by Paul Barrett
The quana have surrounded the vampire, and he’s trying to fight his way through, Blink told him. They’ve got him pinned. All the villagers are running down the hill, and the soldiers are guarding the inside of the gate.
The quana wouldn’t keep the vampire trapped long. They were too slow and not aggressive enough to do more than minimal damage. With its quick reflexes and sharp claws, the creature would soon have the corpses at its feet, their power drained. If Erick survived, it would be at the cost of most of the manor’s workers.
Erick hastened to assemble his philter. First, garlic to stun the creature. Its pungent smell made Erick’s eyes water as he crushed two bulbs and dropped them into the vial. He grabbed a small tormentil root and chewed it into a paste. The root’s bitter flavor filled his mouth, and he gagged as bile rose and soaked into the paste. He removed the sticky mashed herb and pushed it into the container. As he spit to clear his mouth, he sensed puzzlement from Blink. What’s happened?
I’m not sure. The vampire is keeping the quana from hurting him, but he’s not hurting them. He’s trying to fight his way through. He’s knocked some of them down, but he hasn’t destroyed them.
It’s father, Erick thought. Tears filled his eyes as he grabbed another vial and a dropper.
What do you mean?
Erick extracted ten drops of cayenne. Dad created those quana. Even as a vampire, he doesn’t want to destroy them. As he added the liquid pepper to the mixture, Erick’s soul wrenched. The thing with his father’s face would have no such reservations about killing him.
Or would he? Erick wondered. Was there enough of his father left for Erick to reach? Could he free him from the vampire’s embrace?
How did it happen? Blink asked.
Blink offered the most important question. How had his father become this abomination? Elonsha, no longer existed in high enough concentrations for such powerful creatures to spawn without aid. Even if another Necromancer lived on the island--and none did--they would never willingly create such a monstrosity.
Erick grabbed a bottle of lavender oil and moved to a cage set against the wall. Several rats occupied the wire prison. He opened the top, reached in for one of the dark, loathsome animals, and grabbed it by the back of the head to avoid its snapping teeth. Lifting it from the cage, he pried the animal’s mouth open with the bottle. It hissed and flailed as Erick poured lavender down its throat.
It’s almost through. Blink thought. The quana are too slow.
Where are the others? Erick desperately wanted to make the connection that would allow him to see through Blink’s eyes but didn’t dare take focus from his work.
Elissia and Corby are inside, next to me. Brannon and two soldiers are guarding Fathen, Carn, and the wounded man. They’re still on the porch.
Get them inside.
I tried, but Fathen refuses. He threatened the others with holy condemnation if they came into this ‘evil house.’ Elissia dragged Corby in with her as soon as he said that.
Despite his fear, Erick smiled at her defiance. He shifted his grip, grabbed the rat by its tail, and ran back to the table. With a quick spin, Erick smashed the rodent’s head onto the corner. It let out one sharp squeak and died.
He pried open the rat’s cracked, paper-thin skull and flicked the broken pieces aside. With a crook of his finger, he scooped out the tiny brain and dropped it into the vial. He wiped the gore on his dark pants, grabbed two mint leaves with his other hand, and threw them in the vial to help hide the odor.
A surge of excitement emanated from Blink, followed immediately by disappointment. One of the quana managed to knock the vampire down, but the vampire decapitated it.
“Fuck,” Erick screamed in frustration. He held his previously wounded thumb over the vial and gritted his teeth as he reopened the sealed puncture. Blood dripped into the vial. When the glass had filled, he pressed the injured finger to his leg and recited the incantation that would draw the Elonsha into the mixture. “Mucalz col cnila pahmah, zodireda harga ae mucalz devonpho quana.”
Elonsha whispered through Erick’s being, filling him with a sense of power. It spoke to him of much more, but the agonizing questions about his father’s fate gave him the ability to fight the temptation without Blink’s aid. The concoction swirled as energy flowed into it; the liquid turned black and viscous.
It’s broken through!
