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  LYCAN BLOOD: VOLUME SEVEN

  THE SHADOWED PRINCES

  BY

  JANRAE FRANK

  ISBN 978-1-60089-430-5

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2008 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

  DEDICATION

  I am dedicating this to my first readers:

  Mark Prins, Steven Beeho, and Andrea Wideman. Thanks for all the input, the aggravation, the arguing, and the fact that you're not afraid to tell me when I'm wrong. No one could hope for a better set of first readers.

  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.

  THE THREE BROTHERS

  Once there were three brothers, Brandrahoon the vampire, Isranon called the Dawnhand, speaker to spirits, and Waejonan the Accursed, first of sa'necari. Isranon defied his brothers and was destroyed, his descendants forced into the darkness.

  St. Tarmus of Lorendon

  THE FIRST MOTHERS

  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.

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE THANES AND THE BASTARD

  Lady Kady Maguire, six months pregnant, folded her hands together across her swollen belly. Her flaxen curls had grown out and hung to her shoulders. She wore her hair brushed behind her ears and secured in place with elegant clips. The night after she killed Cormic Parry in the Difficult Horse Tavern for trying to kidnap her, Kady had shown her hair off as a symbol of making a new beginning. The abused daughter of a tavernmaster with little hope for the future, Kady persuaded Cahira Sinclair, Kynyr's grandmother, to take her on as an apprentice. Kady had not really expected Cahira to accept her, because eighteen was considered too old to start an apprenticeship; since most cubs were apprenticed at ten. She fell in love and married Kynyr Maguire, only to discover that her dashing guardsmon was actually the bastard prince and heir to the lycan realm of Red Wolf. Treachery had struck him down, leaving him crippled and ill; however, in her heart, he would always be her Kynyr, strong and capable.

  She regarded her husband with fond and loving eyes.

  "We won, Kynyr."

  Kynyr stirred in his wheel-chair. His chiseled features, which had been so handsome, were gaunt with deep purple circles beneath his blue eyes, rendered haggard by lines that aged his face beyond his twenty-one years. We won a battle. Not the war."

  "We'll win the war, too. Her tone of voice betrayed her: she sounded as if she were trying to convince herself as well as Kynyr.

  "I want to believe that, Kady. I really do. But it won't be easy. Bitterness at being crippled edged his words, although he tried to hide it more and more. Iollen Newell, the one-armed widower who worked for them as an odd jobber, had slapped him with a stinging accusation of cowardice, jolting Kynyr into trying to cope with his situation.

  "I'm not saying that it will be."

  Belgair Doherty, the Captain of Claw's Guardsmyn, had thrown in his lot with Kynyr's mortal enemy, Malthus Estrobian. A bloody purge of the guardsmyn, prelude to a coup, had left many of Kynyr's friends dead or wounded. The next morning, Belgair attacked the Maguire Estate. Tobrytan MacFie had marched an army from Clan MacLachlan across a makeshift bridge during the night, arriving in time to hand Belgair's forces a devastating defeat. Belgair himself had perished in the battle, cut down by Kynyr's legendary grandfather, Todd Sinclair.

  "Kynyr Maguire? A giant of a lycan entered the room and raked his amber eyes across Kynyr. He stood six seven, with big, thick bones, black hair, and fair skin. His air of casual arrogance proclaimed an ability to tackle whatever life threw at him and beat it into submission.

  Kynyr stared uneasily. He had never seen anyone larger than Todd. He let the brake off on his wheel-chair and rolled forward. Yes, I'm Kynyr."

  A smile blossomed on Kady's face. Hello, Stone."

  Stoneriver had been born Brock Redhand, the younger brother of the late chieftain Claw. By rights, Stone should have been old. The average lycan lifespan was one hundred twenty. He looked barely thirty, although he was well past one hundred.

  "There are no miracles, except those we make for ourselves, said Stone. Allow me."

  Kynyr could not think of what to say and so sat motionless, watching Stone roll up his own sleeve. Then he pushed Kynyr's out of the way and pressed his forearm to his, skin to skin.

  The prince could not do magic, but he could see the patterns of arcane energyan inheritance from his grandmother, Cahira. Stone spoke words in a language that Kynyr, fluent in many tongues, had never heard before. A pattern of crimson and azure wrapped around their arms. A jolt of energy rushed through Kynyr, filling him with a sense of well being. His body tingled from the tips of his toes and fingers to the top of his head.

  "What was that?"

  "Shared Life done wrong. A leisurely smile, laced with cockiness, spread across Stone's face. I can't say how much good it will do, but my kinsmon Dynarien says it might surprise you."

  "You're a lifemage?"

