Chronicles of Waylon's Crossing - 7. Last Assignment

Chronicles 7: Last Assignment

Kynan wasn't sure how things had gotten to this point, but he suddenly realized he had a problem when he puked following a kill. It wasn't as if he hadn't given the bastard plenty of opportunities to work things out. The man hadn't even made himself hard to find, hadn't denied anything; he'd been rather proud, as a matter of fact, at 'pulling one over' the demon queen. Kynan had had no qualms about killing him, and he'd given the man a far quicker death than he'd deserved, but, staring down at that hairy corpse, he got to thinking about Alan.

I can't see him again, he told himself as he'd rinsed out his mouth, but he had no real confidence in his ability to keep that promise. He'd been telling himself that for months. At least. But each time, he'd gone back anyway, just one more time. Alan didn't even know Kynan was in his dreams.

But the man lying dead at Kynan's feet was a werewolf, having reverted to his natural shape as a last-ditch effort to avoid his fate. Kynan stared down at him and only felt cold, and tired, and old. For a brief moment he considered finding a bar and getting completely drunk, so drunk that he couldn't even remember his name, but that would just be stupid. One slip of the tongue and he'd be ruining more lives than just his own. The thought that chilled him the most, though, was a thought that had crept into his head more times recently than anything else. What if he screwed up? What if his friendship with the little werewolf inventor was found out? What if a kill order came for Alan? Would he shortly be standing over another werewolf's body? That would be just like the queen, forcing him to prove his loyalty by getting rid of what she would label a "distraction."

Problem was, Kynan was beginning to wonder if she were right. There were few nights that he didn't think of Alan as he fell asleep. He coveted the free time he had between missions to seek him out. He didn't even have to be home anymore, didn't have to renew the trace in his mind before entering the dreamscape. Kynan was even learning to judge the exact times when Alan would most likely be receptive to a little dream diving. Kynan hadn't bothered with keeping track of time in years. Time had long ago ceased to matter to him in his travails in the Borderlands. Only when he was in the city did he consciously pay the passage of the days much mind, but no matter where he was, somehow he could almost always tell when it was night in Waylon's Crossing.

Just the other day, when tracking down this werewolf, he'd taken extra time, just to drop in on Alan for a few minutes. He'd never let that happen before, always staying strictly to the matter at hand, but it'd been so easy, he'd thought, what harm could there be? I'll only stay a minute, but, as usual, he'd gotten caught up in another of Alan's wild ideas and he'd lost half the day. He was late. The queen was not going to be pleased. Truth was, there were few days lately that she was pleased with him. He hadn't gotten the impression that she was having him followed again, but he did wonder just how suspicious she would have to get before that happened.

He shook his head. Was he seriously weighing the possibility of getting caught with the queen's patience?

His thoughts immediately turned to Azil, but confiding in the demon meant that Karadur would know, too, and that was out of the question. He sighed. Azil was good for advice on things, Karadur could tell him anything, but Kynan didn't have anyone he could really talk to. Karadur's first priority was protecting Azil and he did that by serving the queen. Kynan couldn't talk to either of them without watching his words so carefully that it kind of rendered a conversation pointless. He couldn't afford to give away anything to anyone, and the number of secrets he had to keep suddenly felt unbearable.

"Are you waiting for him to get back up?"

Speak of the demon.

Queen's Hunter Karadur swooped down into the alleyway, regarding his young protege with barely concealed worry. The halfling stared back at him impassively.

"You're not still trying to figure out a way to retire, are you?" asked Karadur with a sly, teasing grin.

Kynan shook his head silently, gaze fallen once more to the dead werewolf. Without a word, he slung the body over his shoulder and started off down the street. He'd knifed the creature, so they didn't have to worry about the City Watch, and the lateness of the hour was agreeable to walking down this portion of the city with a corpse and a demon.

"Azil wants to know if you're alright," Karadur said softly. "You haven't come by in a while."

"I'm fine."

"Then come to dinner tonight, after you deliver the bounty."

"No, thank you, I'd rather not. And I'll probably be busy, anyway."