I’m coming. Erick slammed a cork into the vial, grabbed a small, square mirror, and ran up the narrow stairs. His shoulder struck the wall. He yelped as the rough stone tore his shirt and scraped his skin. When he reached the top, he shoved the glass container in one pocket and the mirror in the other.
Everyone huddled near the open doorway--Elissia and Corby inside, the others on the porch--and Erick could almost see the fear that radiated off them as he dashed down the hallway.
“Move,” he shouted. They scattered from the threshold.
Erick reached the porch and stopped. His knees weakened as he locked eyes with the vampire. It stood at the foot of the stairs, less than twenty feet away, and hissed in malicious agitation. Erick shuddered.
He looked at the others. Elissia and Corby had joined them on the wide wooden porch. They returned Erick’s stare. The hope of survival kindled in their eyes, a faith that rested squarely on his actions. “All of you get inside.”
“Be careful,” Corby said. His voice broke, and he appeared on the verge of tears. Erick nodded, suddenly sorry that, distraught at his parents’ death, he had refused to see his new friend for the past month, abandoning him with no explanation.
“Thank you,” Erick said, hoping Corby inferred all the meaning in the statement: gratitude for his friendship, thankfulness for their time spent in conversation, and appreciation that Corby risked the town’s wrath to visit him in secret. Erick wanted to say all that, but he had no time. And there might be no other chance.
Erick walked to the top of the stairs, hands in his pockets, the left one clutched so tightly around the vial he had to force himself to loosen his grip to avoid smashing the glass.
The quana, ten feet behind the vampire, shuffled toward the creature, continuing to obey their master’s order to attack. One lay on the ground unmoving and headless.
The vampire, covered with scratches, glanced at the approaching undead. It hissed in outrage, turned, and charged up the stairs with bloodlust in its yellow eyes.
Erick pulled the mirror from his pocket and held it out. As soon as the vampire saw the reflective glass, it let out a pitiful, chilling shriek and retreated.
Emboldened, Erick moved down the steps. The vampire’s gaze swiveled between Erick--hissing at the hated glass in the boy’s hand--and the quana that closed in slowly but with a single-minded will.
Halfway down, Erick stopped. Though hampered by the mirror, the vampire remained far from harmless.
“Father?” Erick asked. “What happened?”
The creature glared at him.
“Are you there? How can I help you? What-”
The creature leapt over Erick’s head. Drops of water, filled with the stench of rotten seaweed, fell from the beast and struck Erick’s shirt. It grabbed Corby by the throat and sprang away, dragging the startled boy along, all before anyone could move.
With strangled cries, Corby fought the grip around his throat. The vampire hugged him to its breast and faced the advancing quana.
“Quana, alar,” Erick screamed, stopping the undead. In their attempts to destroy the vampire, they would have shredded the scholar.
“Corby,” Elissia screamed as she ran down the steps. Erick grabbed her arm. “Let me go,” she shouted, trying to shake his grasp.
“It’ll tear him to pieces before you can help,” Erick said. “And then it will go for you.”
Elissia shrugged free of his grip but stayed on the steps.
With a triumphant hiss, the fiend turned its back on the motionless quana, Corby pinned against its chest. Corby, eyes wide and breath heavy, did not mov
e.
“Let him go!” Erick yelled. The vampire snarled. Its hand tightened around Corby’s throat, and he gasped as his pale face darkened.
“Stop!” Erick advanced a few steps. The creature retreated. It pointed in Erick’s direction and placed its thumb and fingers apart as if it held something. It motioned violently toward the ground, and then spread the hand apart, showing it empty.
Erick dropped the mirror. The creature offered him an evil grin. Erick’s heart stuttered, and he choked back a sob. Nothing of the father he loved existed in those heartless yellow eyes. His father was dead, a victim of his own weakness, and this creature no more than a parasite that used an honorable man’s death to its advantage. Erick resolved to destroy this fiend and put his father to rest.
Its pitiless gaze still on Erick, the vampire lifted a foot and ground it into the dirt. Erick followed the mimed instruction, using his heel to avoid cutting his bare foot on the shattered silver glass.
