‘No,’ William said and shook his head. ‘Your curse is to hold the rest of Humanity in contempt. How many have you murdered?’
‘My family were murdered,’ The vampyre moaned. ‘Have you ever seen your own family killed in front of your eyes?’
William shuddered and suddenly thought of the family he’d left behind in England – of Father, M other, Elizabeth. He looked away, afraid of revealing his own weakness. God, how he missed them.
He rose and stared over to the horizon. ‘You have murdered more people than I can possibly know. Other families, I expect. And you probably enjoyed it, correct?’
‘LET ME GO!’
‘Never,’ William replied nervously. ‘You can never be released!’
‘AAARGH!!’ the vampyre screamed and raised her right arm, lifting the chains further and further, and then the rock that was holding them down.
‘Wound it!’ Peruzo yelled.
Jericho darted forward and thrust his sword through the creature’s shoulder, enjoying the sensation in revenge for brothers Samuele and Casper. The vampyre screeched and sank back sobbing to the ground.
‘Keep an eye on her, damn you!’ William implored. Breathing heavily, he kicked the vampyre’s leg to get her attention. ‘How many more are there?’ he demanded. ‘How many more of you?’
‘In Hell, shit-eater!’ the vampyre cried, and spat towards William.
He looked over his shoulder to the horizon and back at the vampyre. ‘You first. The sun is coming.’
She looked ahead and wept like a child.
‘Enough games!’ William growled, and drew Engrin’s sword. It had taken him over an hour to recover the weapon from the field of battle, yet it had lain with the lion’s share of the company’s weaponry, hidden in a tent that had not even been touched by the combat. If ever a weapon had a charmed existence it was this sword, a weapon that William now lowered over the vampyre. ‘You will tell me your strength, or there will be no mercy.’
She sobbed and rolled her eyes. ‘They will come. They will save me!’ she implored.
William thought about this for a moment. It had been hours since they had staked her out and yet no attack had come.
Not yet.
‘Where are you camped, vampyre?’ William asked.
She looked up at William with a grimace of terrible fear.
‘Yes,’ William suddenly realized. ‘You are camped far away, too far to stay out here for long. Your friends have gone because they would be caught in the daylight if they strayed too far away. They’ve abandoned you.’
‘No.’ The vampyre shook her head. ‘No. They haven’t. They can’t!’
‘They have,’ William said coldly. ‘Now if you tell me how many there are, I promise a quick death.’
‘Let me live !’ She cried.
‘How many of your kind came tonight?’ he demanded again. ‘How many?’
The female vampyre gibbered a little, staring at William and then through him. ‘We are only three.’
‘Lies,’ William replied. ‘I saw more in Rashid . . .’
‘No! No!’ she sobbed. ‘I tell the truth. Now there are only three of us.’
‘Where are the others?’ William pressed.
‘Gone,’ She replied after a lengthy pause, her eyes darting about.
‘Where?’ William said, growing irritated and disgusted by the whole process.
‘Gone,’ She repeated and began sobbing again.
‘That’s not good enough,’ William growled and walked away.
‘I don’t know any more!’ She cried, the voice sounding pitifully human. William almost turned, almost resolved to cut her loose, but Peruzo was like a rock and glanced at his captain. His expression was clear.
‘You think he can trust you?’ Peruzo asked the creature.
‘Oh yes!’ the vampyre replied, glancing nervously ahead as the first rays of sunlight began peaking from the brow of the horizon. ‘Please release me.’
William shook his head. ‘You murdered those people in Rashid. You murdered my friend’s whole company. And you murdered my men,’ he said. ‘Your request is denied.’
‘No!’
‘You would only come back and kill us all,’ William added as he walked away.
‘Not true! Not true! I swear!’
Peruzo joined him a few yards from where the vampyre began writhing again, pleading as loud as she could to be set free. William gripped his sword. ‘Time to end this.’
‘You would put that creature out of its misery?’ Peruzo said and frowned.
‘There is no need to prolong it,’ William replied.
