by Elena May
Myra glared at him. “Let me make one thing clear. If I’m ever on the brink of death, I don’t wish to be turned. Just let me die.”
“Fine.” He looked at Tristan. “Hate me as much as you wish when the battle is over. But now, we must work together. Take Myra to safety. I am not losing any more humans.”
Not losing any more humans? “Really?” Myra snapped. “Perhaps you should try not killing us.”
Tristan’s usual scowl deepened, and he stared at Vlad, his eyes turning cold as ice. “I take Myra to safety? And what will you do?”
“I will destroy the Wizard.”
Tristan snorted and threw his hands up in the air. “And may I ask how?”
“I have a plan.”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “Please, be more precise.”
The Prince shrugged. “It is simple. I fight my way to the top, place the explosives, and detonate them.”
Tristan’s grey eyes grew wide as saucers, and his mouth dropped open, making him look like a fish gasping for water. “That is your plan? It is even more nonsensical than the ceiling-crawling escape.”
“We have no time to argue,” Vlad said sharply and peeked out from behind the rock to fire two arrows. “The Wizard needs to be destroyed, and I am doing it. I need you to take Myra to safety.”
“Look, I don’t want to be a burden,” Myra said. “If you believe you have a better chance of reaching the Wizard together, you should both go. I’ll survive somehow.”
“You will not survive five steps without us,” the Prince said. “Tristan will protect you.”
“I never agreed to this,” Tristan snapped.
Vlad glared at him. “Someone needs to take Myra to safety.”
“True,” Tristan said. “I will agree to your plan under one condition—I go and blow up the Wizard, and you take Myra to safety.”
“This is ridiculous,” Vlad said.
“Oh, is it? Is it really?” A vampire had made his way around the rock, and Tristan turned around and decapitated him in one angry stroke. “And why would that be? Are you saying I am not good enough to do this? Fast enough? Smart enough? Cunning enough? I can do it as well as you. But no, it always has to be you to take on the most dangerous tasks, while I am shielded and protected. I am sick of you treating me like a child. I am centuries older than you were when we first met.”
Another vampire appeared, and Myra fired a bullet into his chest before Vlad pushed a wooden arrow into his heart. “Oh, come on,” she cried. “First, you whine that you get crappy wounds, then you complain you’re always babied. Can you make up your mind for once?”
Vlad snorted. “His mind is made up. He wants the most dangerous missions, but he wants to breeze through them like a magical hero, unhurt and looking cool.” He glanced at Tristan. “And I know you would be capable of all that. I never doubted your skills. The simple truth is, I have lost too much in my life. I cannot lose you.”
“Ah, so it all boils down to your famous self-centeredness,” Tristan barked. “You don’t want me to get hurt because it would make you suffer, and yet you constantly place yourself in danger, not caring what this does to me or to Armida. You never ask for any help or protection from us, and yet you never let us leave your care. You turned Sissi against her will not because it is what is best for her, but because it makes you feel better. Surely you realize how patronizing this is?”
Myra glared at him. “And surely you both realize this is the worst time and place to figure out your issues?”
“We gain nothing by switching our places in the plan,” the Prince said. “Assuming we are equally good warriors—and I am sorry to say it, but I am better—it would make no difference which one of us goes. There is no rational reason why you should be the one to do it.”
“You want a reason?” Tristan said softly. “Let me give you one. You said you could not lose me. If you send me away now, you will lose me, no matter the outcome.”
Vlad fell silent, his head bowed. Myra stared at him, trying to will him to look at her. This is what we discussed when I came to negotiate Tristan’s release, she thought furiously. This is what I tried to warn you about. You’re keeping him in a golden cage. If you don’t set him free, he will either break his head against the bars, or escape and never return. You are losing him.
The Prince looked up, and for the briefest moment, her gaze met his. She gave him a small nod, and a heartbeat later, he gave her a nod in return.
She knew it would make no sense for her to openly take Tristan’s side. It would only make Vlad come off even worse. There was only one thing she could do, and she hoped the Prince would play along.
