He took his seat again. He was older, in his early forties to her twenty-five years. Nevertheless, he only had the hint of gray in his dark hair, and his face looked distinguished with the age lines around his eyes. “Your friend, Bryona,” he commented. “She is not coming tonight?”
“No,” Anuit replied, taking a sip of the cool wine. “She decided to stay home.”
He looked disappointed. “But later… I’d like to visit you tonight.”
She gave a crooked smile. “That won’t be a problem.”
Their meals arrived together. True to form, his bowl held thick noodles and cubed lamb stewing together in the salty brown sauce. It smelled better than it tasted.
The room gradually filled until there were few empty seats remaining. Taglio would be playing soon on his river-reed whistle. This was part of why people gathered. He wasn’t great by any stretch of the imagination but it was music. Most never even really listened to him, but the tunes provided comfort by adding familiar background to conversation.
Anuit looked outside as the final notes of the sun’s light quickly receded into night. She stood and squeezed Lord Sandovos’ hand.
“I’ll be right back,” she told him. “I’m going to freshen up.” She headed to the back hall towards the town’s largest and nicest earth closet outside the one in the Sandovos manor, complete with a mirror and a fresh bin of water for washing hands. Instead of entering the restroom, she ducked out the inn’s back door. People rarely came here, for it was the place where kitchen waste was dumped and the privy men would collect the night soil when the earth closets were full. For her, this had become an evening ritual.
She whispered the incantations, summoning her other two minions. Khiighun appeared as he always did, a taut body of leathery, greenish-black skin stretched over muscle and a head that defied reason. Instead of a dog’s face, he had a mane of long, spiked tendrils down to his nose, and a mouth that split his head wide in a toothy grin. No eyes, if he had eyes, could be seen. Belham the imp materialized, a six-inch tall, hairless man with ebony skin and bat-like wings. The wings did not move as he hovered, but only extended away from his body.
“You know the task,” Anuit said. They nodded. Well, Belham nodded. She wasn’t sure exactly what Khiighun did, but she could feel his understanding through the bond of sorcery they shared.
The two demons departed. Belham flew up over the town, keeping an eye on the streets and surrounding area. Khiighun hunted in the wilds, keeping to the shadows. If any vampires were found, they were destroyed before making contact with any of the guard patrols. If help was needed, Belham would inform Anuit.
Vampires were difficult to kill, but removing their heads seemed to work. It was customary to burn them, for they were still believed dangerous. Yet Khiighun tended to eat them, apparently considering them to be small, round delicacies, and Anuit figured that whatever hellfire lived in his belly would suffice. There had been far fewer vampires in the last six months, but she knew better than to relax the routine.
Anuit returned to the common room and sat again beside her lord. She was surprised to see that Taglio had not sat at his usual chair. Instead, he stood at the wall, watching a stranger who sat in his seat. The man must have been in his late thirties and had wispy light blond hair unevenly cut past his ears, and a short, rough, salty-blond beard. He wore thick, brown linen-spun trousers, and a cotton shirt. His boots were also brown, their leather softened and worn at the toes and ankles from many miles of use. A black wool scarf lay over his shoulder beneath a brown leather guitar strap. His light brown eyes glittered with intensity as he tuned a six-string guitar that had a light wood front and dark wood sides.
The people of Rille were captivated. They had never seen a guitar before, and when he drew it out of its case, a hush fell over the crowd. Anuit recognized the instrument from her childhood in Windbowl, which had not suffered under the Empire’s restrictive reign. To everyone else, this was something completely new. For Anuit, it still promised captivating change from the last few years of Taglio’s reed whistling.
“He’s from Astiana,” Lord Sandovos remarked.
Anuit looked at him meaningfully.
“Taglio said he came during the day,” the lord answered her unspoken question. “He’s not a vampire.”
“He came alone?”
“Apparently.”
“I don’t like it,” she said.
“Rille is a haven. If he’s an innocent traveller, we’ll give him refuge here for the night. It’s the right thing to do.”