Karadur frowned. Kynan, pass up an opportunity for Azil's cooking? In the back of his mind, he felt his pairling's surprised indignation and concern.

Something's wrong.

"Are you sure everything's okay?" Karadur asked.

"Yes," sighed Kynan. "I'd just rather be alone right now."

"The queen wants to see you."

"I'm sure she does."

Karadur's frown deepened. He hated being used as a glorified messenger boy, but he was the only one able to reliably track down the halfling on short notice when the queen was impatient. What had Kynan done now?

"Kynan." Karadur stopped the small man with a touch on his shoulder. He peered through the dark at Kynan's odd eyes. "Do you know why the queen wants to see you?"

He pulled away and continued on. "I can guess. Didn't she tell you?"

"No, she didn't," Karadur replied. Now that he thought about it, that was kind of strange. She'd actually sent a message to him rather than sending for him in person. "Why are you taking the body back, anyway?"

"It's what was requested."

They walked in silence the rest of the way down the street until they reached the entrance to the Borderlands. Slipping through, Kynan tossed his burden into the waiting carriage and climbed in after.

"You coming?"

Karadur stared up at Kynan for a second, and then climbed in, laboriously folding his wings back along the seat. Kynan thumped on the roof and the carriage got under way.

"You planned this out well," said Karadur after a few miles' worth of silence.

Kynan, chin in hand, elbow on the window, didn't answer right away. "Karadur," he asked, "do you think -- Am I pretty?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

Idiot! hissed Azil in the back of the demon's mind.

Karadur frowned, internally and externally. Shut up, Azil!

"It's ... just ... something the werewolf said," Kynan said slowly, his gaze falling to the body. "Never mind, it doesn't matter." Kynan went back to staring out the window.

Now you've done it! sighed Azil.

Shut up! Karadur snapped. Aloud, he said, "The condemned are likely to say anything to distract from their --"

"I know," sighed Kynan. "I know. It's just ... I don't know, it seemed different this time."

"How so?"

The half-demon sat back in his seat, drumming his fingers on crossed arms and frowning thoughtfully. "He seemed genuinely unafraid of me, Karadur. He said that I was too pretty to be a demon, to be a Hunter. Said that I had the face of an angel. What's an angel?"

"Azil can sing you songs, describe them in the poetry they deserve," Karadur replied after a long moment, distracted by his pairling's inner musings. "But suffice it to say that angels are human in appearance, the epitome of human perfection, with the added bonus of wings." He tugged on his own. "Not like these. Birds' wings, white and glowing with an inner fire that could be reflected by the feathers into the eyes of their enemies. Angels are -- were the World of Light's ancient protectors."

"So there are no more?"

"That's correct. It's a ridiculous notion, anyway. No demon could survive a mating with an angel. That'd be like drinking holy water."

"That pure?"

"Yes. Worse than unicorns."

"Did you ever see one?"

"Yes. During the war, I saw a great many things. Whatever you may be, Kynan, you're no angel. Trust me on that."

"Oh, I didn't believe him," said Kynan quickly. "But they were beautiful?"

"Yes. Very. As full of light and warmth as the day star. As terrible in their fury as they were beautiful."

"I see." Kynan brought his heel up to rest on the seat, lacing his fingers together around his leg. "Karadur?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you fight?"

"I am a Hunter," he replied simply. "It was our king's command." He frowned, his turn to stare out the window, remembering things that caused his pairling to reach through their bond to soothe him.

"Karadur?" asked Kynan, startled by the spark of tangled pain, fear, and anger that boiled out of the demon. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. I'm fine." He meant the words to Azil, too, sending his other half a loving, mental caress, a promise of things to come, and a thank-you. "Those years were hell," Karadur admitted. "That is all."

"How? I-I mean, why?"

The black demon didn't answer at first. "So much hate," he murmured. "So much suffering, of hiding behind my humiliation, the affront to my family ... I was looking for death, until it looked me in the eye, and I couldn't do it." He shook his head.

Kynan's eyes widened. He scarcely dared to breathe.

"So, when the Queen offered me a new chance ... I -- we took it."

"You betrayed him?" Kynan whispered. "The King?"

