by Jack Conner
“So, with Subaire and her troops hot on my heels, I enacted the only spell that I’d yet to come up with; I damned myself with insanity. Since this was a new field of magic, I didn’t understand the full implications of this. I was, in effect, my own guinea pig. I’d hoped that the insanity would wear off after awhile, but my hopes were ill-founded. I lived for nearly a thousand years as a lunatic, but I did live; the spell worked. I don’t remember much of that time. It is as hazy and unfocused as my thoughts back then. Only when Jean-Pierre gave me his blood did something spark in me. Not understanding, exactly. But the spark was there.
“Eventually, I wound up with Balaklavian and chalgid bloods. In small portions, at first, these weren’t enough to reverse the insanity, but they helped. I vaguely understood that if I could get more immortal blood, pure blood, that the effects of my self-tailored curse would go into submission. Thankfully, I was right. Only tonight did this event occur; afterwards, I spent many hours wandering around, rediscovering myself. I employed my talent for invisibility and eluded the zombies my former masters sent to fetch me.
“When I heard the wars going on in the Castle, I raced up there, where I found this robe. I shaved and washed my hair and body of the feces my former persona so enjoyed, and determined to join the fray. Quickly I learned that the Castle was on its last leg and that the Libertarians and Subaire, my arch enemy, were soon to conquer.
“I retreated back into the Sabo, where I found the Laslo-Collage lying in wait for somebody. You, apparently. I decided to stay in the area to keep tabs on it, as I knew it to be up to no good and, further, I vaguely remember Laslo being an enemy of my former persona. So I stayed, and you came, and that is all there is to tell.”
“Fascinating,” said Kharker.
“But why isn’t this common knowledge?” said Sophia. “I mean, nine hundred years ago is hardly prehistoric. There should be texts about magic, sorcerers—”
“Subaire crushed those documents. She only allowed fictitious accounts of wizardry to be printed from that time forward.”
“Why did Roche Sarnova allow her to do all this?” asked Danielle.
Kharker answered this one. “Subaire had developed a following after her underhanded way of killing the sorcerers in the Castle. Roche punished her for the way she went about it, but this only gave her more supporters. Everyone likes a martyr. So when she took a hundred troops that were loyal to her to go off and, in her words, ‘do some scouting’, Roche knew that to stop her would only swell her following—and he was right. Once the rest of the Council heard about her crusade against the sorcerers, she quickly lost status.”
Jean-Pierre focused on Kiernevar. “You’re saying the only reason you could accept shadeblood was because you were already immortal.”
“Correct.”
He nodded, thinking that that fit with what Ladrido had told him. Even as he thought of the bat-man, Ladrido said, “Undo this curse, Kiernevar. I’ve spent a thousand years existing as a cluster of fucking bats. And, being locked up in the Refuge for almost as long, I haven’t killed an innocent human in all that time. Please, Kiernevar. I’ve suffered enough, and recently I’ve vowed to abide by the morals of my new friends here. I greatly thank you for saving their lives and understand why you cursed me ... but I’m a new man now. You’ve shown your goodness toward my friends. Now please, if you have it in you, bestow that same goodness on me.”
“It’s true,” said Jean-Pierre, and explained how Ladrido had saved his life and how the bat-man had vowed to become moral. Much to Jean-Pierre’s irritation, Kiernevar refused to take his word for it and turned to Danielle.
“Danielle, what say you?”
She paused, but only for a moment. “What Jean-Pierre and Ladrido have said is true. They’re good, now. Or at last, I should say. Even Kharker’s gone Vegetarian.” She explained that though she didn’t know Ladrido well, he had helped to save the coven. When Kiernevar remained unconvinced, she added, “Would your niece want you to damn her murderer, now reformed, for eternity?”
Slowly, Kiernevar faced Ladrido. “Very well, vampire, I’ll release you from your curse—but don’t get your hopes up just yet. The words of your new friends are convincing and I’d love to believe them, but I’ll have to observe your merits for myself. If I’m satisfied with your performance in the fight to come, I swear to lift the curse.”
