There was genuine fear in her eyes, and Will felt a sudden pang of guilt. “I wouldn’t. I only meant to tease you.”
She took a deep breath, then changed the subject. “Is there anything else you can tell me about what I’m supposed to be learning?”
He shook his head. “Not really. It isn’t as much something you learn with your head as with your body, so there’s not a shortcut.”
“At least I know she isn’t deliberately wasting my time. Why do you think Laina wanted my help?”
Will blinked, trying to shift mental gears. “I have no idea, except she didn’t think I could help her. It was you or no one.”
“It wasn’t necessarily capability,” opined his wife. “In fact, knowing Laina, it was probably a matter of trust. She doesn’t trust very many people.”
“Certainly not me.”
Selene’s expression turned sad. “That’s my fault. She blames you for my disappearance.”
“She didn’t like me before that,” countered Will. “Marrying you and then having you vanish only made it worse, but I think it’s better now. We were sort of getting along when I left her house.”
She brightened. “That’s good. Are you going to see them again?”
His face darkened. “Probably not. Our—their father doesn’t want me around.”
She kissed him forcefully, then stared in his eyes. “I’m going to fix all that when I’m done with this stupid training.”
“You can’t—” He was forced to stop as her finger pressed against his lips.
“I will,” she said firmly. “Believe in me.”
Will’s eyes began to well with tears. “Goddamnit,” he swore. “I didn’t want to be sad. We’ve only got a few minutes more.”
“Then let’s not waste them,” she suggested as her lips closed in on him again. When Aislinn opened the door a few minutes later, they were still in each other’s arms, locked in a quiet embrace. Will felt Selene’s grip tighten momentarily, then she reluctantly released him.
He struggled to do the same, then turned to face his grandmother. “So soon?”
“You’ve had as much time as I can give you. Find my daughter as quickly as you can. The slaughter will likely begin tonight. Be prepared,” she told him, gesturing to Selene to approach. “We must go.”
“Wait,” he protested. “What do you mean, ‘slaughter’?”
“The ring will explain.” Taking Selene’s hand, she led his wife from the room and closed the door behind them. Will rushed to follow, but when he opened the door, he saw no sign of them. He ran down the corridor, the stairs, and out the door, but he found no trace of their presence.
How the hell did she do that? he wondered. There was no congruence point in the house—he had searched for one the day he had moved in. The chameleon spell coupled with some type of silence spell was a possibility, but he had adjusted his vision several times while he searched, and he was fairly sure no spell could hide them perfectly enough to cover all the types of light he could see.
More puzzling, he hadn’t seen any changes in the ambient turyn outside the room. It was as if they had faded away without a trace. Irritated, he walked back into the house, only to find Blake waiting for him. “You have a visitor, sir.”
Will frowned. “Since when? I just went in and out.”
“He’s in the parlor. I brought him in while you were occupied upstairs.”
“You let him in the house? I’m fairly certain I was emphatic when I said I didn’t want any visitors. You should have gotten his name and sent him away.”
Blake smirked. “Trust my instincts. I’ve been doing this for many years. I’m sure you’ll want to meet this fellow. His name is John Shaw and he says he’s an old friend of yours.”
A scowl was etched on Will’s features. “I don’t know anyone named Shaw.”
“From the army,” added Blake. “Big enough to be a squad all by himself.”
His brain finally snapped into motion. “Tiny!” Will ran into the parlor, where sure enough, he saw a living mountain sitting on one of the delicate chairs. “Tiny!” he shouted. “Is that really you?”
The chair groaned dangerously as the big man shifted his weight and rose to his feet, a wide smile painting his face. “If it isn’t, no one’s been brave enough to contradict me when I told them my name,” Tiny answered.
Will stomped across the room in his haste, nearly tripping and sending one of the end tables over on its side as he threw himself at his old squad mate. Will wasn’t short, being almost exactly six feet in height and square-shouldered, but when Tiny threw his arms around him he felt like a child again. Fortunately, while the hug was fierce, Tiny knew his strength and he stopped squeezing just as Will’s ribs started protesting.
Releasing each other, they stepped back, and Will gave his old friend an appraising glance. Tiny had changed. The big man was still enormous, but the last of his baby fat had melted away, leaving a lean, heavily muscled giant who stood just a hair over seven feet tall. His face had been tanned by long hours drilling in the sun, though his neck was still fair, since the soldiers usually trained in their armor. He was dressed in a well-made leather jerkin over a brown linen tunic and gray trousers.
“Did you get the mail?” asked Will. Just over a year past, he had paid the local armorer to arrange for a full mail hauberk and leggings for Tiny and Dave, their other squad mate, back in Barrowden.
Tiny pointed at a large oilskin bag sitting in one corner of the room. There were several other bags beside it. “It’s there, along with my breastplate and other sundries. I’m still grateful for it. When I’ve saved enough, I’ll be able to—”
“Stop,” ordered Will. “You know how much my situation has changed. It was a gift. Don’t make me angry by trying to pay me back for it.”
