by Greg Cox
Surely not! she strove to convince herself. Even after all that had come between them, surely her father would not order her death. I am still his only child!
But after what had happened last night, in this very bedchamber, she could no longer be sure of anything. Her entire world had been shaken to its core… and in more ways than one. Her hand drifted across her belly. Her stomach, which had been unsettled for many nights now, troubled her once more. She felt an unfamiliar stirring within her.
At least Lucian is safe, she thought. That knowledge was all that comforted her in these trying hours. She prayed to the heavens that he would not be reckless enough to try to rescue her. Leave me, my love. Do not sacrifice your freedom for my sake.
Footsteps sounded outside the suite.
* * *
“Dmitri?” Lazar called out again, louder this time. Once again, his hail was met with silence. Damnation, he cursed. He wavered, torn between staying at his post and finding out what had happened to this partner. He better not have snuck off to relieve himself!
Finally, he could abide the suspense no longer. Checking to make sure that Sonja’s door was securely locked from the outside, he drew his own sword and cautiously crept down the drafty corridor. His former arousal wilted completely as he wondered what had become of the other Death Dealer. Rounding the corner, he discovered that a torch had gone out, leaving the hall shrouded in inky shadows. He peered warily into the dark. Was that breathing he heard up ahead?
“Dmitri? Are you there?”
A flurry of motion, moving almost faster than the eye could see, was the only warning he received before something cold and sharp sliced across his throat, just above his protective steel gorget. A cold red waterfall cascaded down his front. He crumpled to the floor in a heap.
Stealthy feet stepped over his corpse.
Sonja stared intently at the door. Minutes had passed since she had heard the guards stomp away to investigate the crash. At first, dark imaginings had sent a chill through her heart. Had her father dispatched an assassin to quietly rid his bloodline of a humiliating embarrassment, or was her sire himself returning to “question” her further? In truth, she had not known which dire circumstance would have been preferable.
But her courage had returned as another possibility leapt to mind. She held her breath, hoping against hope.
Please let it be so, she prayed. It must be so….
A metal latch was drawn back on the other side of the door. The creaking wooden barrier swung open and Lucian rushed inside. Fresh blood stained the double-edged sword in his hand. His muddy leather gear and boots dripped onto the carpet. Concerned brown eyes sought her out. “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.
Already clad for battle, she now wore a leather surcoat and boots over a suit of fine chain mail that clung to her body like a second skin. As plate armor did not lend itself to stealth, she had not donned her heavier gear. Her pendant was tucked between her breasts. She drew her own sword from its scabbard.
“I knew it was you,” she declared.
Joy and relief washed over her. She ran to him and clung to him in a fervid embrace. She could feel the comforting warmth of his body even through his tough leather garb. Their lips found each other and they fed hungrily upon their love until her fears at last reasserted themselves.
“You…” She pulled her face away from his. “But you should not have come.” Guilt coursed through her veins as she grasped the tremendous risk he was taking on her behalf. “You were free.”
He shook his head. “Not without you.”
That was all she needed to hear to restore her spirits. They lost themselves in another kiss before they finally broke apart once more. It dawned on her that this was the first time Lucian had ever dared set foot in her bedchamber, but, alas, there was no time to share it with him. Commotion sounded in the hall outside. Footsteps pounded up the stairs toward her chambers.
“We have to go,” he insisted. “Now.”
If it was not already too late…
Chapter Nineteen
Sandor rushed up the stairs, followed by a trio of loyal Death Dealers. A chambermaid had reported a disturbance on the top floor of the castle, not far from where Lady Sonja had been confined to her quarters. The captain hoped that the noise was simply the result of some clumsy accident, but he feared the worst.
How could that lycan have gotten past my guards?
His heart sank as he spotted the prone body of a soldier lying in a darkened corridor leading to Lady Sonja’s quarters. A crimson pool surrounded the murdered Death Dealer’s body. Bloody boot prints led away down the hall. One of Sandor’s men knelt to check on their fallen comrade, but the captain knew better than to waste time on a corpse. Not while an intruder stalked the castle.
“Lucian,” he muttered under his breath. It could be no one else.
