Daughter of the Blood

"It iss nowhere and everywhere." Draca pointed at his feet. "Your feet must be bare. Flessh musst touch the web." When Saetan had stripped off his shoes and socks, Draca pointed to a tether line. "Begin here. Walk sslowly to the center, letting the web draw you into itsself. When you reach the center, possition yoursself behind the Jewel sso you are facing the tether line closesst to Beldon Mor."



"And then?"



Draca studied Saetan, her thoughts hidden. "And the Blood sshall ssing to the Blood. Your blood, darkened by your sstrength, will feed the web. You will direct the power from thiss offering sso it iss channeled to the one tether line you need. You musst not break contact with the web once you begin."



"And then?"



"And then you will ssee what you have come here to ssee."



Saetan tapped into the reserve strength in his Black Jewels and stepped on the tether line. The power in the web stabbed into his heel like a needle. He sucked in his breath and began walking.



Each step drove the power of the web upward. By the time he reached the center, his whole body vibrated with the hum. Keeping one foot in contact with the web, Saetan positioned himself behind the Jewel, his eyes and will focused on that one tether line.



He held out his right wrist and opened his vein.



His blood hissed when it hit the Jewel in the center of the web', formed a red mist. The mist twisted into a fine thread and began to inch its way along the tether line.



Drop by drop, the thread moved toward Chaillot, toward Beldon Mor.



For a moment it stopped, a finger-length away from the Jewel chip, blocked. Then it crept upward, a red vine climbing an invisible wall, until a handspan above the floor, it was over, flowing back along the tether line.



He had breached Jaenelle's mist. The moment the blood thread touched the Jewel chip, he would be able to probe Beldon Mor.



The thread touched the Jewel chip.



Saetan's eyes widened. "Hell's fire, what—"



"Don't move!" Draca's voice seemed so far away.



What had Daemon done? Saetan thought as he picked up the aftertaste of rage. Sinking beneath the cacophony of the lesser Jewels, Saetan searched the Black, the too-still Black. There should have been three minds within his probing reach. There was only one, the one farthest out, the one at the Dark Altar.



Keeping his eyes locked on the Jewel chip, Saetan sent a thought along the thread, spear to spear. "Namesake?"



His answer was a brief, annoyed flicker.



Saetan tried again, spear to distaff. "Witch-child?"



For a moment, nothing.



Saetan heard Draca gasp as light flickered around him.



Out of the corner of his eye, he saw all the Jewel chips begin to glow, all the silver strands of the web blaze with a fiery cold light.



Something sped toward him. Not a thought. More like a soap bubble cocooned in mist. Faster and faster it sped toward the web.



The sudden light from the Jewel at his feet blinded him. He threw his arm up over his eyes.



The bubble reached the Jewel chip and burst, and the cavern . . .



The cavern vibrated with the sound of a child screaming.



3—Terreille



The screaming stopped.



Surreal raced across Briarwood's empty lawn toward the hidden door. The Gray Jewel around her neck blazed with her anger. Tonight there wasn't a lock anywhere in Beldon Mor strong enough to keep her out. Once inside, however, she had no idea how to find the one she sought.



A few strides away from the door, someone shouted at her, "Hurry! This way. Hurry!" Swinging to the right, she saw Rose gesturing frantically.



"They're too strong," Rose said, grabbing Surreal's arm. "Kartane and Uncle Bobby are letting him draw on their strength. He's got the room shielded so I can't get through."



"Where?" There was a stitch in Surreal's side from running, and the cold night air burned her lungs. It made her angrier.



Rose pointed at the wall. "Can you make the pass?"



Surreal stared at the wall, probing. Pain and confusion. Rage and despair. And courage. "Why isn't she fighting back?"



"Too many medicines. She's in the misty place and she can't get out." Rose tugged on Surreal's sleeve. "Please help her. We don't want her to die. We don't want her to be like us!"



Her lips pressed into a tight, angry line, Surreal reached for the knife sheathed against her right thigh, but her hand swung across her body and pulled out the knife from the left sheath.



Titian's knife.



