by Greg Cox
His oppressed brethren stared at him in astonishment. No lycan had ever spoken like this before. Even Vasily was now gaping at the former blacksmith in stupefied awe.
“Which is it?” he demanded of them.
Their dumbfounded silence encouraged him. Had he succeeded in stirring something within them? Perhaps a newfound desire to aspire to better things? To stop acting like the uncivilized beasts the vampires had reduced them to?
Lucian could only hope.
The moment was broken, however, when the vampires returned to the dungeon. Four stone-faced Death Dealers stomped toward Lucian’s cell. Both humans and lycans scurried back to the corners of their cells, save for Sabas and Xristo, who lingered near Lucian. Raze stood by Lucian as well, albeit on the opposite side of the iron bars.
Now what? Lucian wondered. He cursed the knights’ miserable timing. I was getting through to the others. I know I was!
Three of the soldiers stood guard with crossbows and raised whips as the fourth unlocked Lucian’s cage. Rusty hinges squeaked loudly. The barred door swung open.
The leader of the guards nodded at Lucian.
“Out!”
Xristos and Sabas tensed, as though inclined to come to Lucian’s defense once more, but Lucian quietly caught their gaze and shook his head. Now was not the time; he had no desire to see the two men brutalized on his behalf again. Keeping a wary eye on the guards’ crossbows, Lucian let himself be escorted out of his cell—perhaps to his execution? Raze clutched the iron bars of his own cage as he watched the guards take Lucian away.
Lucian silently bid his new friend farewell.
He had no idea what the Death Dealers wanted of him and knew better than to ask. Any unsolicited query would doubtless earn him nothing more than a smack across the face or perhaps a fresh blow from their silver-tipped lashes. Still, he could not help worrying about the vampires’ intention. What does Viktor have in store for me now? he fretted. More torture, or perhaps a summary beheading?
Not even an immortal could survive having his head parted from his shoulders. Or being drawn and quartered like a common thief.
The guards led him to a lonely cell on another level of the dungeon. They locked him inside, then departed wordlessly. Lucian found himself alone in a cage of his own. A quick inspection of the premises revealed that the cell had once been used as a torture chamber. An iron maiden, its interior lined with rusty spikes, reclined against one wall. A dilapidated rack had once been used to stretch human or lycan bodies apart. Metal pincers lay beside an overturned brazier. Suspicious brown stains covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. A fractured human skull rested in a niche upon the wall. A spider had made its home in an empty eye socket. Uncertain what was happening, Lucian morosely surveyed his solitary new domain. Was he was destined to live out the rest of his immortality in this isolated chamber?
He would not be the first to meet this fate. Legend had it that William himself, the savage progenitor of their breed, was even now buried alive in some hidden dungeon whose true location was known only to Viktor himself. Lucian wondered if he was also destined to become nothing more than a cautionary myth for others of his kind.
How ironic, he reflected, that the first of the werewolves and the first of the lycans should come to the same end. And both at the hands of the same draconian Elder.
Lucian had just about convinced himself that he was condemned never to look upon another living soul again when a key rattled in the lock. He spun around to find Tanis standing outside the cell along with another figure. A hooded cloak concealed the other vampire’s face and figure. The scribe opened the door to admit his companion to the cell. He glanced about nervously, as though fearful of being discovered at any moment. He tucked an iron key back into the folds of his robe.
“Two minutes,” he said in a low voice. “Any more is too risky.”
The hooded figure nodded and entered the cell. Tanis closed the door and wasted no time vacating the premises. His stealthy footsteps receded into the distance.
Lucian faced his visitor. He sniffed the air, catching a whiff of lavender. The familiar scent proclaimed Sonja’s identity even before she threw back the hood to reveal her beautiful face. His heart leapt at the sight of her. He rushed forward to embrace her. They clung to each other as though their immortal lives depended on it.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Her voice was hoarse, as though she had been crying for hours. “I would have come sooner, but it took time for Tanis to arrange this meeting. There was no other way….”
