Blade Of The Vampire King (Book 4) (11 page)

“You were in the way,” Chukshene complained. “I was going to throw a fireball, but I didn't want to melt your head off. That would've pissed you off, and you know it. Look, I don't see why you're so angry at me. Besides, you always tell me you hate magic. You go on and on about how you're going to kill me if I cast near you.”

“I didn't see the cleric,” she said to Melganaderna, ignoring the warlock. “And there should've been more Grey Jackets. Reckon they've split up and are exploring the caves. Trying to cover more ground. But the noise these fellers were making's going to draw attention. We wait here, and chances are we'll get more Grey Jackets on our heads. Now, I ain't too bothered by that. But I reckon there's as much a chance that something else will find us.”

It was Hemlock who answered, his voice a weak rasp. “You're right. There's something happening. I can feel it.”

“In your bones?” Chukshene giggled.

The necromancer sighed, looking a little more alive. “Am I the only one taking this shit seriously?”

“”You're doing fine, Hem,” Melganaderna brushed her fingers against his arm. “Tell us what you think is going on.”

“I'm not sure. But something's not right. I mean, if you're going to raise the dead to use as a defence, the vessel should've been hidden. To protect it.”

Nysta cocked her head. “Vessel?”

“The bowl you broke. It acted as a conduit for the energy which kept them on their feet. All magic needs some kind of conduit. But it didn't have to be here. It could've been hidden. Yet, it was left out in the open like that. As though it was meant to be seen.” He looked down at one of the fragments he'd retrieved and turned it between his fingers. “Add to that, the Risen weren't very strong. In a place like this, I'd have expected them to be a lot stronger. So, what was their point?”

“The Dhampir wasn't very friendly,” Nysta reminded him.

“I think it just found its way in here,” he said. “I don't think it had anything to do with the Risen. It was just looking for an easy meal.”

“Ain't no easy meals,” the elf said, her gaze drifting toward the massive body.

“The source is below us,” the necromancer pointed vaguely toward where he thought it was. “Further in. I can feel it growing in power. Waking. It's been asleep for so long. We don't have much time. The defences here are just for show. Triggers, maybe, for something stronger.”

“You think we should leave?”

He eyed her with a steady gaze. She could see the confidence beneath his outward fragility. Also confusion. He was new to his power, she thought. As Melganaderna had said, he was still learning.

Which made him second guess himself.

A lot, by the look of it.

He scrubbed his forehead with his fingers, shaking his head and mumbling a reply.

The elf glanced at Melganaderna, who shrugged.

“Hem?” The woman's voice was gentle. Careful. “Is she right? Should we leave?”

He remained very still for a moment, and the elf had the impression he was listening to something else. Something far away. When he blinked to clear his thoughts, his eyes were afraid. “I don't know. I don't think we can.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think it's too late. There's something all around us. I don't know what, but it's there. It's in the walls themselves.” He looked up at the ceiling, trying to see into the dark. “I don't know what's happening. It doesn't make sense. There's so much madness here. A kind of madness I can't put into words. Inhuman. Hungry. And all it wants is...”

He trailed off, not wanting to say what he was thinking. But the elf knew what he was beginning to suspect. “Us.”

The necromancer sighed, obviously grateful that she'd been the one to say it out loud. “Maybe.”

“Shit,” Chukshene pressed his fists to his temples. “I knew it. This place is fucked up a thousand ways more than my wife's brother. And he was fucked up. You should see the kinds of things he did to little animals.”

“You're the one who wanted to be here, 'lock.”

“Only when I thought everything was long dead. A few fucking skeletons are okay. An imp or two, maybe. I could accept a gargoyle or three as well. Maybe even a few goblins. But, this? Fuck it. This can go to the Shadowed Halls and fuck itself. Twice.”

“It's waking,” Hemlock rasped, doubling over and clutching his face. His body shook. “It's in so much pain. I can feel it.”

Nysta frowned, disturbed by another thought. “How come you can feel it and the warlock can't?”

“Magic's a messy thing, Nysta,” Chukshene explained. “Besides, I deal with demons. Creatures from the netherworlds. Not the dead. Necromancy is an ancient art. Forbidden because it was used by the Vampire Lords. Given we're in the belly of the Vampire King's last fortress, a lot of death magic would have been used here. It'd be why he's more sensitive to it now.”

