Cold Blooded

by Jackson Lear

  We followed Gaynun inside. Pulled everyone else in. Held the door closed until the first crack of an ax forced us back. Soldiers jabbed whenever they could. Vampires landed on the roof, ripping it open with ease. Fifty raiders hit the side of one wall, pushing, heaving, trying to topple the whole building down. And they were succeeding.

  The beams cracked, creaked, and groaned. The walls buckled and start to pitch over.

  “Back back back back back!”

  “EARS!” shouted Jarmella. The vanguard slammed their hands over the side of their heads. I followed suit just in time.

  The entire mage division among us burst the side of the wall in a spectacular show of force, shrapnelling the raiders trying to push the wall over, causing the rest of them to fall to their knees as the wall disappeared out from under them. The vanguard and northerners alike swiped, slashed, and skewered forty men in three seconds.

  Unfortunately the rest of the house was toppling down upon us. We scattered, most of us heading through the hole where the wall used to be, the rest trying their luck with the door. I tripped over dead and dying raiders, stabbed a few of the more alert ones, and staggered a dozen paces forward.

  Draegor’s raiders were chasing after whoever they could, mostly Agnarr’s people. The rest were searching the barn, realizing we weren’t there, and finally seeing where the fray was taking place. The vampires chased after their victims freely, tackling northerners and scattering the injured vanguard to the side.

  “Everyone regroup to me!”

  I dropped Loken, thumping his body to the ground. Spun. The dozen raiders upon me didn’t realize he was a vampire until it was too late. One leapt over the lieutenant right when Loken snapped his hand out, grabbing onto the raider’s ankle and yanking him to the ground.

  I swung, my sword breaking the raider’s skull.

  Another tried to leap over Loken as well. Howled on his landing as Loken wrenched him back, digging his teeth into the guy’s leg and ripping him apart. The raiders redirected themselves from attacking us to avoiding the feral vampire in a frenzy.

  One vampire leapt high overhead, coming straight for me, her face looking like half of it had been de-gloved back in Faersrock and badly pushed back together. I dove forward, finding one of the raiders on the edge of their haphazard line. Snagged his arm and spun him around, a decisive crack from his elbow, a yelp of pain, and his sword went spinning behind me. Brought my blade towards his face. Introduced one to the other. Used him as a shield to drive him back as the vampire lunged at me, caught the raider instead and got a headbutt to her face. I swiped at another raider, a blur faster than I expected as I took most of his right hand fingers off. Hilgar stormed forward, threw his full weight into his ax and obliterated the raider’s skull. Was immediately overwhelmed by raider after raider.

  The spectral version of Día stood in front of me. “You’re going to regret letting me escape.”

  The vampire knocked my blade clean from my hand. Kicked my leg out. I fell, hitting the blackened mud as I thrusted my sword to where I thought the vampire would be. Missed.

  The vampire fell on top of me, her teeth piercing my neck. She was practically sucking my heart out through my throat, draining me with frightening speed.

  “See?” said Día, warmly. “Now you will serve me as my prince of terror.”

  The vampire broke free only when my sword caught her back. She lifted away then shuddered to a stop, instantly throwing up a pint of blood straight over my face with projectile energy, her yellow eyes awash with frenzied betrayal.

  Berik yanked his sword from the back of the vampire’s skull. Heaved. Held a hand out to help me up.

  I staggered. Woozy. Loosing blood. The sapphire-poison wraps around my throat started to sizzle.

  Berik smeared a brown paste from his kit along his finger. Wiped it across my open wound. Punched an elder leaf into position. Whispered. And out I went.

  I regained consciousness while lying on the ground, a trickle of urine seeping through my trousers, and my vocal chords absolutely shredded.

  Berik pulled his fingers out of his ears. Helped me back up. Still woozy. I checked my neck. The wound had been burned closed but at best it was just a temporary measure.

  A spear-point came at me. Berik checked him as I slowly got my elbow up. Lost sight of our attacker. My neck was practically on fire and the flames were spreading through my blood – the vampire’s poison slowly paralyzing me.

