Kingmakers, The (Vampire Empire Book 3)

by Clay Griffith Susan Griffith

  “This is it,” Adele said, her zeal growing, the chill in her bones forgotten. She rose, shaking the snow from her legs.

  “Patience. The more that flock to Anhalt’s diversion, the fewer we will have to walk past.”

  “It also places General Anhalt in more danger.”

  “He welcomes the risk to safeguard you. His effort shouldn't be in vain.”

  “It won’t.” Adele stepped away from Gareth, regarding him. “Follow the path I showed you on the map. I’ll be right beside you.”

  She vanished before his eyes, leaving Gareth alone in the vast white field. The only thing that remained was the indentations of her feet in the snow. His eyes widened.

  Her hand found his. He looked down but saw nothing.

  “So you are not a ghost,” he said in amazement.

  Her gentle laugh was carried on the wind. “No, I’m still here. Right beside you.”

  Mamoru had explained it to Adele that geomancers hid from vampires in plain sight. They weren’t invisible, only camouflaged by the earth, like a chameleon’s skin. It was a very treacherous tactic, and Adele hadn’t told Gareth or Anhalt just how easily it could go terribly wrong. Vampires could collide with her or something might break her concentration, and then she would be visible.

  “Your hand is hot,” Gareth said.

  Adele immediately let go and saw his skin flush pink where she had touched him. Thankfully it was not burned.

  His eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at the spot where he knew she was standing. “I can almost see you.”

  “Really?”

  “Because I know you are there. There is a shimmer, a gentle outline about your size and shape. If you hadn’t shown me, I would have missed you entirely. Your scent has changed too. More earthy, like wood and soil. Not like a human.”

  “That’s fascinating. I’ll have to relate that to Mamoru when I see him. I doubt he’s ever gotten this kind of insight.” Adele’s hand brushed his one more time. “Lead on. I will follow.”

  Gareth started toward the city walls, and she fell into step with him. Eventually they saw a small group of vampires near the crumbling gate. They weren’t soldiers, more likely citizens who were given watch duty that wouldn’t place them on the front lines. One was heavy by vampire standards. Another was thin and tall, though not as tall as Gareth. The last was old with long, thin graying hair and a craggy face. He was seated between the other two. There was a dead human at their feet, obviously a recent meal.

  Adele stayed motionless as Gareth strode toward the vampires. They quickly stood to challenge him. Gareth didn’t even pause. He moved in a blur, leaping at them with claws extended. The first slash took out the thin vampire, the youngest and the most agile, who fell into the old vampire and together they tumbled to the ground. The heavyset one rose hissing, throwing his large frame at Gareth. The vampire prince sidestepped quickly, lightened his density and stepped up into the air. As the vampire stumbled under him, Gareth dropped heavily, taking him to the ground.

  Gareth’s arm drove downward toward the weakest point on the spine and snapped it. The vampire flopped once with a scream and lay immobile, though his eyes were wide open. He still had a voice and was screeching in terror until Gareth silenced him with another slash of his terrible claws. More blood stained the white ground.

  Adele was distracted by Gareth’s sudden violence, so she didn’t see the elder vampire surging at him until it was too late. Gareth was borne to the ground in a flurry of snow. The older vampire’s arm slashed downward, but Gareth blocked it. A well-aimed kick sent his opponent flying backward. Immediately and without quarter, Gareth followed and the two vampires exchanged blows, each one expertly blocked and parried.

  Gareth saw an opening and slipped in, coming into close quarters, and used that position to rip out his opponent’s throat. The elder vampire fell limp into Gareth’s arms.

  He swung the old man’s legs up and carried him to where he had been sitting. Gently he laid the vampire on the ground, almost reverently, adjusting his arms over his chest. He stayed down on one knee for a moment. “He fought well. I was sorry to kill him.” Then he stood, walking over to a mound of clean snow, and wiped the gore from his face.

  It took a moment to find her voice, but then Adele asked, “Are you hurt?”

  “None of this blood is mine.” Gareth’s eyes searched for her and then settled on her shimmering form. He smiled crookedly, and then turned around and strode through the gate. Adele waited a few seconds and then entered enemy-held Grenoble.

  Sunlight glinted off the steel figures marching steadily on Grenoble. The Katangans encased in the metal frames pounded the hard icy ground of No-Man’s-Land, spikes on the bottoms of their feet dug deep and gripped tight, giving them purchase. The steaming metal men formed a broad wedge aimed at the wall of the town, with the mass of the Equatorian army shuffling behind.

  Anhalt rode a dappled mare in the gap between the infantry and the steel front. The horse was sure-footed even in the churned frozen ground left by the heavy Galahads, and she did not shy from the rumbling, clanking tanks. It was the rattle of Anhalt’s scabbard that made her prance in frenzied excitement, anticipating battle. The general twisted in the saddle to observe his army, grunting with satisfaction. The advancing force included every man who wasn’t manning the cannons or part of a skeleton crew in the trenches to guard their rear. Every scrap of armor and ammunition had been served out. If this assault failed, there would be no way to defend from the vampire counterattack. If Adele lost her mad endeavor, the campaign would end here on the frozen field outside Grenoble.