“You're saying this is their work? You're saying there's one still alive in here?”

“Ah, shit, Nysta. You had to fucking say it, didn't you?” He turned a frustrated circle. “Now it's going to be true. Don't you know not to test the laws of the universe? Shit. Look, just because this is a Keep, it doesn't mean there has to be a Vampire Lord. It could just as easily be a rogue mage. Sure. One could have found some lost grimoire down here and learned the secrets of the Vampire Lords. It could have happened that way. Stranger things, and all that. Fuck. Couldn't you keep your mouth shut on that one?”

Melganaderna's eyes widened then narrowed in outrage. “Vampire Lords? Here?” She rounded on the necromancer, who winced at her fury, though she kept her tone even. “Hem? You didn't mention Vampire Lords. Not even once.”

“Well-”

“So, they're right,” she growled. “This is a Vampire Lord's Keep? And you didn't think that might be important enough to tell me? You said this was just an old ruin. From the Night Age, you said. Nothing to worry about.”

“Melgana-”

She slapped the heavy battleaxe with her gloved fist, halting his words with a ringing of steel. “You see this? See it? How many times did I tell you about it?”

“But-”

“How fucking many?”

“A few,” he admitted, managing to look sheepish.

“More than that. It's all I talked about for the first week we were out of the fucking palace! I told you everything I knew about it. And what did you say? What did you say to me?” Her voice had risen to a near-shout. “You said no Vampire Lords are alive anymore! You said Rule killed them all. You said it would all be okay, Hem. You said that.”

“With the Dark Lord's help,” Chukshene put in, sounding slightly offended. “Grim was here, too. You know. To kill the Vampire King?”

The young axewoman never glanced at the warlock. Her eyes were instead on the necromancer, who shuffled a step backward under her glare. “Hem, you said I was completely and utterly fucking safe with it. That I had nothing to worry about. And now you tell me you've brought me right into the lair of one and it might actually still be alive? And, if Chukshene is right, then it's not even just a normal Vampire Lord? It's their King. And what can he do, Hem? What's he going to do to me when he sees me holding this? Just what the fuck were you thinking?”

“If it's really one of them, then it's dead,” he rasped, trying to hold her gaze. “At worst, it's so close to death it doesn't matter. Kind of like sleeping. Sort of.”

“But it's waking up! Didn't you think maybe it felt this bastard of an axe and that's maybe what got it fucking angry enough to wake up?”

“I don't understand.” Chukshene tugged at Hemlock's sleeve. “Do you want to explain it to us?”

The necromancer flinched. “Umm...”

“Tell them,” Melganaderna ordered imperiously. “Go on. Tell them how you let me carry my doom in here.”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I really thought they'd be...”

“Dead?” She shook her head at him. “Aren't you the one always saying death isn't the end? Hem, you're a fucking necromancer. You should know better than to offer that stupid excuse.”

Chukshene looked over at Nysta, who'd torn a strip of cloth from one of the Grey Jackets' shirts and was cleaning her knife on it. “Nysta? Do you know what they're rambling on about, because I'm lost.”

“Big axe there attracts Vampire Lords would be my guess, 'lock.”

“Not quite,” Hemlock said. “It killed them. Lots of them. That's what it was enchanted to do. Melganaderna's ancestor used it in battle. He was here at the end, though he didn't get to kill Urak. Your Dark Lord took that pleasure for himself.”

“They hate it. With all their black souls, they hate it,” Melganaderna said. “It's said they can feel its presence. They're afraid of it, of course. But they hate it more.”

The warlock brightened. “But isn't that a good thing? You've got an axe which kills Vampire Lords? That's brilliant, isn't it? We can throw the long-toothed fuckers in front of you and you can cut them into little pieces.”

Hemlock bit his bottom lip and gave a shake of his head as Melganaderna rounded on the warlock with a snarl. “Sure!” Her voice rang through the cavern. “Throw me in front of them. I mean, I don't know how to use this fucking thing properly and the enchantments never work how they should, but yeah. Throw me in front of a creature whose knowledge of magic is far beyond what you two assholes can pull out of your stinking holes on your best fucking day. Sure. I don't mind dying for you. It beats putting up with your fucking stupidity.”