He silenced her apologies with a passionate kiss. For a precious moment, they lost themselves in the kiss, their mouths hungrily seeking each other out. The fire of their desire welded them together like metals in a forge. Lucian wished they could make the moment last forever, but he knew they had vital matters to discuss in the brief time remaining to them. He reluctantly tore himself away from her cool red lips.
“Tanis?” he asked.
“You were right,” she confirmed. “He’ll help us for a seat on the Council.”
Lucian was impressed by the scribe’s ambition. “And your father knows nothing?”
“I’m sure of it.”
That was the best news he had heard in days. As long as Viktor remained ignorant of their love, he and Sonja had time to plan their escape. For the first time since feeling Kosta’s silver arrowhead pierce his thigh, Lucian allowed himself a flicker of hope. “This can work.”
“Lucian.” She hugged him with all her vampiric strength. “It has to.”
The sheer determination in her eyes and voice inspired him anew. All her doubts seemed to have melted away since last they spoke. He felt his spirits soar. Our love cannot be conquered. Together, we can make this happen!
And not just for the two of them alone.
“I think that some of the others will come with me,” he informed her. “Sabas, Xristo, the human Raze…”
She pulled away slightly. A worried look crossed her face. “My love…”
He recalled how his impassioned oratory had affected the other lycans. “In time, I’m certain that I can convince more—”
“Lucian, there is no time,” she interrupted. The urgency in her voice cut through his deliberations. “My father will have you killed tomorrow—after the humans have been turned.”
Her stark declaration could not be ignored. He did not bother to ask how she knew this. The certainty—and fear—in her voice was enough to convince him.
Apparently Viktor wanted him dead after all.
“You must leave at sunrise,” she insisted.
“Sunrise?” That was only hours away. Lucian didn’t understand. How could they contrive their escape in so short a time? Especially since Sonja could not venture out into the daylight without risking incineration. “But… how will you…?”
She shook her head. “The important thing is that you stay alive. You know the best chance you have is when Viktor and the Death Dealers sleep. I will be at my father’s side when you go.”
But to leave this place—without you? He weighed her words in silence, unable to refute their wisdom. As much as he hated the idea of being parted from her again, he knew she was right. There was no manner in which they could safely depart the castle together, not without betraying their secret and raising all of her father’s Death Dealers in swift pursuit. Their new life together would be over even before it had begun. Yet recognizing the truth did not make it any less bitter. He gazed mournfully into her eyes, wishing with all his heart that there was another way. What good is life and freedom without you in my arms?
Her own eyes moistened. Her voice caught in her throat. “If this succeeds,” she promised, drawing him closer, “I will join you after the sun sets in three days’ time. There is a clearing by the river. I will meet you there.”
Lucian vaguely remembered spotting the river, which flowed down from the craggy mountain peaks, during his frantic ride through the forest the night before. Her stated intentio
n did little reassure to him though, and he could tell by the anguished look in her own eyes that she also knew just how easily their plans could go awry. They both realized that they might never see each other again.
“And if it doesn’t succeed?” he asked.
She buried her hands in his disheveled hair and claimed his lips once more. She gave him a fierce kiss intended to last for all eternity if need be. His senses were reeling by the time she finally pulled away. Her azure eyes blazed in the darkness.
“I will meet you in the clearing,” she vowed.
Chapter Thirteen
Sonja left, the Death Dealers returned Lucian to his original cell. His fellow lycans still populated the dungeon; apparently they would not be put to work tonight. Lucian guessed that Viktor preferred to keep the other slaves confined until he was certain there would be no further insurrections. No doubt the calculating Elder hoped that Lucian’s death would put an end to any unrest among the lycans.
It seems I am to be a cautionary lesson, Lucian mused. To keep my brothers in their place.
He was not there long before Tanis visited the dungeon again, now accompanied by Kosta and a half dozen Death Dealers. The duplicitous scribe scrupulously avoided looking at Lucian, concentrating on Raze and the other human prisoners instead. He gestured at the mortals.
“Remove them.”
