The Vampire Queen Saga: Books 1-3: (The Vampire Queen Saga Boxset)

by William Stacey

  A moment later, their courage shattered, they fled as well.

  It was a complete rout.

  Owen, his heart pounding painfully in his chest, let his shield slip from its straps to clatter on the steps, and then held his sword between his knees while he quickly patted down his limbs, looking for wounds. Miraculously, he was unharmed.

  Fioni collided into him, almost knocking him down in her enthusiastic embrace. “We did it!” she cried, turning and waving her bloody sword at the fleeing enemy. “Run, you craven bastards! Run!” She gripped his chin and kissed him, her lips tasting of blood.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she answered. “I was wrong about you, Owen. I’m sorry. You are a battle wizard.”

  Kora was there a moment later, blood dripping down her forehead. “What now?” she asked Owen.

  “Now we go after them,” he said. “Organize the crew into groups of at least five. Hurry. The next few minutes are crucial. We can’t rest. There’re still more than enough of them to reorganize and come back again—and we can’t do this twice.”

  Fioni bit her lip. “I understand, but those men are still Waveborn. If they surrender, we take them alive. Galas, on the other hand...” She scanned the dead and wounded.

  Owen saw no sign of Galas, but he did see both Lady Danika and Gali moving among the wounded, helping them. Thank Father Craftsman for that. They retrieved the fallen torches and, minutes later, in small handfuls of warriors, began to move down the steps. Near the bottom, they found the first enemy, a man speared through the leg. Fioni spared him, having the others only seize his weapons and bind his wrists. They began to fan out, searching for others.

  They froze when they heard a scream of horror in the darkness, followed by an inhuman staccato cry, like nothing Owen had ever heard before. He turned and stared wide eyed at Fioni. Then they heard other men screaming, their cries all too quickly cut off. Something was killing Galas’s men. The crew began to edge together, once again becoming a single mass.

  “Is it the Blood Queen?” someone asked in a trembling voice.

  “Owen,” said Fioni. “My sword.”

  The blood gem in the hilt glowed.

  A moment later, a dark shape the size of a bear detached itself from the night, moving forward into the torchlight. Hunched over, with two massively long arms ending in knifelike talons that trailed along the ground, it shambled forward on thin stork-like legs that should not have been capable of bearing its weight. Shiny black feathers at least a foot long covered its torso, leaving only a bare red patch over its wide chest. In the center of that chest sat a glowing red eye. Another blood gem, Owen realized in confusion. The creature’s large raven-like head swiveled back and forth over the men and women, its small black eyes shining in the torchlight. Its pointed beak—at least two feet long—glistened with dripping blood. Once again, he saw the massive gaping hole in the wolf’s torso, the ancient mummified corpse of the Illthori, and the skeletal remains of Denyr, and he knew in a flash of insight how they had all died.

  The monster paused, raised its bird head high, and once again emitted that hideous staccato warbling. Dozens of other beasts instantly answered its call, their angry cries echoing around them.

  Chapter 49

  Danika

  While Owen and Fioni had led the others down the steps of the pyramid, Danika and Gali remained behind, helping tend to the wounded. Five of the crew had died during the fighting, with eight more wounded, several so badly they’d die before the sun rose. Galas’s force had lost easily three times that. Owen’s plan had worked perfectly, achieving a stunning victory that would have made Brice proud.

  Danika held the hand of a young man as he bled out, his left leg gone below the knee. Neither she nor Gali was a physician, and applying a tourniquet above the wound had barely even slowed the gush of blood. He cried out a woman’s name repeatedly, trying to rise, but she pushed him back down and whispered soft words into his ear as she caressed his forehead. Moments later, he lay still, his eyes open. Melancholy and relief struggled within her as she leaned over and kissed his forehead. At least his pain is over. How old had he been? Eighteen, younger? Far too—

  A scream of pure, tortured agony shattered the night, followed moments later by more howls of pain rising from the base of the pyramid where the others had gone to hunt down Galas’s survivors.

