Blade Of The Vampire King (Book 4) (25 page)

“For a second, I felt it. The enchantments in this axe. As though they were responding to me.” She glanced at the weapon with a look of satisfaction. “It could just be Gul'Se being close. But it nearly triggered. It nearly knew me. I was so close. Closer than ever before. Do you think we'll get to her?”

“Reckon so.”

“Before the Accepted?”

“The Grey Jackets?”

“That's what you call them.”

“Ain't sure about that,” the elf said, absently nudging a few ruined books from her path as she headed toward where the warlock was bending over Hemlock. “They're ahead of us. Not sure how far. And in this maze, they could be anywhere.”

“I hope they're not here,” Melganaderna said, following. “I don't want them getting to her first. Because I want her. Gul'Se. She's the key for me and this piece of shit. I can feel it. Funny, isn't it? We came in here for Hemlock. Ends up it's exactly where I need to be, too.”

“Reckon we're all right where we deserve,” the elf said with a twist of her lip. Waved a hand at the mounds of useless books. “On account of where we're standing.”

Melganaderna shot her a puzzled look. “Where?”

“Lost among the pulp.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“It's incredible,” Hemlock was saying, eyes wide. He held up the small orb. “Look at it. Do you see it?”

Chukshene shook his head. “Sorry, my friend. I'm more in touch with the demonic arts than the necromantic. For me, it's a pretty fucking light. Sure, I know it's special. I know it's magic. But the best use I could put it to is a fucking paperweight.”

“This is important,” the necromancer insisted. “If I could make more of these, I could create an army strong enough to hold back Rule himself! We wouldn't ever have to hide from him again. I'm sure of it.”

“Sure,” the warlock said, trying to lift the young man to his feet. “But how about we get the fuck out of this place, first, yeah? How about we help Nysta stab the Vampire Queen in the face? That would be fun, wouldn't it?”

“Don't you fucking dare,” Melganaderna said. “If anyone's stabbing her in the face, it's going to be me.”

“There has to be something,” Hemlock murmured. He looked around frantically at the library of ruined books. “Something which can help me make more of these. Show me how to use them, at least.”

Chukshene patted his shoulder when he was sure the necromancer could stand on his own. “If there is, it's not in here.” He turned slightly toward the elf. “Okay, Nysta. You've got this thing for predicting danger. Neat trick it is, too. I wish I had it. Might've stopped me marrying my last wife. But I don't. And I did. So, help me out here. Which way do we go? What's the fastest fucking way out of this shithole because I'm sick of being in it. Let's forget Gul'Se and just get out.”

“What about your spellbook?”

“Fuck it. I can find another.” But he already sounded uncertain. Winced as her eyebrow arched without altering her impassive expression. “Fuck you, I can.”

“No!” Hemlock's voice was suddenly strong again. Insistent. More like himself, his eyes blazed with energy as his long thin finger snaked out to grab the warlock by his robe. “We must keep going. The Vampire Queen keeps the secrets close to herself. You heard her say she wouldn't let us have it. It must be powerful, whatever she's protecting. I mean, she couldn't have done any of this on her own. Somehow, and I don't know how, she's controlling the interior of this place. Moving it around. It's the only reason we're getting lost. You know I'm right. Imagine, Chukshene, what she must have hidden away! We've come this far, we must keep going. The risk is worth it.”

“Are you sure?” Chukshene didn't look at him. He chewed on his nail, looking uncomfortable. “You've been getting worse. Look what just happened. We were attacked. If Nysta hadn't been able to rip its fucking guts out through its throat, we'd be dead. We're just lucky she figured out how to kill it. I can't cast anything worth casting without
Sharras Exilium
. You were on the ground, dead to the fucking world. If we come across Gul'Se right now, she'll tear us to pieces. We're just lucky she's content to fucking toy with us like mice. But sooner or later, my friend, the cat will show its claws. Its real claws. If you're not able to help, we're going to die. No fucking argument about that. We need to be sure of you. Sure you can stand when your mind says fall. Because if we're not sure, we might as well sit here and die.”

Nysta nodded in agreement, surprised at the warlock's tone. For once, all trace of fear was gone from his voice. Replaced by a steely resolve she hardly recognised.