Karadur's gut still tensed and his eyes shifted instinctively to assure himself there was no one else present, his pairling also helping to calm him. He nodded quickly and rubbed the base of his horns.

"Shit." Suddenly, Kynan's troubles didn't seem so huge or awful. The rumors of the old king must really be understating the case if Karadur had been driven to take a part in the coup that had placed the Queen on the throne and her brother in exile. Hunters were loyal to their liege above and beyond all things, except this king had bonded a kind and gentle musician to a fiercesome, blood-thirsty warrior. Kynan could guess what Karadur had meant, before, that he hadn't been able to kill himself -- to kill Azil. Their love most have been what turned the tide of war and brought the World of Eternal Night to its knees.

"How ... did you deal with things, uh, you know, before you had Azil?"

Karadur's eyes narrowed slightly. "Just what are you asking me?"

"All these rules!" Kynan exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "How did you live?"

"Oh, damnation," the demon muttered. "You are still thinking about retiring, aren't you? Fuck! Stop. Don't say any more."

"But, Karadur ...!"

"Don't!" cried Karadur. "If you're a threat to my Queen, I will kill you. Don't say anything further to incriminate yourself." He paused, breathing hard. "Fuck. You and your fucking human sensibilities. Shut up, Azil," he added, mostly under his breath, trying to shut out his thoughts from his sensitive, and insatiably curious, pairling.

"I don't want to retire!" Kynan protested. "I just ... I want more."

"What more is there? You're second only to me in the Queen's esteem, you could swim in the wealth you never wear, and every demon at court is in awe of you. You! A halfling! Whom most would have simply spat on if they'd given you any notice whatsoever even a quarter-century ago."

"I know, but --"

"And you're my apprentice! More. What the hell more could you want?"

"I don't know! I don't fucking know, okay?" Kynan twisted sideways to bring both feet up on the bench, leaning against the side, fists clenched tightly on his knees.

Oh, Karadur, sighed Azil in his pairling's head. Don't be angry. The boy's growing up. Can't you see? He took advantage of his bonded's distraction to seize control of him enough to speak, through Karadur, "You know, Kynan. You just need the courage to admit it to yourself. What do you want?"

Kynan spoke into his knees. "I want something to live for."

"There are brothels for that," said Karadur without thinking. Azil snapped something that didn't bear repeating and he flinched.

"No," Kynan answered with a shudder. "Never that. Oh, what'm I to do?"

"First, you're going to stop worrying so much," Karadur answered, sinking gratefully into his pairling's embrace, listening to his quick words, and gasping a little as he finally understood. Although fully grown, by human standards, Kynan was still little more than a child. Demon spawn were not fully mature until late in their second century. He reached across the carriage and ruffled the unruly mane of blonde hair, rubbing Kynan's neck in a rare gesture of affection.

"Honestly, you could rival a seer with your worrying. After we find out what the Queen wants, you will request a vacation."

"Vacation?" Kynan could not have been more surprised.

Karadur's smile was gentle. "Your insides," he tried to explain, "have finally caught up to your outsides. You won't be a child for much longer."

"I haven't been a --"

"Physically, yes," he agreed. "But this is different. The Queen will understand."

"She will?"

He couldn't help but chuckle at Kynan's expression. "Yes. As hard as this is for you, don't worry. You worry even when there is nothing to worry about. Now, take off your tunic. Let me see your back."

Kynan blinked, staring at the demon without comprehension. "Um, okay." He peeled out of coat, holsters, and shirt and turned awkwardly in the cramped space to face away from his mentor. "Is ... is there a reason why I'm so confused, then?"

The other Hunter reached across the intervening space to run the pads of his fingers over Kynan's shoulderblades, pressing and kneading the skin carefully. Invisible to the eye, Karadur felt the hard nubs of vestigial wings, waiting to break through. His smile broadened.

"Yes, Kynan," he replied, sitting back. "Yes, there is."

Kynan turned his head to look at him. "Then what? And why do you suddenly look so pleased with yourself?"

"All in good time," grinned the demon, hard-pressed to contain his pairling's elation. "Look, we're here. Get dressed, and let's get this" he gestured at the dead werewolf, "taken care of."