“Let him go,” Erick said, his throat tight. “It’s me you want, isn’t it?”
The creature nodded; its fangs gleamed with saliva as it grinned even wider.
“Then free him. Take me, but leave these people alone.”
The creature hissed, puffed out its chest, and shook Corby, who yelped, voice high and terrified.
“Okay!” Erick raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Stop!”
The vampire held up one crooked finger and motioned Erick forward.
Trying to ignore the dread building in his heart, Erick looked at Elissia, then at Carn. “All of you get inside the manor. If things go wrong, you’ll be safe there until morning.”
“What are you doing?” Fathen asked. “That demon will kill you. If you die, we all die.”
“If I don’t let it take me, it will kill Corby.”
“Better him than everyone.”
. Elissia moved again, this time toward the cleric, and Erick put out a restraining hand.
“Quit grabbing me,” she said, stepping back.
Erick stared at Fathen with undisguised contempt. “Once it kills him, then what? Do you think it will go away, never to bother you again? I have a chance of stopping it. Or I can leave now and let it kill you all.”
Fathen glared back but offered nothing. Erick nodded. “Not so willing when it’s you being sacrificed, are you?”
The vampire gave an impatient hiss.
Erick turned back to the creature. “Release the scholar.” Elissia started in surprise, no doubt wondering how he knew such a thing.
The vampire laughed, a harsh whispering sound that raised bumps on Erick’s arms. It lifted Corby into the air and slapped the back of his head with an open palm. Corby’s eyes closed, his head lolled forward in unconsciousness. With an almost casual flip, the vampire sent him flying toward the group.
“Blink!” Erick yelled, but the familiar had already launched into the air. Despite his child-sized stature, Blink had the strength of a large, well-muscled adult; he caught Corby in midair and flew him into the manor.
“Corby is safe inside,” Carn said. “Run for the house and hide until morning.”
Having seen the creature’s speed, Erick didn’t consider the suggestion an option. “You came to me for help. Trust that I know what I’m doing.”
Carn nodded, his face grim. “Strength of Caros go with you.”
Do you know what you’re doing? Blink thought as Erick squared his narrow shoulders and walked toward the waiting creature.
I’m doing the only thing I can. His entire being wanted to run, but such an act would be futile. Even if he reached the safety of the manor and prepared a better attack, the monster would be free to rampage until the sun rose or all of Draymed lay dead. Erick had to confront the vampire now, while he still had courage. Caros, lend me your strength to send this creature to its end, Erick prayed.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the vampire motioned him to stop. Erick obeyed. The creature leaned forward. Its nose twitched with a repulsive snuffling sound. Erick stood rigid, not daring to move. The vampire was using its keen sense of smell to search for anything amiss. Erick closed his eyes and prayed to Denech, the God of Luck, that he had sufficiently concealed his hastily prepared mixture, and that the blood on his abraded shoulder would help.
The sniffing stopped. Erick heard a shuffling sound; a waft of fetid, salt-tinged air passed him. He opened his eyes and almost screamed. The fiend’s grotesque face stood inches from his own. Erick backed away but two strong claws, damp and cold as an old cellar, gripped his shoulders and held him.
Here was his best chance. He grabbed the vial and started to pull it from his pocket.
The vampire’s fangs plunged into his neck.
Pain, sharp but brief, was quickly replaced by a warm tingling feeling. Every nerve in Erick’s body came alive. He shuddered and moaned as pleasure, more potent than he had ever experienced in his life, coursed through his veins.
Relax, his father’s voice, harsh yet persuasive, said in his mind. Release yourself to me, and you need no longer be alone and hated. Your mother is waiting for us. Join me, and you will be feared and respected. You will know the peace and freedom true power brings. And we will again be a family.
Erick’s worries disappeared as the tingling pleasure continued. The truth in his father’s words comforted him, and he yearned to see his mother again. He had been so alone since their death. What reason did he have to continue living? Ready to give himself to the realm beyond, he prepared to surrender to the angel at his throat.
