko led them into the yard around the Chieftain Claw Redhand's home, which was the nearest building to the bridge, and sucked in a breath of relief. He was in. Soon he could begin to sniff around for what had happened to Troyes, his nieces father. So far as he had been able to learn, this was the last place Troyes had been seen.

  Tomyrilen Dovane de Waejonan had appeared suddenly out of nowhere, claiming to be the illegitimate daughter of the dead prince Shintar de Waejonan, and half-sister to the late King Baaltrystan. Nobles and commoners alike were rising to follow her standard. The rebellion had made reaching this valley difficult, but Malthus had made a deal with the young queen's first advisor, Lord Daemon. He had been allowed to slip through in exchange for becoming Daemon's agent here. The valley would fall and Malthus would be well paid in gold, land, and slaves.

  Malthus was a bounty hunter with a reputation for subtlety and resourcefulnessand sa'necari by birth. His father had been nobly born, but Malthus came from the wrong side of the blankets. He would have inherited nothing, even had his father's estates not been burned by the Sharani. Five siblings on both sides of the blankets had been burned alive by the Sharani. Knowing the swift way that sa'necari fertility faded, his father had gotten as many children as he could in his youth. Yet, even so, only Malthus and these two little girls were left. Unless Troyes was still alive somewhere. He would let this play out to his advantage; once he decided what that advantage was and who it lay with.

  They followed Nikko past a large manor house with elaborate gardens surrounding the back and east side. A large barn and stables swept out to the west side of it. The simple practicality of water troughs and hitching posts in the courtyard contrasted sharply with elegance behind it. Blue veins shot through the chinked pale yellow stone of the manor house.

  Nikko pointed at it. That is the chieftain's house, Claw Redhand."

  Malthus nodded, his trained eyes swept the grounds. The three-story structure wasn't as large as some sa'necari manors, but he estimated that it must have at least sixteen bedrooms in the main part and an equal number in the servants wing. Lycans did not build their homes for defense. They counted on stopping invaders before they reached the houses and generally they were alerted by the packs of true wolves that freely ran their valleys, which were defensible areas in and of themselves. Those wild packs would need to be located and destroyed early.

  "How far have you traveled? Nikko asked.

  "Too far, Malthus replied. Two months ago I was in Ildyrsetts."

  "I have never been there. It is down along the coast?"

  "Yes. A little over two weeks ago, I was in Dragonton near Torment Lake. Malthus rubbed his pen quill thin mustache, pulling at the curving ends a moment. He had more facial hair than most sa'necari because of his inheritance from his human mother, which required daily shaving with the elegant folding razor in his pocket to keep neat. Malthus used it to cut throats as well as to shave. He had picked it up in Timbren while working for one of the wealthiest bounty hunters in the business, Necrodez. There were rumors that Necrodez had finally met his match near Ildyrsetts last winter, but Malthus would have to see it to believe it.

  Nikko nodded thoughtfully. I hear there has been violence there."

  "Not all of the old nobility wanted to accept the new queen. They met in Dragonton to discuss what actions to take. The queen swept down upon them... Malthus let his voice trail away and made a cutting motion across his throat with his finger. My family was among them."

  Malthus studied Nikko. The mon seemed much too young for his position, no more than seventeen, or eighteen. Lawgivers were chosen by the location of the stars at their birth or other omens and reared for the job, serving the elder lawgiver. Malthus wondered what had happened to the old one, Nevin Scarface. Well it worked to his advantage to have such an inexperienced lawgiver to deal with. Now, if only he could be so lucky with the Willodarian priest.

  They walked farther and entered the village proper. By that time Ros and Lyrri were stumbling with exhaustion. Malthus lifted Lyrri into his arms. Seeing the way Ros was faltering also, Nikko picked her up with a glance at Malthus who nodded his permission.

  "I am sorry that it is so far, Nikko said. We built the sanctuary in the protected area on the northeast side."

  "I can understand that. It is a logical way to protect those less able to protect themselves. And a good way to isolate people until you decide whether you can trust them. Canny wolves .

