Wolf Blade: Chains of the Vampire

by Marco Frazetta

  “He’s in the smithy. It’s that way.” She pointed. “The second tunnel on the right.”

  I thanked her and followed her instructions. I came to a door, this one thick metal with runes upon it, just as the heart room’s, though this one was much smaller in width and height. I rapped upon it. I could hear the grinding of metal upon metal, could smell fire, smoke, chemicals and metals all mixing in the air. This had to be the right place. I rapped upon the door again. “Abalo!” I went on rapping. “Abalo!”

  Finally the door opened and Abalo stepped out. He was in his smithing outfit: a soot-smeared robe that was held tight to his waist by a black belt, brown gloves and boots that were too large for his frame, a helm with a clear visor which gave his eyes double protection, for he wore large spectacle goggles underneath as well. “Oh, Rothan! Of course it’s you.” He seemed a little nervous as he shuffled back, opening the door for me. “Come in, come in.”

  “I came to check upon those bolts for my companion.”

  “They are coming along. Fortunately for you, you came across a smith who’s been at his craft for 150 years.”

  “150 years? Is it normal for harpies to live that long?”

  “I am one of the elder ones among us. But 200, even 300 is not unheard of among our people.”

  “In that time you must truly make marvels.” I peered through the half open door. “May I see your smithy?”

  “Oh… yes, sure, of course.” He seemed nervous. “It’s not quite what it was in our old home. That would have been a sight for you to behold. Ten times the size of this one.”

  I stepped inside and was at wonder. There were so many contraptions all about so that it made the chamber feel cramped with pieces of metalworks, half wrought shields, spears, blades, pieces of machinery I did not comprehend. Our faces were lit starkly by the light of the forge in the room.

  “Oh, yes, here they are. A few of the finished bolts.” He clambered over several of his works in progress to a small round table where some bolts rested on a white cloth. He brought one of the bolts to me, took his glove off to handle it. “Look, this is alumbrum. Nice harpy steel, can conduce arcane power, light, durable.”

  He handed me the bolt. It was near a feather in my hand. “How will it carry the force of the crossbow through the air, if it is near weightless? Like shooting feathers with no arrows attached!”

  “Ah, but that is the beauty of the weapon’s design. You see, when the bolt is fired from the chamber it charges them with arcane power, a frequency of 537.9 on the magi-lumos scale, but that is neither here nor there. The frequency is high enough that it transmutes it to pure arcane energy. This energetic state gives it a temporary energy concentration far greater than any solid, which in turn decreases air drag to near nonexistence—practically a smooth steel beam shooting through the air!”

  “So… it makes the bolt... bigger…”

  “Not exactly, you might say it changes the bolt’s density—that would be closer to the actual process—though this is not the entire explanation. You see as the degree of arcane energy transmutes the alumbrum to delalumbrun—which is what we call alumbrum which has taken on plasmic qualities—this sudden increase within the energetic flux capacity of the bolt creates a surplus of energy of 38,000% which is enough to—” He must have seen something in my face that made him stop in the middle of his thought. “So in a nutshell…. it... makes the bolt bigger.”

  “Ah.” I looked over the smithy and nodded my head. “Good.” I handed the bolt back to him. “You are truly skilled. Harpies must be the greatest smiths of this world.”

