Chapter Thirty-Seven
Regecon awoke with a start. Leaning back in his chair he stretched his arms out behind him, then groaned with pleasure as his tense muscles relaxed. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, then set alight the second candle on his desk.
Outside, night had fallen. Strangely, however, the storm had stopped. For the first time in days the wind was calm, and the air warm. Regecon paused to consider briefly what such an occurrence might mean, then leaned his head forward to rest gently on his palm.
The spell was complete; they had completed the final sigil this afternoon, and now only waited for the bounty hunter and rogue to devise a means to ensnare the vampire. The two men had agreed to offer themselves as bait, but the guild master had decided to postpone the matter another evening, hoping a better plan would present itself. Struggle though he might, Regecon could not think of a better alternative. They had to get the vampire inside the guild, and then lure him into the Chamber of Making. The former task seemed problematic at best, and the latter, hardly better. Drasmyr was no fool; the sudden removal of all the sigils around the guild would surely give cause for suspicion. He would be hard enough to manipulate as it was; if he were given the advantage of foreknowledge, he would be impossible.
Regecon let out a sigh, and then stretched out his arms again. Although unintended, he felt glad for his nap; his senses were beginning to return and at the moment, he felt far better than he’d had earlier just after completing the final circle. Then, he had been so full of aches and pains and weary exhaustion, he had been surprised he had managed to make it to his conference room. Once there, he remembered the report Mathagarr had given him earlier regarding the climbing numbers of resigning servants and guardsmen. He had decided to sit at his desk and give the report a quick read, but his effort proved fruitless. As far as he could tell he had proceeded no farther than the first page before falling asleep.
Overall, this week had been one of the most grueling and terrifying he’d ever experienced. Between all the deaths and the general mayhem, he could not blame any of the servants for leaving. Though disappointed that a number of the guardsmen had decided to join them, he did understand. By the glory of the gods did he understand. His friend, Morcallenon, was dead and gone forever. Toreg, the mage who had killed him, was soon to follow, if he didn’t become a vampire first. Arcalian, Aristoceles, young Durek, the guards ... all dead. How many lives did he have to see taken before he finally broke? It was his guild now. Those men and their lives were his responsibility. Granted, the monster they faced was truly a thing from legend, but he could not repress the feeling that somehow he had failed those men. If he had known sooner ...
There was a knock on the door. What is it now? Regecon thought, and looked toward the entrance. He didn’t want to face the madness again, not now, not quite yet. The burdens of the guild, the killing, the horror; it all weighed down on him, threatened to bury him. He could only take so much.
You are the guild master. You must endure. The thoughts came grimly, but that did not make them any less true.
Regecon opened his mouth to respond to the knock, but a scuttling sound in the corner distracted him. The fire mage turned his head and caught a glimpse of a large black rat as it scampered under a lamp stand.
More rats. Would this vampire’s curse never end? He’d broken all their wards and now the guild was plagued with scores of the filthy rodents. And the stench! Methoin had said that the smell infesting the halls was a product of the vampire’s presence and his influence over the guild. One would think that if the nefarious creature was not continually present to reinforce the odor, it would fade away. But no, not this odor. Every day the stench grew worse, compounding the stink of the one before. If they did not kill this vampire soon, his malodorous reek would drive them all from the guild.
The knock returned, more sharply. “Guild Master! Please wake up, it is urgent.”
The burdens of a guild master were demanding his attention. Enough with rats and worries. “Come in.”
The door swung inward and a man dressed in chain strode into the room. He came to an abrupt stop before the guild master’s desk and stood sharply at attention. “Sir.”
“Yes. Anduri, isn’t it? What is the problem?”
The man’s lip quivered for a moment, and his face paled. “There’s been more murders, sir.”
“What!” Regecon’s eyes widened in alarm, and he half-rose from his chair. “But the vampire can’t get in. How could ...? Who was it?”
Anduri stiffened. He looked positively nauseous. “Councilwoman Jacindra, sir, and her two guards.”
Regecon thumped heavily back into his chair. Jacindra. He’d known her for years. And now, she, too, was gone. And her guards as well. “How did they die?”
“The two guards had their necks broken and the sorceress was ...” the guardsman swallowed uneasily, “impaled, sir. He took one of the guardsmen’s spears and drove it lengthwise through her body. I heard the screams and when I got there she was spiked up and hanging in the center of the room.”
Regecon’s breath whizzed sharply through his teeth. He desperately fought the urge to scream. “Spread the word, the vampire is here. Find Ambrisia, have her meet me in the Chamber of Making, then locate the rogue and bounty hunter.”
“Yes, sir.” The guardsman turned sharply on his heel and left the room. Once again, Regecon was alone with his thoughts.
He was here. The vampire had found a way into the guild, he’d killed Jacindra and he was now loose in the halls. He could be anywhere now. Who even knew what form he was in? He could be a cloud of dust, a patch of fog, or, by the Sickle, something as innocuous as a rat. Regecon’s eyes widened. The rat.
From the corner of his eye Regecon saw a figure move. A pallid white hand reached across his desk to encircle his wrist in its icy grip. An inhuman strength jerked him upward to his feet. Looking up, his eyes came to rest on the features of his enemy. He had a cold bloodless face, framed by short dark hair. For a fleeting moment, he looked almost innocent, perhaps even human. But only for a moment.
The vampire opened his mouth to reveal his sharpened teeth.
Drasmyr (Prequel: From the Ashes of Ruin) Page 73