Ballad of Blood: Book 5 in the Spellsinger Series

by Amy Sumida

  “My people were a little distracted.” Sorin scowled. “No; no one mentioned it.”

  “How much do we know about the process of creating these things?” I asked.

  “A fair amount,” Sorin answered in a pointedly vague manner. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything, Sorin,” I snapped. “Withholding information from us right now is not the best idea.” I went on in a Romanian accent and mimicked him scathingly, “It would behoove you to be forthcoming.”

  “Fine.” Sorin grimaced. “There's no call for rudeness.”

  “Maybe not, but it keeps me from killing you,” I said dryly. “So, you should appreciate it.”

  I don't know why you're holding back. Just kill him already. The RS said. You have your enemy sitting vulnerable before you; letting him live is dumb.

  I'm in agreement, Kyanite added.

  Later, I answered mentally. We'll kill him later.

  Promises, promises. RS scoffed. Hearing it said in my own voice made it worse.

  “It has been done in the past,” Sorin started crisply. “In times of need.”

  “What possible need could there be for those things?” Declan asked dubiously.

  “They can be a great way to fill the ranks when you're at war,” Sorin said.

  “As in war with other blooders,” Banning clarified. “You're talking about the Falcan Wars.”

  “I am,” he confirmed.

  “The Falcan Wars?” Gage asked.

  “Before there was an established Government in our community, there was chaos,” Sorin said. “Every blooder for himself, sort of thing. Humans and Beneathers alike were hunting us. Something had to be done to control the masses.”

  “And civilization comes at a price,” Banning added. “Groups of the oldest and strongest blooders formed; banding together to bring the others to heel. They became the Falcas, and Sorin led them.”

  “But it wasn't that easy,” Sorin said. “We faced large numbers of rebels who also joined forces to protect their freedom. There came the point where we needed the numbers desperately. So, we found another way to fill the ranks.”

  “You stole soldiers from the other side,” I whispered.

  “We did,” he admitted. “And it is a horror that I hoped never to see again. The making of a Nachzehrer is brutal; their will is taken first, and then the spells are laid in place. And it is painful; the screams are terrible and continue long after death.”

  “How long does it take to make one Nachzehrer?” I asked.

  “It depends on the necromancer,” Sorin said. “Our most powerful necromancer could make ten in a day. To create one Nachzehrer, it took her maybe thirty minutes. But ten was her limit; that was the most she could control at once time. We had to hire several necromancers to get the numbers we wanted.”

  “Thirty minutes is pretty damn fast to change a man into a monster,” Declan noted.

  “Unless you're the blooder she's changing.” Sorin swallowed convulsively. “I've seen men tortured; I've even tortured a few myself. But I've never seen anything so horrible as the creation of a Nachzehrer. Cutting a man's body is one thing, but the necromancer cuts the soul away. It's black magic at its darkest. To be able to perform it, you have to be a cold-hearted creature without mercy or sympathy; a psychopath, but ten times more evil.”

  “Coming from you that says a lot,” I muttered.

  “So, this person is probably taking control of blooders, leading them to a secluded place, and then conducting these transformations in private,” Torin surmised. “They would need enough space to contain the Nachzehrer and enough of a buffer to keep from being heard.”

  “That would be harder to find in an urban location,” I pointed out. “Maybe we should take a look around some of the more metropolitan places that were hit and see if there are any empty warehouses that could have been used.”

  “The closest one is...” Banning looked over the papers again. “Sofia, Bulgaria. The Sofia Gura was right in the center of town.”

  “Sofia it is,” I declared.

  Chapter Twelve

  To get into Sofia, you either had to go through one of three mountain passes, fly into the Sofia Airport, or have a Shining One traveling stone and a safe place to land. We got the coordinates for the Sofia Gura's house from Sorin—along with that of the Gura in Greece—and then traveled to Tír na nÓg so that we could return to Bulgaria. We took one of Sorin's ghearas with us at his request; a man named Gio. He was swarthy and silent; with dark eyes that watched everything as if he were cataloging his surroundings for future reference. I didn't like him; he had a creepy vibe, and my mother used to warn me to be careful with the quiet ones. Of course, my mother used to warn me about Blooders too.