  "No. I just do trick
s. There will be no more chieftains in Red Wolf, if I have any say in it, and I think I will have a lot. No, there will be a king."

  "Who?"

  "Kynyr Maguire."

  His name, so simply spoken, stunned Kynyr, and he repeated an old Creeyan proverb without thinking. Duty is where you find it."

  Kady moved closer, and laid her hand over Kynyr's squeezing it.

  The edges of Stone's mouth twitched. After everything that has happened, I am surprised that you can still say that."

  "What else would I say? I'm Todd Sinclair's grandson. Kynyr shrugged, grasped his thigh, and shifted the unresponsive leg into a more comfortable position. Kady immediately tucked his lap blanket into place again. Kynyr caressed Kady with his eyes, and then turned back to his uncle. What did you do to me? What do you mean by Shared Life done wrong?

  "Do you know what Shared Life is?"

  "My grandmother's a mage. My father was a schoolteacher. Kynyr felt suddenly defensive. Too many people had assumed in the pastincluding Malthusthat because he had chosen to become a guardsmon, he was the usual ignorant sod with more fight than sense. Josiah Abelard created it to mimic the gifts of the lifemages, transferring both blood and life force."

  "I see you're an educated mon. Done wrong, it leaves in the random factor, and what might come of that, no one can predict."

  Kynyr considered the implications. It was a strange introduction to his infamous uncle; so he decided to let the matter drop.

  * * * *

  The number of banners flying from the tall pole in the middle of the commons had grown. As each thane arrived for the witan, another banner was added to the others. The seventeen thanes of Red Wolf had gathered in the capital of Wolffgard to confirm or deny the last wishes of their late chieftain, Claw Redhand.

  Thane Clennan Doherty was a hard mon. The cut of his dark clothing concealed the withered left leg and arm; while his glove made a black sheathed claw of that hand. He drew rein on the common and stared first at the long scaffolds. The icy weather had preserved the bodies of scores upon scores of myn hanging from them like grotesque fruit.

  "What happened here? He demanded and then his eyes fell upon a body, set higher and apart from the rest: Belgair. They killed my son."

  A stout horsemon rode up to him, round as an apple and ruddy cheeked. It's been a while, Clennan."

  "Vertram, Clennan acknowledged the Thane of Chandler's Rock. Vertram Devlin was the richest thane in Red Wolf. Three major trade routes met at Chandler's Rock and, as a result, his wealth rivaled that of the Redhand family. He was also a drunken skirt chaser whose present official mistress was Clennan's eighteen-year-old granddaughter Jocelyn.

  "They've split us up, Clennan. Some of us are staying at the Lawgiver House, others at the Manor, and a privileged few at the bastard's mansion."

  "Which way does the wind blow for you, Vertram?"

  "Same as yours. Hang the bastard."

  Clennan raked the thumb of his dessicated claw across his chin. Who killed my son?"

  "Todd Sinclair. The legend has returned."

  "Legends can die, Vertram. His tone made that statement a promise.

  Two horsemyn reined in behind Clennan, watchful guardians wearing Battle-clan fingerbones braided into their long pale hair. Slender, straw-haired Faerwald Davies and his brawny towheaded companion, Lairgan Yates, enforced Clennan's wishes. They were duelists by trade, bodyguards by circumstance, andif the rumors that Vertram had heard were truethey dabbled in assassination at Clennan's orders. The soulless gaze of a true predator jarred with the easy set of their mouths, as if they found amusement in everything they saw and did. Faerwald's thin lips acknowledged Vertram in a manner that sent a shiver up the thane's spine.

  Each of them carried a plain-looking saber with a solid half basket hilt at their hips and a main gauche on the opposite side. There was nothing fancy about them; everything was serviceable and practical as befitted myn who knew their business.

  Clennan's eyes drifted again to his son's dangling body. No signs of grief showed on the Thane's face, nor in his words. His voice remained hard and steady. Tell me how my son died."

  "I don't know much of it. Todd put a blade in his belly. The one you want to speak with is Lennox Strahan. However, he's gone into hiding."

  "Can you arrange a meeting?"

  Vertram nodded his answer, unable to think of what more to say.

  * * * *

  Sorcha's Wing contained the most spacious suites in the manor; yet it had remained empty and unused since shortly after the Lycan Rebellion of 997. With all the thanes present, Stone had ordered those suites opened and cleaned. As the rooms became ready, Stone allowed those thanes lodged in temporary quarters at the Lawgiver House to move into the manor for the duration of their stay. He hoped to swiftly have them all under one roof where he and his myn could keep an eye on them. Custom limited each of them to not more than twenty myn-at-arms at a witan. It did not limit the number of myn in their baggage train, such as servants and ladies maids for those who brought their mistresses and wives.

