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moment. Then Isranon hurled Troyes into the trees, pivoted and trudged back,
staggering slowly. She could not understand why he should have so much trouble
moving. He was sa'necari. Then he faltered and almost fell, grabbing at the
table and she saw why: Troyes' death-runed blade was shoved to the quillons in
his ribs. Isranon straightened, mastering his body and stood swaying. He drew
his knife from the sheath at his hip and cut her wrist free, placing the hilt
in her hand, folding her fingers over it. "Get loose and flee... I can't ...
hold him long."
Merissa immediately set to cutting her bonds as Isranon turned to face the
returning Troyes. That one was truly a monster. How could she have been so
foolish as to think she had loved Troyes! Sa'necari were hard to kill, but the
match had been decided already: Isranon was dying from the runes on the blade.
Sa'necari could heal vast amounts of damage with blood; and while their other
victims who fell to such blades would rise undead slaves, their own kind would
simply perish; hence the old proverb of "when sa'necari fight sa'necari they
do it well." Merissa slid the blade under the spellcord on her wrists, slicing
it away, and then instead of bending to her ankles she simply changed form and
tore free.
Merissa bounded from the table to the far side to crouch in the shadows as
they grappled. Her hind leg hurt, but she could deal with it because she had
to. The struggle ended too quickly. Troyes forced Isranon's sword from his
hand, sending it spinning into the forest. Then Troyes pulled his baneblade
from Isranon's body, swiftly shoving it in again repeatedly. Isranon's body
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jerked and twisted, his legs slowly giving as he sank to the ground. Merissa
sprang onto Troyes back snarling and biting. He caught her by the throat and
slammed her into the table, stunning her. Isranon cried out, staggering to his
feet, drew his last blade and stabbed Troyes in the back.
Troyes laughed at them. "I have taken a hundred times a hundred mortgiefan. I
am not an easy kill." He turned on Isranon with a word of power, summoning a
net of death, striking him. Isranon screamed in anguish and fell to lie
unmoving at Troyes' feet. Troyes shoved Isranon onto his belly, tore his pants
open, and mounted him.
"I killed your little Rose," Troyes growled. "I rode her into death as I ride
you." He shoved the blade in again and bent to drink the rising flow,
preparing the suck up as many fragments of Isranon's soul as he could when it
shattered at the moment of the younger male's death. Even with his immature
powers, Isranon was still sa'necari and it would take more time for him to die
than it would a human.
Merissa fled into the trees. There she slunk through the forest on her belly,
watching Troyes riding Isranon, taking the rite, and feeding. Merissa tried to
look away and could not, she had to see it in order to scan the clearing as
she tried to find Isranon's sword which he had lost as he fought Troyes. She
dared not make any more heedless rushes at Troyes. He would kill her; her wolf
form was no match for him. But with the sword  with the sword she could break
his spine, swinging it in her hybrid form when her strength and power was
greatest.
There. She saw it.
Merissa crept up. Troyes was totally oblivious. He must be close to
completion of the act. Shame and rage filled her. Her heart was breaking as
she realized it had been Isranon she loved all along. She changed, seizing the
weapon, rearing up as she swung. The blow caught Troyes just above the waist
and she heard bone snap. Troyes stiffened, his eyes strange, and then toppled
to the side, coming loose from Isranon, his blade falling from his hand, his
seed fountaining over them both. She had saved his soul, if not his life.
"Bitch!" Troyes' lips twisted as if to speak a spell and Merissa drew back,
circling cautiously. She spied more strips of spell cord in his belt. Shifting
the sword to one hand, she knelt and snatched them free. She banded each of
his hands in them. His broken spine had paralyzed him, but blood could heal
almost anything. Troyes would get no more blood.
Then she turned Isranon over, feeling for a pulse. She found it. Merissa
shouldered his arm, dragging him to the table where she laid him beside it.
Then she went back for Troyes. Merissa kicked him in the side of the head
twice before dragging him to the table. He was much larger and, even in her
hybrid form, harder to manage. She threw him across the table on his stomach 
the position for a male intended for mortgiefan  and fastened him in place.
The expression of terror on his face pleased her.
"You always thought you'd be the taker, not the taken!"
Merissa crouched by Isranon, opened the vein in her wrist with her claw, and
put it to his mouth. She knew her blood would not be strong enough to save
him, but it might be enough to waken him. Her blood filled his mouth,
dribbling down the corners, getting no response. A sob formed in her throat as
her chest tightened, but before she could release it Merissa saw him swallow
and felt the brief sharp pain as his fangs entered her. Some of the pain left
her heart. Isranon's eyes opened and he pushed weakly at her.
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"Don't, Merissa... I need too much." His eyes clenched shut. He rode a wave
of sheerest agony, struggling to master his body and get past it. "Troyes?"
"I've bound him to the table. Spellcorded. Would mortgiefan heal you?"
"No." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]