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Lukasz and gave Little Bit a firm pat on the flank. "Once around the city."
Lukasz grabbed the saddle and clutched the rim as the gryphon ran three steps
and launched skyward. The wind
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blew in his face as they flew faster and faster. The houses and walls dwindled
into insignificance and all too soon it was over. He was laughing with
excitement when Talons helped him down from the saddle. "That was wonderful.
Can I ride him again sometime?"
"Yes. There are two ways to call him. One is with the whistle I wear around my
neck. The pitch is so high that most humans can't hear it, but he can. Another
is that if he's within hearing, he'll answer to this phrase: vengeance and
justice send. Now I think it's time you went back to bed like a good little
prince."
"I'm not a prince."
Talons' voice turned very serious. "No, you were just a duke, but now you're a
prince. One of the last two princes of
Angrim."
"The other's Gunther."
"Gods help you, Lukasz. I don't trust him."
"He doesn't like me, but doesn't hate me enough to hurt me."
"You're too trusting." Talons tousled his hair. "It doesn't take hate to kill.
Greed and envy do nicely. Promise me that you won't turn your back on Gunther.
Don't offer him a target."
Lukasz frowned and hunched his shoulders a bit. "Okay, I
promise."
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* * * *
"You're the only one giving me problems with this part of the lessons,"
Brainerd grumbled. "Tonight we'll fix that."
Blood Harvest [Dark Brothers of the Light Book VII]
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286
Gunther felt a tremor of apprehension. He did not like it when Brainerd was
disappointed in him. The mon knew all of
Gunther's soft spots, and how to make him squirm inside his own skin.
"Sometimes I think you're unworthy of the honor being offered to you,"
Brainerd continued. "Perhaps you're not strong enough to be king. It could be
offered to one of the other boys, if no royal blood remained."
Gunther swallowed, and managed a faint nod.
When they reached the Killing Room, and stepped inside, Gunther saw six myn
bound hand and foot on the floor and spaced at wide intervals. There were only
two guards present.
"Where's everyone else?"
"No one else is coming. You're going to practice until you get it right."
Gunther licked his lips, running his eyes over the benches and saw that
Brainerd had laid out several pairs of clean clothing, as well as the weapons,
basins and pitchers of water, bars of soap. It looked as if Brainerd expected
there would be too much blood tonight to walk from the room clean without
first washing up. "I'm to slaughter them all, aren't I?"
"Until you get it right."
Gunther squared his shoulders and went to the first youth.
Oddly, he felt nothing at all. Where there should have been emotion, reaction,
there was a distanced emptiness. These youths were pagans, enemies of the
state, little more than animals, and a blight in the eyes of god. "How do you
want me to do it?"
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287
Brainerd bent over the youth, ran his gaze along the captive, and pulled at
his chin. "Cut his throat."
Gunther straddled the youth, drew his long belt knife, and put it to the
captive's throat. The youth squirmed and bucked, trying to get Gunther off
him.
"Grab his hair and twist his head to the side so you can get at the artery
properly," Brainerd instructed.
Gunther obeyed, but he was close to losing his seat as the youth beneath him
kept struggling. Striking the youth in the forehead with the pommel of his
knife, Gunther stunned his captive.
"Shove it all the way through and then rip it forward,"
Brainerd continued to advise. "Yes, I know it's called slitting and cutting,
but it isn't. It's tearing. Too many muscles and cords in the neck to simply
run a blade across it."
The blade slid into the artery and through the neck muscles with far greater
ease than Gunther had expected, but then he kept his knives very sharp. His
captive's eyes glazed with terror and pain. Gunther studied his victim's eyes,
which reminded him of a deer's, and he ripped the blade forward with a savage
twist. Blood spurted in Gunther's eyes as it splattered over him. Beneath
Gunther, the youth stilled.
"Is that how you wanted it?" Gunther staggered to his feet, rubbing at his
eyes.
Brainerd fetched a wet cloth and wiped Gunther's eyes and face with it. "Yes.
The next one is different. We're slaughtering pigs tonight."
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The next mon looked to be about forty and heavily built, dark haired and
skinned, another victim of Brainerd's quiet
Blood Harvest [Dark Brothers of the Light Book VII]
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288
pogrom. Gunther did not have the size and weight to hold him down properly for
the strike, so guards pinned the captive's shoulders and legs to the floor
while Gunther straddled him. Brainerd tore the pagan's shirt open and pointed
to the left breast just off center.
"You'll need to give your blade a good twist or two to stop the heart. I want
it done efficiently."
Gunther felt even more empty than before, as if his soul had gone dead. He
knew that was the purpose of these final lessons. Now he understood the change
that had come over his older brothers during their last years of training with
Brainerd.
Cutting the mon's gag away, Brainerd nodded. "Now do him."
The mon screamed and tried to thrash, but the guards held him firm. Gunther
thrust his blade in and gave it several twists before dragging it across. The
mon stilled. Gunther rose and went to the next one without any direction from
Brainerd.
As Gunther gazed down upon this captive, he was startled to discover it was a
woman in torn clothing. She looked as if the guards had sported with her
before tying her legs.
Brainerd pulled the gag from her mouth before Gunther straddled her.
"Oh please, mercy!" she screamed.
Gunther felt a flutter of emotion in his stomach, but this was no time to feel
and he squashed it. "How do you want it?"
"Any way you wish. One blow."
"Merrrrrcccyyyyyyy," she shrieked.
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Gunther showed her mercy by putting the blade through her eye, jamming it in
until the edge of the handle caught on her eye socket. Her body twitched
involuntarily as he wiggled the knife to free it.
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