Anxious gasps and whimpers escaped the humans’ cell. Kosta’s men unlocked the gate and herded them out into the corridor, cracking their whips as necessary. Manacles chained the slaves’ wrists together. A couple of the more panicky mortals tried to retreat to the corners of their cell, but a few swift blows swiftly broke down their resistance. Raze, on the other hand, knew better than to put up a fight against the armed knights. His mighty frame towered over the vampires, but he was no match for their swords and crossbows. He shot Lucian an inquiring look as he exited the cell.
Lucian could only shake his head sadly. He feared he knew what horrific trial awaited Raze and the other humans now, but there was nothing he could do to avert their fate. He could but hope that the stalwart African would survive the harrowing with his proud spirit intact.
“Be brave, human,” Lucian said. Would that I could spare you this!
Kosta and his soldiers led the mortals away, but Tanis lingered behind. He sidled up to Lucian’s cell and whispered to him through the bars. A contemptuous sneer twisted his vulpine features. “Do you know what your problem is?”
“How much time do you have?” Lucian said wryly.
Tanis answered his own question. “You have no respect for the natural order of things.”
“Things change,” Lucian replied. He realized now that the strict hierarchy of their society was nothing more than an insidious fiction designed to keep the lycans subject to the vampires’ tyrannical whims. If that was “the natural order of things”, then to blazes with it!
Tanis was not inclined to debate the issue. “Yes. Be ready when they do.”
The scribe glanced about to make certain that no one was watching, then retrieved a wadded scrap of leather from beneath his black velvet doublet. He quietly tossed the small parcel through the bars. It skittered across the floor before coming to rest at Lucian’s feet.
“Consider it a parting gift,” Tanis whispered.
Without another word, he turned and scurried from the dungeon. Lucian waited until he was out of sight before rescuing the bundle from the floor. Turning his back on the corridor, he furtively unwrapped the parcel.
Inside the rumpled leather was the key to his spiked collar. Perhaps the same one he had forged in his own smithy.
His fist closed tightly around the key.
Raze felt like he was back in the caravan, marching to an uncertain fate, as the guards escorted the chained humans down into an even lower level of the sprawling dungeons. Frequent kicks and prods kept the procession moving, despite the apprehensions of the frightened mortals. Visions of blood-sucking fangs sinking into his jugular passed through Raze’s mind as he wondered where they were being taken—and for what malignant purpose. At least we’re not hooded this time, he thought. His muscular arms tested the chains binding his wrists.
They came to a large vaulted chamber facing a stone archway. The flickering light of mounted torches failed to penetrate the shadowy cell beyond the archway. Lord Viktor, whom Raze recognized from the battle at the crossroads, waited to one side. The Elder’s gaunt, pale face and cold-blooded hauteur were the epitome of what Raze imagined a vampire lord to be like. His scribe, a slight man with shifty eyes who reminded Raze of a jackal fawning on a lion, soon joined the Elder by means of a side corridor. He nodded apologetically at Viktor before taking his place at the tyrant’s side. Viktor seemed only mildly annoyed by his servant’s tardiness.
The ruler of the vampires looked over the assembled prisoners, his gaze briefly lingering on Raze. The chained captive remembered how Viktor had coldly ordered the bodies of the werewolves’ victims burned. According to Lucian, Viktor was a vampire to be feared and, looking into the Elder’s pitiless blue eyes, Raze saw no reason to doubt that assessment. Was it not Viktor who had ordered Lucian whipped nearly unto death?
“Proceed,” the Elder commanded.
The Death Dealers prodded the slaves toward the waiting doorway. Chains rattled in the darkness and a low growl sent a fresh jolt of fear through the helpless prisoners. They turned and tried to flee from the beckoning cell, but the guards blocked their retreat. A swarthy Turk named Nasir, who had been captured during the Crusades, was dragged to the front of the line. His frightened eyes peered into the cell.
Lurid cobalt eyes glared back at him.
“No!” Nasir shrieked. “Don’t! No!”
A shaggy black werewolf, indistinguishable from the ones who had attacked the caravan, lunged from the cell, only to be held back by a sturdy chain around his neck. The beast reared up onto its hind legs and slashed at the air with gigantic forepaws. Slobber dripped from its gaping jaws.