‘It serves a purpose, Captain,’ Peruzo told him. ‘A lesson to the other creatures out there. A lesson on who they face. It might even stir them into error.’
‘We are soldiers . . .’ William protested.
‘And soldiers must sometimes commit distasteful acts against their enemy, Captain,’ Peruzo replied.
‘I have never tortured anyone in my life, Lieutenant,’ William said under his breath.
‘This is not torture, Captain. It is justice. I t’s nothing less than it deserves, if I may say so,’ Peruzo told him. ‘Remember the brothers it has killed. Poor Casper is dead, killed by this bitch. How many others has she butchered? She laughed when she murdered Samuele. She is guilty as hell, Captain. Maybe we should send her there.’
William sighed bitterly. ‘That she is,’ he replied and sheathed his sword. ‘And as much as I deplore such an act, it would serve a purpose.’ He looked to the horizon and grimaced.
‘Very well, Peruzo. Let the sun take its course and this wretched creature’s body.’
IX
William did not stay to the end.
The sun came up gradually, the starry sky lightening bit by bit until only the strongest stars struggled within the dawn-blue. Finally the few clouds in the sky turned from black to gold, their bellies streaked with crimson. On their heels came the sun, its first peep touching the horizon with a dazzle of light that made the vampyre scream.
Peruzo sat on the sand and waited. He didn’t know how long it would take; minutes maybe, sometimes it took an hour or more. But it was almost always a violent end. Most of the brothers waited with him, mainly to be sure that their enemy died, but perhaps also for a glimmer of retribution.
The new commander of the militia, Khalifa, also watched, transfixed by the sight of the fettered woman thrashing crazily in the growing light. He too had lost men, many more than the company of monks. Forty-six militiamen had perished in the assault and another twenty-three were badly wounded.
The vampyre peered up, her eyes now only narrow black slits, devoid of the light that once crackled within them. The creature’s powers were utterly spent; no more strength to mend itself, no more strength to escape.
‘Please help me’ the female vampyre whispered to Khalifa, who stepped back, afraid. ‘You can’t leave me like this.’
‘Just ignore it,’ Peruzo called over.
Khalifa looked up in trepidation. It seemed to the Arab that these men in grey were more dangerous than the creature slowly cooking in the rising sun. It was absurd that they should just leave this wretched thing to burn in the desert.
‘I once had a family, you know?’ the vampyre keened. ‘I had no choice. I was forced to become this way. My family was murdered by this curse. Please . . . Help me . . .’
Khalifa backed away up the dune and held himself still.
The sun began to advance, casting long shadows before it. The vampyre recoiled, pulling her legs up as far away as possible, but the chains held her in place. The light moved slowly over them, creeping up little by little, and the vampyre held her breath as if the act would repel the approaching rays.
Her skin began to smoke.
Khalifa walked away when the shrieking started. Before he crested the dune he glanced behind him, seeing the threads of smoke rise from the creature’s clothes. He had seen people die before, had killed many himself. Bu
t this was unholy, terrible, and for the first time, Khalifa felt his soul being soiled by participation.
Peruzo and the brothers watched the female vampyre writhe and spit, screaming obscenities as the sun crept up further, now up to her waist. Then it rose up to her chest, then to her neck.
‘NO!’ she screeched. ‘NOT MY FACE!’
The vampyre’s denials were cut short as her lower jaw caught the sun and was suddenly on fire, bright blue flames seeping from every pore to lick around the skin and hair. The vampyre’s scalp ignited and her head became an inferno as it shook about, still alive, still screaming. Blue flames leaked out of her ears, her nose, and then her tongue, leaking as though the creature’s body could no longer contain it. Fire gushed from every pore in its body now, burning the clothes that dressed it.
The vampyre’s head was black, devoid of eyes or lips, the tongue now just a gurgling froth of brown slime sliding down the back of her throat that was liquefying under the rising heat. Though still barely alive, it rocked for one last time and then stayed put as her muscles shrank or burst. Then the brain fell apart inside her burning skull, followed next by the heart and lungs that had not beat or breathed unaided since she had been turned by Count Ordrane.