  The rustic village contained mostly the traditional longhouses of variegated stone, with newer frame houses sprinkled through, painted in the forest colors beloved of the lycans. A single main street traversed the village, which was almost large enough to be called a small town, with numerous residential side streets. They passed a large assortment of shops and establishments, including two eateries, a couple of taverns, a dry goods, a tanner's, and toward the end a blacksmith and a harness-maker. The majority of lycans were no more than semi-literate, hence the graphics on the signs over every place of business. Where human villages tended to be dirty, with streets of dead brown, packed down earththe lycan main street was thick with trees of all kinds and grass growing in a wide swath down the middle. Trees shaded the fronts and sides of every building, with tree rounds and benches for sitting scattered through with comfortable abandon. The lycans were fond of sitting outside and gabbing with whoever happened by. People stopped to nod at them and acknowledge the lawgiver in a mix of politeness and curiosity as they sized up the newcomers.

  Malthus gave them his most humble expression salted with suitable anxiety as if uncertain of his welcome. The two pretty little girls were his key to opening doors and hearts, and he would see that they played it very well. He patted Lyrri's back, slid into her mind, and sent her to sleep. Over the course of their journey, he had placed coercions, sways, and triggers in their minds as deeply as possible. She's exhausted. We all are. Is it much farther?"

  "Only a little. Poor little thing, Nikko said. We'll have you a place to sleep and food in no time."

  The sanctuary proved to be mostly a cluster of woven cone-shaped sheelings that required dropping to your knees before crawling inside. Smoke rose from ventilation holes in the roofs of the sheelings. A long house built of stone stood at the center with a chimney in the middle of its roof. Several smaller buildings of wood stood half finished. A short distance away three more stone houses were being raised as permanent shelters; as well as others that were still being constructed by the refugees along with volunteers from among the lycans. Tree rounds and crude benches provided seats beneath the trees, as did the scattered small boulders.

  Most of th
e volunteers were teenagers, yet they moved to their tasks capably and without hesitation. All lycans were reared to a trade as soon as they could walk.

  A plump, middle-aged lycan wearing a shapeless, dark blue dress stood on the green in front of the long stone house. Nikko walked up to her. Beth, I have more folks for you to care for. This is Malthus. The girls are Lyrri and Ros. They're sa'necari born, but their uncle isn't. Their family was wiped out in the rebellion."

  Beth quirked an eyebrow at that. We're getting a few of those. Come inside. She gestured at the longhouse.

  Malthus said nothing when he saw her nostrils flare and she sniffed him in passing. Lycans did not consider it rude to check newcomers out with their noses. He knew that she was confirming his claim to be human. She would not find anything. Malthus used an embedded spell on the ring he wore to mask his nature, scent and sa'necari eyes. They could spellcord him, yet his eyes and scent would still be hidden. The ring had been a gift from Lord Daemon, who appeared to have an unusually substantial horde of early sa'necari artifacts.

  The longhouse had a dirt floor and a deep fire pit in the center, around which several children lay sleeping. A room at either end was separated from the rest of the building by a half wall that had a curtained door and window built into the slat panels. Weathered gray wooden frames were built into the windows to the outside to hold the shutters that they closed on cooler nights.

  Beth grabbed some bowls off a shelf and knelt by the pit. A huge kettle hung above the pit, suspended on two iron posts with a rod across them. She dipped up a hearty stew of lentils, lamb, and vegetables.

  Malthus woke Lyrri as he knelt and set her on the ground. Nikko placed Ros by her sister near the fire pit.

  "I'll return tomorrow and check on how you're doing, Nikko said. He left as Beth began handing bowls around to Malthus and his nieces.

  Beth had a sweet, apple-cheeked face and a pleasant manner. She beamed at the girls as they ate hungrily. Have they been blooded yet?"

  Malthus gave her a startled grin. That's some years off. Female sa'necari get their fangs with their menses, or so that side of my family told me."