  The vampires swarmed in a large black cloud over the city like an ominous storm. With every minute, more drifted in from all directions to join the flock. The more that gathered, the better for the empress, Anhalt thought.

  The general was surprised that the vampires hadn’t yet engaged. Perhaps the Galahads had made the creatures cautious; the new weapons, no doubt, perplexed them.

  The mass of airborne vampires undulated like a single entity, causing the rank-and-file troopers to pause and tremble, but officers shouted encouragement, bolstering flagging determination, reminding them of their duty to the Empire, to their comrades, and to themselves. The men marching nearest Anhalt gripped their weapons tightly, and every once in a while he would see a man flex his fingers to keep them limber in the frigid morning air. The rumor that the empress had delivered a secret weapon did something to strengthen weak backbones and faltering hearts.

  The spearhead of Galahads reached the ready point one mile from Grenoble’s ancient wall. They halted with a squeal and a burst of steam.

  Anhalt spurred his mount toward the front infantry. He felt the air spark with the anticipation of battle. Company commanders yelled orders, echoed by sergeants. Formations shaped up, presenting modern rifles along with tried-and-true sharpened steel, bayonets and long savage pikes, almost like musket squares of the sixteenth century.

  The bagpipes of the Twenty-fifth Lost Highlanders blared to Anhalt’s left. They all claimed some Scottish ancestry and therefore seemed unnaturally eager to be heading north to reclaim their mythic homeland. The sirdar cared little for restoring ancient titles or lands, but if such beliefs helped drive some of his men, he would gladly use them.

  General Anhalt rode the length of the line, waving his glowing saber, his voice booming out to the front ranks. “Equatorians! Today! In this place! We begin the liberation of humanity! Grenoble will be free! And soon the entire world will be free! Because of what you do today, your children will know vampires only in ghost stories told around campfires! But you know the truth. You know these animals can die. And they will die! Today! By your hand! By the hand of Equatoria! You are human! This land is your heritage! The first strike belonged to them, but the final blow will be ours!” He stood in the stirrups, pointing his saber in the direction of the vampire city. “Kill! Them! All!”

  The men bellowed as one, deafening all else, their
blood burning hot with defiance and resolve. Rifles were shaken overhead and swords were struck against mail shirts, raising a raucous din.

  The swarm of vampires twitched, and suddenly shifted toward the human army like a flock of birds, all wheeling as one in the sky.

  “Fire!” came Anhalt’s hoarse cry.

  Three regiments simultaneously fired; nearly two thousand rifle muzzles flamed. The gunsmoke formed a thick barrier before the wind carried it swiftly away. The front rank of vampires were sent tumbling backward as bullets ripped into the black mass.

  With a loud rumble, rockets flamed from short-barreled turrets atop the shoulders of the Galahads. They sped into the sky, exploding in the midst of the vampires, shredding them with shrapnel.

  “Forward!” Anhalt screamed through the chaos.

  The lead Galahad began to lumber on toward its objective. The other metal men spurted steam and ground to life. The iron forms crushed through the snow, blazing a trail toward the city as hundreds of vampires dove at them. One of the Galahads lifted its arm, and whirring gears raised multiple copper tubes from the forearm casing. With a snap and a spark, massive flames burst forth, enveloping the vampires. The creatures fell back screaming, their clothing and hair and flesh ignited. They careened into each other, and plummeted smoldering to the ground.

  Four spearhead tanks let loose a salvo of rockets at the city walls. Red streaks flashed over white earth until they impacted on ancient stone unprepared for modern explosives and erupted in fire and wreckage. Through the smoke it was clear the wall was shattered. A second round of rockets obliterated it, creating a gap of nearly one hundred yards. The walking giants drove on, unstoppable objects plowing through snow and bone.

  The Galahads attracted the attention of the greatest part of the defending packs. Vampires collected in the air over the metal men, diving and striking, then rising. Others scrambled on the frozen ground, like dogs attacking a bear, even climbing onto the iron frames. Many of those vampires met with steel limbs given unbelievable strength by rapidly firing pistons and ratcheting gears.

  The infantry squares fought hard to keep up with the tanks, even as countless vampires dove among them. Pikes swept the air, attempting to block the drifting creatures from getting within deadly arm’s length. Gunfire blasted the vampires, but killing shots were rare. The monsters took bullet after bullet, and still knocked the pike blades aside, striking soldiers from above or settling to their feet and leaping like leopards among the soldiers. Once several creatures penetrated the outer edges of the square, men panicked and fired among their own ranks, or swung swords wildly, as likely to strike their comrades as the vampires. Still, sheer firepower allowed the humans to hold off the mass of the enemy, and struggle forward amidst smoke and blood and screams.