  It was Gio's first time traveling in the Shining One way, and I could tell it had unsettled him. Despite my dislike of him, I made an effort to put him at ease. Mainly because my feelings were unfounded and it felt unfair to judge him without proof. So, before we made the journey from Kyanite to Bulgaria, I went to reassure him.

  “It's perfectly safe,” I said to Gio. “We know where we're going, and that's all that's needed to direct the magic.”

  “Grazie,” he said softly. “I'm fine, signorina, but I appreciate the offer of comfort.”

  Maybe he wasn't so silent after all.

  “You're Italian?” I asked. “Because you sound a little Spanish.”

  His eyes widened. “You have a good ear. My family was from Spain, but we settled in Italy.”

  “Hearing nuances in speech comes with being a spellsinger,” I said. “So, is Gio short for a Spanish name or an Italian?”

  “Italian.” He smiled, and it transformed his face; instantly removing whatever it was that had made me uneasy. “Giovanni Borgia, at your service, Spellsinger.”

  Gio bowed in a very Old World way.

  “Borgia,” I said in surprise. “As in; the infamous Borgias?”

  “I was blooded in 1497.” He nodded. “History has written me off as murdered; one of the many victims of my family's debauchery.”

  “Don't worry,” Declan slid into the conversation, “we Shining Ones love a little debauchery.”

  “Declan,” I said disapprovingly and sighed.

  “Then I will disappoint,” Gio said apologetically. “I accepted my blood sire's offer because I wanted a way out. I didn't approve of the way my family lived.”

  And this is why you shouldn't judge anything based on appearances; I chided myself mentally.

  “Damn it all,” Declan huffed. “I thought I had another one on my side.”

  “Don't listen to him,” Torin said. “We're not all lechers. It's good to have a gentleman with us.”

  “Grazie.” Gio bowed to Torin. “I came along to assist; I know this area well, and speak many languages.”

  “Did you know anyone in the Sofia Gura?” I asked him.

  “Sadly, I did,” he said. “The reports are that there were no survivors, but the real reason I offered to attend you is that I wish to see it for myself. I want to be certain that my friends are dead.”

  “That's sobering,” Gage said. “All right then, let's get to it, shall we?”

  We separated into groups; the Shining Ones all had their own traveling stones, which made it easier for us to transport so many people. Instead of one, long chain, we had smaller teams of two to three. We took our companions through the Veil to Bulgaria. The room we came out into was stuffy and dark. It also smelled like death.

  “Someone open a damn window,” Gage growled.

  “Fuck, what the hell did I step in?” Arnold cursed as he flipped on a light. “Oh, gross.”

  We stared around the demolished room in shock as Arnold tried to shake zombie guts off his boot. One of the Shining Ones ran out of the room; slipping on fluids as he went. The sound of vomiting carried in to us. Torin went to a window and threw back the curtains before pushing up the glass panel. Cool, evening air wafted in, and we all took deep, relieved b
reaths.

  “Fuck, that air isn't the freshest either,” Gage grumbled.

  “Sofia has a problem with pollution; due to the way it's surrounded by mountains,” Gio said. “It creates a bowl that collects the smog.”

  The shining one who had run out came back in looking pale. No one teased him, though. The amount of gore in the room was horrifying, and no one could blame him for being nauseated by it.

  “It's not much better out there,” the shining one said.

  We filed out of the room anyway and searched the house. The path the Nachzehrer had taken became clear. We followed a trail of bodies and body parts upstairs; to a room where the Gura had made its last stand. Corpses littered this space as well, but there were also significant amounts of blooder remains; piles of dust scattered about as if they'd been walked through.

  More windows were opened, and moonlight streamed in with the semi-fresh air. I don't care what Gage and his sensitive nose said; the air outside was far better than that inside. I'd breathe smog before decomp any day. We picked our way gingerly over the pieces of Nachzehrer and the remains of blooders; trying to find anything that might help us.