“Tristan, I mean no offense,” she said, “but the Prince is right. Our top priority is to destroy the Wizard, and we need to send the one with the greatest chance of success. You’re a good fighter, but he is better.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily say so,” Vlad said, and she breathed a sigh of relief—he had understood and accepted her plan. “Tristan is very good. I have trained him myself, and he has given me every reason to be proud of my teaching skills.” He looked at Tristan. “Forgive me. You are right to say that my overprotectiveness is absurd, given your age, skills, and experience. The truth is, I hate the thought of any harm coming to you, but that is my problem, not yours. Go with my blessing. I know you can do this.”
For the next few moments, Tristan stared at his Prince, stunned. It appeared the younger vampire had never truly believed Vlad would agree to his demands. Myra wondered if Tristan had really wanted this or had simply wished to put up a rebellious scene, knowing that nothing would come of it anyway. But then, he smiled so brightly that for the very first time, Myra saw his perma-frown disappear.
“Thank you,” Tristan said with such emotion that Myra felt a smile tug at her lips. He deserved to be happy, after everything.
Vlad’s gaze softened. “Do not give me any reason to regret my decision. Your arm wound won’t interfere with your fighting, will it? Does it pain you? I mean, apart from the emotional pain of having your shirt destroyed,” he added with a wink.
Tristan grinned ruefully. “I think I will be able to mend the tear, so there is no pain whatsoever.”
“This is good to hear,” said the Prince. “And yet, I would feel better if I knew you were at your full strength.”
I must have been spending too much time around vampires, Myra thought, if I can hear such words and know exactly what they mean.
Tristan chewed at his lip for a moment but then threw up his hands in the air with a resigned sigh. “Fine. No amount of pride and stubbornness can make me refuse your blood.”
Myra was not even surprised as she watched Tristan bite the Prince and drink with desperate greed. When he pulled back, his eyes were shining. “I am still angry at you.”
Vlad smiled. “Of course. I understand.” His smile disappeared, and his gaze darkened as he added barely audibly, “Stay alive.”
“Yes, Tristan, stay alive,” Myra said. “You need to be here to enjoy the new world you will create.”
“I certainly will,” Tristan promised, and with a last glance at them, he grabbed a protruding rock and pulled himself up, towards the Central Peak.
Chapter Sixty
Fire and Death
Vlad stared after him, his face pale and his eyes wide and glistening. Myra grabbed his forearm. “Come. He’ll be fine. You said it yourself, he is very capable.”
“He is.” A small smile appeared on his lips. “Thank you, Myra. You are wise for your age.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she said, scowling. “I still hate you. I just didn’t think Tristan should pay for your sins.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Come, the bridge is still far away, and we need to hike up the hill.”
They stepped through the carnage, and Myra’s heart sank as she looked at the bodies littering the ground. The ravens had torn out eyes and flesh from some, and vampires had drunk what was left of others. Small, scatt
ered battles still raged here and there, but the dead bodies painted a clear picture—while both sides had suffered many casualties, the humans and Ila’s vampires had incurred greater losses.
Their enemies were winning, and they would wipe them all out unless Tristan destroyed the Wizard first. But how could he? Surely the vampires expected someone would try that and would have armies all the way to the Peak. He had to sneak through them all… or fight his way through them all, all by himself.
Vlad pushed her aside, and an arrow swished past her ear, making her hair fly. A vampire lunged at them, and the Prince swung his blades, the blow aimed to cut their attacker in two at the waist. But their enemy blocked it and thrust a long knife, targeting the Prince’s upper leg. Vlad raised his knee, the move fast and sharp, knocking the knife out of the vampire’s hand. The Prince dropped his blades and grabbed his assailant by the shoulder, pulling him forward. He bared his teeth, vicious and angry, and buried them deep in the other vampire’s throat.