It didn’t end there, the bones still acting as a cage for the half-spirit within that struggled to be released, twisting around rib and skull with livid, violent rasps of cyan light that ruptured and charcoaled all that would burn.
The smell was repellent.
Peruzo, feeling nauseous, got up from the sand to walk away. The other vampyres had not tried to rescue her. They had let her die, and it dawned on Peruzo that her slow death really had served little purpose.
‘When it’s done, bury the remains,’ he ordered the remaining monks, the smoke of the burning vampyre twisting into the sky as the sun rose higher.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Allies and Avengers
I
Three days had passed since the battle at Bastet, the name of the oasis that would be indelibly imprinted on each survivor’s memories. Every man had left something there, a friend, innocence or a misconception. For some, it had been the bloodiest engagement they had faced, for others a harsh reminder of what could be lost if they failed.
Peruzo rode quieter than most, racked with the guilt he felt over Brother Casper’s death. He had lost men in the past, but Casper’s demise was his fault. His blade. His neglect. They should never have been captured by the militia in the first place. He should have seen them coming.
The torture of the vampyre had not moved him. It was she who had been the death of Casper, or rather it was she who caused Peruzo to kill them both. In his eyes she was not a woman. And her agonizing death was deserved.
William felt differently. The interrogation and torture of the female vampyre had stained his conscience. He knew he could never tell Marco about what had happened, let alone Adriana. It was something he would never discuss, not even with those who had witnessed it. And it had damaged his relationship with Thomas.
The English merchant had not spoken a word to William since Bastet. He kept himself aloof, riding alone with Hammid. William could not understand why Thomas blamed him so much. After all, the vampyres had been responsible for murdering his people, so why was revenge so unpalatable?
Despite William’s protestations that the remaining vampyres could attack at any time, both Thomas and Hammid rode at a distance from the monks, sometimes ahead of them, sometimes lagging behind.
Deciding to mend the relationship and discover Thomas’s grievances, if only for the Englishman’s safety, William broke off from the column, hanging back until the two forlorn riders caught up.
Thomas gave him a cursory look as he approached.
‘Peruzo believes we could be lost,’ William said to him.
‘I see, Captain,’ Thomas said perfunctorily.
‘We have water enough for two more days at best,’ William said. ‘We must have rejoined the Ayaida by then.’
‘We should have arrived this morning,’ Thomas remarked.
William couldn’t tell if it was a criticism or not. ‘You’re angry at me, a ren’t you?’ he said.
Thomas looked surprised. He regarded William for a moment, debating inwardly whether to reply. Finally he nodded. ‘I cannot reconcile what you and your men have done.’
‘With regard to what, may I ask?’ William pressed.
Thomas licked his dry lips and stared at William silently.
‘She was a vampyre, Thomas,’ William said. ‘She helped kill your . . .’
‘I know what her crimes were, Captain,’ Thomas said abruptly. ‘She was still a woman.’
‘Chivalrous, Thomas, but not practical. In this war, women are just as deadly,’ William replied.
‘I noticed that,’ Thomas remarked bitterly. ‘Did you stay to the end?’
‘I didn’t have to. I could hear her die.’
‘We all heard her die, Captain Saxon. Every living soul in the oasis could hear her.’
William stared at Thomas witheringly. It was enough that he felt guilty for what had happened, but that he should be judged by Thomas angered him. ‘Feel lucky you were not part of it,’ William barked back at him. ‘When we leave you with the Ayaida, you can forget all this happened.’
Thomas frowned. ‘Really? So easily? You’re looking to unburden yourself of me there?’
‘I believe that was our arrangement.’
‘It was,’ Thomas said, ‘but other matters have complicated it. I don’t believe the arrangement was to include me in a rescue mission and a battle.’
‘No,’ William admitted, ‘it wasn’t .’
