Blade Of The Vampire King (Book 4) (26 page)

Another light. Closer.

Melganaderna took
Torment
by both hands. The purple enchantment gave a flicker. “We should-”

The explosion rocked the hall, vibrating up through the soles of their boots and sending them reeling away. The elf spat curses as the shockwave sent her slamming into the wall. Her shoulder, still not quite ready for more punishment, whipped lashes of pain into her brain.

The warlock stood. Eyes watering. Face pale and dry. Robes covered in dust and specks of plaster. The wall in front of him was a ruin.

He choked on the dust, looking puzzled by the size of the hole he'd created through almost three feet of solid rock.

“Grim's diseased balls,” he croaked. “It fucking worked.”

“Come on,” Melganaderna was the first through. She grabbed Hemlock by his arm and dragged him into the yawning hold still curtained by falling dust and chips of stone.

The elf paused, still pressed against the wall and clutching her upper arm.

A light flickered into black and a low groaning wail began to lift from the distance.

“Shit,” she spat. Then looked back to where the warlock was looking down at his hands, still amazed by his achievement. Though why he was so shocked was something the elf couldn't understand. Mages destroyed with magic. It's what they did. Yet, here he was, acting as though it was the first spell he'd ever cast.

The acrid smell was still strong.

Reminding her again of Talek.

And of her husband's scars.

She lifted her leg and shot out her foot. Her boot smashed into the warlock's lower back, sending him flying through the ruined wall. He let out a cry as he went, his leg catching on a block of stone to send him sprawling.

Mildly satisfied, the elf followed, leaping inside as quickly as she could. She landed hard. Rolled, and shot to her feet. Looked around. Grabbed Chukshene by the collar as he tried to investigate a few more fresh wounds. Pointed back toward the hole in the wall.

“Good work, 'lock,” she snarled into his face. “Now fucking close it.”

He paled more. “I can't.”

She pulled him closer, pressing her nose against his and unleashing all the hatred she could muster in her violet glare. “I said, close it.”

But before the warlock could answer, Hemlock let loose words of power in a string of magic which resulted in a gelatinous ball of green light spinning from his open palm to splash against the rock above the opening.

It showered down like acid, fingers of necromantic plasma dragging at the rocks above to bring them tumbling down. An avalanche of stone which ground to a halt with a deep grumble made more terrifying by the frustrated shriek of Gul'Se which echoed from the hall behind it as her plan to trap them within the hall was thwarted too easily.

The elf slowly let her fingers uncurl from the warlock's robe and let him fall to the ground at her feet. He rubbed at his ankle. “You can be a real bitch sometimes,” he said. “You know that?”

The sound of something sharp and dry scrambling around the blocked wall.

Like spiders crawling over the rubble.

Then they started digging. The sound of heavy stones being moved made the warlock let out a whine of dismay.

She shuddered, but managed to meet Chukshene's eyes with an impassive gaze. He flinched, obviously wondering if his words had gone too far. “Ain't sure that's an accurate call, Chukshene,” she said evenly. “On account of you being the one who's doing the bitching.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The wall yawned open and they rushed into another of what seemed to be an endless number of hallways and large empty rooms. This time, a large room. Bare and draped in shadows.

At first, she'd thought the reason so much of the fortress was so ruined was because the Keep had been empty so long. That much of the furniture might have decayed or been ruined in the war which had taken place throughout its innards.

But now she was becoming less sure.

“This place is just an empty fucking tomb,” she growled as they found another large cavernous hall.

“It's said it was a place filled with treasures,” Hemlock said softly. “But that Grim and Rule allowed their armies to loot it to its bones.”

Melganaderna didn't look convinced. “Something's not right, Hem. I don't care how big it's supposed to be, this is too much. And too bare. It's like the rooms are being created, rather than the doorways.”

“Can we stop for a few minutes?” Chukshene struggled for air. “I can't breathe. This isn't easy.”

“Neither's getting your limbs torn off by a horde of undead,” the elf countered.

“Thanks,” he said drily. “I needed to hear that. Always so fucking cheerful, you are.”

