“Yes, my lord. I am here to help you.”
“How can you help me? You are one, and you are clumsy. My men took you prisoner without effort. I have my family around me, or soon will. I will destroy the Katangans and feast. There will be so much blood, it will spill on the ground.” The king grinned and rubbed his stomach. “My herds will grow so that I never hunger again. This is what I will do for my people. And I will leave a strong family for my son.” He squeezed the boy by the waist and the child giggled.
“All well and good, but—” Gareth was interrupted by bustling at the cave entrance. The females returned leading three relatively young humans.
The king rose and intercepted them. He inspected the humans, noting that two had been fed from before. So he chose the third, a young man, and pushed him toward Gareth.
“Please, eat. None hunger in the house of Jaga.”
Gareth was starving, in fact. The scent of blood had roused a fierce ache he struggled to repress, but he couldn't much longer. Here was a meal content with its fate. He whispered to the young man that he would be fine, which made no impact in the food's dull eyes. Gareth made his usual bite on the wrist and began to drink the blood that was thin and weak, not unlike some of the more decrepit herds in Europe, or similar to that of the lean times prior to the Great Killing when he had fed from the dying. The memory of it brought a scowl. There was no emotion to be read in this blood, no spice of fear or bitterness or hatred. The blood was bland, but at least it was plentiful. Gareth drank until he felt the boy's heart racing.
As he pulled his head away and stanched the flow, he saw Jaga feeding from one of the others on a spot above the shoulder. The king released his food and said, “Please, finish him.”
Gareth shook his head. “I am full. Thank you.”
Jaga sighed with relief that he wouldn't lose part of his herd to a greedy guest and sent the humans staggering out. “Very well, now tell me how you think you can help me defeat the Katangan army.”
“It will be difficult. They have many guns.”
“Guns? What are guns to me? Unless the Katangans have learned to fly, I'm not concerned.”
“These new guns do great damage and fire rapidly. Have you faced a modern human army?”
“I have seen guns in the lowlands. It is no matter. Humans are slow and clumsy. Just as I knew you were about, I know every move the Katangans make. Soon I will guide them where I wish because humans are impatient and easily led. I will let them think their magnificent guns can turn us. They will be delighted by their power and come for me.” Jaga chuckled at his cleverness. “I will draw them up into the mountains and then I will fall on them, and that will be the end.”
Gareth nodded, feeling sickened by Jaga's plan. It played precisely on King Msiri's eagerness to close with the enemy, as well as on the king's overconfidence in his numbers and weapons. By their own admission, the humans had no idea of the terrain between their foothill camp and the Grand Boma. Their ranks could easily become bogged down and separated. A well-led and motivated vampire force, even as lean as these ndoki, could inflict terrible damage on the Katangans.
And Adele would be stuck there with the prey.
General Ngongo's Mountaineers lurked in the moss forest above an outlying ndoki camp. The wind whispered through the dripping glade below, creating weird wavering tapestries from the dangling moss. At least ten vampires had been seen coming and going over the course of the night, although there was also an open cave on the far edge of the glade. There was no clear sense of how many creatures might be inside. Now, as the sun sent weak light through the dampness, the vampires began to settle down to rest.
Adele lay on a thick pad of sodden lichen, peering over a ridgeline into the forest clearing. She could barely see the Katangan scouts hidden in the dense foliage, though she knew where they were. It had been a long, tense night as the Katangans crept into position around the enemy camp. She was exhausted and soaked, but the exhilaration from impending action kept her sharp.
Anhalt was on the damp ground next to her, continually shifting his gaze from the vampires to her. He was angry that she was with the Mountaineers on this reconnoitering mission, sure that she had come in hopes of finding Greyfriar, who had stomped off in a huff three days before.
In fact, Adele knew where Greyfriar was, and that was safely in her baggage. It was Gareth who was loose. The princess did not fear for his welfare at the hands of the local ndoki, but she was worried that he might fall under the Katangan guns while in the company of the vampires. She doubted he was here at this small encampment, though. He most likely was aiming for Jaga's boma.