She glared at him.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. Of course, we’ll talk to him. I want to hear him play that thing first.”
The crowd watched the stranger intently, so captivated by this unusual instrument were they that they seemed to have forgotten the potential threat an outsider in town meant. The stranger did not seem concerned in the least.
He plucked the strings, testing the sound. Six notes rang in slow succession, stacking upon each other to make a perfect chord. There were gasps in the audience at the golden tones of the individual notes. Any remnant conversation was abandoned as the new sound made itself known. Satisfied, he went to work. His left hand danced between chord forms on the fretboard, and his right fingers plucked and swept over the clear catgut strings. A golden cascade of notes showered in the space between them, building a sparkling wall of sound before descending into a percussive rhythm of minor chords and accents.
Anuit sat entranced. Not only had it been since leaving Windbowl that she had heard truly good music, but even there she had never witnessed this skilled of a musician. Every note was perfectly in tempo, and she couldn’t visually follow his fingers fast enough to match what she saw to what she heard. She had never really noticed masculine beauty before, but this man charmed her completely as the rushing of her heart responded to the rushing of his music.
His tempo slowed a little, and he joined his music with the song of his voice. He sang of a better time, of stories of the Nine Realms from before Aaron rebuilt the Artalonian Empire. Such stories had been forbidden under Aaron’s rule, but the people had not forgotten them. Singing and music had also been forbidden, unless they were prayers to Aaron as the incarnation of Karanos.
The song he sang tonight was the popular tale The Witch and the Wizard. There were many versions, and since the Empire fell nine years earlier, the old songs and stories had returned. No one feared the Templars now, and in any case, Rille’s last Templar had died years ago.
There was one verse that struck Anuit in particular.
“But good sir,” the Witch said to he
Demons do not walk with me
For my art is, you see,
Better than your Wizardry
As mine is given unto me
By the lips of my sweet Faerie
And your love will only be
The cold of the Academy
In the stories she had heard as a child, the witch was always a sorceress. This was a twist she hadn’t heard before, a woman who got her magic from faerie and not demons. Of course, the wizard and the witch fell in love in the end, once her passion and beauty won over his cold, academic heart.
When the bard finished, the people applauded and cheered. They had not been entertained like that in years, and Taglio beamed at the joy his friend brought the townsfolk, nodding in a self-satisfied grin.
Lord Sandovos motioned him over and had two more seats pulled up to the table. Taglio and the bard joined them.
“My thanks, friend,” Sandovos said. “You’ve earned your dinner tonight. What is your name?”
“Danry,” the stranger replied. “I’m told you’re the lord of this town?”
“I am,” Sandovos confirmed.
“Why are you here?” Anuit asked.
Lord Sandovos chuckled. “My apologies. This is Anuit, our seamstress. She is rather vigilant, and I can’t fault her, considering the state of Astia these days.”
“She’s no
t wrong to be so,” Danry responded. “Is it true then? You have no contagion here?”
“Answer our question first,” the lord’s tone dropped his pleasant tone, “and then we’ll answer yours. Where are you from, and what brings you here?”
Danry stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. “I come from Astiana. I’m traveling to Hammerfold, but I stopped to warn you that the Covenant in Astiana has learned of your haven here. They don’t intend to let it last. I seek help from the north, not just for you, but for all of us.”
“Why?” Anuit asked. “Why Hammerfold?” Windbowl had been the only city free from Artalonian rule but was also part of the Kingdom of Hammerfold in the days before the Empire.
“You don’t know?” Danry asked, seeming genuinely surprised.
“Don’t know what?”
“Hammerfold is uninfected,” the bard answered. “Somehow, they’ve kept vampires from penetrating their borders, thanks to the Kaldorites and the light elves.”
Anuit’s head cocked to the side. “Light elves?” she asked curiously. She was reminded of the strange elven woman that Attaris had brought before the duke of Windbowl nine years past, and the trolls who had threatened the city should she not be turned over to them.