She spat wetly on the ground, feeling her shoulders ache as a small swarm of insects wormed beneath her jacket. “The 'lock's right,” she said. “We all got things we want here. Chukshene wants his book. The kid here wants to soak her axe in the Vampire Queen's guts. You want your own secrets. Me, I just want to pay a couple of debts and get the fuck out of here. And we ain't going to do any of that with you like this.”

“I know,” he said. He clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes. “I can feel her, you know. Out there. She's a powerful necromancer herself. She could teach me a lot. But she's insane. Totally insane. The force of her madness is like waves of sound just smashing through me. It makes it hard to think. I can hear her whispering all the fucking time. It's like it's humming out of the walls and driving me just as mad as she is!” He ignored Melganaderna's hand on his shoulder. Kept his eyes on the elf. “But I can do this. It won't happen again. Believe me.”

“Are you sure, Hem?” Melganaderna's grip tightened on his shoulder, squeezing as if to transmit strength into his shivering bones.

“I'm sure.” He let his breath blow hard from his lungs. “I won't let her push me down. I might be new at this, but I know I can stand. I have to. If I can't face her, how will I face the mages Rule will send after us?”

Chukshene echoed the necromancer's sigh with one of his own. “I must be as fucking mental as the rest of you.”

Guessing this meant they would continue into the Keep's haunted bowels, the elf tucked her thumbs behind
A Flaw in the Glass
and
Entrance Exam
. “Then we'd better move. Fast. Willem and his fucking Grey Jackets are still in here, too. It ain't just the Vampire Queen we've got to worry about. So keep your eyes open. And be ready.”

Melganaderna showed a small grin. “I'm ready.”

“Then we need to head this way,” Hemlock said, waving an arm toward the back of the room. “The Keep's power seems to radiate from that direction.”

The elf watched as Chukshene scuttled quickly toward the wall, hand outstretched and probing for the hidden doorway.

She wondered why it was easy for him to open a door, yet hard to cast a spell. Magic wasn't something she understood. She'd always thought the books were just for recording the words of a spell. Yet, the warlock had said he used it as a focus.

The cleric, though, seemed to cast without a spellbook at all.

Hyrax just raised his arms and shouted words of power to heal.

Rubbing at the scar on her cheek, she allowed she didn't care enough to ask. And the more she thought about it, the more it irritated her.

In fact, the more she looked at the warlock's back, the more irritated she was beginning to feel.

It wouldn't take much to throw
Entrance Exam
from here. One sweep of her arm and he'd fall with the balanced blade sticking out of the back of his head.

Wouldn't be hard.

Flick of her wrist.

Slight movement, and the Shadowed Halls would engulf him.

He murmured and the wall began opening, exposing a doorway into a dark hall. When he turned, he had a smug look on his face. Like he'd done something special.

He'd never be able to avoid the glittering dart of steel.

The insects scurried across her flesh. Calling for her to kill him. Move.

Move.

Move.

She moved. But not how they demanded. She strode easily past the necromancer and Melganaderna, ignoring their murmured words. Hadn't even been listening to them.

Walked past the warlock like he wasn't there and entered the hallway.

Narrow and damp, it looked like it stretched forever in every direction. Flickering torches spaced rarely along the wall. Rubble strewn here and there. Dust. Cobwebs. Puddles of some kind of thick oil.

Lifeless.

“This way,” Hemlock breathed, suddenly behind her. He pointed left.

She nodded, and took the lead. Chukshene's greasy yellow orb hovered above her shoulder, sending its infected light streaming ahead.

As she walked, she thought she could hear a low hum emanating from the walls. Up from the ground. From all around. Thought the crazed Vampire Queen was murmuring to her. But soon decided it was just her imagination stirred by Hemlock's words.

Looking back, she decided to pick up her pace. To lead the small group quicker through the dark. Only Chukshene groaned as he recognised the elf's sudden change in attitude and his mutters replaced the Vampire Queen's, only his were more real.

More distracting.

Hemlock called a few times for the warlock to open more magical doors. Each time, the elf wondered why the necromancer didn't open them himself. But she kept her silence and figured it was because he was saving his energy. Or concentrating on holding back the pressure being brought to bear on him by Gul'Se's dark dreams.