  Our attacker swung back, bashed me with his shield. Tried to spear me again. I grabbed on. Lunged. Missed by a mile and fell just in time. It knocked our attacker off balance and gave Berik a chance to swipe at full reach. Got him in the throat.

  “Get up!” shouted Berik.

  I tried. Needed Berik to help me to my feet again. I spun my new spear around and skewered someone else’s ankle, another ankle, a knee, someone’s groin, a blur of leg injuries as they fell back, hobbling, now with my vision starting to blur and gravity pulling me off balance.

  A spell from one of the mages catapulted a raider overhead, him landing in a heap behind us. A clash of steel rang in every direction, howls of euphoria and agony rippled through us all no matter which side of the fight we came from.

  The entire village of Orkust was ablaze. Behind us lay a forest road and rolling hills of jagged thistles, pricking shrubs, and divots that would break all of our ankles if we were forced into a run.

  The vanguard had regrouped around me with Jarmella staring into my eyes. “Raike?”

  “He’s not looking too good,” said Adalyn.

  “I’m fine. Just stick together.”

  There was an opening among our attackers. My spear clunked against their shields, swords, and axes. Two of them managed to grab on. Yanked it out of my hands. I swiped through the air with my sword. Had no idea where my blade was.

  Draegor’s archers climbed onto whatever building they dared to find purchase. Loosed arrow after arrow as we scrambled out of the way.

  Loken rose, breaking his manacles free and wiping his mouth. It smeared glistening blood across his jaw, his pin-prick eyes finding me in a heart beat, the bliss of vampiric energy now consuming him with a high greater than he had ever experienced before.

  “RUN!” shouted Jarmella.

  We turned at once, still out-numbered by more than a hundred raiders. Loken landed where I had stood. Scooped up a sword.

  I threw myself against the wall of one shack, the strength in my legs betraying me.

  Jarmella twisted my jaw to the side, inspecting the burning vampire wound in my neck. “You’re dying.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Loken landed. Swung. Laughed at the surge of energy. Checked every attack as a cackle consumed him. “Oh, how I’ve dreamed of this!”

  Odalis lunged. Drove his sword into Loken’s gut. Lost a hand as Loken swung to counter. Odalis fell to his knees, shrieking. Loken pulled back, his eyes now awash with fear as he desperately tried to pry the sword from his side.

  “Move!” I shouted.

  “Where too?” cried Jarmella.

  A horn. The sweetest of sounds I’d heard in years. Not just a simple horn from an animal antler, no. One made of brass with an Isparian soldier on the other end riding into battle.

  “Menrihk! Answer them!”

  Menrihk blasted the sky with a magically-charged bellow, amplifying his voice a dozen-fold. “Eight vampires incoming! We have northern allies with us!”

  A double blast from the Isparian horn came our way. Message received.

  I stopped. Turned. Held my curved sword towards the horde of oncoming vampires and raiders. Snarled back at the ghost of Día. “HOLD THIS LINE AND STAND YOUR GROUND!”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Exhausted, bewildered, but their spirits rising, Kasera’s vanguard thumped down next to me with their swords ready, the northerners to our side and everyone wavering where they stood.

  The vampires raced forward, faster than any cavalry, leaping and crashing
down on top of us as a storm of spells blasted them back at the last second. Infantry and cavalrymen alike stepped in, slashed, hacked, and skewered as the vampires recoiled, knocking our blades away with venomous anger. Blood drenched the ground. A wayward kick caught me in the gut, knocking me to the ground. I swiped above me, driving my curved sword into the air. One vampire in particular noticed it. His eyes twisted, locking onto me, his mouth hanging open as he breathed inwards, tasting my scent in the air.

  Berik swung in at the vampire. Wilbur as well. Then Kilmur. Four us against the same one, a whirlwind of blades and kicks and stabs and thrusts. The vampire blocked them all, hissing and snarling as he somersaulted over the top of us.

  He had me singled out. I grabbed a wayward ax and weakened my right hand, him used to seeing a sword in the dominant hand and an ax in the weaker, and he went for it. I slashed, caught his body armor across his gut and tried to get him across the face, but my attack was exposed and he became wise to the maneuver. He glanced up, the first sense of overwhelming fear in these fuckers I had ever seen.