Thomas straightened up in his saddle. ‘As for abandoning me to the Ayaida . . . Do you think a man can so easily escape his destiny?’
William appeared mystified by the question.
‘I am now involved in your war, Captain Saxon,’ Thomas explained. ‘It was inevitable that when I helped you escape, The enemy would see me as their enemy. They have already destroyed my merchant caravan for aiding you at Babel’s. And my hands are bloody too, Captain Saxon. Her death falls on all who let her perish. I am quite aware there is no escape for me from your war.’
William stared at Thomas. It was brutal. It was honest. And it was also right. The vampyres would not show mercy if they caught him.
‘What will you do?’ he asked.
‘I will travel with you,’ Thomas said and shrugged. ‘You may yet have need of a translator with a sword.’
‘I might,’ William agreed. ‘But the danger . . .’
‘. . . Is obvious to me, Captain,’ Thomas said. ‘I have little choice in the matter. Perhaps it would be wise to tell me of your mission, now that I am part of it.’
William nodded reluctantly. For the next hour William recounted the particulars. As it stood, success now depended on Thomas, who would translate any orders he had in case Sheikh Fahd fell in battle. William knew the Rassis would not be easy opponents. It was this matter he had mulled over during the ride from Bastet.
‘I may need to change our initial objectives’ he confided in Thomas. ‘I have lost more men than I expected. If I am honest, I think I will lose many more in the battle with the Rassis. More than I can afford, and still come safely back to Rome.
‘How so?’ Thomas asked.
‘The original mission entailed returning the Hoard to Rome. If the vampyre was telling the truth, there are still at least two more of them out there, and they’re sure to attack us on the return to Rashid. So if by the grace of God we manage to liberate the Hoard from its guardians, we may well lose it because only a few at best have survived the battle with the Rassis. However, there is an alternative.’
Thomas listened close.
‘We could destroy the Hoard at the Valley of Fire.’
‘But you said there are no conventional means of destroying these artefacts,’ Thomas said.
‘As I understand it, there aren’t. But I have
been provided with unconventional explosives that may serve.’
Thomas masked his alarm. ‘You would destroy the Hoard? Even if that meant disobeying your superiors?’
‘To stop it falling into the hands of Count Ordrane?’ William said and smiled. ‘Yes. Without hesitation.’
II
Ahead the sky was darkening and the brightest stars were beginning to appear, yet there was still no sign of the Ayaida. Then, to the relief of all, they saw four riders coming towards them. At first they thought it might be militia, those from Dumyat that might still be pursuing William and the company. The relief on recognizing Sheikh Fahd’s guard was overwhelming, and William choked back his emotions as they galloped towards them.
The bodyguard addressed them and Thomas translated cheerfully, the words greeted with laughter and relief: they were only two miles from the settlement.
The men in grey were treated to an overwhelming welcome when they returned to the valley. The scouts had seen their trail twenty miles away, dispatching riders to intercept the company, while other scouts returned to the camp with the announcement that ‘the man called Saxon is alive’. Word quickly spread and Sheikh Fahd dressed himself in the grandest of robes.
And with good cause.
He had other guests with him that morning; other sheikhs who had come to join him the night before as allies against the Rassis. For Saxon to live and to lead them in revenge against his brother’s killers marked a truly triumphant day. But first the sheikh had to tell Saxon’s kin of the news, and he sent Hisham to Marco’s tent.
Marco did not understand a single word Sheikh Fahd’s bodyguard was saying to him that morning, but he caught his uncle’s name and saw a beaming smile. Surely his uncle was alive and was returning. He might have cheered out loud, but wanted to wait until he saw William riding into camp. In this world of alien customs and language, Marco took nothing for granted. Only when he could see his uncle in the flesh would he be convinced of his safety.
Marco stood alone in the chill of dusk and watched the approach to the camp as the valley was drenched in golden light from another setting sun. At first there was nothing, until orange puffs of dust erupted at the apex and began to billow down the mouth of the valley, dispersing soon after to reveal the column of riders.
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