  “Oh, we are skilled, but we are far from the greatest. Can you believe that until 500 years ago no harpy used any kind of metalwork? It was forbidden to us, and so we relied solely on other materials and other methods: wood, stone, gem, plant, beast. We lived for thousands of years this way. Now, these things are much more practical here in Malfeon compared to what I’ve heard of in Hourne, but regardless I don’t believe that it is of any use to restrict one’s materials and fields of knowledge based on superstition. Sure enough, metalworking was given to the lords of the Brass City below by the demon gods Straaga and Braasha, but this does not mean that there is something inherently evil within metals. This all changed when the Prime Wing of that day five centuries ago, Oluzador, declared that our people would use the “infernal” knowledge of metalworking. I grew up in a time when metalworking was still quite taboo, but I have always been of a mind to see for myself. Oh, I give the gods their due, but I give the magical sciences their due as well, and their due is greater still. That is also why I do not hold any contempt for Vixerai—an opinion that I share with only a very small minority within our people. She handed herself over to Sombrala with false hopes, but they had been noble hopes as well—and indeed it was what bought us some time and allowed us to live, which few point out! And there is nothing about her form now that makes her inherently evil, though she seems a demonic version of ourselves to much of my people, and by glancing at her I only imagined what pain she endured for Sombrala to transform her so. It is truly unfortunate, but I am glad that you two have coupled, and I ask that you protect her though your life must insistently be dangerous, I’m sure.”

  “I will protect her, of course, but the moment will come when I must return to my own world. I do not know what our… coupling will mean then.” My mind felt weary, then I saw the Iron Cross laying on a table. “I have not thought of it until now, Abalo, but as One Eye is presenting himself to Sombrala he cannot carry his Iron Cross, not the way it is. Can you use your smithing abilities to craft him a weapon, or change his so that it would be small enough to be concealed within his cloak?”

  “Oh.” He grabbed the top of his helm with his hand. “That is quite the challenge. How soon must you have it?”

  “I know not. I must speak with Charlotte about this. As soon as she discovers a way to secure an audience with Sombrala, and prepares herself, we will leave. I do not imagine it will be more than a day.”

  “I will do my best. Let’s see…” he gripped the large crossbow and rotated it, examining it with eyes twitching under his heavily shaggy brow. “If I can remove this, trim this, remove this, then that—Oh! I can add a hinge here to make the armrest fold under the barrel, and the bow wings themselves will have to fold, of course. I always enjoy a smithing challenge. Let me see what I can do.”

  “Thank you,” I nodded and turned to leave. “Where can I find Charlotte?”

  “Follow the hall with the blooming flowers on its vines, to the door at its end.”

  I thanked him and motioned for the door. “Abalo.” I stopped. “It is unfortunate that I had to seize you while we were being pursued by your harpy guards. I had to act in the moment, and take you hostage.”

  “Of course, of course. Having lived among warriors like Sirucan and others greater still, I know how hot blooded you can all be.”

  “Right. I see now you are a wise and capable. I am glad I have your good will. You certainly have mine.”

  Just as I was about to leave his voice stopped me, “Wolf man...”

  “Yes?” I turned to him.

  “You would have killed me, wouldn’t you? If I hadn’t obeyed your command.”

  I thought for a moment, then nodded. “Aye.”

  He grinned ironically. “I would not expect any less.” He lowered the visor on his helm and sparks began to fly as he went to his work.

  I walked down the hall and came upon a tunnel where small golden flowers with seed-shaped bulbs bloomed from the glowing veins in the walls. Walking further I came to a bony door and banged on it with a huge fist.

  “Rothan, come in.” The door opened as if by an invisible hand and I saw Charlotte sitting at a small table working on something.

  “You knew it was me. Your psionic powers must be developing.”

  “No, I merely know you are the only one in this island who would bang so loudly rather than use the timber at the door.”


  I imagined timber was some kind of ringing bell, but I paid it no heed. This seemed like her study, a round chamber with a raised platform all along its wall. With its lilac carpeting it looked like a pleasant spot to sit and read one of the various scrolls that were tucked away in niches all along the round walls. “How come your preparations?”

  “I have finished ensorcelling this circlet that it will protect me from psionic attacks.” She handed me the delicate object, a thin circlet of some copper alloy, small runes upon it and a white stone at its center. “Abalo’s work.”

  “Yes, you are familiar with his smithing?”

  “I stopped by just now. He is a good harpy, a good smith. And what of our meeting with Tiloshar, have you devised a way to attain this?”