Just as the Elder predicted.
He wondered momentarily what had become of the second guard, only to have his fears confirmed by the sight of the vampire’s severed head, lying several feet away from the man’s truncated body. Glazed blue eyes gazed blankly up at the captain as he rushed past the carnage toward Sonja’s quarters. The horrified gasps and curses of his men followed him down the adjoining hall. First Kosta, now this, Sandor thought. He was starting to lose count of just how many vampires Lucian and his rebels had killed….
“Treacherous dog!”
He skidded to a halt outside the open door to Lady Sonja’s chambers. Scarlet boot prints crossed the threshold, but Sandor trampled over them in his haste to check out the interior of the suite. It took him only moments to confirm the ghastly truth.
Lady Sonja—and her murderous lover—were gone.
A pair of Death Dealers crouched beside the open drain behind the smithy. They muttered in confusion as they called out for their missing comrade. Peering down into the inky blackness of the drainage tunnels below, they were taken unawares by Lucian and Sonja, who rushed silently out of the shadows like demons freshly conjured from the abyss. Twin swords cut the knights down before they could raise an alarm. Slashed throats spilled crimson cataracts onto the sooty floor of the workshop.
Lucian plucked a burning torch from a sconce as he stepped over the soldiers’ bodies. Lightning flashed outside the smithy, followed almost immediately by a deafening crack of thunder. The storm, it seemed, was almost upon them.
Sonja wiped the blood from the blade Lucian had provided for her. He stood by chivalrously as she swiftly lowered herself into the waiting chute. He had already warned her not to be startled by the dead soldier waiting at the bottom of the drain. They exchanged a silent look before she disappeared down the drain. He gave her a few minutes, then followed after her.
The first faint lashings of rain pelted the roof of the smithy.
Sandor came rushing into the great hall, tracking blood onto the floor. Judging from the captain’s apparent lack of wounds, Viktor judged that the enticing red splatter was not his own. The soldier’s agitated manner suggested that Viktor’s plans had at last come to fruition.
“Milord!” Sandor cried out in dismay. He prostrated himself before the Elder’s throne. “Your daughter has escaped!”
The consternation on the captain’s face was almost amusing. He looked as though he expected to be fed to the wolves for his failure. Instead Viktor calmly sipped on his crimson quaff.
“Ah,” he said, completely unperturbed. “Of course she has.”
The waiting was over….
The rain was coming down in force now, flooding the ancient catacombs and drainage tunnels. Hand-in-hand, Lucian and Sonja waded through the icy torrent. The rising yellow sewage washed crumbling skeletons from their funerary niches. Skulls and bones floated past them. A drowned rat bumped against Lucian’s leg.
Freedom, and a new life together, perhaps as man and wife, awaited at the end of the tunnels. Lucian found it hard to believe that they had already come so far without being stopped. It was almost too ea
sy….
Suddenly, a metal grate in the ceiling, no more than ten feet ahead of them, was wrenched open from above. The fugitive lovers jumped backward in alarm. Torchlight invaded the tunnel, followed by a large wooden barrel, which crashed down into the catacombs from high above their heads. The barrel smashed against the floor of the sewer, splintering into dozens of wooden staves. Thick black oil spilled into the frothing water.
No! Lucian thought, realizing at once what was in store. He tugged frantically at Sonja’s arm, dragging her away from the spreading oil. Just as he feared, a blazing torch was tossed after the barrel. The torch ignited the oil and broken timbers, which burst into flame like a vampire in the sun.
A scorching blast of heat and smoke drove Lucian and Sonja back the way they’d come. They choked on the noxious fumes. Lucian’s mustache and beard felt singed. “This way!” he shouted over the roar of the fire as he pulled Sonja from the crackling orange conflagration, which chased after them like a thing alive. Cobwebs flared up briefly before crumbling to ash. Burning rats shrieked in agony.
This is the trap Raze warned me of, Lucian realized. Viktor has us right where he wants us!