“Please, for the love of God!” Nasir begged, but to no avail. The Death Dealers shoved him forward—and the wolf’s gleaming fangs sank into his shoulder. Blood spurted onto the walls and ceiling as Nasir screamed like a damned soul trapped in the bowels of hell.
Which was not far from the case.
Aside from Raze, the other prisoners erupted into hysterics. The vampires cracked their whips to keep the panicked slaves in line. An armored knight wrenched Nasir from the werewolf’s jaws before the beast could rip him to shreds entirely, and a second human was hurled to the monster with equally gruesome results. Raze watched in horror as, one by one, the prisoners were bitten by the wolf, then tossed into an adjacent cell. The infected slaves writhed upon the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. Blood streamed from their bite marks, flooding the dungeon. The spreading crimson pool excited the assembled vampires, who eyed the blood with undisguised rapacity. They licked their lips, offering glimpses of sharp white fangs.
No vampire tended the victims’ wounds. Instead the Death Dealers clamped slave collars onto the thrashing prisoners. They’re turning us into lycans, Raze grasped, just like Lucian and the others!
Despite his customary reserve, he felt a growing sense of panic as his own turn drew near. The man in front of him, a convicted poacher named Zoltan, was shoved into the werewolf’s clutches. Unsated by its previous victims, the monster took a chunk out of Zoltan’s shoulder before the soldiers tore the bleeding slave from its grasp. A metal truncheon poked Raze between the shoulder blades. The werewolf eyed the huge slave hungrily.
No! Raze thought. You shall not taste my flesh!
Exploding into action, he spun around and swung the chains between his wrists into the skull of the Death Dealer behind him. The improvised weapon struck like a mace, shattering the vampire’s neck with a loud crack. The soldier dropped to the floor like the dead man he was. Azure eyes widened with horror as the vampire realized he was paralyzed from the neck down. Can a vampire heal from th
at? Raze wondered.
He hoped not.
Swearing profanely, a second guard charged at Raze, but, moving with surprising agility for a man his size, Raze dodged the attack and looped the chain over the vampire’s neck. He twisted it like a garrote until he heard the man’s vertebrae shatter. A strangled gasp escaped his lips. Blood gushed from his mouth.
That’s two, Raze thought. He tossed the throttled vampire aside.
By now, however, the other soldiers had united to subdue the unruly prisoner. A whip cracked against Raze’s broad shoulders, sending a staggering jolt of agony through his body. A steel-shod fist slammed into his jaw, while a leather boot kicked his legs out from under him. Refusing to surrender, he swung his chain again, but the vampires were ready for him now. An alert soldier grabbed hold of the chain with preternatural speed and yanked it hard. Raze’s hands were almost torn from his wrists and he fell forward onto his face. His forehead smacked against the hard stone floor. A heel dug into his back, pinning him down. Another vampire kicked him in the side. A rib cracked, the pain nearly blinding. He tried to get back up again but was overwhelmed by the vampires’ superior strength and numbers. Grunting defiantly, he spit a mouthful of blood and broken teeth onto the ground.
Devils! he cursed them. Fiends from hell!
The vampires were done with him, though. His broken rib shifted painfully as they hauled him to his feet and carried him toward the waiting werewolf, who drooled in anticipation. Raze squirmed in the soldiers’ grasp and dug his own heels into the floor, but he was carried forward nonetheless. He felt the werewolf’s hot breath upon his face. Raze’s heart pounded in fear. Fresh blood smeared the monster’s muzzle.
Its gore-stained fangs were only a footstep away.
Lucian was conferring softly with Xristo and Sabas through the bars of their respective cages when the mortal slaves were thrown back into their cells. Festering bite marks on their shoulders, which were already healing over, revealed that they had now joined the ranks of the lycans, whether they liked it or not. Lucian could smell the taint of the wolf spreading through their veins. They were clammy and pale and shaking as though with ague. Prodigious quantities of sweat soaked through their ragged garments. They panted like dogs in the heat.