by A R R Ash
*
After passing beyond the immediate entrance, Sar-Kyul and his company encountered the headless bodies of monsters throughout the hallways, as if a battle had been fought in advance of their coming. Upon many of the slain, Sar-Kyul noticed a crazed, savage expression, seen upon the feral creatures that sometimes roamed the lands of the free tribes. The bodies of these monsters far outnumbered those of the more rational variety. The pervasive vinegary smell of the creatures’ blood stung the humans’ nostrils in their heightened state.
The fact of this apparent pre-battle raised questions and suspicions in Sar-Kyul’s mind, though he could not secern its true import. “What happened?” he asked Shayala.
Shayala hesitated before answering. Even now, committed as they were, she did not want to reveal too much to the humans. Knowledge that they fought unilaterally in a strigoiic civil war would likely form a schism in their ranks and engender infighting, even if it meant their own undoing. Finally, Shayala answered, “An army of nos- of the feral creatures was unleashed to soften the castle’s defense.”
Sar-Kyul wanted to ask how that was possible. Who had arranged for such a tactic? But Shenla had moved on, turning a corner.
Beyond the first several corridors, the initial resistance was sporadic. Interspersed among the castle guard were members of each noble’s personal guard, and the defenders, wholly unprepared for humans who fought as strigoi, were quickly dispatched, allowing none to give warning. Still below the bowels of the castle, the sounds of such minor clashes would not reach the highest levels.
Although Sar-Kyul was hardly prudish or of delicate character, he found it strange to encounter the monsters’ scattered nude bodies—which when headless were indistinguishable from the bodies of humans—and even more disconcerting to battle the unclad creatures. Yet in battle, a focus on survival drove all notice of their nakedness from his mind.
The human invaders suffered losses, but they allowed no monster to escape: the longer the human army kept its presence a secret, the less prepared the enemy would be.
*
Aya’s leap took the archers completely by surprise: she killed one and incapacitated a second with a cut that severed his lower vertebrae before another guard emerged from the room and charged toward her. She met an overhand cut from her opponent’s longsword and brought her other kopis slicing across his belly. The monster was distracted by his opened, sizzling abdomen long enough for Aya to riposte through his opened mouth. She let the monster slide free of her blade and fall over the edge of the walkway.
With the briefest glance from the corner of her eye, she saw three warriors joined in battle against five monsters emerging from a room at the base of the gatehouse. The room above the gate blocked her view of Faylin—her fellow driver of the coach—and the other three warriors on the far side of the coach. Aya knew their best hope was to overwhelm the monsters quickly, before they overcame their surprise and adapted to humans’ increased capacity.
No archers remained at this end of the walkway; if she could disable the two beyond, the warriors trapped between the two gates would have a far better chance. Scabbarding her blades, she took up a dropped bow and a handful of arrows from a ground quiver. She followed the walkway around the upper room and fired at the far archers. Her first arrow pierced the nearer one clear through the skull; he fell forward over the parapet. The second archer turned to take aim at her, but her arrow was already in flight and struck him in the chest with a bone-cracking thud. She dropped the bow and charged, drawing her blades as she moved, and sent the archer’s head and body over the side in two parts.
The sound of ringing metal reverberating throughout the tunnel broke into Aya’s awareness, and she knew the clamor would alert additional guards.
*
Seneschal Syuth conferred with his scouts, though he could get no definite intelligence regarding the nature of the battle being waged in the bowels of the castle. How could nosferatu have infiltrated the tunnels? Why hadn’t his soldiers yet been able to put down the incursion? For that matter, what was the difficulty in obtaining the information he needed? He knew more was astir than stray ferals, and it was no coincidence this occurred upon Duke Munar’s enthronement.
“Seneschal! Seneschal!” Syuth heard the call behind him.
Syuth turned from the scouts to face the newcomer. “Report,” said he as the soldier stopped before him.
“Seneschal, there are reports of a battle in the tunnel outside the staging area.” An expression of clear anxiety shone upon the soldier’s face.
“Who?”
“Unclear, sir. The reports claim the attackers to be humans, though they fight with a prowess far beyond the capacity of any human.”
Had the soldier not looked so disconcerted by the claim, Syuth may have believed a jest was being had at his expense. Still, the account is impossible. Perhaps strigoi posing as humans? Unlikely; what would they have to gain by such a ploy?
“Pull soldiers from the audience chamber, quietly, to reinforce the guards at the tunnel.” He knew Munar would not be forgiving of any interruption on this day.
The soldier offered a salute and hastened away.
No, this was no coincidence.
*
The sides came together in a jarring crash of bodies, accompanied by the ringing of weapons. Under that initial rush, many on both sides went down, wounded yet dangerous; the others fought fiercely to keep their feet.
Thal’s combination of overhand strike and forward thrust was blocked by Hyshin’s saber and other shorter but similarly shaped blade. She pushed forward, charging with her shoulder, and knocked him against the corridor wall. Hyshin thrust his forehead into her face, breaking her nose and forcing her back a step. He gave a cruel smile as his saber came at her left side.