“That much money, though…,”
“Doesn’t mean much to me anymore,” Will reassured him, then he added a small lie. “It isn’t as though I had to work for it. Just accept the gift.” In fact, he’d worked extremely hard to make the money during a time when he’d thought he would need the gold to pay his way out of a prison sentence, and while it was true that he was technically wealthy now, he had no real way to access the money while Selene was absent. Fortunately, he still had hundreds of gold marks tucked away in the limnthal.
Tiny paused, then dipped his head. “I guess I’ll just do my best to accept your gift graciously then.”
“Wow,” said Will. “You’ve polished your courtly graces since I saw you last.”
The big man’s brow’s lowered, casting a shadow on his features. “I’ve always been polite, Will. It’s how I was raised.”
Will held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “That’s true, I just meant you sound like you’ve been practicing your speech for court.”
Tiny straightened his back and squared his shoulders. “That’s probably because I have been. A squire is expected to learn how to conduct himself.”
His jaw dropped. “Squire? What? Who? How?” Becoming a squire put Tiny on the road to becoming a minor nobleman someday—maybe. It certainly made him a gentleman, and while technically anyone could be made a squire it was rare for anyone but those who were already sons of the nobility to be chosen.
“Sir Kyle,” said Tiny with a shrug. “There was an ambush during one of our patrols. He was unhorsed and things looked bad for us.”
“But you saved him?”
“Sort of. I knocked several men down getting to him, but when I tried to pull him back to his feet, they charged me so I threw the first thing that came to hand at them,” said Tiny, his cheeks coloring.
“What did you throw?”
“Sir Kyle.”
“You threw the captain?” Will’s mouth rounded into a large ‘o.’
“It was reflexive,” said Tiny with obvious embarrassment. “But it worked pretty well. Before they could recover, I snatched up a mace one of them had dropped and laid into them, then Sir Kyle got back on his fee
t and together we routed what was left of them.”
Will couldn’t help but shake his head. “That’s amazing, but I’m surprised he didn’t have you strung up afterward.”
“Turns out Sir Kyle has a pretty good sense of humor. He was just glad to be alive and after we finished running them off, well, you know how it is.” Tiny shrugged.
He did know. He and Tiny, along with Sven and Dave, had had a few moments like that, the kind they didn’t think they’d live through. Soldiers formed bonds with those they fought beside that were unlike any others. “Well, I’m glad it worked out for the best. How are you here in Cerria, though? Shouldn’t you still be in Barrowden?”
“Sir Kyle had to return to the capital for a while, and I had some leave saved. He asked if I wanted to come along.”
“How long will you be here?”
“A couple of weeks, possibly a month if Sir Kyle is kept longer.”
“And you’re staying with him?”
Tiny looked away somewhat shyly, a strangely absurd expression on such a massive man. “Actually, I thought maybe I could stay with you…”
Will felt like jumping up and down. “Absolutely!” The past few weeks he had isolated himself, and recent events had left him feeling as though there was no one he could trust. His heart swelled with sudden joy. “I can’t even tell you how glad I am you’re here! We have a lot to catch up on.”
His friend nodded in agreement, then looked to Blake. “I don’t suppose you have any bread or meat lying around, do you? I haven’t eaten since we got on the road this morning.”
Blake nodded cheerfully, but before he could answer Will put a hand over the man’s mouth. “Let’s not injure our guest with your cooking the moment he arrives.”
The manservant twisted away from him. “It’s just leftovers. I can still slice meat.”
Will shook his finger at the man. “I’m hungry too and this is a good occasion. I’ll put something together.” He glanced at Tiny. “Can you last an hour?”
The big man seemed uncertain. “I’m really hungry. Maybe I can help with the cooking.”
“That’s my job,” said Blake. “In fact, a certain someone is supposed to teach me a few of his secrets in the kitchen.”
Will shook his head. “Not this time. I need some privacy to consult with someone and this will be a good chance for that.”
“Consult?” Blake seemed confused.
Will looked at each of them. “I’ll trust you to police each other and refrain from eavesdropping.” Then he gave them a mysterious smile and turned away to head for the kitchen.
Chapter 13
Once in the kitchen, Will wasted no time, and since it was his old friend who had come to visit, he decided to use some of the special ingredients that Arrogan had tucked away in the limnthal. He summoned out fresh butter, the spice box, and choice cuts of beef and then went to check the stove to see what the temperature was like.
As usual, it needed some more fuel added and time to reach the proper heat, so he busied himself preparing the vegetables, and when he got to a place where he could think, he reactivated the limnthal and addressed the ring. “Why did she say there would be a slaughter?” he asked without preamble.
“It isn’t a certainty, but there’s a strong possibility,” answered Arrogan. “If the creature you encountered is one of the Drak’shar, and if it captured Tailtiu, well—”
Will remembered the word ‘drak’ from his studies, and he knew it was an old word for dragon. “Dragon? What does it have to do with dragons?”
“Very little, except they were first made using a twisted transformation of blood from a dragon.”
“That sounds fascinating.”
“No, it isn’t. It really, truly isn’t,” said Arrogan with genuine emphasis. “The creatures that were produced bear no hint of the noble pride that dragons are known for, nor are they truly alive.”
“They’re dead?”
“Undead. They’re what are popularly called vampires, and we thought they were gone.”