Ladrido smiled broadly. “Thank you. I cannot tell you ... Well, let me just say that I deeply apologize for my actions against your niece. More than the lifting of my curse, I beg your forgiveness.”
“That, too, shall be decided tonight.”
* * *
Ruegger proposed, once the pilgrims had reached the portal they’d been headed for before the collapse of the bridge, that Kiernevar should consult with Kharker on the most direct route to the Balaklava’s lair, since, after all, the sorcerer knew precisely where it lay. That done, the procession moved on.
Ruegger tried without much success to stem the flow of emotions threatening to dull his senses. On the one hand, he was scared that if Amelia had not been victorious against Junger and Jagoda, then the assassins would have taken her blood and might yet prove too powerful to overcome.
In which case, Danielle would be in great peril, and he didn’t relish that thought at all. On the other hand, if Amelia had beaten her enemies, then Ruegger very much wanted to see her again. But on such an occasion, he wanted Danielle to meet her. Maybe that would in part satisfy Danielle’s curiosity about his past. And on yet another hand ...
Ruegger tried to turn his thoughts to the new arrival, the sorcerer Kiernevar, and the bizarre string of circumstances that had brought him here. In this, however, Ruegger failed to find sufficient mind-meat to play with. After his initial surprise upon seeing Kiernevar as a sorcerer, Ruegger had sunk within himself. He supposed that he’d seen too much death tonight, and been a party to too many killings, and that his heart had formed a protective layer of indifference. Even if the world threw all the gore and strangeness in its belly at him, he would no longer flinch, not tonight. That’s how hard he felt himself to be. The only thing that kindled his interest was seeing Amelia again, and finding the answers to why their mutual friend Ludwig had been murdered. About this latter subject, Ruegger already had guessed an answer; it waited only to be tested.
He looked over his shoulder and gestured for Danielle to join him; the corridor was plenty wide to accommodate this.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Things are weird, but ...” She shrugged. “I just can’t wait to get back somewhere, somewhere human, and eat a fucking hamburger. You know what I mean? Something normal.”
He smiled. “I promise you, first thing after we get out of this madhouse, we’ll stop off at the first burger joint we see.”
“Here, shake on it.”
They spat on their palms and shook.
Ten minutes later, Kiernevar said, “We’re almost there. First stop is the room Junger and Jagoda shared with the Libertarians. It’s on our way and, as I remember, Maleasoel left behind her nuclear weapons there, as well as some men to guard them and mortals to provide communication. I was sure she’d alert them to trigger the nukes if she were killed.”
“She didn’t even see it coming,” said Ladrido. “D’Aguila struck from behind.”
“That’s probably why we’re all still here. There, see that archway? That’s the room, one of the Feeding Chambers of the Sabo. Maleasoel’s people may still be there.”
Cautiously, the group made their way to the archway and paused, looking out at the vast chamber with all its hanging chains and death-trap cages. Ruegger remembered the unpleasant hour he’d spent in this very place. In one corner lay a group of dismembered shades and beheaded mortals: the soldiers and the human links Kiernevar had spoken of, dead. Three crates rested nearby.
“Let’s take a look,” said Jean-Pierre.
Overcoming his reservations about reentering this space, Ruegger led the troupe ou
t into the Feeding Room of a dying Sabo and toward the jumbled mass of body parts and the crates, all the while imagining the scene as it had appeared under Malie’s rule. The only trace of her was the ridiculous adobe throne.
One of the soldiers was naked as well as dismembered, a fact explained a moment later when a tall red-headed woman entered the chamber through another archway and paused; she wore the bloody uniform of the naked man.
“Lyshira,” exclaimed Kiernevar, and took a step towards her.
Lyshira moved toward the pilgrims, her eyes, puzzled, fixed on the sorcerer.
“Kiernevar, is that you?”
“Yes. I’ve recovered myself. It’s a long story.”
“You … fucker! You killed me, you’re the reason I’m here. God damn you! And when you came down here yourself, you—”
“I know, I know,” he said. “I apologize for all my former persona did. That’s not me anymore. Listen, Lyshira, you must tell us, what’s going on? Did Amelia come, are your masters dead? What of these soldiers ... ?”