Three more vampires approached from behind, and Myra turned to face them, raising her gun. She fired a shot at the first, aiming at the center of mass. The bullet passed through the vampire’s upper arm, and he lunged forward, jumping and landing on top of Myra, knocking her to the ground. She screamed, and Vlad let go of his victim, pulled a stake out of a dead body and plunged it straight into her attacker’s heart.
The Prince knelt to grab Myra’s gun and fired shots at the two approaching vampires, the bullets going through their foreheads, leaving bloodied holes in their heads. One wavered on her feet, and the other collapsed to his knees. Vlad reached them and cut off their heads in clean, powerful strokes.
He returned to Myra and pulled her up. “Come. We are almost there.” His eyes darted around. “Everyone here knows me, and seems to know I was involved with you and Ila. Perhaps they expect a reward if they defeat me, but they also know that if they try, they are unlikely to survive.” He threw a glance at the vampires he had just killed. “Let us hope this knowledge will stop more from trying.”
Myra followed his gaze. “It hasn’t stopped anyone so far.”
He snorted. “Believe me, our attackers could have been many more.” They reached the suspension bridge, and he turned back to give her a hand. “You don’t have a fear of heights, do you? Poor Tristan does. It was a pain to get him across.”
Myra took his hand. “How can he have a fear of heights? He won’t even die if he falls.”
Vlad stepped on the bridge and grabbed the rope railing. “This type of fear is never rational or easy to control. Here.” He handed her back the gun. “We are vulnerable while on the bridge. Be prepared.”
She took it, glaring. How was she supposed to hold on to the wildly rocking bridge and hold her gun ready at the same time? Her stomach twisted as the bridge moved underneath her feet. Far below was the valley, littered with bodies and blood. A raven circled above them, cawing, its dark eyes fixed on her. Was it waiting for her death, so it would have another feast?
Every step made the bridge swing wider, blood and death becoming a blur far below. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a vampire stepping at the end of the bridge and rushing towards them, his feet flying over the ropes and wooden planks as if it was solid ground. Bile rose from her stomach up to her throat, and she choked. Shaking, she raised her gun and fired a shot. She could not see where the bullet flew, but the vampire never slowed down or hesitated.
Vlad pushed her in front of him, closer to the other edge. He bent down, and Myra watched in horror as he tore off a plank. As if this thing isn’t insanely unstable already. He broke the plank again to sharpen the edge and ran towards their attacker, plunging the wood into his heart.
“What were you saying about no one attacking us because they’re scared of you?” Myra asked, clutching at the rope in one hand and still holding the gun in the other.
He returned to her in the blink of an eye and grabbed her arm. “Honestly, they are fewer than I expected. I must have underestimated my reputation.”
She snorted and allowed him to lead her on. “I have yet to see you underestimate yourself.” The next step took her to solid ground, and her knees gave in.
Vlad looked towards the opposite edge. “From here, we can easily guard the bridge and keep an eye out for any vampires crawling up the cliff or coming from the gorge. This should be one of the safest places.”
Really? Myra looked around. Bodies littered the ground, vampires and humans. Perhaps they had tried to retreat and had escaped the butchery of the Peak and the valley below, but had never reached safety.
She recognized Alex, lying facedown with arms outstretched, covered in so much blood that she could not say if he was dead or simply badly hurt. She vowed that once this was over, she would check on him. If he still lived, she would make sure he recovered.
Myra raised her gun, but the bridge was eerily empty, safe for a crow perched on the rope railing. The mists embraced it from all sides, and it swung slowly left and right.
“How well can you see the other side?” the Prince asked. “I have forgotten what it is like to have human sight.”
“I can see the fighting,” she said. “I can distinguish the vampires close to the bridge, but the ones up the hill are faceless to me. I only recognize the ones with strange clothes or hair. I…” She paused before answering the question that was surely on his mind. “I can’t see Tristan.”
“Neither can I,” he said softly.
Three vampires walked on the bridge, and Myra fired a shot. She hit one, but the other two advanced, unperturbed. With shaking hands, she tried to reload her gun as fast as possible, but this was a skill she had never mastered.