  Gali’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “That… what…”

  “That’s not battle,” said Danika, jumping to her feet and dashing to the edge of the pyramid’s summit, looking down the steps. From this high up, all she could make out below were the torches and shadows of the crew clumping together in one large mass near the base of the steps. With trembling fingers, she drew Sight-Bringer. She gasped, her skin suddenly clammy, when she saw the dark, menacing shapes converging on the others. “Father Craftsman, help us!”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Gali demanded.

  “Run!” Danika screamed. “They’re coming!”

  Too late, the closest of the… monstrous creatures shot forward, launching themselves on the crew members, tackling them and pinning them to their backs. Now, their own comrades screamed in agony. Danika staggered away from the steps and faced Gali in bewilderment.

  “What is happening?” Gali whined, her voice breaking in terror.

  And then Sight-Bringer throbbed with occult power, sending a vibration coursing up her arm, washing away her terror. Twice before, the Illthori weapon had saved her life: The first time had been when Modwyn had tried to trick her into opening the gates of Stron’s Watch. That time, the sword had revealed Modwyn’s hidden force of rebels waiting to storm the fort. The second time had been in Kalishni’coor’s occult chambers in the Rose Palace, when he had cast a spell immobilizing the others. That time, the sword had not only freed her from his magic, but had also given her the strength to drive its jagged blade through his black heart, ending his foul life.

  Now, it once again warned her. But to what end?

  Once, when she had been maybe six or seven, her father had taken her to see a water diviner find a new well in one of the local villages near Castle Dain. He had held a double-forked hickory branch before him as he slowly turned about, all the time chanting a spell. When the forks began to tremble, the mystic smiled broadly, declaring the men needed to dig there. Sure enough, they found water. All her life, she had secretly suspected the mystic had already known where the groundwater lay, and that it had all been a charade, a show for the small folk and children like her, but she mimicked him now, gripping the sword with trembling hands and holding its broken point out before her. While the others screamed and died below, she turned in place. Another jolt of energy shot up her arms when the blade swept past the dark altar atop the summit. There. There’s something there.

  She ran for the altar.

  Chapter 50

  Owen

  Without warning, the monster shot forward, moving far faster than Owen would have thought possible for such a large creature. It slammed into one of the crew, a stout young woman named Helgin who could burp names, knocking her onto her back and pinning her to the ground with its oversized arms. Before Owen could take three steps to help, the monster raised its bird head and rammed its beak through her chest, just above the heart. She screamed in agony, her arms and legs flopping helplessly as the creature began to slurp noisily through its beak.

  Owen charged, screaming in fury as he brought Brice Awde’s lion-marked longsword down upon the monster’s feather-clad back with both hands, aiming for its spine. His sword rocked back, as if he had just struck stone, sending spasms coursing through his forearms as he staggered back in disbelief.

  The monster continued to drink, unconcerned.

  Now, others charged forward, dozens. Each monster bowled over a crew member, pinning him or her down before ramming its foul beak through their chests. A cacophony of pain-filled shrieks filled the air.

  We’re being slaughtere
d!

  Nearby, Fioni repeatedly slammed her sword against the back of another monster, to no discernible effect. She staggered back, terror in her eyes as she took in the scene of horror. “Get away!” she shrieked. “Back up the stairs!”

  As Owen and the others ran for the stairs, none of the monsters attempted to stop them. Each was too concerned with draining the blood of his friends. That can’t last, he knew. They butchered Galas’s crew in seconds.

  The survivors flew up the steps, almost climbing over one another. They had lost half the crew in moments, and now, overcome by panic, they practically clawed at one another to get up the stairs first. Fioni came last, with Owen. He turned and saw one of the monsters, its beak still dripping blood, charge up the stairs straight at Fioni.

  “Look out!” he cried, knowing it was already too late.