Adele glanced at her colonel, whose face was covered with streaks of red, as was her own. Gorilla blood. The entire Mountaineer company of one hundred was coated in ape blood because they felt it hid their scent from the vampires. It was something she should verify with Gareth when she saw him. She smiled at Anhalt and he dourly acknowledged her. She felt something touch her hair. Then her arm. Raindrops. Before she could even think about it, she was in a downpour so thick she could see scant inches ahead.
General Ngongo rose to one knee and put his hands to his mouth. He emitted a weird, high-pitched scream that cut through the heavy thudding of the rain. It was the cry of a leopard. Then he whoofed several times, also a leopard sound. Moss piles detached themselves from the forest and began to move. Mountaineers. The calls were picked up down the line and soldiers rushed suddenly, rifles popping, toward the vampire camp.
Adele strained to see the forest glade with her spyglass through the slacking downpour. She could make out the creatures leaping to their feet. Several tried to rise into the air, but the hard rain pressed them down. Rifle fire peppered the drifting creatures and sent them flying. Some of the ndoki streaked at the troopers, who shouldered through the heavy moss curtain into the clearing. Rifles flashed. Vampires dropped, but sprang up and kept coming. In an instant, hand-to-hand combat began with claws, bayonets, and swords. Soldiers screamed and fell dead.
Then a second wave of vampires tumbled from the cave. Adele gasped; there must have been nearly twenty of them. High above the glade, Ngongo screeched again and a line of Mountaineers stood on a ridgeline fifty yards above the battle. They shouldered heavy doublebarreled rifles and unleashed a thunderous volley at the new vampire wave. The boom echoed through the valley, and a curtain of smoke obscured the ridgeline despite the heavy rain. The shells tore horrific wounds in the creatures and slammed them into the mud.
“High-explosive elephant loads.” Ngongo laughed, an unfamiliar sound, at least to Adele's ears. The Mountaineers were already slapping the breeches closed on their reloaded guns and raising them for another barrage.
The ndoki struggled. Those in front fell and writhed in the muck with gaping chests or spilling guts. Those in the rear hesitated, only to be pounded to the earth by the second assault of destructive steel. Unleashing shrill cries, they fell back. Vampires scrambled from the clearing, tearing through the moss in an attempt to flee. The Mountaineers let loose a third volley, and the explosive shells shredded moss, blasting trees and bamboo into shrapnel and sweeping several vampires off their feet.
The vampires who were battling the first wave of soldiers realized they had been abandoned by their fellows, so they too fled the field. The Katangans rallied at the sight of the ndoki's backs, and gave pursuit. The pounding rain kept the vampires afoot. Several even stopped to feed desperately from fallen soldiers in an attempt to heal their vicious wounds. Their reward was a bayonet or sword either plunging into their rib cage or shattering their skull.
General Ngongo gave another strange call, and it too was carried down the line. Fire ceased along the ridgeline. The troopers in the glade began to pull back, grabbing their combat-inflamed comrades to keep them from racing headlong in pursuit, then being trapped far from support. As gunfire in the glade dwindled into silence, the soldiers broke into teams, some attending their own wounded while others executed injured vamp
ires.
“Well done, General,” Colonel Anhalt said.
“Thank you.” Ngongo gave Princess Adele a helping hand off the wet ground. “These ndoki haven't seen such weapons in concentration. We gave them quite a start. I doubt they'll stop running till they reach old Jaga's boma.”
Adele said, “They turned awfully quickly.”
“Quite. There's no real fight in these things. Shall we inspect their camp, Your Highness?”
Adele made her way down the long, slippery path with the general, the colonel, and a bodyguard of Mountaineers and White Guard. She still felt uneasy about the fight. The Katangan firepower was undeniable, but vampires typically fought until they were in pieces. Perhaps Adele gave the ndoki too much credit and they simply weren't the fearsome killing machines humans had nightmares about in the north.
Once in the glade, she studied the cadavers of the ndoki, which were much scrawnier than vampires she saw in Europe. She stopped to offer words of thanks and encouragement to the Mountaineers. After she had spoken with every wounded man, she started toward the cave.