  “They must have kept feeding until the blooders became dust,” I said.

  “And then they left.” Gage pointed out a swath that had been cut through the dead.

  “So, where did they go?” Declan asked. “They can't simply be shambling about Sofia; there would be sirens and screaming, right?”

  “Their master called them back,” Banning said grimly. “And then took them to the next gura to slaughter.”

  A small thump made all of us freeze. Then there was the shuffling sound of fabric.

  “Zdraveite?” Gio called. “Is anyone here?”

  “Gio?” A feminine voice called back.

  “Ilasande?” Gio cried excitedly. “Is that you?”

  A panel in the wall shifted, and a woman popped her head out warily. She was petite and dark-haired; with large, blue eyes and pale skin. She blinked her long lashes as she peered at us, and then her stare landed on Gio.

  “Thank the gods!” She exclaimed and rushed from her hiding spot.

  Gio caught her and held her tightly. “Ila, are you all right? Are there any other survivors?”

  “You can come out,” she called over her shoulder.

  Five other women crept out of the hiding spot and looked around them with sorrow and horror. A few started to weep, and they clung to each other as they walked through the remains of what was surely their gura.

  “Giovanni,” one of the other women said. “It's a relief to see you. We were attacked by Nachzehrer. I haven't seen such creatures in centuries.”

  “We know,” Gio said as he eased Ilasande away from him. “Diana,” he waved at the woman who had spoken and then to each of the others, “Renee, Lucy, Talia, Veronica, and Ilasande. This is Prince Banning, his consort, and their companions.”

  “Your Highness,” the women murmured.

  Banning just nodded; it wasn't the time to bitch about titles.

  “Can you tell us anything about the necromancer who sent the Nachzehrer?” Gio asked. “Did anyone see them?”

  “All we saw were the dead,” Diana said grimly.

  Diana was tall and sturdy looking; with her long, blonde hair pulled back in a braid. She frowned at Veronica and Talia, who were crying together.

  “Stop it!” Diana barked at them. “Our gura died to protect us; the least you can do is be brave. You're fierce blooders, not simpering humans; remember that.”

  The women sniffed and eased apart.

  “Diana was consort to Gheara Alexander of Sofia,” Gio said to me softly.

  “Fuck,” I whispered sympathetically.

  “I'm sorry for your loss.” Banning was more eloquent. “I've lost several members of my own gura recently, and have fended off a similar attack. I know your pain.”

  “A similar attack?” Diana asked. “So, it wasn't geared directly at us?”

  “No; it appears that Blooders as a race are being targeted,” Banning said. “We're here to investigate. Is there anything you can remember that might help us?”

  Diana frowned as the other women started talking all at once.

  “They came in so suddenly!”

  “It was a nightmare!”

  “The men put us in the safe room.”

  “Shut up and let me think!” Diana growled.

  The women went silent.

  “There is something I recall,” Diana said. “A scent.”

  “A scent?” Torin asked in surprise. “You could smell something over this?”

  “They were not so rotted when they attacked us. Once you give the undead a true death, they decompose twice as fast,” she said. “ And I've always had a good sense of smell.”

  “I get it.” Gage nodded. “What did you smell?”

  “Amber,” Diana said. “There was a hint of amber in the air.”

  “Incense?” I asked.

  “Resin,” she corrected. “Made into perfume. Possibly an oil.”

  “A woman,” I whispered.

  “Amber is a unisex scent,” Declan said dubiously. “I don't think we can say it was definitely a woman.”

  “Unisex?” Gage huffed. “That stuff is sweet; I wouldn't wear it.”

  “Do you even wear cologne?” Declan countered.

  Gage just grimaced.

  “Well, it's something,” Banning cut off the banter as he went to Diana. He shook her hand. “Thank you, Lady Diana; for your fortitude and your assistance.”

  “Of course, Your Highness,” Diana murmured. “If there's anything more I can do, I'd be honored to help.”