  She spun about just as the monster slammed into her, pinning her to the steps. Time seemed to slow: the monster lifted its beak, Fioni roared in defiance, and Owen charged, his sword drawn back. As the monster reared back, it exposed its chest and the glowing blood gem embedded in its center. Owen thrust his sword forward, driving the blade’s point into the gem. The impact shuddered up his arms and down his back, and the tip of Brice Awde’s sword snapped, but the gem shot free in a shower of sparks. The monster froze, its beak pointed toward the moon. Then, without a sound, it fell off Fioni, tumbling down the stairs and shattering into ashes and black feathers. Owen looked at the broken sword in his hand, the feathers drifting through the air, and then at Fioni. He gripped her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Can you move?”

  She stared at him, her eyes wide.

  Is she in shock? “Fioni!” he said, shaking her.

  She jerked upright, as if suddenly waking. “Go,” she said as she picked up her sword with its glowing blood gem. “I’m right behind you.”

  The dozens of other monsters, already finished with their victims, had paused at the base of the stairs, their heads pivoted toward him, their black eyes shining in the moonlight. Owen flew up the stairs, no longer tired.

  Gali met him at the top, her face white. “Hurry! Come with.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him with her.

  Owen took one final look over his shoulder to see the monsters climbing the stairs, clearly in no particular hurry. And why should they hurry? Where are we going to go?

  Gali dragged him to the altar in the center of the summit, where Fioni, Kora, and the others clustered together, now less than half of those who had gone into battle only minutes ago. As he came around the rear of the altar, where shattered stones covered much of the summit, he saw Lady Danika on her knees, an expanse of stones perhaps four feet by four feet cleared around her.

  In the light of the torches, he saw that she knelt before a white stone triangle set into the base of the pyramid’s summit, ringed by Illthori runes. It was another portal, he realized, like the one they had found on the atoll. They had missed it earlier because of the rubble covering it and because they had been so focused on looking for Serina’s jewel case with her heart. Lady Danika held Sight-Bringer’s tip near the runes, activating them, causing them to glow with eldritch radiance.

  Fioni grabbed his shoulder. “Owen, they’re coming!”

  The first of the monsters shambled over the lip of the stairs, pausing for a moment as it swung its birdlike head about, its beady black eyes seeking them. A shudder ran through Owen as its gaze fixated on them. It warbled its staccato cry before shuffling forward on its arms and legs. Others answered the cry, appearing behind it. Owen braced himself, gripping his broken sword in both hands, knowing they were all about to die. A grinding noise filled the air behind him, and a quick glance over his shoulder showed the portal sinking. Now, the closest of the monsters was only twenty paces away, shuffling forward. “Is there a way out?” he yelled.

  “The portal opens onto a slide of some kind!” Danika yelled. “But it’s too dark to see where it goes.”

  Fioni moved up beside Owen. “It doesn’t matter. Take it.”

  Owen braced himself as the monster shuffled closer.

  Then, with Fenyir war cries on their lips, a handful of warriors ran past him, attacking the monster. The creature tackled one of them, pinning the young man to his back before driving its beak through his chest and ignoring the others as they pounded helplessly with axes and spears upon it. Moments later, more of the monsters rushed forward and tackled them as well, killing all of them in moments. He had never seen such bravery. His heart was in his throat with helpless frustration as Fioni pulled him away from the carnage. “We have to go.”

  The others, led by Kora, were already gone, leaving only Lady Danika, Gali, Fioni, and a handful of others awaiting their turn to go down the slide. Owen stared at the triangular opening, more than wide enough for a man like him but too small for those monsters. Just as Kora had said, a stained-black metal slide disappeared into the darkness beneath the opening.

  “I can’t see where it goes,” Gali said to Fioni in panic.

  “Away from here,” she answered as she picked the young woman up and unceremoniously dropped her onto the slide, where she immediately slipped away, a cry on her lips. Moments later, the last of the crew jumped through the opening, leaving only Owen, Lady Danika, and Fioni.

  “Go, my lady,” he urged. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  He spun as one of the monsters, finished with its meal, advanced on them. He threw his broken sword at it, but the steel merely rebounded, clattering against the stones.

  “Here.” Lady Danika tossed Sight-Bringer to him.