Anhalt appeared from the dark and held up a warning hand. “Your Highness, it's not for your eyes.”
“My eyes have seen much, Colonel.” She wondered if he would always be so protective of her. She hoped so.
Adele proceeded into the cave, where the stench was atrocious. Ngongo, along with several of his men and a few White Guard, stood looking at a group of twenty or so emaciated humans streaked with dried blood from festering wounds on their throats. There were some men, but mainly old women and several wide-eyed, stunted children. In the rear of the cave was a pile of bones and a few decaying corpses.
General Ngongo was tight-lipped and ashen. The soldiers all looked shaken by the scene of death and cruelty. Clearly most of them had never seen a vampire camp such as this. The general walked to the mound of bones and pronounced, “Remember this scene, gentlemen. This is our enemy. This is what we must wipe from the earth. This is why we will pay whatever price we must. Nothing we can do is too much to destroy this evil.”
Adele stared into the vacant eyes of an emaciated little girl in the herd. In the girl's face there was no life and no future. Adele would speak to Msiri about arranging some help for her and the others regardless.
“Colonel Anhalt, if you will.” Ngongo walked briskly from the cave, eager to be back to straightforward military work and away from the nastiness of clean-up. “We will send word to King Msiri. We have engaged the enemy and secured the pass. The way to the Grand Boma is clear and the army may advance.”
JAGA AND HIS skinny son perched on a ledge along with Gareth, studying the Katangan army far below, still days away.
“Have you been treated well?” the chief asked his guest.
Gareth nodded slowly.
“Good. Everyone is well fed. We will remember these days. We will never be hungry again.” Jaga began to pace, nearly giddy with anticipation.
The long, meandering line of Katangan soldiers looked like a faltering stream flowing in and out of channels, breaking into pools and eddies, losing momentum, gathering itself and again surging forward. The vampire chief pointed down at the humans, instructing his son in their mysterious ways and giving the boy a sense of how terrain would be the enemy's undoing. The marshy valley, the sheer rock cliffs, and the obscuring mists would contribute to their downfall. All was as Jaga predicted. Victory and future security would soon follow.
Gareth watched the pair. He admired the solicitous nature of Jaga and his delight at his son's questions, which revealed a growing understanding of the hunt and the kill. King Dmitri had been much like that when Gareth was a boy and Dmitri was tall and broad, a powerful figure of wisdom and decision instead of the dribbling simpleton he had become. In his prime, Dmitri had been everything: ruler, hunter, and father. Gareth could recall the feeling of his father's rough hands on his shoulders, pointing at prey, explaining their actions, describing the dangers. They were watching a woman carrying wood not far from Inverness in Scotland. Gareth had expected Dmitri to strike the woman and then allow Gareth to feed, as usual.
“She'll stop long enough to adjust her bundle,” his father had said. “Take her when she does.”
Gareth had been a thin, gangly thing in rags. He had looked at his father. “Me?”
“You will no longer feed if you don't hunt.” The powerful vampire had slid lower into the brush alongside the path. He'd lain a silencing hand on a wriggling young Cesare, who was bored and distracted by discomfort, but knew better than to disobey his father. Dmitri was scarred and leathery from hundreds of years of struggle, but his blue eyes had been quiet and expectant. His gaze had had a hopeful gleam that gave Gareth spirit.
He had studied the approaching woman with new eyes, the eyes of a hungry predator. He had watched Dmitri attack humans countless times. For all his bulk, his father was an elegant hunter, sly and economical in his motions. Many vampires preferred to slaughter their victims and then drink the cooling blood from the dead. Dmitri was not that type. He overwhelmed his targets with surprise and strength, terrifying them into shock. Often humans simply went limp when seized and bitten.
The young woman, a girl really, strolled the forest path. Her long skirt was wet along the hem from the dripping heather. The sun was nearly gone, yet she didn't hurry; there was no hint of fear in her. She hummed to herself as she swayed down the trail. The sweet smell of the day surrounded her.
