Borak watched grimly as the wizard squirmed on the end of the sword. A multitude of burns and wounds crisscrossed the vampire’s body, and the blade in his chest must surely have pierced his heart. A thin trickle of blood streamed from his mouth, reddening his fangs and forming a small pool by his head.
Yet, somehow, he still moved.
Not much, just a quivering of thumb and a shuddering of the breast; but it was something. The vampire was still alive. Well, not dead yet, at least.
Borak turned to the guardsman who was struggling to stand. “Mathagarr, do you have a wooden stake? We must finish him.”
The night watchman nodded slowly as he rubbed his spine, then began fumbling along the length of his belt. In a moment, he pulled forth a shaft of wood and a small mallet.
Borak took the items and motioned for the watchman to assist him.
Toreg hissed weakly as the two men approached. He tried to lift himself to his feet, but his undead strength was gone. He collapsed trembling to the floor. Vainly, the wizard tried to swipe at the men to drive them back, but in his current state even Mathagarr could hold him down.
Borak kneeled and placed the stake above the mage’s heart. The man hissed, but Mathagarr still restrained him. The warrior lifted the hammer and prepared to strike.
A voice from the dark called out. “Borak. Drop the stake or face me in battle.”
Borak lifted his eyes to the figure that emerged, then felt his fingers tremble.
Lucian glided forward. “Let him go, warrior, and I will consider sparing your life. Else, prepare to match your strength against mine.”
“That’s him, isn’t it?” Mathagarr said, nodding toward the new arrival. There was no need to clarify who he meant by ‘him.’ Drasmyr’s mouth was slightly open, and his teeth glinted evilly in the faint torchlight.
Borak nodded once to Mathagarr. Without speaking, he turned his eyes back to the dying vampire before him. Then he struck his blow.
“Stop!” Lucian’s shout ripped into the warrior’s mind as the hammer slammed downward. Every fiber of Borak’s soul recoiled from the creature’s mental touch and pain erupted throughout his mind. Every thought became agony, every image a nightmare. Even still, the hammer fell. It hit the end of the stake and drove the point downward.
Toreg screamed, and Borak joined him. Again, the hammer fell driving the stake deeper, and again Lucian’s touch ripped inside the warrior’s soul. Every blow to the creature’s body was echoed by a blow to Borak’s mind; fire raced inside the warrior’s skull and searing points of light raged before his eyes.
“You will suffer for what you have done.” Snarling, Lucian advanced.
The final blow sent the stake through to the stone floor beneath. As the last convulsive shudders ran up and down Toreg’s body, Borak struggled to his feet. Beside the warrior, Mathagarr grabbed the silver sword. With a final cry for glory, the watchman hurled himself forward to engage the vampire. But Lucian was too fast.
With a sudden motion, he reached out and grabbed the guardsman’s wrist. A quick twist brought an audible snap and sent the weapon flying down the corridor. Another motion brought his fist down like a hammer on the watchman’s shoulder. There was a sound of cracking bone and snapping armor, then Mathagarr slumped unconscious to the stones.
Lucian let the guardsman fall, then continued his advance. Before him, Borak stood with his skull gripped in both his hands and tears streaming down his face. Sneering contemptuously, Lucian reached forward and grabbed the warrior by his throat. “Do you see how easy this is, mortal? Do you understand what it is I am?” With one hand, the enraged vampire lifted the gurgling man into the air and slowly began to squeeze. Choking, Borak couldn’t even scream. “You and your pathetic mortal comrades have crossed swords with your better. With my very presence, I send you and your mighty wizards fleeing to escape my wrath. Death itself has knelt before me, and I have seen kings and nations ground to dust on the anvil of time. Who else but a god can lay claim to my legacy? And who but a fool would challenge my will?”
Lucian held the warrior there for a moment to watch him strangle, then slowly lowered him to the floor. He turned, still clutching the struggling man by the throat, then headed back the way he had come. “Oh, Coragan,” he called out. “Oh, Galladrin. Your warrior friend’s in trouble. Come quickly, he just might die.”
Galladrin started forward and only stopped when the bounty hunter grabbed him. The rogue turned angry eyes on Coragan. “He’s got Borak! We have to do something.”
Coragan tightened his grip, then dropped his voice to a faint whisper. “Do you really think we can take him?’
The rogue relaxed a bit, ceasing his attempts to pull away. “But ...”
The bounty hunter reached up and patted the bandage on Galladrin’s neck. “Clarissa was a week old and she nearly killed us both. Lucian’s so old he’s forgotten what death means. If we go after him, silver weapons or no, he’ll rip us apart and the wizards will never get him into that chamber. At the moment, he’s searching for us. Let’s take advantage of that and lead him to where he’s got to be.”
“If Borak dies ...”
“If Borak dies, there is nothing we could have done except, perhaps, avenge him. And if it comes to that, I swear I’m with you. But in the mean time, let’s just move.”
Reluctantly, Galladrin turned and started toward the opposite end of the hall. Coragan followed, and Anduri closed in beside him gripping his sword. Every so often, the rogue looked back, concern and fear naked on his face.
Drasmyr (Prequel: From the Ashes of Ruin) Page 79