When they returned to the capital, Blayr was recovering from wounds received in battle. He was short tempered and easily moved to violence. It did not take the court long to understand that he was becoming his father’s son. Years of conditioning protected his household staff. The palace guard received the brunt of his ire and many nobles of the court felt the flat of his sword or the back of his hand. In open court he urinated on a gift presented by a foreign dignitary to the king. Laughing wildly he dared the man to challenge him. The thought of what the king would do caused the visitor to hesitate. It was a grave error in judgment. Buthus stayed his hand, but Blayr ejected the man from court. He fled on foot, stripped of his possessions and status, an easy target for slavers. Humiliation and duels became the order of the days. Every slight real or imagined was met with the edge of a blade. No one dared complain to the king. Everyone could see the pleased expression on Buthus’s face. Finally Samein intervened, fearing Blayr would one day murder.
Blayr abandoned the court and sequestered himself in the king’s old home, his father giving him permission to remodel it to his pleasure. He moved his entire entourage and for a time was sequestered by his Chosen’s insistence. They distracted him from his brooding anger with stories and war games. Megyn told him privately of the Golden Queen Wyrm that her people served in caverns overlooking the eastern sea. When he spoke of perhaps seeing the dragon one day, Megan wept, explaining that her failure to return with good news would insure the queen’s removal of all their clutch to a safe haven. Megyn would not know where and so could never betray the queen under torture, or return to her people. Samein left an only son behind and could not be sure he still survived. Buthus’ army continued to stripped the jungle lands of their resources. Precious woods used for fortresses, gold and diamonds mined for the merchants of the northern cities and thousands of exotic plants harvested to grace the tables of the conquerors. Joel was the Shaman of his clan, turned from healing and teaching to fighting as the invaders destroyed his people. Harro had ever been the chieftain’s right hand and guardian. He had been trained from early childhood to protect the man at all cost. Rafe’s family had tilled the soil for many generations. One day their liege lord displeased Buthus. He disappeared. Another not so benevolent took his place. The villagers had lived on the edge of starvation for years, so there was little enough for the bandits to take.
The new residence in the middle of the city afforded the ordinary people the opportunity to get to know Blayr. He still wandered the streets at whim, driving his protectors mad. For all that the Snarling Wolf avenged and protected many people, just as many more only knew him as son of the Drinker of Blood. If it was possible to hurt the king surely killing the prince was the way. Protecting him was not a job for the weak and careless. Just as men died in battle under his banner, many broke mentally attempting to protect him. After all if he was assassinated the threat of slow torture hung over every head.
Some of the occupants of the city did not want the prince to die on the king’s altar. They considered he would make a better king. For years they secretly stockpiled weapons and prayed for the right moment but it never came. Many died but their children held the dream to heart. It was rumored perhaps the prince would use his supposed sacrifice to overthrow Buthus. They did not know but they would be ready.
And the year ended with the prince unable to find peace and he cried in the night from loneliness. He had given up his heart to love and so had nothing.
Many wondered when the Chosen would be sacrificed and the king would spill his son’s blood. For many joy would be difficult to surpress when that day came.
The hazy months came and went again. Blayr campaigned and meditated in his father’s crystal chamber. He lost weight, he hunted ruthlessly and all despaired for his sanity.
Ula’s government had been crushed and one of Buthus’s own controlled their seat of government. The search for the Golden Wyrm was fruitless. No evidence of Megyn’s people could be found. The king could not torture her for answers because he believed her to be a source of additional power his son must draw on. He had seen for himself what a formidable fighter she was and the increased efficiency of Blayr’s troops. The gossip among the slaves indicated that her medicines were miraculous, healing minor wounds of the soldiers overnight. Buthus turned his frustration into action. He left on a leisurely journey to review the conduct of his governors and military personnel. It was an ill wind that carried the messenger doves to his outposts. Where he sojourned, sacrifices followed and promotions were many.
One year later the court was called to welcome Buthus home.
Word came that a governor from a province over the sea had sent him a gift. It was a curiosity and the man was happy to report that as far as he could determine it was the last of its kind. Blayr was present with his Chosen and Khalil, the jaguar resting comfortably at his feet. Faint white hairs sprinkled the cat’s muzzle now. To the amazement of all he had survived many battles and recovered from all wounds. It appeared that only old age would defeat him. The king gave permission for the guard to bring in his gift. He did have to admit to some curiosity. His tour had not eased his impatience. He really needed a diversion.
The doors swung open and the guards struggled to control a tall thin man shackled at wrist and ankles. He kicked clawed and bit at his jailers even though they stabbed with sword and struck him with fists. He was dragged across the marble floor even as he tangled himself in the chains. Finally the group stopped at the foot of the stairs, their captive quivering with exhaustion at their feet. A guard yanked on the thin chain held in his fist jerking the man’s head up. A sigh went through the crowd. His ear and nose were pierced with thin metal rings connecting him to the chain. His face was black and blue, swollen from beatings and infection. Blood dribbled from the piercings and his split swollen lips. Bruised so badly, one side of his body was as dark as Samein’s, though his skin was fairer than anyone in the room.