  A thunderous roar of hooves skirted around us. Lavarta’s cavalry barreled along the only road in and out of here. Behind him – five hundred and fifty well-trained soldiers charged towards us.

  “Hold the line!” I cried, in more of a poisoned slur than anything coherent.

  My sword clashed against a vampire’s before he kicked me square in the gut, knocking me ten feet back in a heap and spinning my senses into oblivion.

  Wilbur swiped, Kilmur skewered, and Berik caught the vampire in the shin, but they were superficial cuts at best. The vampire launched himself up and towards me. Raked his talon-like nails across my wrist, burning my flesh in an instant. The agony blinded me, his blood-thirsty grin searing itself into my mind forever.

  The roars from the hooves crashed around us. The cavalry circled around, racing towards the distant raiders to envelope the field and cut off any chance of a retreat. They turned in unison with their battle commander in the lead, his helm a brilliant mane of red for all to follow. The hundred raiders hunkered in their stance, axes at the ready, bracing themselves against the imperial swarm that was about to run them over. The archers on the rooftops turned their attention onto the cavalry. One brave soul flipped his handax. Hurled it with all his strength at Lavarta. Lavarta raised his reins-hand, whispered, then the hairs across my entire body stood on end.

  The cavalry fired off an identical spell in a coordinated attack I had spent months trying to convince the commander to prepare for. A wave of bodies flung through the air, somersaulting fifteen feet above the ground before landing in a heap, their bodies twisted and mangled. The cavalry charged through, swiping down at the hundred raiders in their wake.

  The vampires leapt away, changing their target from the barely-standing vanguard to the oncoming storm of Lavarta’s well-prepared riders.

  All except for one.

  Loken landed beside us, swung and battered Wilbur in the face, kicked Jarmella to the ground, and turned upon Adalyn. “Together once again.”

  Jarmella raised a hand at him. “I’m sorry.” And shattered every rib in his body. Loken howled, his chest bulging then sinking in. Aedalis bounded forward with a dagger. Slashed Loken’s throat and got raked across his forearm for his efforts. Odalis – pale and on the verge of passing out and puking up – staggered forth. Swung. And ended the vampire Loken. Jarmella collapsed to the ground. Unconscious. Twitching.

  Blood rained upon us all as the raiders turned tail and ran for the trees. Feet slipped. Bodies beyond exhausted fell to the mud. Skulls crushed by the raiders fleeing the cavalry.

  The northerners had wrenched doors and window slats free, using them as shields. I could barely gasp. “Vanguard … Surround the northerners and protect them.”

  They hurried to form a circle around Yahnson, Hilgar, and the others.

  Lavarta angled his sword away from us, perplexed by our choice in allies. He pulled the charging cavalry around, changing targets and going after the next largest threat. Arrows pelted the ground behind him, targeting us, and striking our makeshift shields like a hail storm. Then it silenced in an instant. The archers scrambling to safety as the cavalry raced after them. Lavarta’s own archers aimed at anyone running towards their ships, bringing them down within sight of escape. The mages struck the raiders, propelling them back into the fight and suffering at the stabs and strikes of the infantry. Vampires hissed, launched, growled, and fell to the victory cries sung by the humans celebrating their first undead kill.

  The madness eased. Muscles slackened. Shields lifted. One by one we stood, caked in blood, sweat, sick, sand, sea, and grime. Six unending days of next to no sleep, no rest, near starvation, and more bloodshed than I cared to have witnessed. The northerners among us fell to surrender, surrounded by Kasera’s best who vouched for them on the spot.

  I collapsed to my knees, then to my side, no longer thinking of the prostitute with cold hands and a lazy eye from a bygone age but instead of the picture of Día drawn by Kel. Perhaps it was the delirium of combat that had frazzled my mind. Perhaps it was an odd memory that I had first met Día while surrounded by more than a handful of dead bodies.