"You're not going to explain, are you?" Kynan asked, hurriedly re-dressing. He frowned, reaching behind himself to rub at his lower back. "Is there something wrong with me?"

Karadur laughed. "No, but I'll let Azil have the honors. He's very excited."

"Hmm," murmured Kynan. He had guessed as much from the way Karadur's smug, self-satisfied smile had softened at the edges, and the added glint in his eye. He paused, exiting the carriage, to grab up the carcass. "Am I ... Is this something I'm going to like?"

Getting out on the other side, Karadur laughed again. "Yes, very much so."

"You know I hate surprises, Karadur!"

The demon just laughed and squeezed his shoulder.

They walked in companionable silence through the barrier into the Lands of the Dark, passing from gray Borderlands to the main gates of the Dark Court in a single step. The guards at the tunnel mouth snapped to attention and saluted. Karadur nodded back and set a quick pace; however, all joy left him immediately when he took in the state at court. He'd been with the Queen too long not to notice right away that she was in one of her moods.

The two Hunters had no sooner stepped inside the throne room than the Queen thundered at her retainers and subjects to depart and retreated into her personal chambers. Kynan and Karadur exchanged a worried look. The Queen was upset. Not fully carried away by a demon's murderous rage, but close. Kynan dropped his load at the base of the steps to the dais and both Hunters hastened after their Queen, falling to their knees once they regained her presence.

"I have a job for you," she said without preamble, eyes flashing, wings rustling.

"Mistress," Karadur dared to object, "this is not a good time."

The Queen bounded across her small, private audience chamber and struck Karadur a resounding blow that, strong as he was, already expecting the attack, caused his wings to flutter in order to retain his balance. At his side, Kynan trembled. He had never dared refuse an edict of the Demon Queen and was astounded by Karadur's nerve. What the hell could be so important to risk the Queen's wrath, especially now?

"Silence!"

"Mistress," Karadur pressed anyway. "It is the Cyfnewid. Pray, Mistress --"

Her hand swung up as she spun back around, her gaze sliding from Karadur to Kynan who had edged closer to his mentor's side. Surprise rounded the Queen's eyes.

"You are sure?"

Karadur bowed. "My Queen, I am sure."

"How long?"

The Hunter glanced sideways at Kynan. "I don't know, Mistress."

She swore and returned to her agitated pacing. "Impeccable timing, as ever," she muttered.

The Hunters watched her silently.

"No. No, Karadur," the Queen finally sighed. "I need Kynan's touch on this, and I need you here. I will send a summons for Azil. We may have need of his subtle magics."

"Mistress?" asked Karadur, alarmed. "What is wrong?"

"We have a traitor. A spy. He escaped my clutches, and I need him back." Her eyes fell on Kynan. "Alive."

"You will take up your sceptor," said Karadur. Statement, not question.

"No, not yet," she answered him. "I have cloistered all but a few of my household. I must know if any others are in this scheme. You will do that for me, Karadur."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Go."

With one last look at Kynan, Karadur bowed deeply and departed. The Queen moved to Kynan's side and tilted his chin so that he looked at her. She dropped him abruptly and looked away, scowling. Then she went to a table and tossed her son a small, jade bowl.

"My warlock, Morticai. Bring him back. Quickly."

Kynan bowed as low as Karadur before him, hands clasped tightly around the bowl to still his trembling. The Queen of Darkness watched him leave with a heavy heart. Why had things turned out this way? Every choice she'd made for her son's sake had turned out to be the wrong one. Was this another? She prayed it was not, the first prayer she'd said in many a year.

Not every halfling underwent the Cyfnewid. She'd hoped, but hadn't dared tempt fate by anticipating events. By the look in Kynan's eye, he hadn't a clue what this meant and the Queen was both excited and frightened on his behalf. Even properly prepared, some still died, or went mad. Halflings were notoriously fragile. If Kynan was lost, then all her carefully-wrought plans would be for naught.

Curling her hands into fists, the Queen resumed her pacing. Everything she'd worked so hard to accomplish over the past 700 years was in jeopardy.

Hurry, she thought at her son. Hurry.