Hemlock paused in front of the doorway Chukshene was about to open. His face thoughtful and his brow deeply furrowed. He looked older than his years, the elf thought.

“There might be something to what you say,” he said to Melganaderna. Reached out and pushed his hand against the wall. Touching the spidery runes. They glittered lightly under his palm. “Maybe you and Chukshene are right. This place is ancient. But I don't think it belonged to the Vampire Lords. I don't think it was even built by them. This is something else. The runes look strange to start with. Sure, they're the same runes you see on most ruins left by the Vampire Lords. But it's like they weren't always that way. Like they're trying to reform themselves into what they were. As thought originally, they might have been made by someone – something – else. It feels like the Keep was made by someone else. Maybe the Vampire Lords corrupted it, like they did everything else. But it wants to be free. So it hates them. And I think it's that hatred which has been spilling into my brain as we've gotten closer. There's something here. I'm sure of it. Something I'm missing. Something obvious. Or maybe I'm just meant to think that.”

“Might also explain why Gul'Se hasn't just locked all the doors,” the elf said.

The necromancer blinked as if the thought was new to him.

Maybe it was, she thought. He didn't look too good. His white skin was more pale than before.

“Yes,” he said, his words coming slow. “That's something. Why didn't she just open more doors for her creations? Why not let the undead surround us? Lock us in, as you said. And deliver us to her pets?”

Chukshene pursed his lips. “It's said Rule left her alive for a reason. His hatred for the Vampire Lords was total. But Gul'Se wasn't born one. She was something else. A sorceress, it's said. Rule thought of her as a traitor. Worse than that, maybe. He wanted her to suffer. Wanted her to live the rest of her cursed existence here. Trapped in the dark.”

“That's awful,” Melganaderna muttered.

“But why would you trap someone in a place they can manipulate? It'd be like putting someone in a prison where they could do anything they want. It wouldn't be much of a punishment, I think. At least, not from Rule's perspective. So maybe she's less powerful than we think,” he said.

Hemlock nodded. “And maybe the Keep is growing in power, too. Maybe it's fighting back.”

“You speak like it's alive,” the elf said.

“In a way, I think it is.” He'd kept one hand pressed to the wall and he looked at it, nodding as the alien writing twinkled around his fingers. “Maybe not the way we think of life. But it's responding to something. As though it's waking up. I don't think it's Gul'Se leading us in. I think it's the Keep itself.”

“Right.” The warlock hitched his robe and looked nervously around. “That's it. I'm officially never going to be able to sleep again. Have you any idea how fucked up that sounds, Hemlock? The Keep is alive, and it's dragging us in like flies to its web? You know, I'm not sure which would be worse. Vampire Queen? Grey Jacket bastards? Or this? A hungry Keep. Today's not a good day. Not a good day at all. In fact, I remember waking up one day and finding out I wasn't very good at magecraft. Finding out I was about to be kicked out of Godsfall. Never to return. Destined to shovel shit on a farm full of pigs for the rest of my fucking life. And I hate pigs. Have I told you that? They smell. And they're always fucking angry. They're worse than Nysta in that regard. Anyway, I always thought that was the worst fucking day of my life. But you know what? This is it. This one right here. We're surrounded. Completely and utterly. By evil shit which wants us dead. And there's no way out.”

“It might not be all that bad,” Hemlock said, but even he didn't seem to believe it. “Maybe it just wants our help.”

“By trying to kill us? That's a fucking strange way to ask for help. I say it can go fuck itself.” Chukshene tapped the wall with his foot. Unwilling, even in his obvious disgust, to kick hard and threaten breaking a toe. The gesture looked more petulant than irritated. “This place makes me sick. Right to my core.”

“Let's keep moving,” Melganaderna said. “Whatever's happening, it can't be safe standing around like this.”

“Nysta?” Chukshene raised an eyebrow, looking to her for guidance.

The elf grunted. “Reckon she's right, 'lock.”

Gul'Se chose that moment to let out another scream of rage.

This time, the sound blasted around their ears and the elf had to block her ears as the scream made the walls shudder and the sound of stones grinding against each other groaned hoarsely from beneath their feet.