She scowled. “I have no masters anymore, whoever you are. I’m just Lyshira, zombie. Without their bloods, I’ll probably be dead in a few days.” She shook her head violently. “Fuck.”
“Lyshira,” Ruegger said, remembering how all the Libertarian soldiers had turned to watch her come and go. She’d always gone naked before, presumably at her masters’ will. Which meant that if she was clothed now ...
“Are they dead?” he said.
She turned her piercing eyes on him and rolled her shoulders in a self-consciously bored shrug. “Near it, anyway. Amelia’s got them cooped up back in their Lair.”
Surprising himself, he smiled. “Amelia? She’s alive? She won?”
“Ask her, Darkling. Don’t think I don’t remember you. But who the fuck cares? I’m just a zombie, doomed to die like the Sabo and all the others.”
“Surely there’s a way to keep you alive,” said Danielle.
“None that I know of. Anyway, I don’t intend to waste my final moments chatting. I’m to assist Amelia in whatever way I can. She may ultimately be the death of me, by doing in Junger and Jagoda, but I owe my freedom to her, even if it kills me. She sent me to fetch back the nukes. She thinks she can use her powers to render them impotent. Here, make yourselves useful; I’ve been a slave long enough. Grab a crate and follow me. I’ll take you to her.”
“What about them?” asked Jean-Pierre, pointing to the carnage surrounding the crates.
“Killed by Amelia when she attempted to persuade them to surrender the nukes to her. By then, she’d already caged Junger and Jagoda and was tying up loose ends. Enough chit-chat. Grab a box and follow me.”
Kharker, Jean-Pierre and Ruegger each picked up a surprisingly heavy crate and, with the rest of the group, followed Lyshira through one corridor after another until they reached the vast Feeding Room where Ruegger had been tortured and caged. He shoved his reservations aside, knowing that his long-lost love was waiting just around the bend.
After he and the two werewolf-kavasari set down their crates, the members of the group moved into the center of the enormous chamber, and there was a scene that Ruegger knew he would never forget.
In the background, the lifeless body of Collage lay crumpled on the ground, still smoldering in places. In the middle-ground, two of the human birdcages hung low, just ten feet off the ground, and in each cage huddled one of the Balaklava, hardly recognizable they’d been injured so badly. They lay on their sides in pools of their own blood, barely moving. And when they did move, they moaned. Finally, in the foreground, Amelia perched on an empty crate, looking weary and sorely wounded herself, puffing on a cigarette.
Her strawberry-blonde hair in bloody tangles, she wore a sword in a hilt about her waist. When she saw the coven, she rose in sudden alarm. Her gaze fell on Ruegger, and the alarm dropped away. She smiled.
“Ruegger!”
She ran forward.
“Amelia—”
She crashed into his arms, knocking him backwards.
“I ...” He laughed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“That would be a first.” She kissed his chest, then, suddenly embarrassed, stepped backwards and examined the rest of the group individually. She spent some moments examining the sorcerer and what, for her, must have been the hideous form of Ladrido. Then her eyes settled on Danielle, and she gave a small, almost apologetic smile. “You must be Danielle.”
“And you’re Amelia.”
Amelia laughed pleasantly, then embraced Danielle. The latter didn’t seem prepared for the former’s sudden bursts of emotion. This was not the Amelia that Ruegger remembered, but it was likely the Amelia Mauchlery had described, only a few long hours ago.
“Thank fate for you, Danielle,” whispered Amelia, still holding Dani tightly. “Before you, I wasn’t sure if Ruegger was going to make it. He had his friends, but no one ... you snapped him out of it.” She flicked her eyes on Jean-Pierre and Lord Kharker. “I can guess who you are, but if Ruegger sees fit to keep your company, I guess you’re better specimens than I’ve heard reported. But who in the world are you?”
“Sophia,” Sophia said. “Jean-Pierre’s ... wife.”
“And you?”
“Ladrido, my lady. Cursed by the fellow standing next to me.”