  He made them draw lots to see who got each suite as they became available; which irritated them. To his second in command, Lord Reist Devlin Thane-Regent of Gateshead, this proved awkward when both his father Vertram Devlin and Clennan Doherty managed to land at the manor ahead of the others. Reist experienced misgivings toward the entourages of those two, because some of those servants had the look of housecarles and soldiers. Despite the customary limit, Reist doubted that either of them held any qualms about sneaking in more fighting myn than they were allowed.

  The spacious Audience Chamber of Stone's father, Suleahan Redhand, had been re-opened and now served as a gathering place for the Thanes and others. Claw's Great Hall had been relegated to a viewing room for the bodies of the three members of the Redhand family who had died the day of the purge. Reist drifted through the Great Hall toward the three coffins on the viewing platform. Normally, those who died in the winter were not buried until spring. The ground was too hard to dig graves. The dead were simply laid out on the rooftops and preserved by the snow that covered them.

  However, Stone had given the task of digging to the gryphons and mages of Lieutenant Jennifer Sherbourne's unit; the latter to thaw the ground and the former to do the actual digging. The graves had been dug and then covered with wood panels to keep the snow out until the day of the funeral. A time had been set for viewing the dead each day. The citizens of Red Wolf started lining up outside the manor doors at sunrise for an opportunity to pay their final respects to the dead chieftain. Claw Redhand had been well loved by the people, if not always by the thanes.

  The center of the Great Hall had been roped off into viewing lines. Trestle tables and rough wooden chairs that did not encourage long spells of sitting lined the sides. The looms and spinning wheels that once sat near the huge hearth had been placed in storage; and most of the furniture that had filled the room had been moved to the Audience Chamber.

  Tension threaded Reist when he heard Vertram's voice at the far end of the dimly lighted hall. Desirous of avoiding his father, he would have turned around and left had he not heard his wife's voice sharp in reply. He had married his widowed cousin Regina in a move that had been purely political and based on atonement. Her husband and his family had been butchered in the massacre at Gateshead. Thane Cedric Hargrave of Whiteford had then pressed Reist into marrying her to provide a legal protector to Regina and her two surviving cubs.

  Regina stood facing Vertram, the color heightening in her cheeks as she spoke. She had put off her black robes of mourning, which startled Reist, and wore a cobalt blue dress that accentuated the mounds of her breasts with a delicate kazamerie shawl thrown over it. She carried the saber that Reist had given her as a wedding gift at her side, hanging from a tooled leather belt. It destroyed the illusion of femininity provided by the dress, but Reist liked it.

  "The marriage can be set aside, Regina. Vertram's eyes drifted from her face to her brea
sts.

  It had been twenty years since Reist had laid eyes on Vertram. He noticed, with vindictive satisfaction, that his father had gotten fat. A huge paunch hung over the sword belt worn low on Vertram's hips to accommodate his girth. There would be no more of his youthful shenanigans such as disguising himself as a hunter to stalk a bitch whose father objected to himwith that girth, Vertram was unmistakable.

  "It most certainly cannot. Her eyes flashed. Consummation was duly recorded."

  Reist sensed, more than saw, the desperation beneath Regina's words as she floundered in her defense. He decided to put a show on and swaggered to her side with a naughty boy gleam in his eyes.

  Regina flinched when he put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek.

  "I wondered where you were, Reggie."

  Vertram glared at Reist and then exploded, making him wonder how long that argument had been going on between his father and his wife. Don't cross me, Reist."

  "Why would I do that, Vertram? Reist tilted his head with a devil-may-care smile.

  The thane of Chandler's Rock stiffened. Show some respect! I'm your father."

  Anger wilted Reist's determination to make a game of it. His jaw clenched. Only because it was your seed that quickened my mother's belly. In none of the ways that count are you my father. Don't expect any familial pleasantries or sense of obligation from me. I don't owe you any."

  "I have other heirs, Reist."

  Reist shrugged. I disowned you twenty years ago, Vertram. Enjoy your other heirs. They are all you have. He looped his arm through Regina's. Come on, Reggie. Jenny has called a meeting in the Blue Room."

  He led her upstairs and when they passed the Blue Room heading in the direction of Sorcha's Wing, Regina stopped him and turned to face the door. Jenny?"

  "I lied. I figured that you wanted to get away from him."

  "I did. Thank you."

  "Why the dress?"

  "For the sake of appearances. I decided I should look like a new bride rather than a mourning widow. She lowered her head; an edge of uneasiness lined her mouth. Jenny suggested it. We've been going through some chests of clothes we found storedwith Stone's permission of course."