Bedlam Bard #06 - Spirits White as Lightning by Mercedes Lackey & Rosemary Edghill

Author:Mercedes Lackey & Rosemary Edghill [Lackey, Mercedes & Edghill, Rosemary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Epic, Fiction, General, Contemporary, Fantasy Fiction, Wizards, New York (N.Y.), Fantasy Fiction; American, Musicians, Banyon; Eric (Fictitious Character)
ISBN: 9780671318536
Google: ispqCirVSvQC
Amazon: 0743436083
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2002-01-01T23:00:00+00:00

“Once,” Aerune said softly, “the world was ours. There was no Dark Court, no Bright—only the Immortal Sidhe, the firstborn of Danu. Your kind was less than the beasts—animals whom we raised up from the rest of the brute creation and taught to serve us. And for many years you understood your place and kept to it. But you became presumptuous—and to our eternal doom and sorrow, there were those among the Sidhe who helped you to rise from the dust where you belonged. Aerete the Golden was one such—guardian to your tribe, aid and protection against all who would harm you, though I offered her my heart and my crown. Yet even would I spare you for her sake, turn aside when you incurred my just wrath . . . yet you slew her with your deathmetal, and I will never rest until all your race has paid the price in full measure for slaying her whom I loved—my soul-twin, my mate, the only creature who could lift my being from the darkness and eternal night. . . .

“And you yourselves shall be the instrument of my vengeance—you and your endless inventiveness.”

“I won’t,” Jeanette said. Tears were running down her face—fear for herself, grief for Aerune’s loss. She knew what it was like to be denied the chance to be through a cruel trick of fate, and she felt his sorrow as if it were her own. But she could not help him kill again. “I won’t make T-Stroke for you. I won’t shoot up your guinea pigs.”

Shockingly, Aerune laughed, and reached down to tousle her hair as he might pat the head of an unruly dog.

“Do you presume to know my mind, or to tell me the extent of my power? I do not need you to create more of your poison—I already have enough of your Crownfire to ken enough to drown the world. And as for proving its worth . . .”

He raised a hand and gestured. The doors to the throne room swung inward once more, and Jeanette blinked. This time they were gold and jeweled. This was what living in a world made with magic was, she realized: a universe in which there were no certainties, even those extending to the continuity of the world which surrounded you.

Two of Aerune’s armored knights entered, dragging a third between them who struggled and snarled curses in some unknown language. The bright silks he had worn were in rags, and his body bore the marks of a world-class beating, but he was still defiant. As he approached Aerune’s throne, the hounds raised their heads and growled, watching him intently. And somehow his speech turned to English, so that Jeanette could understand what he said.

“Kneel before your master: Prince Aerune, Lord of Death and Pain!” one of the knights said.

The stranger fought like a wet cat as they forced him to his knees. He spat at Aerune, and one of Aerune’s guards backhanded him with a metal-clad fist.

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