They hadn't found any other rooms. Just more of the same kind of hall.

Long. Thin. Dark. Stifled by dead air and a burnt metallic smell which was beginning to make her stomach churn.

A recipe for claustrophobia.

The others felt it too, she noticed. Melganaderna was a little more twitchy. She often swapped the battleaxe from hand to hand. Tapped one of the heavy blade against the wall sometimes as though testing to see if it could push them further apart to give her more room.

If they were attacked now, the elf thought, the young woman would be at a huge disadvantage. Unable to swing the massive weapon, she'd fall quickly.

Another reason, thought the elf, to find better ground.

Because something was closing in on them.

She could feel it.

Gul'Se's silence had extended too long since the death of one of her favourite pets. No more shrill screams or malicious cackling.

Just deathly silence which predicted nightmares.

Finally, as Chukshene opened another doorway at Hemlock's bidding, he let out a growl. “Another fucking hallway. I'm getting fucking sick of this.” He paused. “Do you think these doors open where we think they do?”

Hemlock cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“Fucked if I know,” Chukshene shrugged. Scratched his scalp with his fingernails and frowned. “Just, it feels like what you said earlier. That we're not navigating the Keep as much as it's navigating us. I thought you were just a bit fucked in the head at the time. But now? Now I'm getting ready to piss my pants. I mean, look at this place. Doesn't it look like where we were walking just a few minutes ago? Like we're being looped around and around. If I'm right, Gul'Se could make us walk in fucking circles until we die.”

The necromancer said nothing.

He didn't need to.

The thought hung over them all like a heavy fog. It kept the elf's shoulders buzzing with insects. Her eyes narrowed to glittering slits. Hands firm around the handles of her favourite blades.

She moved faster.

They followed, Hemlock dragging himself with Melganaderna's help.

But the elf couldn't bear to slow. The air soured. Slowly at first.

A sharp sick smell which made the back of her throat gag at the taste of it.

She stopped.

Chukshene swore.

Melganaderna looked up. “What is it?”

The elf pointed at the wall to her left. “Here,” she said. “Open this fucking wall right now.”

“I don't think that's how it works, Nysta,” the warlock tried to explain. He picked his words carefully. “I kind of need a door. Hemlock's pretty good at spotting them. Maybe we should-”

The elf rounded on him, hand reach out to grab him by the robe. She jerked hard, swinging him into the wall. She didn't look at him. Her eyes blazed with rage as they stared forward into the murky darkness further down the hallway.

He struggled in her grip, his face pressed hard against the cold stone. But the elf didn't let go. “Don't fuck with me, Chukshene. Not now. You open this fucking wall. You open it here. You open it with your magic, or I'll open it with your fucking head. You understand?”

His body shook and he flailed wildly, not wanting to grab her by the hand in case it made her worse.

“Okay, okay.” He scowled. “Here? You want a fucking door right here? Fine. Just let me fucking go. I'll see what I can do.”

“Fast,” she hissed, dropping him.

“Move back,” he told the other two as he pushed up his sleeves.

“Now, Chukshene,” the elf said.
A Flaw in the Glass
hummed noiselessly in her fist.

“Hey, Nysta,” he said, forcing a casual attitude into his voice. “It's time for you to shut the fuck up. You want this done? Then don't fucking distract me.”

He placed both hands on the wall and closed his eyes.

The swell of magic made the elf's nose ache as the acrid stink fought to overpower the already putrid air.

A torch, far in the distance, flickered and died.

Then another.

Melganaderna squeezed past the warlock. Stepped up behind Nysta and whispered. “Something's out there?”

Another torch gave a sputter and succumbed to the dark. The elf nodded. “It's coming.”

“What do you think it is?”

“The dead,” Hemlock said. His voice was close. He'd pushed up next to Melganaderna so he could see. His grimoire tight in his hand, he was already absently sliding his fingers between the pages. “It's not one of them. It's many. So many. Countless.”

“Time to run,” the young woman said. “Hem? We run, right?”

“Yeah.” The necromancer swallowed hard. Small beads of sweat pushed through his forehead and down his cheeks. “We run.”

“Chukshene?” The elf let her voice whip through her teeth. “Open the fucking wall.”