  “It is a difficult thing.” She took the circlet and put it away on a rack. “If we simply arrive unannounced hoping for an audience, her forces will no doubt try to capture or kill us. In the melee we may come out victorious, or we may not. Either way it will likely spiral into a vicious battle.”

  ‘What of sending an emissary? One or two brave warriors willing to risk the journey?”

  “I have thought of that. But there is nothing to keep Sombrala from capturing our emissary and then torturing or mind-flaying the location of this hidden city from them.”

  “I see.”

  “There is one hope, however.” She turned to a rack of large scrolls. She took one and placed it on the table before us. “Perhaps I can learn a spell, a form of what they called Astral Projection.”

  “And this would allow you to communicate with her without exposing our location?”

  “I believe so. I will research it as best I can and master it.”

  “How did you learn so much magic, Charlotte? After all, you are human. It is not common for humans to have such potency for the arcane. Perhaps one in a thousand do.”

  “I know not. When I saw how harpies used magic I naturally became very curious, and so I asked to be taught. I have always taken to it quite well.”

  “There must be a reason then, perhaps your ability for magic is the reason you came to be among vampire queens. Perhaps you were some kind of servant to them… perhaps you were even an adversary.”

  “You want to know the answers. Imagine how much I want to know them. That is why I am willing to come face to face with a vampire queen who has been scouring a world for me.”

  “Tell me truly, is there nothing else that you remember… some memory before you crossed through that gate and appeared here?”

  “No, I have no other memory.”

  I nodded in frustration. “Hells. And your ring. No harpy gave you that. That was something you already had, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, when I appeared here in Malfeon, I was already wearing it. With the help of Abalo, I uncovered its magic, and used this power to craft a magic disguise for myself. It became more than a disguise, for it allowed me to truly be a part of our harpy tribe—for one cannot be a harpy and not fly. But how did you know that I already possessed it?”

  “Tiloshar,” I raised my beringed finger to her. “She has a way of enchanting rings.”

  “Then you might know what this means!”

  She took her ring off and handed it to me. “Look on the inside of the band. There are some runes in no language I know.”

  I took it. “Tiloshar gave me a ring which allows me to understand languages. And I do understand them, when they are spoken. These runes are unknown to me. However, she said my arcane abilities were not enough to use the rings to their full extent.” I handed her my language ring. “Perhaps you will use it better than I.”

  She slipped it on. “A marvel.” She rolled over her own black pearl ring in her fingers. “I can read the runes now…. It says ‘when setting out on a journey… always begin on the right foot.’” She handed me my speech ring back.

  “A quaint saying. I’ve heard it many times in northern Dumos, and especially among Midlanders. But what in the gods does it mean?”

  “I know not… perhaps it means nothing at all. It may be merely a quaint saying, as you say.”

  “You have a ring of Tiloshar’s… or one like it at least. Another possibility: the ring is from Sombrala.”

  “She created the White Tear out of a sky island. She certainly has the power to enchant rings.”

  “Why do you have an enchanted ring… and who took Tiloshar’s mind gem? Gah!” I slammed my fist into a wall. “Why must I deal with these intrigues of wizards and vampires? Give me the simplicity of open battle, face to face, blade to blade, by Fenris that is my place!”

  “Careful, you might destroy our whole island if you keep taking your anger out on it.” A slight smile and the commanding tone under her voice reminded me, of all women, of Siv. Gods, it seemed an entirely different life now: Wolf Rein, Kyra, Bellabel.

  “I will leave to concentrate on your sorcery.”

  “Yes, I will send for you as soon as I perfect this spell.”

  I walked out of her chamber, not sure whether to tell her that like it or not, if I did not find the mind gem I was bringing her back with me to the Black Tear, against her will if need be.

  17

  Charlotte had scrolls strewn all about her table. One in particular was centered before her.

  “You summoned us, Charlotte.” I stood among the half circle of our party: One Eye, Vixerai, Sirucan and Abalo.