* * *
Many feet above them, in the rain-swept courtyard, Sandor and his Death Dealers readied another barrel. The soaked vampires struggled to keep their torches lit despite the driving rain and wind. Lightning slashed across the night sky. Thunderclaps rattled the stained-glass windows of the keep. Water gushed from the mouths of the sculpted grotesques perched upon the eaves.
Seemingly impervious to the boisterous tempest raging all around him, Viktor looked on grimly as the soldiers carried out his plan. Lucian had proven just as predictable as anticipated, relying on his hidden escape route one time too many. Apparently, he thought wryly, you can’t teach an old wolf new tricks….
He pointed imperiously at another metal grate. “That one.”
Lucian and Sonja raced through a cramped side tunnel. The squeeze was tight enough that they had to go through one at a time. Lucian shoved Sonja ahead of him, while feeling the heat of the flames against his back. He felt as though he was trapped in a dragon’s lair, with the serpent’s fiery breath bearing down on them.
They had wriggled through a narrow gap when a second barrel came plummeting down in front of them. Oil splattered the walls as the barrel broke apart only a few yards ahead of Sonja. A flung torch set the spilled liquid ablaze. The dragon breathed again, even closer than before. Swirling orange and yellow flames lit up the catacombs. Lucian threw up his hand to protect his face from the searing heat. Sonja cried out in fear.
Blood-sucking bastard! Lucian thought angrily, shocked by Viktor’s ruthless tactics. Does he mean to burn his own daughter alive?
He looked around desperately wondering which way to turn. They were trapped like rats between the raging fires, which were converging on them rapidly. Metal scraped against stone directly above their heads. Glancing up at the ceiling, Lucian eyed a newly opened shaft overhead. He tensed in anticipation of another fiery assault from above, but, to his surprise, a third barrel did not crash down into the sewers. Rain alone poured down the open drain. It was as if Viktor was giving them a way out.
But what was waiting for them above?
Lucian clenched his fists in frustration. He realized they were playing right into Viktor’s hands, but what else were they to do? The blazes were inching closer to them with every second, turning the tunnels into an underground forge. He could see the dancing red flames reflected in Sonja’s watery eyes. They sagged against each other, all but overcome by the heat and smoke. The suffocating fumes irritated his eyes and lungs. The chain mail clinging to Sonja’s body grew hot to the touch. She whimpered in pain. Her pale skin began to redden….
He glanced again at the grate above. The encroaching infernos left them no other choice. He shared an urgent look with Sonja, who nodded in agreement.
Come what may, they had to abandon the tunnels—or be reduced to ashes!
* * *
Viktor had deliberately left the shaft undisturbed. Ten armed Death Dealers were stationed around the open drain, ready to apprehend any fugitive who tried to climb out of it. His dark robes were drenched from the deluge, but he paid no heed to the violent weather. The fearsome storm was nothing compared to the tempest in his own heart. Not until Lucian paid for defiling his daughter would the vengeful Elder think of anything else.
Come, Lucian, he urged the lycan silently. Bring Sonja back to me—and face your just deserts!
As though in response, a rampaging figure burst from the drain.
Lucian leapt from the tunnels as though fired from a catapult. As expected, he found an entire contingent of Death Dealers waiting for him. Outnumbered, he relied on speed and savagery to try to even the odds. Whirling like a dervish, he slashed out at the soldiers with his sword. The blade struck like lightning, targeting the cracks and crevices in the knights’ armor. Blood streamed down the gutter of the blade as he speared one vampire in the eye, then yanked the sword back in time to ram the pommel into the face of a vampire behind him. Fangs shattered beneath the blow, and the soldier staggered backward, clutching his mouth. A third soldier swung a sword at Lucian’s head, but the lycan ducked beneath the blow and drove his own sword up beneath the vampire’s chin, spearing his brain. The guard convulsed once before toppling backward onto the rain-slick paving stones. The heavy armor clattered against the floor of the courtyard. Lucian tugged his sword free of the carcass.
Never corner a wolf, he thought, unless you want to get bit.