The first vampire stepped on solid ground and swung her blade. Vlad blocked the blow with one sword and cut off her head with the other in a single clean strike. The other vampire cried and lunged at them, his eyes blazing and his face twisted in rage.
Myra finally managed to reload and fired another shot. The bullet grazed their attacker’s arm, and Vlad used that distraction to plunge one sword through his chest and behead him with the other.
“Tristan is probably too high up by now,” said Myra. “That’s why we can’t see him. Or he may be on the other side of the hill. Or behind a rock. Or inside a cave.”
“Or dead,” Vlad whispered.
Myra shuddered. She could not dwell on that right now. So many had died—Lidia, Thomas, Estella, Andre, Grandma Pia, Leo, possibly Alex too, and she had neither heard nor seen Zack after the attack.
“What about Armida?” she asked. “Where is she?”
“She joined us in the fight,” the Prince said. “We lost each other in the beginning. I do not know where she is.”
Myra stole a glance at him. He was pale but stone-faced, his lips set in a thin line. “Vlad,” she said. “You don’t need to stay here with me. Go and look for them.”
“You cannot guard the bridge on your own, and there might be vampires back at the camp,” he said. “I will stay for as long as you need my protection.”
“Why?” she snapped. “Are you worried about honor? You have none.”
“Call it ‘friendship,’ then,” he said as he dispatched another attacker who had crossed the bridge.
“Friendship?” She snorted. “We are not friends.”
“You may not care about me,” he said calmly, “but you care about Tristan. That is enough for me.”
“I don’t care about you? That’s a mild way to put it. I wish you dead. How much clearer do you want me to be?”
“Why don’t you kill me, then?” he challenged. “You have a gun. Shoot me. Depower me. And then finish it.” He handed her a stake.
“Don’t tempt me.” She reloaded her gun.
“Why not?”
“Tristan is fond of you, for reasons I don’t entirely understand,” she said. “He has suffered enough. I wouldn’t cause him more pain.”
He laughed. “So you don’t hate me so much after all? No
t enough to hurt Tristan? I think this can be the foundation of a beautiful friendship.”
“I’m afraid ‘not enough hate’ is the closest thing to a friendship you’ll ever get from me,” she said. “You’re a monster, Vladimir. I hate you, but I don’t hate Tristan and Armida. If you think they need your help, go.”
He shook his head, staring empty-eyed at the Peak. “They do not need me. They have not needed me for a long time now. I have been stifling them, holding them back, like a mother hen refusing to let go.”
She fired a shot at a vampire close to the bridge. “Oh, come on. Enough with the self-pity. You know very well they still need you. You’ve given them a lot, and you keep giving every single night. Yes, they don’t need you to protect them and guide them by the hand, but they need you to be there, to be a part of their lives.”
As do I. She but her lip, wondering where the strange thought had come from. For a brief moment, she wondered what her life would be like without the Prince in it. He had taught her how to write better and had opened her mind to new horizons. He had shown her art, culture, and history… and then he had killed Thomas.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Thank you.”
Myra cursed herself. She had not wanted to comfort him. “Don’t thank me just yet,” she said.
Suddenly, the ground shook with a roar, wailing like a wounded beast. Gravel rolled down the Peak, and then stones. Rocks and dead bodies mixed into a horrific avalanche that slid down the slope, devouring the living fighters, vampires and humans alike. A flock of black ravens rose up, cawing, harsh and ugly, but the avalanche caught some of them, adding their dark bodies to its deadly mass. A lone dead tree, dry and gnarled, broke off and slid down.
A large crack spread down the hill, and a piece of rock broke loose and slid down, squashing a group of fighters underneath like a stone pestle crushing garlic in a mortar.
Myra’s gaze turned upwards, to the Wizard… or to where the Wizard was supposed to be. Fire rose to the sky, the high flames licking greedily, looking for someone to devour. Black smoke stretched up, dancing with the mists, and a large vulture emerged from it all, as if birthed by this unholy kiss.