A slow smile curled Surreal's lips. Never taking her eyes away from the wall, she held out her other hand to Rose. "Come with me," she said as she stepped forward and melted into the wall.



Briarwood's outer walls were thick. Surreal didn't notice.



This time . . . This time she would wash the walls in blood.



The shield was there, braided by the strength of two. Fools. Two Reds might have slowed her down if they were aware of her presence. But Kartane and Uncle Bobby? Never. Never.



Surreal unleashed one short blast of power from her Gray Jewel. The shield around the room shattered.



Surreal leaped. Landing in the small room, she whirled to face the man on the bed. Even as he thrust into the too-still body under him, he raised his head, his face twisted with hatred and lust.



Lunging forward, Surreal grabbed his hair with one hand and slashed Titian's knife across his throat.



The blood sang as the white walls turned red.



Still pushing forward and up, Surreal drove the knife into his heart, lifting him off the bed with the strength of her rage.



He fell to the floor, Titian's knife still in his heart while his maimed hands groped feebly for one heartbeat, two.



Finish the kill.



Squatting over the still body, Surreal pulled out her other knife to drive it through his brain, intending to use the steel as a channel for the Gray to break and destroy what the husk still contained. As she raised her arm for the final strike, Rose's low moan made her glance at the bed.



There was a pool of blood between Jaenelle's legs. Too much blood.



Surreal leaned over the bed. Her stomach rolled.



Jaenelle stared at the ceiling, her unblinking eyes never changing when Surreal passed her hand in front of them. Her body was a mass of bruises; a cut on her lip leaked blood.



Surreal glanced back at the Warlord and noticed scratches on his face and shoulders. So. She had fought for a while.



Surreal felt for a pulse and found one. Weak and growing weaker.



Something hit the locked door.



"Greer!" someone shouted. "Greer, what's going on?"



"Damn!" The word exploded out with her breath as she quickly Gray-locked the door. Pulling Titian's knife from Greer's heart, Surreal hesitated for just a moment, then shook her head. She didn't have the minute it would take. She cut the cords that bound Jaenelle's ankles and wrists to the bed, wrapped the girl in the bloody sheet, lifted the bundle against her, and, Gray shielding herself and her precious burden, made the pass through the walls.



Once outside, Surreal ran. When they finally broke the Gray lock and found Greer, they would be pouring out of the doors in pursuit. And following the blood scent, they would be able to trace her.



There was only one place to go, and once there, she would need help.



Putting her heart into it, Surreal sent a summons along the Gray.



"Sadi!"



No answer.



"Sadi!"



4—Hell



"NO!"



Saetan's roar thundered through the cavern, drowning out the sound of feet racing down the stairs.



"SaDiablo!" Andulvar yelled as he leaped into the cavern. "We heard a scream. What's—"



Saetan pivoted, teeth bared, spearing Draca with eyes filled with cold rage. "And now?" he said too softly.



"We'll ride the Winds," Prothvar said, pulling out his knife.



"No time," Mephis countered. "It'll be too late."



"Draca," Geoffrey said.



Draca never blinked, never flinched from Saetan's glazed stare.



"Saetan—" Andulvar began.



Draca closed her eyes.



A voice filled their minds, a rumble as if the Keep itself sighed.



A male voice.



"Sspear to sspear, High Lord. That iss the only way now. Her blood runss. If sshe diess now—"



"She'll walk among the cildru dyathe."



So much sorrow in that voice. "Dreamss made flessh do not become cildru dyathe, High Lord. Sshe will be losst to uss."



"Who are you to say this to me?" Saetan snarled.



"Lorn."



Saetan's heart stopped for a beat.



"You have the courage, High Lord, to do what you musst do. The other male will be your insstrument."



The sighing rumble faded.



The cavern was very still.



Turning carefully, Saetan once more faced the red-misted tether line.



And the Blood shall sing to the Blood.



Don't think. Be an instrument.



Everything has a price.



Locked in his cold, still rage, Saetan slowly drew on the power in the web, the power in his Jewels, and the power in himself until he had formed a three-edged psychic spear. With his eyes and will fixed on the Jewel chip, he sent a single, thundering summons.



"SADI!"