Blood Wraiths

Galee, Brandrahoon wondered. Why Galee and not Waejonan? What had his brother known, that he did not? Now, he would never get to ask him.

A sensuous woman with nut brown skin and hair blacker than a raven's wing, glided bonelessly to Brandrahoon's side. She put her long fingered hand on his arm. Her long gown clung to her voluptuous body like a second skin and the plunging neckline revealed more of her substantial bosom than any other woman would have dared to allow. "I don't understand why he blames me. Everyone always blames me, Brandrahoon."

"Galee." Brandrahoon turned towards her. "Neither do I. It must be something from the torture."

"But I wasn't there."

Waejonan moved on, leaving Brandrahoon with Galee and his family.

"Come to the edge of the trees," Galee suggested.

Brandrahoon shook his head. "Waejonan—"

"He will not bother you so long as you are with me."

Brandrahoon sucked in a deep breath. "Amalthea, will you be all right with the children?"

His wife turned to him with a venomous smile. "Of course. I knew what was coming."

Her words shook Brandrahoon. "What?"

"Later for family squabbles," Galee purred, "Come away with me, I have things to discuss with you in private."

Brandrahoon nodded. He rarely refused his mentor anything. He followed her to the edge of the trees and stood beneath the first green awning of hemlock spruces, their tall crowns dappling them in shadow. Then they turned to watch the execution. Brandrahoon knew better than to do otherwise. He had no wish to find himself on the scaffolding next.

A sa'necari moved to the front of Dawnhand, placing a hand on his shoulder to Read him as the sentence progressed and make certain everything went properly, that the most important internal organs were not touched. Brandrahoon wondered how they did it. The sa'necari smiled with obvious relish and Brandrahoon shivered: the mon was drinking in his brother's pain.

The executioner pressed the pole into Dawnhand's body and moved to the butt-end with his hammer. He began to give it little taps, glancing at the sa'necari between each set and, at his nod, would start again. Dawnhand writhed convulsively and screamed. His bowels let go, followed by blood and fluids. As the pole progressed deeper it stiffened his body out. Gradually a bulge appeared in his right shoulder like a huge swelling beneath the muscles. The sa'necari signaled a halt, pulled his blade, and sliced the bulge. Blood and fluids gushed from it. The sa'necari nodded and the hammering began again. The steel head emerged from Dawnhand's shoulder streaked in gore and glinted in the morning sun. Once it had gone far enough through him, they tied his ankles to the pole and, with great care not to jostle him, sat it in place upon the scaffolding, nailing the bottom to the frame between two beams and securing the top with a short strut. Dawnhand twisted and groaned.

Brandrahoon found the breath catching in his constricting throat. They had done their work so expertly that it would take his brother at least a day to die.

The crowd cheered; adults and children threw filth and garbage at Dawnhand. It sickened Brandrahoon. The populace worshipped Waejonan and hated anyone he called an enemy, even while he fed upon them.

"How long before he comes for me?" Brandrahoon asked bitterly. "How long before I end like that?" He gestured at Dawnhand.

"I can make you strong, Brandrahoon. Strong enough to protect your family. Strong enough to oppose your brother."

"I don't want to be sa'necari, Galee. I don't want to be like him." Hoon's voice was hollow.

"Oh, but you would not be sa'necari at all. You would be something else entirely. You would be like me."

Hope flared in Hoon's voice, "How?"

"I take your blood and I give you mine."

It seemed a small thing, to exchange blood. There were many small rites that involved it, things as minor as the joining of spirit-brothers. But if it would pass her powers to him�. "Do it, Galee. Do it."

They walked deep into the forest. Galee sat upon the ground in a place heavy with mulch like the memories of past seasons. In the muted light that escaped the massive curtain of the trees to reach the forest floor, she patted the earth beside her. Hoon sat down. Galee took her belt knife out and slashed her wrist. "Just a little. It doesn't take much."

Brandrahoon placed his mouth to the wound and sucked. His body tingled as the blood slid down his throat like wine. He had never tasted anything that filled him with as much excitement as this.

He started to cut his own wrist, but she took the blade away from him and opened his shirt.

"There is only a single thing left for you to do," Galee said, wrapping her arms around him and looking deep into his eyes. "Die."

"What?" His eyes widened in horror at the sight of her fangs. He had never seen them before — had not known she possessed them.

He tried to pull loose from her, but her strength was greater than his. Brandrahoon had never dreamed a woman could be like this. He reached for his magic and found it would not answer him. Brandrahoon writhed and twisted in her grasp. She gripped him tightly, forcing him backward despite his struggling, pressing him into the dank black soil and rotted leaves. Galee straddled him.

"Oh, Gods, no. No. Noooooo!" Hoon gave a despairing scream that was cut off as Galee's fangs plunged into his neck. He shuddered beneath her as she took his life and left him in darkness.

GODWAR CENTRAL

Blood Wraiths