  “Yes, the time has come. I will now cast the Astral Projection spell.” Her human form was radiantly beautiful, and even more so now that she stood tall, limbs outstretched, steeling herself to summon magic. “I wanted you all to witness my meeting with Sombrala.”

  “My lady,” Abalo said in his intellectual voice, “will she not see that she is being witnessed by the rest of us?”

  “No, all she will see is my spectral form. Do not worry yourself. I’ve studied this spell thoroughly.” She adjusted her gloves, nervous despite her outward confidence. “Sirucan, if anything goes wrong during my meeting with her, I want you to destroy this scroll. It will sever my link to her.”

  “Will this not harm you?” Sirucan tightened the grip on his spear. “For your spirit will be outside your body.”

  “Taking that risk will be far better than the things Sombrala might be able to do to me or the tribe if she decides to unleash her wrath during the meeting.”

  Sirucan nodded, resolve on his face.

  Taking a long breath, Charlotte began reading from the scroll, arcane words that made the scroll go rigid, held in the air by an increasing magical pulsing in the room. Those of us around her all kept our distance. The center of the room filled with an expanding ball of crystal clear energy which was separated from the rest of the space by a corona of white light. I looked within this sphere, now near the size of the entire room. Within the sphere I could red sky, and the giant seemingly, infinite fiery pillars that we had flown through to get to this hidden city.

  “This is just outside this sky island,” I thought out loud in wonder.

  “Yes, the sphere is like an eye that will follow my spectral form. Now, I will take the plunge.” She turned to her lover. “Remember, if for some reason Sombrala harms my spectral form, destroy the scroll.”

  “Of course, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte intoned some ritualistic words and a visible ghost form of herself left her body. Her white dress crumpled as her long limbs lost all their strength. I went to catch her now unconscious flesh, but Sirucan was there in an instant, catching her body as it fell back.

  “I can take care of her, wolf man.” He guided her prone body down onto the daybed that she had evidently placed just a pace away. Meanwhile, Charlotte’s spectral form dove into the crystal energy sphere in the center of the room. A woman made of magical smoke, she looked like.

  Within this sphere I could see the luminous version of Charlotte, soaring through the red skies of Malfeon. It was as if we saw through the eyes of a bird that always hovered around Charlotte’s ghost as it fl
ew through the skies. Even at the beginning, Charlotte flew at an incredible speed. But as she seemed to become familiar with her new form, she flew even faster, until all that was around her was a red and white blurs of the world streaking around her. The colors of the sky churned so rapidly that I felt a slight dizziness.

  She came to a flashing stop before a massive floating island. Carved out of its white rock was a fortress with sharp towers protruding from the island in near every direction, so that the island looked like a hundred sword blades that had been thrown into a furnace and melded together around a round ball of stone.

  Charlotte tried to fly toward the White Tear, but she flew into some kind of barrier that repulsed her with a flash of red light. She hovered there in the red sky, standing upright, and spoke in a powerful voice that reminded me of how powerfully Tiloshar could give a command, “Sombrala, I am an emissary of the Cloud Harpies!” Her voice rippled, as if she spoke through water. “I am the human you have been searching for! Let me pass. I would speak with you and mean you no harm.”

  Within moments, a face began appearing in the sky before Charlotte. The face was also spectral. I knew instantly it was Sombrala, as this face was inhumanly beautiful, as Tiloshar’s was. No human sculptor could have crafted more smooth skin or longer, more elegant features. Her lashes were so long they were nearly claws, and her head was adorned with a finely wrought crown that spread out in its complex surfaces like a corona of gleaming gold around her. Hugging her cheek bones were two waterfalls of hair so red it seemed it was blood flowing at sides of her face. Her inhumanly long neck took form next, followed by thin, powerful shoulders and a bosom as large as Tiloshar’s, all adorned with a lacy white dress that contrasted with the sharp edged, reflective red metal that adorned her elbows, her neck, her bustier.