  Banning abruptly pulled her into a hug.

  “You don't have to do anything more, nor do you need to remain strong,” he whispered. “We're here now; you can lean on us.”

  Diana looked surprised for a second and then seemed to crumple; her whole body collapsing into Banning's arms. He held her tightly and motioned for the rest of us to leave. We took the other survivors out with us, and let Diana have some privacy to mourn.

  Chapter Thirteen

  One of Torin's knights took the women to Suceava—via Tír na nÓg. The rest of the Shining One soldiers cleaned out the Gura House so that the smell wouldn't alert the locals. The Sofia Gura was in a magnificent Neo-Gothic house on a busy road, and the odor of rotting corpses would have no doubt drawn attention eventually.

  The women had been in the wall for nearly three days; too terrified to venture out. For a blooder, hiding in a wall for days wasn't as problematic as it would be for a human. Blooders could go for long periods without drinking, and if they weren't eating human food, they didn't have to worry about bathroom issues either. But still; the trauma of hiding quietly while you wondered if your enemies were just waiting for you to pop your head out so they could kill you, would take a toll on anyone. It was a wonder that they all weren't sobbing hysterically by the time we found them.

  We went out into Sofia after we searched the house and the exterior property. We split up into groups to perform a faster search; canvassing out from the house for any clue the necromancer may have left behind, and then for any empty buildings that might have served as a base of operations.

  Sofia was an eclectic city; many different cultures and time periods had left their mark on her. There were Greek influences, along with Roman, Russian, and Celt. Baroque Revival architecture stood beside Neo-Rococo, Neo-Renaissance, and Neoclassicism; all the Neos, except for Keanu Reeves. Then there were huge concrete apartment buildings, and steel high rises looming over it all like stern soldiers. Sofia was one of the top ten places to start a business, and several big names had footholds there; including IBM and Hewlett-Packard. So, the historical architecture was supplemented with modern touches. It was not the type of town I expected to find in Bulgaria.

  Yes; Sofia was full of interesting things, but clues on our necromancer was not one of them. Gage did manage to track down a buildin
g where we believed the Nachzehrer had been made, but all that was left of them was a scent so faded that only Gage could smell it. By midnight, we had to admit defeat. We traveled back to Kyanite and remained there for the night. No one wanted to stay in the dead gura's house.

  In the morning, my consorts, Gio, and I gathered to discuss our next move. Gio had marked off places on a map to indicate where guras had been attacked. He spread it out between us on the dining table as we absently ate our breakfast.

  “I have notated the approximate time and date each gura was attacked beside its name.” Gio tapped the map. “As you can see; a schedule is apparent.”

  “It looks like the average time between attacks is three days,” Gage noted. “They're moving fast; especially when you consider the transport of surviving Nachzehrer.”

  “So, we can assume that it's a beneather with the ability to move large numbers of people across a realm,” I concluded.

  “I'm sorry, guys,” Gage said with a look at Torin and Declan, “but could this be a shining one?”

  Declan and Torin sighed and stared at each other before nodding.

  “It wouldn't surprise me,” Torin said. “We've ruffled a lot of jewel feathers with our behavior; even if all we did was for the good of Tír na nÓg.”

  “Is necromancy something Shining Ones can do?” I asked.

  “Do you really need to ask that after the Battle for Primeval?” Torin shot back.

  I grimaced.

  “We need you to track them, Ellie,” Declan said.

  “I don't have anything to start with.” I shrugged helplessly. “I need to know who I'm tracking, or at least have something to connect to them. Without that, the magic will flounder.”

  “And the scent of amber isn't enough to track,” Gage muttered.

  “What about the Nachzehrer themselves?” Gio asked. “Can you track them?”

  We all gaped at Gio and then at each other.

  “I don't know,” I whispered. “Track the undead with a song...” I considered it.

  Elaria, darling, that's akin to asking you to track the living, Kyanite pointed out. Magic will not be able to distinguish between one type of dead and another.