Taken aback by the sheer ferocity of Lucian’s attack, the remaining Death Dealers stumbled about in confusion. They lunged clumsily at the elusive lycan, getting in each other’s way. An irate commander shouted for reinforcements, drawing more Death Dealers from the keep and ramparts. A small army charged across the bailey toward Lucian, who caught a glimpse of Viktor himself standing to one side, observing the chaos from a safe distance. Lucian was tempted to hurl his sword across the courtyard at the tyrannical Elder, but that would have left him unarmed against the horde of Death Dealers. Instead he glanced behind him to see Sonja bursting up from the drain after him. A gout of fire licked her heels as she sailed over the heads of the distracted guards. A shining silver sword gleamed in her hand.
“GO!” he shouted at her.
Having drawn all the soldiers down upon him, the way seemed clear for Sonja to make a break for it. Lucian had no illusions that he could hold off the Death Dealers much longer—he was too badly outnumbered—but perhaps he could buy enough time to allow Sonja to escape? He would gladly trade his life for hers.
Howling like a wolf, he jabbed his sword straight through a soldier’s metal breastplate. He had forged the vampires’ armor after all, and knew exactly where the weak spots were. The driving rain washed the vampire’s blood down the open drains. Lucian’s lips peeled back to bare his fangs. His eyes flashed cobalt.
All right, he challenged the oncoming soldiers. Who’s next?
The cold rain and wind came as a shock after the inferno in the tunnels. Sonja sprung like a gazelle across the courtyard as she joined Lucian in battle against the soldiers. Never for a minute did she consider leaving him to fight alone. She knew full well that her father would surely have Lucian tortured to death for his “crimes”, assuming he survived his uneven battle against the merciless Death Dealers. Not while I still live, she vowed. They would perish together, if need be. Like the hero and heroine of some tragic Nordic myth.
A knight came at her, swinging a heavy mace. He stayed his hand too long, no doubt hesitant to strike down an Elder’s daughter, and she ran him through without hesitation. The look of betrayal on his face, as he collapsed onto the cobblestones, cut her to the quick. Although a warrior born, she had never killed another vampire before.
I had no choice, she thought. Her free hand went to her belly. Although not even Lucian knew the truth, more lives than theirs hung in the balance tonight.
Our forbidden love has yielded more than just tragedy. It has also brought new life into the world.
Side-by-side, she and Lucian fought the Death Dealers. Her heart swelled with pride as, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her lover hold his own against her father’s hand-picked guards. The odds were against them, but you would never know it from the courageous way he threw himself into the fray. Vampire blood flooded the gutters. This, she promised herself, was how she wanted them both to be remembered: fearless and indomitable.
Fight on my love, she thought. Fight for our future together.
Her sword danced like a living flame, cutting and thrusting through the guards. Death Dealers dropped at her feet and, for an instant, she found herself triumphant. Her gaze went to the ramparts. The massive siege bows were unmanned. It appeared that every soldier on duty was busily engaged in the strife surrounding her. If she and Lucian could just make it to the top of the palisade, one leap would put Castle Corvinus and all its dangers behind them. The way seemed clear.
Then her father’s fist slammed into her face.
One minute Viktor was lurking on the periphery of the conflict, letting his soldiers do his fighting for him. The next, he disappeared from sight as swiftly as a bat on the wing. Fearing the worst, Lucian risked a glance at Sonja and was dismayed to see the Elder striking his daughter. Lightning heralded Viktor’s sudden attack. Lucian saw their desperate plan coming apart before his eyes.
“Sonja!” he cried out in despair. “No!”
His lapse in attention cost him dearly. He took his eyes off his foes too long, and they swiftly took advantage of his mistake. An armored fist punched his jaw, knocking his head to one side, while another soldier clubbed the back of his skull with a studded mace. A steel-toed boot delivered a vicious kick to his privates. The butt of a crossbow rammed the base of his spine. His head ringing, he dropped to his knees and retched on the pavement. Everything went black for a heartbeat. A fist seized his hair by the handful and yanked his head back up again. When his vision cleared, he found a ring of loaded crossbows surrounding his skull like a crown of thorns. A flash of lightning illuminated the inch-long silver arrowheads pointed at his skull. The surly expressions of the Death Dealers dared him to provoke them further. Their fingers were poised upon the triggers of their crossbows. His sword slipped from his fingers.