  I shifted my weight onto my elbow and immediately regretted ever moving in the first place. I gasped, spluttering with pain like I had never felt before. “Someone bring me a vampire …”

  Jarmella crawled towards me, clutching her side, stopping when she was within reach. “Where were you hit?”

  “Everywhere! Bring Loken over.”

  “No, you … no.”

  “Stop fucking around Jarmella and get me a vampire.”

  “Not if you’ve been bitten.”

  “I’m fine!”

  “I can’t let you do that, sir.”

  “Bring me a fucking vampire!”

  She slapped her hand over my mouth. “No.”

  “Bhrng me uh vam pire now bit!”

  She pushed harder, sweat dripping from her face and landing on mine. “No.” She eased back.

  I wheezed. “I need a medic.”

  “They’re coming.”

  “Now!”

  “They’re getting here as fast as they can.”

  “Fuck you!”

  She clamped her hand over my mouth again as I spat one lot of abuse at her after another.

  “Okay! Okay …”

  She lifted her hand.

  “Congratulations.”

  “No.”

  “You’re the new medic.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t fucking ‘no’ me, Jarmella. Get me something.”

  “I don’t have any medicine.”

  “Magic, then. Use your magic shit and heal me.”

  “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “Alcohol!”

  “We’re out.”

  “Bullshit! One of Agnarr’s people is holding gin! I can smell it from here!”

  “Those are juniper berries and giving you alcohol would be really bad for you if you’re bleeding out.”

  “Gods damn it!” Blood dribbled into my mouth. Hopefully it didn’t belong to the vampire who had bitten me. I somehow rolled onto my side. “Did we win?”

  “I think so.” She rested one hand on my chest, easing me back to the ground. “Welcome to the vanguard, Raike.”

  “I quit.”

  “I’m not authorized to accept that.” She looked up, heaving with a long-overdue smile as several members of Lavarta’s stewards ran in, their medical pouches on hand. “I need a medic over here!”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Commander Lavarta peeled off his helmet and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. “How are you?”

  “I hate everything.”

  The medics continued to patch me up. They gave me a new splint around my wrist, bandaged both of my ankles, cleaned up my old stitches and got to work on some new ones. I passed out a couple of times. When I finally remained conscious I found Lavarta still by my side. �
�Jarmella tells me you went above and beyond.”

  The opium was slow to kick in. “She should get a promotion. Everyone else as well.”

  “I’ll pass it on.”

  “We’d be dead without her.”

  “Funny, she said the same thing about you.”

  “I don’t want a promotion.”

  “That I can do.”

  Agnarr was yelling from across the beach. “‘Fed me to a fucking vampire!”

  “Who’s that?”

  “The future king,” I said.

  “You kidnapped a prince?”

  “Don’t put ideas into my head, not when I’m this high and everything sounds like a good idea. That’s Agnarr. He’s a scheming dick who nearly got us all killed. Intentionally, I’ll add. But as far as northern nobles go he could still be useful.”

  “Jarmella said something else ...” He glanced up. A trio of horses were galloping towards us. Alysia, Zara, and Caralin, whom I had last seen riding off moments after Razoz landed on the shore a few yards away. Alysia leapt from Sebastian and hurried to my side, stumbling at the last stretch.

  “Ooomf!”

  “Sorry! How are you?”

  “Alive. You?”

  “Better.”

  “I saw Razoz kill you.”

  “He tried.”

  “You’re not … you know …”

  “I am still very much human. I hope.” I glanced over to Zara. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I had apparently acquired quite a few new wounds. “Just how many skirmishes were you involved in?”

  “Oh … a lot.”

  “Did you steal a ship like you wanted to?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well done.”

  “Thank you.”

  Alysia said, “Should we assume that you burned all of these houses down while still inside them?”

  “Yeah, but this time I wasn’t the only one doing it.”

  Alysia looked up to her husband. “How did it go?”

  “We won. Twelve dead vampires. No fatalities from our end that I know of but there are some injuries. We’ve captured a handful of northern survivors and some sailors who Jarmella is vouching for from Faersrock. Loken, unfortunately, was turned by one of them.”