His head lolled back, and he glimpsed the others through clouded vision. They had not moved into the manor. Corby lay in the hallway, but the rest stood on the porch and stared at another figure thrashing on the wooden floor.
Distant, agonizing screams reached Erick’s ears, and a voice cried out in his mind. Erick, help. It hurts.
It was Blink. Erick’s mind cleared as his familiar’s screaming and writhing shattered the mental haze like a mallet through glass. Fathen was right: if Erick surrendered, a horrid fate would befall Draymed. Erick’s death would render Blink catatonic, unable to help the others, and eventually kill him. Defenseless, the town--Corby and Elissia--would be easy prey.
Through his weakening vision, Erick perceived the monster’s promises as the lies they were. This creature had no power but the power to kill and feed, no freedom but the freedom of damnation. The same fate lay in wait for him if he gave in to the beast’s dominion.
His father’s voice spoke again, this time in its usual timbre. The voice Erick knew and loved. “Release me,” it said.
Erick clutched the vial and drew it from his pocket. With the last of his strength, he smashed it against the creature’s bald head.
The vampire yanked back. Its fangs ripped from Erick’s neck. Warm wetness coursed down his throat and a dull drumbeat throbbed in his head.
Smoke poured from the vampire’s head. Its skin sizzled, burned by the garlic. The garlic Erick had carefully hidden with the mint leaves.
“Quana, zacare.” Erick tried to scream, but his weakened state allowed only a croak, barely above a whisper.
It was enough.
As it whirled in agony, the sputtering and hissing vampire did not see the priquana move toward it, their dormant feeding instincts revived by the fluid’s contents: bile, brains, blood, and the dark power of Elonsha.
Though still not quick, the priquana attacked with renewed aggressiveness, their strikes fierce and deadly to the wounded vampire. The fiend clawed and bit at its attackers, but the number of priquana soon overwhelmed it. The creature howled in impotent fury as the mass of undead flesh bore it to the ground.
As Erick fell, his vision fading, he quickly recited the Litany of Release.
“Toltorg deteloc de mahorela desa gizirom qaas. Caros, bilorax oi gah moad todriax.”
A chill wind whipped through the common, but Erick couldn’t even work up the strength to shiver, too frail to be tempted by the El
onsha that passed through him. The vampire shrieked in searing agony as its lifeless soul ripped from its corpse. Darkness, blacker than the surrounding night, enveloped the body for the briefest moment, and then scattered in all directions, growing diffuse as the energy dissipated. The remnants of the tortured soul faded, and the body stilled. The priquana continued feasting.
“Thank you,” a ragged voice whispered.
Erick smiled through a choking cry. The soul, be it his father’s or that of some other damned being, had been released, free of its tortured existence. He had almost won. He only had to stop the priquana before they devoured the entire body, so he could examine it to determine how the vampire came to exist. Two words would render them immobile. “Quana, a-”
Darkness took him.
He wasn’t alone. Another presence moved nearby, drifting around him, a malevolent entity that sought the destruction of all he knew. But the dark kept him safe; in the unconscious netherworld, the Master could threaten, but not harm.
“You did well,” it whispered with the breath of damned souls. “But I know where you are. Soon I will know where all of you are. You think yourself safe, but I grow stronger, and sanctuary is an illusion. You are hunted. Prepare yourself, Necromancer. I will come and destroy your world.”
Erick refused to respond, and the Master laughed with a sound of open graves. “You are right to be afraid. Enjoy your time of peace; it shall be gone much sooner than you would like.”
The presence faded, leaving Erick alone in the dark with no memory but terror.
4
The Necromancer’s familiar, known as a homunculus, is, much like all things done by these foul sorcerers, an abomination. It is formed from a mixture of the Necromancer’s blood and semen infused with healing herbs. The Necromancer’s hellspawn-inspired powers further blaspheme this debased mixture. In contempt for all that is sacred to holy Krinnik, the creature spawns from this vile tincture and rises to do whatever its master desires, a base servant in thrall to a contemptible master.