“Melgana-”

“You!” She spun the battleaxe deftly in her hand and pointed the heavy weapon at his chest. The steel glittered red in the sullen light. Shadows danced across her face as it shifted from expressions with the abrupt twists of emotion knotting her guts. “You don't get to talk to me right now. I can't believe you brought me here, Hem. I trusted you.”

The elf caught a clicking sound and began searching for the source. It seemed to be coming from behind the rocks. Near the entrance where they'd come in.

She squinted.

“Look, I think you're taking this too far.” Hemlock put his hands up, palms out. “Please, Melgana. You know I'd never put you in danger. Ever. I promise you, it's more likely the Keep's defences are working on their own. They'd have some heavy enchantments down here is all. It's just the enchantments filling my head. An echo of their presence, maybe. The Vampire Lords' magic was strong, but there's no way one is still alive. No way. Rule was very thorough.”

He looked to the warlock for help.

“I guess so,” Chukshene shrugged. “Yeah. It doesn't have to be a Vampire Lord. The Mage Tower at Godsfall is enchanted to fuck. Sounds right a Vampire King would want his Keep to have enchantments on its enchantments. It wouldn't be the first time I've seen an old ruin whose enchantments still worked. I mean, I could tell you the story of how I got hold of
Sharras Exilium
. Amazing story. You see-”

“You still should've told me,” the woman growled, though the heat was gone from her voice as she lifted the axe to rest its long leather and iron handle across her shoulder. Fist wrapped around it just under its massive curved blades.

The clicking became a rattle.

Clink of chain. Hum of something in the background.

And something heavy. Something heavy rushing through the dark.

The elf cocked her head.

Hemlock held a hand out to Melganaderna. “I'm sorry.”

“I think we should move,” the elf said softly.

Chukshene sighed and began heading toward the end of the cavern.

“No, 'lock,” she said, nodding to the ledge they'd dropped down from. Voice like steel. “Back that way. Fast.”

Groan of rock grinding against rock. Getting louder, more thunderous.

“What's that?”

“Move,” she spat, darting toward the opening. Leapt up, snatching at the ledge with both hands. Began pulling herself up when a shower of dust and debris exploded from the opening. At the same time, her ears were assaulted by the roar of a heavy stone boulder as it slammed into place, blocking the entrance.

Knowing it was futile, she hauled herself up and pressed against it.

Pushing.

Hammered with her fists and kicked with her boot. Managed only to hurt her toe.

“Fuck!”

“Looks like you were right,” Chuskhene said. Shuddered. “Something's leading us in.”

Melganaderna coughed on the dusty aftermath “Yeah? But what?”

And a voice, high-pitched and seeped to its core with insanity, shrieked through the cavern from somewhere hidden; “
You think I don't know why you're here? You think you can take it from me? You can't have it! You'll never have it! She tried. Tried to take it from us. Murderers! You will pay for your crimes. I'll strip the flesh from your bones and feed on your souls for eternity!
”

The voice ended its short rant in a fit of cackling which faded into a ghostly wail.

And for a long time, no one could speak.

The elf stood with her hands clutching the hilts of her knives, her body coiled. Mouth dry. Even the sensation of crawling across her skin had ceased.

Chukshene closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you just had to ask. Why doesn't anyone know there are some questions you just shouldn't ask? Especially when you're in the mouth of a fucking Vampire King's Keep?”

“Just the Keep's defences,” Melganaderna breathed, jaw clenched as she repeated the necromancer's words. Eyes shining bitterly.

Hemlock looked down at his feet, pale cheeks reddening. “I'm sorry.”

“Shut up,” she said. Fear rimmed her eyes, and her hands were shaking. “Asshole.”

“Melgana. I-”

“I love you, too,” she said. “So get us out of this.”

“I will.”

“You'd better. Or I'll never forgive you. Ever.”

At last he smiled, though he looked just as shaken. The phantom voice still reverberated through the rocks, but he pushed forward and threw his arms around the woman, who eased against him.

The elf slithered back down the ledge, boots kicking up dust.

She brushed dirt from her hands. Wiped her palms on her pants, and studied the three.

Two strangers. Both Caspiellans. By rights, she should kill them to start with. The fact they were obviously running from the soldiers was the only reason she hadn't.