Though stunned, Thal, more from instinct than any conscious effort, deflected the blade and retreated another step to collect herself. She was aware of her opponent’s identity: The accolades I’ll receive for killing Yah’l’s lieutenant. Yet Hyshin did not give her the opportunity to dwell, as he immediately pressed his advantage, whirling both blades in a lightning routine that kept her continually defending.
Her gorget deflected several otherwise-lethal blows, and Thal struggled to counter the unceasing attacks. Her arms and torso showed a number of gashes; although no quickening heartrate or increased respiration would signal her fear, her face must have displayed it plainly, for Hyshin only pressed his advantage.
*
As they progressed, Sar-Kyul encountered fewer bodies of the feral creatures. And as word spread and the defenders organized, he began engaging armed monsters more frequently. The extent of the hallways and passages was staggering to a people accustomed to small canvas tents, though Shenla led them confidently through the similar-appearing gray granite corridors. The humans had already been forced to consume another vial of the monsters’ blood and would likely soon need to do so again. Sar-Kyul feared they would expend all the blood before the battle concluded.
Passing a side corridor, he observed an unexpected sight: monster battling monster. A lanky, midnight blue-haired creature fought three others, one of whom was wounded and limping away, and a fourth lay in two pieces nearby. Sho’voth, at the fore of the human host, drew an arrow and raised his bow, but Shenla’s arm snapped to the side and knocked the bow from his hand. Drawing his shortsword, Sho’voth prepared to attack Shenla, who paid him no more heed, though Sar-Kyul placed a restraining hand upon the warrior’s forearm.
Sho’voth did not hide his anger and looked as if he would strike at Sar-Kyul, who prepared to defend himself. Even if Shenla will ultimately need to be put down, for the moment, we still need her, Sar-Kyul thought.
To his relief, Sho’voth relaxed, and the chieftain of the Silver Blades turned his attention back to the contest. Despite his antipathy, he was impressed by the skill displayed by the monstrous warrioress.
*
Shayala watched Lyan spin and slash a
nd stab in controlled frenzy. The sound of metal upon metal was interrupted with increasing frequency by grunts of pain as keen edges cut into skin and muscle, accompanied by the hiss of burning flesh. Observing the wounded soldier’s slow retreat, Shayala thought, The time has come to use fear’s insidious influence to crush my enemies more fully than any blade.
She glanced at Sar-Kyul. “Do not interfere.”
Shayala ran forward and, as she passed, sliced one enemy in the lower back. The soldier screamed, and Lyan used the distraction to finish her other opponent. Shayala caught the fleeing soldier and flung him against the wall with such force that the sound of cracking bone echoed down the corridor. She scabbarded one blade and placed the tip of the other over his right eye as he lay in a heap against the base of the wall.
Faced away from the others in the corridor, Shayala, with her free hand, removed her necklace, and her features reverted to their strigoiic aspect. The soldier started and made a pathetic mewling sound, his eyes wide. If such a thing were possible, Shayala was certain he would have soiled himself.
She pulled the blade away from the soldier. “Tell them I have returned.”
With surprise overridden by panic and fear, the soldier rolled to his knees and crawled some short distance away, before leaning against the wall to push himself up and make a shuffling retreat. With her back still to Lyan and the humans, Shayala replaced her necklace, resuming her human disguise.
When Shayala turned around, Lyan, her enemies dispatched, strode toward the returned queen.
*
After eliminating the archers, Aya’s inclination was to leap to the aid of her companions below. Yet she understood her primary duty was to raise the portcullis, allowing reinforcements to reach them. In the room overhanging the entrance, she found, undefended, the windlass to operate the gate. With ease, she turned the winch; the chains strained and pulleys groaned as the portcullis slid upward in its grooves. When the lever would move no more, she locked it in place with a ratchet.
Baring her swords, Aya exited the room and dropped from atop the wall-walk. As she fell, she slashed downward, splitting a monster’s skull. She had not even withdrawn the blade when she experienced a brief, euphoric shudder: every kill thrilled her, every fallen creature evoked a tingle of elation. She wanted to continue fighting until every one of the monsters was destroyed.
Aya took quick stock of the battle. The warriors caught between the gatehouses had overcome the monstrous defenders and raised the outer portcullis. Likely, the creatures thought they would have little trouble in slaughtering the scores of trapped humans, Aya thought with a surge of pleasure, imagining the monsters’ surprise before their deaths. With the portcullises raised, a wave of warriors streamed through both gatehouses, finishing any wounded creatures in its path.
Scanning her immediate area, she saw Faylin was dead, as were four of the other six who had accompanied her in the coach. The last two battled three monsters and, she knew, would soon succumb. She moved to attack the creatures from behind.
*
Munar, the incision from the ceremonial cutting still fresh over his heart, rose from the Skeletal Throne. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Your Majesty, there is that small matter to which I must attend.”