For a moment, the elf thought the ground would drop away and send them falling to their deaths. But, slowly, the vibrations ceased and the Keep's wounded spasms settled.

“Shit,” Chukshene said when the silence returned. “What was that all about?”

“Reckon it means we're wasting time we ain't got,” the elf supplied. “She's getting more pissed by the second. If she was a sorceress half as good as you said she was, then it won't matter much if the Keep likes us or not.”

He nodded and fumbled his way toward opening the hidden doorway. Magic seethed in the air around him and the elf was forced to look away. She caught Melganaderna's troubled expression. The young woman was watching Hemlock, whose eyes were fastened on the dark green orb in his palm.

He looked up. Caught Melganaderna's look and smiled softly. “It's okay,” he rasped. “I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine, Hem.” Her mouth twisted into its impish grin. “In fact, I think you look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.” She edged closer to him. Prepared to support him if he stumbled.

Violet eyes narrow, the elf turned away from them and headed silently through the yawning doorway before Chukshene could speak. Her mind filled with memories of her arms around her husband's crippled frame. Wincing at his sobs as his raw flesh wept against the cloth of his shirt.

She remembered the weight of him.

The smell of him.

Biting back tears, the elf slid deeper into the Keep. She forced a faster pace, eager not just to face the mad Vampire Queen, but also to outrun the ghosts of her past which gathered like silent accusations at her heels.

Her eyes burning with intolerable heat, the elf quickly found herself wanting to run.

To sprint down the murky corridors.

Slash at the shadows with her blades and scream at the silence until her throat bled.

Instead, she stopped as the insects squirreled down her neck. Around her shoulder. Down her biceps and across her elbow. Flexed against her forearm then wriggled under her bracer.

Not looking down, she scratched at her palm.

Eyes thinned to slits as the warlock pressed up behind her. She could smell his breath.

He was nothing like Talek.

She drew
A Flaw in the Glass
. Slowly, motioning them all to silence, she touched the tip of the enchanted blade to the wall at her left. Swivelled slightly to face it, keeping the knife point pressed against the stone.

Showed the warlock a cool stare and nodded.

He raised an eyebrow. Mouthed a curse.

And looked around for a doorway.

Seemed to find what he was looking for and looked back at her. Held a hand out, palm upward. Questioning her decision.

She drew her lips back into a cruel grin which gave him all the answers he needed.

Melganaderna shared a glance between them, then ran her tongue across her lower lip. Took
Torment
by both hands and angled the massive axe down, ready to bring it up in a devastating uppercut.

“Ready,” she breathed, to herself.

The elf's grin grew wider as Chukshene mouthed the words of power which would open the door.

Heart drilling holes in her chest, she watched as the stone in front of her blade began to slide, folding back in on itself. There was no creasing. It almost melted into nothingness.

Leaving a slack-jawed young Caspiellan staring up at her in horrified fascination.

Behind him, three more soldiers. Each frozen in shock. Clubs and daggers in hands.

Holding their breath.

Then one cried, “Ahod!”

And the elf's hand ribboned outward, seizing hold of the young man named Ahod by his throat. She spat in his face as she yanked him sideways, smashing his forehead into the thick stone wall with the kind of sudden violence which made the air gasp. The ragged edge hit his skull like an hammer. Smashed through bone to pummel deep into his brain and sent his life screaming into the Shadowed Halls.

She could almost hear the Old Skeleton dance with glee as she dropped the dead man. His splintered skull regurgitated its gory contents at her feet.

The elf stepped arrogantly over him, already pulling
Go With My Blessing
free. Her blood sang in her veins. A violent song which sent her pulse racing in waves around her body.

Behind her, Melganaderna uncoiled from the shadows, the heavy battleaxe in both hands glowing its deathly pallor. Her smile welcomed the promise of killing, though she avoided looking down at the ruined body at the elf's feet.

Then he was there.

Lifting himself to his full height in the back of the small room. They'd made themselves a small camp, and the cleric had seated himself beside their packs. A fire crackled sullenly in front of his feet, created by magic to warm the cold from their bones.