Gareth sprang out suddenly and loped for her. The girl saw him; she didn't scream, although she did jump with surprise and drop her bundle of sticks. Gareth opened his mouth wide and protruded his claws as he made a long leap for his victim, far too long, as it turned out, because he landed short at her feet. He felt a solid thump against his head. He got up on his hands and knees as the girl raised a heavy stick over her head and brought it down with both hands onto Gareth's back, who splayed flat on the ground. She grunted with curses and unintelligible words as she clouted him again and again.
Gareth wasn't hurt; he was confused. She should have cowered before his terrifying visage. He scrambled back, hissing. Another blow cracked him across the face. He wanted to yell for her to stop, but his father was watching, unless he had already slipped away in shame. No, Dmitri was still nearby, because Gareth could hear him laughing.
Gareth managed to rise to his feet while easily blocking the girl's angry blows. He watched her in fascination now. She was fighting back. He could kill her easily, but she didn't give up.
Suddenly a dark shape appeared behind the girl. Her eyes grew wide, then blank. Gareth heard her last breath as her heart fluttered to a stop and she slumped to the wet ground. His eyes rose from the perpetually startled face of the dead girl to the derisive snarl of his brother, Cesare.
“Why did you kill her?” Gareth snapped.
“Because you couldn't.” Cesare knelt and tore her throat with his teeth. He began to suck blood from the gaping wound.
Gareth charged and bowled his smaller brother into the mud. Shouting, he raked his claws deep across Cesare's face, trying to gouge that smug smile from his skull. Gareth fought with a fury that shame gave him, and with rage at his brother for making him look ineffectual in front of their father. Cesare was far smaller, and he cried and thrashed, trying to escape. Gareth felt a vise seize his neck, and Cesare's snarling form dropped away from him. He realized he was suspended in the air with feet dangling.
“Gareth!” Dmitri shook his son.
“She was mine!” Gareth shouted. “She wasn't hurting me. I could've taken her! He killed her!”
Cesare yelled, “You failed, Gareth! I saved you from her!”
“Quiet!” Dmitri slammed a foot against Cesare's chest and pressed him back into the dirt. “I told you to kill only if necessary.”
“It was necessary,” Cesare argued angrily. “Gareth was being beaten.”
“I'll kill you!” Gareth tried to pull free from his father's grasp.
Dmitri tos
sed Gareth aside, who tumbled, then came to his feet. The king pointed at the boy. “You did fail.”
Shocked, Gareth stood with open mouth. “But…I didn't want to kill her. Like you said.”
“She saw you coming. Clumsy and pathetic.”
Cesare started to speak again, but Dmitri squashed the air from him with his boot. Then the king glanced at the dead girl and back at Gareth. “Feed. Before it's wasted.”
“No.” Gareth surprised himself. He took an involuntary step back, expecting his father to lash out at him. “I won't. Let Cesare feed. It's his kill.”
The king hesitated, then with his eyes still locked on Gareth, lifted his foot off Cesare. The younger prince laughed and scuttled for the body. The blood was now pooling, and he began to lap at it.
“Waste.” Dmitri turned his back and walked away. “That is what will destroy us all.”
Gareth had refused to look at his brother when he fell into step behind the mountainous Dmitri. He never wanted to disappoint his father again. Now another gangly son stared at his father with the same rapturous attention as Jaga talked about the wind, the scents, the reactions of humans. Jaga fixed his claws and demonstrated a killing strike. His son replicated it. Gareth knew how the boy felt. His father knew everything. The boy would never feel so secure in his world as he did at this moment.
Jaga patted the boy on the shoulder and sent him back toward the boma. The child scampered lightly over the rocks and disappeared. Now Gareth and Jaga were alone. Save for the moaning wind, the cliff was empty. It was time.
Gareth straightened and moved soundlessly across the barren rocks toward Jaga. The chief of the Rwenzori turned and beamed at him. He seized Jaga by the throat. The chief looked surprised, as if this were some peculiar greeting of the British clan he wasn't familiar with. He started to speak, but Gareth pushed his claws into Jaga's neck and cut off his air. Jaga struck out desperately, raking him across the chest, but not deep enough. Gareth twisted the chief's head and reached up to strike.
Rift Walker, The (Vampire Empire, Book 2) Page 28