“If you require counsel, I am happy to provide it, Your Majesty,” H’shu replied.
Munar bristled inwardly at the slight but said nothing, continuing down the stairs without pause. He had no doubt H’shu had noted the movement of troops, despite all attempts to remain inconspicuous, from the audience chamber. Standing to the side of the dais, Munar sent a soldier to fetch Seneschal Syuth, who arrived shortly.
Syuth, glancing at the cut that indicated Munar was now king, bowed. “Your Majesty.”
“What is the state of the castle’s defense?”
“The ferals have been defeated, Your Majesty. Though the castle guard suffered some losses due to the sheer number of enemies.”
“How did they enter?”
“I do not know, but I will investigate thoroughly, Your Majesty.” Syuth paused, seeming unsure whether to continue.
Munar clearly read the seneschal’s reticence and commanded, “Speak.”
“Your Majesty, there are reports of a human infestation in the castle as well.”
“I am not amused at your jest, Seneschal.” Munar’s hazel eyes flared.
“It is no jest, Your Majesty.” Looking almost embarrassed, Syuth added, “The guards were barely able to escape them.” He flinched slightly as if afraid of being struck.
“Seneschal, I will not have this night marred by any disturbance. If you are unable to deal with this, I can find another who is.”
“There will be no disturbance, Your Majesty. The chattel will be quelled.”
“Do not give me reason to regret your appointment.” Munar turned toward the dais.
*
Hoping the remaining combatants would simply ignore her, Ronla sat slumped against the wall, a dagger embedded in her chest. How have I become involved in a conflict that has nothing to do with me? Though pained and wounded, she felt no fatigue; her hair and skin were coated with the blood of strigoi, much of it her own.
Her mind replayed her short involvement in the battle. After seeing Ruln fall at the start of the clash, Ronla swung her sword wildly. She slashed the face of one opponent and somehow blocked a strike from the side, only to find a dagger protruding from her chest as she staggered backward and was knocked to the ground.
The pain from the burning silver and the smell of her own charring flesh filled her awareness. With a weak hand, Ronla gripped the handle and pulled the blade from her chest. Her hand, still holding the dagger, dropped to her side.
Through the thinning battle, she could see the other warrior begin to overmatch Lieutenant Thal, whose parries became ever slower and less effective with the accumulation of wounds. Thal dropped a blade—or was it knocked from her hand?—and, her back now toward Ronla, continued to backstep while reaching into the pouch at her belt. The lieutenant withdrew a leather-encased flask of silver and, with her thumb, pushed the cork from its bore.
As the warrior’s saber emerged from Thal’s back and his second blade slashed across her cheek, she flung the flask’s contents into his face. Thal fell, and the impact partially pushed the blade back out of her body. Ronla saw the expression of Thal’s opponent contort into a horrid rictus as he convulsed and fell.
*
Vartan and Sigryf joined Sho’voth and Sar-Kyul in the corridor. Although Shenla’s back had been to them, Sar-Kyul had seen the change in her hair color and had heard her odd comment. A glance at Sho’voth’s anger-and-confusion-contorted expression told him the captain of the archers had heard and observed the same. Although Sar-Kyul knew the truth of her nature, he was struck by the realization—though, perhaps, he thought, I should not be—that much was happening of which he was not aware. And now, she spoke to the other monster as if they knew one another.
If Sho’voth and the others learned her secret, even he, as chieftain, would not be able to avert the inevitable clash. If such a clash is inevitable, perhaps now is the time to settle the matter. Sar-Kyul started toward the two monsters, and Vartan followed close behind.
*
“Your Majesty,” Lyan said, ignoring the approaching humans. “I have something of import to show you. It concerns Halura.”
The battle will not be won or lost by my absence for a matter of minutes, Shayala thought. She nodded to Lyan. Turning to the approaching humans, she said in an abrupt, commanding tone, “Continue the advance. I shall rejoin you shortly.”
The two strigoi ran down a side passage.
*
Sar-Kyul and Vartan flinched in surprise at the monster’s address of Shenla as “Your Majesty.” Sar-Kyul ignored the other’s look of suspicion and put up his khopeshes. He turned and, reaching for Sho’voth’s bow, said urgently, “Arrows.”
The master of archers was surprised but drew two mi
ssiles from his quiver and handed them to Sar-Kyul. “Continue the fight against the monsters. I’m going to find out what’s happening.” He pushed the map of the castle into Sho’voth’s hand.
Without waiting for the inevitable questions, Sar-Kyul bolted after Shenla. Vartan followed immediately behind. The hematically improved senses of the humans allowed them to easily follow the trail of the strigoi.
*
Aya and her contingent of Moroi Hunters and allied tribes exited the stony tunnel into the staging area beneath Castle Ky’lor. Lit by hanging oil lamps, the space was crowded with barrels, carts, cages of human cargo, and hundreds of armed monsters, no doubt alerted by the battle in the tunnel. That battle had cost scores of human lives, though perhaps two thousand warriors remained, many of whom were still passing through the tunnel.