Will finished mincing the onion in front of him and began massaging it into the meat. “It makes sense. I remember seeing a spell in that necromantic tome that called for vampire blood. You should have explained them to me back then, when I asked.”
“You had more important things to worry about,” said the ring. “And I wouldn’t touch any spell involving the blood of the Drak’shar with a ten-foot pole, though there’s a potion that might be handy if you ever have the opportunity.”
“A potion?”
“Dragon’s Heart potion,” clarified the ring. “It doesn’t require a dragon’s heart, but it does need the blood of an immortal. It got the name because the wizard who invented it somehow had a supply of dragon’s blood to experiment with. Later on it was discovered that it could be made with different types of blood, so long as they came from an immortal.”
Will’s interest was piqued. “What does it do?”
“It’s no good for you. Taken by a second- or third-order wizard, the potion would be ruined, if not completely nullified. Your body wouldn’t allow it to work. It’s meant for warriors. Makes them stronger and faster than usual.”
“The same way I can make myself stronger or faster by manipulating my turyn?”
“Way past that,” answered the ring. “It’s beyond anything normally possible for a human. For a short period of time you can make a man or woman as fast and strong as one of the Drak’shar. Anyway, we’ve gotten off on a tangent.”
“I want to look that potion up later. Just in case the opportunity arises.”
“It’s in Gidding’s Apothecary, but again, we’ve digressed. The reason Aislinn said there would be a slaughter comes down to the fact that the Drak’shar aren’t meant to feed on other immortals, particularly the fae.”
“Because—?”
“If that thing really is a vampire, then Tailtiu’s blood will act like a potent narcotic and hallucinogen. Whatever self-control the creatures have will be lost and they’ll likely go into a frenzy.”
“If they’re that keen for blood, wouldn’t they already be out there killing people?”
“Only with the greatest care and discretion,” answered the ring. “We wiped them out, or we thought we had. If any of them survived until now, they did it by hiding themselves almost perfectly, without giving in to their urges. Most importantly, they won’t have been transmitting their disease.”
“Disease?”
“The first Drak’shar was created, but it was created as a disease. If they aren’t careful when feeding, then they pass it on to their victims. A newly created vampire has no sense, no self-control, it can barely think. They’re wholly beholden to their hunger.”
“So what you’re saying is that one of them survived in secret.”
“One or several, but only very smart, very careful ones,” corrected Arrogan.
“And that if they feed on Tailtiu they’ll go mad and start behaving like new vampires.”
“Yes, and almost certainly they’ll fail to observe their rules to prevent creating more spawn. So a day or two later, you’ll have a host of young, rabid blood-fiends running wild through the city.”
The meat was ready, so Will put it into an iron pan that he’d already oiled and heated on the stove. A pleasant odor of searing meat rose up, which was just as well, as the scent of fresh blood had been disturbing during their discussion. “That sounds delightful,” he commented dryly.
“It’s anything but. Back before my time, the city of Dylindar had to be burned to the ground when something similar happened.”
“Where’s that at?”
“It used to be in Trendham. They never rebuilt it; instead they built a new city not far from where it used to be, named Lystal.”
Will nodded. “Oh, I’ve seen that one on the map. When you say before your time, what do you mean exactly?”
“A few hundred years before I was born.”
“So how far back was their cre
ation? You said a wizard named Grim Talek created them, didn’t you?”
“You heard that while you were snooping, eh?”
Will grinned, though the expression was wasted on the ring. “I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I did get to hear a few things.” Watching the pan, he added a small dollop of butter beside the meat.
“Grim Talek might technically be called a wizard,” said Arrogan. “He was human once, as far as we know.”
“What is he now?”
“A lich, though the term is somewhat speculative since he’s unique. No one else ever managed to replicate the feat, though many drawn to necromancy have tried.”
“I thought vampires were the pinnacle of undead existences,” said Will.
“It depends on how you measure things. Physically they’re more dangerous—that’s certain—but they were created to serve Grim Talek, and while they’re technically immortal, they’re much easier to kill. Burning a vampire is a safe bet, but you could completely destroy Grim Talek’s body and he’d still be back within a few days.”
“Fire seemed to work pretty well on the one I met,” agreed Will.
A snorting sound issued from the ring, although it didn’t have a nose. Will wondered how that worked, but Arrogan’s next warning was more important. “That was just a taste. You caught one by surprise. Be extremely careful and make sure you never face one alone. You don’t even have the right sorts of spells to fight them properly.”
Will tested the meat with his finger then removed it from the pan. Grabbing a bottle of red wine, he poured some in to deglaze the bottom and began scraping to free the fond that was stuck there. His mouth watered thinking about what the pan sauce would taste like. “What kind of spells do I need?”
“Fire works in a pinch, for getting rid of their bodies, but you won’t survive long without a proper defense. They move fast, and they’re strong enough to overpower anyone once they get close. You need a surefire way to make sure one can’t sink its fangs into you, and there’s only one spell I know that’s up to that job.”
Will waited, occupying himself by tasting the sauce as it reduced. Eventually Arrogan gave up and continued, “Don’t you want to know what it is?”
Scholar of Magic Page 14