Khalil leaned over and spoke softly to Blayr. No one in the room heard his voice, yet the man on the floor tilted his head in their direction. It did not go unnoticed by the prince, unable to look away from the captive. The jaguar stood and Buthus held his breath. Belly low to the ground the animal moved across the floor. A low rumble could be heard. The guard shifted nervously. They looked to the prince, but his eyes were on the captive. They looked to the king, but he was watching the prince. Carefully they inched away from the prisoner. The cat kept coming. He was snarling now, drooling and exposing his sharp fangs. The men came to the end of the chains and were torn. If they let go the king would probably kill them, if they didn’t the cat would definitely do so. The guard holding the nose and earring chain was the one the cat aimed for. The guard prayed that he would not piss the floor and disgrace himself. He heard the others finally break and run. He reached for his sword which yanked the chain. The captive howled, the cat sprang. The guard died fighting. Blayr used his sword to snap the chain from the guards wrist even as the man struggled with the cat. The prisoner slumped into oblivion. Blayr screamed at the retreating guardsman demanding keys to the shackles. One of the men hurled the keys across the room. Behind them Buthus motioned to his five. Those men and women ran down the steps to cut the remaining guardsmen down even to the grand entrance of the palace. Cowardice was beyond his ability to condone.
Slaves hurried to remove the bodies and clean the floor. The one lying near the captive was left undisturbed. The jaguar still straddled the body hissing at the crowd and licking blood from his paws. Carefully Blayr knelt besides the man. He signaled Megyn to approach. Soon the body was surrounded by all of Blayr’s Chosen. The prisoner was gently turned and wrapped in Samein’s cloak. The big man lifted him as if he were a babe and left the hall. Only the jaguar remained. Blayr went straight to his father and prostrated himself before the throne.
"Oh father, the beast has come. I will be yours and my torment ended. The beast has come..."
His voice faded away and he wept at his father’s feet. The entire hall was stunned when the king lifted Blayr from the floor and enfolded him in his arms. He kissed his hair and then both tear streaked cheeks.
"Go my son and tend the one that the crystal of the moon has sent. May the prophecy be fulfilled."
"Remember that I love you father. Remember me."
And Blayr kissed his father’s hands which had raped and pillaged untold numbers and kissed the lips which spoke only falsehood and treachery. Then he left the hall, the cat snapping at anyone unlucky enough to cross their path.
And the courtiers watched in amazement as the king left the throne room his tears unchecked. He truly loved the boy did he not? Had any child been more devoted?
No one dared contemplate what Buthus would become on the death of his son and those Chosen.
Blayr drove his own chariot straight away to the house. Megyn and Kahlil were already overseeing the care of the captive when the prince interrupted.
"Make sure no oils or perfumes of any kind come in contact with his skin. Use only the aloe for cleansing. Strip my bed and cover it with the softest linens in the house. Bandage his eyes with cotton and silk. Make sure no light can penetrate it. Are his ribs broken? Is he hurt inside? Can you save him? Will...he..."
Kahlil caught the prince before he fell and called for the others to support him. He refused to leave the room while his slaves bathed the man. He watched Megyn and Kahlil apply what medications he permitted and gently wrap the worst of the wounds. By the time Samein carried the man to bed he was returning to consciousness. The prince ordered Megyn to mix a mild sleeping draught. He coaxed the liquid down the captive’s throat as he sang very softly to him. Samein made everyone leave. He remembered that song, and the way the tigers responded to Blayr that day still caused goose flesh to rise all over his body. Everyone was worried. The prince looked near collapse but refused to leave the bedside. Eventually the household settled down to eat and rest after the day’s events. Samein was sure he could hear the prince singing, even with the heavy doors of his room closed. As night fell the king’s Chosen arrived. They were ordered to see to it that the prince remained undisturbed by petitioners and gossipmongers. The king knew the regular guard would not do. Blayr was subject to take their heads so unreasoning he had become since Khalil’s injury. Not one person walked or traveled by cart on that road until the guard returned to the palace at the next full moon. Buthus rewarded them for their vigilance. Their cries of ecstasy rang through the fragrant gardens surrounding the king’s quarters until dawn.
Blayr slept beside the captive every night. He nursed him with his own hands. The bruises eventually began to fade and the swelling went down. Wounds were cleansed and drained of infection every day. Megyn’s remedies were adjusted to contradict the strange reactions he had. Finally she found a combination that seemed to work. He was able to sleep without draughts and accepted the voices and hands of the Chosen and Khalil touching him. The other slaves in the house were kept away, the jaguar occasionally underscoring the need for them to avoid the sick room. If any one unknown approached the always closed doors, the captive would panic. He was still too weak to defend himself. When Blayr was not in residence, he was fretful. It was noted that soon as the prince walked through the front door, the captive settled immediately. Khalil discovered the man was tattooed beneath the still dark bruising. A striking cat was represented over his heart. Paws with claws extended encircled his upper arms. His canines were thick and filed to sharp points as were the nails on hands and feet. There were legends about men who ate other men and the Chosen were concerned that he was one. His hands were callused and sometimes when he dreamed he struck out as if with sword or knife.
Blayr reported daily to his father regarding the recovery.
Buthus’s anticipation was nearly beyond his control. The culmination of power was so near. But the crystal demanded his patience. It worked at its own pace.
The time came when the bandages were removed. Blayr held the taloned hands when Megyn removed the pads from his eyes. The room was lit only by moonlight. At first even that caused him pain. But gradually his eyes adjusted to the weak rays and he was able to look about him. His eyes locked on the prince for the longest moment. In the pale light they seemed to glow. His nostril’s flared and he raised himself up and buried his face in the young man’s shoulder. The prince crooned to him, stroking his back. Then he settled the patient against the cushions. Megyn held a cup of broth to his lips and he drank eagerly. His appetite was returning, but the usual invalid food would not stay down. Blayr relaxed. Soon his new companion would be well.