Danry nodded, his eyes sparkling in captivating excitement. “Yes, the seelie! Almost down to a soul they’ve become warriors, rangers, or druids, joining Hammerfold’s might in securing its borders. And the Kaldorites continue to fight and organize resistance from within the infected lands.”
Lord Sandovos shook his head. “There have been no Kaldorites here.”
“Then how have you stayed safe this long?” Danry asked, mystified.
“We are vigilant. We patrol the nights and protect ourselves,” the lord responded. “We have those who have given their lives to protect the town.”
The bard looked skeptical. He rubbed his fingers over his blond beard stubble. “If it was enough, it won’t be enough now. The vampires in Astiana demand submission to the Covenant. They make plans to move on you even now.”
Anuit asked, “What help do you expect from Hammerfold?”
“I hope to convince them to move south!” Danry responded passionately. “We won’t endure without outside help, and they need to know of the Covenant. It’s not like Roenti. Most of our Kaldorites have fallen, but the one who remains continues to lead the resistance. I have a friend in Windbowl who would be a great help, a dwarven runewarden I used to know named Attaris. We had a mutual friend, a Kaldorite named Arda. I’m hoping he can tell me where she is. Commander Tulley wants her help in Astiana.”
Anuit’s brow furrowed. She remembered the name of Attaris, although she had never met the dwarf. Arda, however, was a name unfamiliar to her. Regardless, she hadn’t yet shared her past with the people here and didn’t particularly care to now. There were unpleasant memories she preferred not to revisit.
“How is Astiana?” she asked. As far as people in Rille knew, that was her home city. She had traveled to Astiana first after leaving Windbowl, settling for a few years. With the Church dead, things remained volatile, and she had left the city to avoid being dragged into the politics of local sorcerer covens that strove to fill the power vacuum. She didn’t need them anyway. None of them could match her power due to the necromantic mysteries into which Belham had initiated her. She’d left Astiana two years before vampirism spread there.
“It’s been bad,” admitted Danry, “and it’s getting worse. The vampires have organized and now their control is tight. They’ve set up some sort of blood cult. Those who join are fed upon like livestock, but they keep them alive. People submit, choosing safety over freedom. Vampires rule the city, and it’s harder finding people to resist. It’s different from how it’s been before… the vampires seem to have learned to control their appetites rather than feed on everyone to extinction. This is disturbing. They will be harder to overcome in the long run. The people accept them. They’re no longer acting like savage monsters. There are sorcerers among them now, too. Some have been seen controlling demons.”
A chill ran down Anuit’s sides.
“And they’re mobilizing,” he continued. “The cult is in danger of spreading. People are worshipping the vampires, thinking them some sort of blessed priesthood. The cult seems to have a special hatred for light elves. They’re organized and strategizing for the future, which means they’re looking to Hammerfold. I’ve got to get word north. With humans helping them, the old techniques won’t work anymore, and with the light elves in Hammerfold, it means more than contagion. It means war.”
“What should we do?” Lord Sandovos asked.
Danry shook his head. “Flee. Or hold out here and hope I can muster help in time.”
“That could take weeks!” Anuit protested.
“I know. I don’t have any better suggestions.”
“We thank you for your warning,” Lord Sandovos said. “We’ll double our guard watches. We’ll have to start staying in our homes from dusk to dawn. It can’t be as bad as you say; we’ve held out this long. They can’t enter homes uninvited; is that still true?”
Danry nodded. “That, at least, holds true.”
The lord nodded and then stood, calling for everyone’s attention. “Everyone, hurry home! There will be a town meeting tomorrow first thing in the morning, but for now it’s important to stay inside and don’t open your doors for anyone!” He lowered his voice and addressed the table. “We’re not taking any chances. I thank you for your warning. Do you have a place to stay?”
Taglio raised his finger. “He’ll be at my place tonight. An inn wouldn’t be safe if they slipped in.”