  He caught the broken sword by the white stone hilt, felt its magic course through him. A moment later, the noblewoman jumped into the portal, leaving only Fioni. She stared at the pile of their dead lying beyond the steps, and the litter that still held the comatose wolfhound. Fioni’s anguished eyes met his. “Ekkie…”

  “Go!”

  “I can’t leave her.”

  Owen slammed into Fioni, knocking her onto the slide, where she disappeared with a whoosh. The monster darted forward, once again moving faster than such a large, ungainly creature should have been able to, but he dodged beneath its outstretched talons, coming up behind it and lashing out at it with the broken tip of the Illthori sword. This time, the blade cut through the rocklike body. The creature lifted its head and screeched in agony as smoke rose from the wound, before falling away and crumbling into ash and black feathers. But dozens of others had circled Owen, and they rushed forward. Owen leaped for the opening, slamming belly first onto the metal slide. In a moment, he was gone, surrounded by darkness and whipping air. It wasn’t a slide, he realized, but a metal tube, twisting and turning, tossing him helplessly about as he hurtled down it, faster and faster, desperately holding Sight-Bringer away from him so he didn’t impale himself.

  Ahead of him, he heard a loud grinding noise, like stone being crushed in a mill. Then he heard the screams rising out of the darkness.

  Chapter 51

  Dilan

  Dilan felt Serina’s unease, waiting silently as she looked out over the dead city. The ruins, shining silver under the moon’s radiance, extended before them, completely filling the rim of the mountain. Dilan, seeing with the perfect clarity of a night owl, saw every rock, every shattered stone and fallen tower. He inhaled deeply, immediately catching the scent of blood wafting through the still night, as well as… something else. Perhaps sensing his concern, she shook her head. “There’s a power here I don’t yet understand—and that lack of knowledge could prove fatal, even to you and me, my childe. We must move with caution. Death walks this island.”

  He stared at her in confusion. “But we are immortal.”

  The smile on her lips might have been the saddest thing he had ever seen. “If only.” She returned her gaze to the dead city. “These ruins are Illthori. What a discovery. Now that Kalishni’coor is dead, I probably know more about that long-dead race than any scholar does, but even I know very little that I
can point to and say is truth. In the centuries since they vanished, they’ve only left behind relics and myths. Kalishni’coor was fascinated with them, insisting they were the source of magic on this world. He wasted much silver buying every trinket said to be Illthori, but I think they were mostly fake.” She was silent for a few moments. When she spoke again, it was only a whisper. “Perhaps I was the fool.”

  “No,” said Dilan quickly, “you are perfect.”

  She slipped away, ghosting across the ruins toward the vast pyramid in the city’s center.

  #

  Not long after, in the ruins of a courtyard near the base of the pyramid, they found the first corpse, the body of a Fenyir warrior completely drained of blood, a massive hole punched through his chest. Dilan knelt next to the still-warm corpse and pried open the wound with his fingers. “The heart is… gone, Mother. What could have done this?”

  “Kalishni’coor mentioned servants the Illthori used. Sentinels called…” She paused, lost in thought for long moments. “Shrikes. He called them shrikes.”

  “Like the birds of prey that—”

  “Impale their victims on thorns,” she answered.

  Just then, a man stumbled out of the shadows near the entrance to the courtyard, staggering off a broken archway and falling to his knees. Dilan leaped to his feet, but she stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder. The smell of blood in the air was intoxicating. The man, one of Galas’s crew, crawled forward, clutching at a wound in his side. The man, overcome by the terror of whatever chased him, still didn’t realize that only a dozen paces away stood two blood fiends and more than thirty ghouls. When a monstrosity lurched out of the shadows behind him, Dilan understood why the man was so terrified. A creature of nightmares pursued him: more than two or three times the size of a man, with long arms ending in talons, stork-like clawed legs, and the head of a bird—including a foot-long pointed beak. The man screamed as the monster surged forward, knocking him down, and then impaling him with a single thrust of its beak. He continued to scream as the monster began to feed.