“A sorcerer?” Amelia glanced at Ruegger, and when he nodded to indicate the claim was credible she inspected Kiernevar.
He introduced himself, and Lyshira added, “He’s the creep that killed me. He’s different now. Before, he was a lunatic. I might die soon, but at least I’ve seen it all.”
“Indeed,” replied Amelia, then once again returned her attention to Ruegger. “It’s been so long ...”
“An eternity,” he agreed. “I heard that you and Francois ...”
Sadness came over her. “Yes, we were involved. I felt him pass just a little while ago, just after Roche Sarnova.” She wiped away a tear. “Let’s not speak of it, okay?”
“Okay.”
“What about the Bastards?” said Danielle. “Let’s get that issue cleared before we start on anything else. Business before pleasure.”
The Kavasari Amelia nodded. “Agreed. Before that, though, am I mistaken, or are you, Danielle, and Ruegger, and you other three ... are you not kavasari?”
“We are,” Kharker said. “Turned by your own Francois. Without him, we’d most likely be dead. If you two were involved, I can only thank him through you. Anyway, it looks like you’ve got the fuckers caged. For that, I also thank you. Have you had time to interrogate them?”
“I know why they killed Ludwig, if that’s what you mean.”
“Why?” said Ruegger.
She almost smiled at that, and her lovely eyes bored right through him. “Come on, Ruegger, I know you better than this. You already have it figured out. I can see it on your face. So lay it out for us. I want to know if you’re as sharp as I remember. Here, any of you, want a smoke?” She produced a pack and everyone except for Ladrido took her up on the offer. “Now tell us, Ruegger. Tell us why these sick bastards killed our friend.”
He paused, collecting his thoughts, and drew on the stick. It was all so clear to him, now that it had reached this point. It had begun when he’d interrogated Junger in the caverns beneath the Green Lake, when he’d seen the expression on Junger’s face when the assassin was asked who killed Ludwig, but now all the vagaries were washed away.
“No one hired them to kill Ludwig,” Ruegger said. “They did it all on their own initiative, despite whatever lies they told us at the time. My guess is that when Roche originally hired them to do some artwork for him, they came here, to the Castle, thinking to create a masterpiece, but art is never the only thing on their minds.
“Once isolated in the catacombs, they began their usual exploring, tunneling. They’re old; they lived in the time of dragons and sorcery. They knew of the sorcerer massacre here, and they probably wondered what happened to all the dragons and
magical creatures that existed in their early years. They endeavored to find out. They figured Roche was hiding some deep, dark secret, and he was. I guess they found the Sabo first. Maybe that’s all they found that first time. But with their obsession with labyrinths, they fell in love. It was more than that, though. They were well aware of all the turmoil going on, of the War of the Dark Council.
“They stored all this away for future use. Soon they were approached by Francois to instigate the Scouring. I know this from what I learned in Lereba, that they killed Testopha, one of the first to be Scoured. Their connection to Francois led them to you, Amelia, and the Titan Vistrot—who then commissioned them to hound Danielle and I in order to prevent you from killing him. By the way, whatever happened to him? Vistrot, I mean.”
Amelia shrugged. “I don’t know. I gave him a test, and I guess he passed. He absconded in the middle of the night and neither he, nor Kristin, has been heard from since. I suppose they’re sipping margaritas on a beach somewhere. Anyway, go on. So far, you’re pretty much on track.”
Killing his cigarette, Ruegger tossed it to the floor and continued. “Well, Junger and Jagoda apparently orchestrated a massive plan, which they proceeded to set in motion. All they needed was a catalyst. Roche’s empire was tearing itself apart, Hauswell had gone into hiding, they were allied with the most powerful crime lord in America, who they figured held a pretty precarious seat with you in the picture. In short, the entire immortal world was in crisis, and they placed themselves in prime positions to bring it under their control. They just needed to give an already volatile situation a push. They needed to completely destroy Roche’s empire and all the major players involved. Further, they needed chalgid blood, which they conveniently procured while hounding Danielle and I. Their next step toward complete physical power would be to become kavasari. Hence the need to lure you into their trap, and what better trap than the Sabo?