Danry nodded. “Thank you.”
Sandovos looked meaningfully at Anuit and held out his hand to her. She grinned and took it, slipping her arm around his waist. “Shall we retire for the night, my lord?”
“I’d like that,” he answered with a smile.
The people dispersed, and Anuit walked home with Lord Sandovos at her side. She opened the door and followed him in. After pouring him a glass of wine, she excused herself to slip into something more comfortable.
She retreated to her bedroom and closed the door, hastily uttering the words that summoned Bryona to her presence. The succubus appeared in her demonic form, materializing in cinnamon-scented smoke wearing her high-collar dress, her eyes still pouting from beneath her curled brown bangs.
“It’s time,” Anuit whispered. She had no desire to touch that man, and that man had never and would never touch her. She only needed him to believe he did. She had seduced him in order to secure the shop for her business, and it was him to whom she owed her life in Rille. He had been faithful to his wife before her, but few could refuse a succubus’s charms, especially when they didn’t know the woman they slept with was a succubus.
“Go entertain Lord Sandovos,” Anuit ordered her minion. Anuit stepped into her closet and closed the door to a crack, hiding from her guest. She watched through the cracked door, making sure Bryona did as instructed.
The succubus’s horns, tail, and wings vanished, and then her appearance morphed until Anuit stared at an exact copy of herself, with her raven-black hair, dark eyes, and creamy brown skin… even the small mole on her left shoulder. She wore a soft, cotton sleeping gown with a low back.
Wearing Anuit’s image, Bryona left the room and returned a few minutes later with Lord Sandovos. She backed in through the doorway, stealing kisses in his embrace. He followed her to the bed, shuffling slowly as she kept kissing him and snaking her arms around his body. His hands circled her waist, and Anuit watched his fingers drop to trace the lines of her hips. He stopped her in front of the bed, continuing the deep kiss, breathing heavily through his nose.
Lord Sandovos turned Bryona around and embraced the disguised succubus from behind, kissing the back of her neck. Still standing, the demon now faced the closet. She made brief eye contact with Anuit and winked. The lord slipped his hands underneath the gown of Anuit
’s doppelganger. He pressed his fingers beneath her legs, and Bryona sucked in a hiss of air as her lips pursed in a circle. Anuit’s own breath grew shallow and short as she watched the look of pleasure unfold on the copy of her face.
Bryona turned and pulled the lord down onto the bed, pushing him onto his back and pulling his trousers off. She lifted the gown off her body and mounted him naked. Moving rhythmically, her hips and breasts undulating fluidly, she pressed the dark hair between her legs into his pelvis. She placed two of her fingers into his mouth for him to suck as she stared at Anuit through the crack in the closet door.
Anuit would soon step through the shadows and patrol the city from the rooftops. Lord Sandovos never stayed the whole night, and she would return home after Bryona satiated his desires. Lately, she found herself lingering more to watch before she left them, although she knew she shouldn’t indulge in any attraction to the succubus’s domain. Nevertheless, she was fascinated by how her own face relaxed and her belly clenched in the grip of carnal pleasure. Just a little longer, and she would close the door and leave the house...
She was still watching the succubus when Belham appeared in the closet beside her. He gently pulled the door shut and whispered into her ear, “Mistress, they have come. There are too many this time. We must abandon this town.”
3 - Wrath
It was much later in the afternoon when Arda regained consciousness. The light from the doorway above her had dimmed even more into a dead gray. With storm clouds overhead, dusk would be only an afterthought as the world moved from day to night. The layer of armor-resin fibers in her suit had saved her life, hardening against the gunfire and absorbing the brunt of the slugs’ impacts. It fucking hurt, though.
With a sharp intake of breath, she pushed herself to her knees and then stood. She couldn’t afford to be here when night fell. The weasel would surely warn his vampire masters, and they might come to investigate. He had left her for dead, so hopefully they would believe the same and not come for her. That would give her time to come for them.
When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set Page 41