  Anhalt glimpsed the sight he was expecting but dreading. The first Galahad had just reached the smoking wreckage that had been the wall, and it stopped dead in its tracks, billowing white smoke. Its chemical fuel was spent. Vampires fell upon the motionless heap, toppling it, trying to get at the human trapped inside the heavy steel container. Then one by one, the lumbering tanks shuddered and halted on the field of battle, leaving a desolate field of frozen statues among the dead and fighting.

  “With me! Make for the city!” Anhalt yelled, spurring his horse ahead of his men, leaping over one of the motionless Galahads lying on the blood-soaked ground. For a brief second, Anhalt locked gazes with the horror-struck Katangan trapped inside. Then he was past, galloping to Grenoble. Troops rallied with him, surging forward with their commander, screaming victoriously as they clambered over the rubble and entered the enemy city for the first time.

  Vampires were waiting for them.

  Anhalt didn’t stop. His mare bowled into them. She neighed sharply in pain but obeyed her rider’s commands. The general cleared a path for those coming behind. Time slowed and everything around him was as if stuck in a mire. Only he was moving. He howled a battle cry and jabbed forward, twisting and cutting at every fanged shape with his Fahrenheit saber, whose chemical coating burned. Pain actually registered in the wide eyes of the vampires who drew back. Anhalt had no idea if he was alone or surrounded by his men, but he would not stop. He only knew he had to push the line. Kill vampires.

  His arm was numb with the continuous effort of driving at the creatures. He was covered in as much blood as his smoldering blade; he was slick with it, screaming a challenge like a man obsessed. He killed and went forward again. Then something struck his head and he fell back against the mare’s haunches, barely keeping his stirrups and his weapon.

  He tried to right himself while the horse careened into bodies. When he saw three vampires swooping at him from above, he knew he was lost. He couldn’t raise the saber in time, and his pistol was long since spent. His angle was too awkward, and he was unable to do more than watch his demise approach.

  A burst of rapid gunfire brushed his hair, and the vampires disintegrated in a spray of blood and bone. Anhalt twisted to see his savior, a palsied Galahad approaching with faltering steps.

  With a shout, he saluted the man inside and brought his mare back under control. Then the machine gun on the tank rattled through empty chambers, its ammo at last spent; its fuel would not be far behind.

  Anhalt slashed with his saber at monstrous faces all around him. Soon all ammunition would be spent. The ordnance of sinew would have to hold out until the empress made her play.

  ADELE HAD BEEN in one other vampire city in her lifetime. She tried not to think about the horrible things she had seen in London, though she knew she would see them again in Grenoble. Vampires turned every city into a cemetery.

  Once-bright-red roof tiles lay in shattered rings around the buildings, torn loose by the claws of vampires perching and crawling. The windows and doorways lay bare and open to the elements with nothing but detritus inside. Adele could see the once-regal beauty of exquisite architecture still outlined in the crumbling façades. Framed against the majestic Alps the city still struggled to maintain its dignity. Balconies of stone and metal had collapsed on once-splendid buildings. In the distance she could see the points of rotund towers, so typical of the region. Beside them, Adele and Gareth strolled past pedestals that once held statues but now stood like silent soldiers.

  In gruesome contrast, a tableaux of morbid humanity lay frozen on the streets, stiff from ice and death. The bodies were covered in a light dusting of snow for which Adele was grateful because the cold masked the stench and blanketed the horror of what it meant to be under the yoke of vampire persecution. All the cadavers were naked, their clothing likely put to good use by the living. Stepping over a pile of bones, her foot slipped on slick, icy stones. She reached out to catch herself, and almost struck a passing vampire before she jerked her hand away and grabbed a snapped gas lamp. To her relief, the creature sensed nothing.

  A few humans gathered inside stone buildings, huddled around fires. Some glanced curiously at her, but didn’t react. There were far fewer people milling around than she would have expected. As the cacophony of gunfire increased in the western quarter of the city, she suspected that the vampires had gathered their food somewhere to make sure none revolted or ran toward the Equatorian lines.

  Gareth resisted glancing toward her and instead marched forward, trusting that she was near him. Adele admired his willpower. She wasn’t sure she would be so resolute were their positions reversed.

  The rolling waters of the Isère appeared before them, and though Gareth could have easily lifted off and floated to the other bank, he took a longer route to a footbridge. Adele had to come off the line slightly so they could cross the gurgling river. She redoubled her concentration to maintain her cover. She felt the connection strengthen again as they approached the medieval church of St. Laurent, made of typical whitish stone and red tiles. The old structure lay in less disarray than the rest of the city. Adele’s route lay through the courtyard of the church and then up a steep mountain path to the Bastille,
which loomed dark and misty in the drifting snow. The great walled fort on the mountain had been built over a rift, due to humanity’s latent attachment to the Earth’s power. It was also the home of clan leader’s court.

  Gareth hissed a warning and Adele started as shadows passed over the frosty stones at her feet. She glanced up and saw ten or more vampires circling overhead like a murder of crows. They had peeled off a larger group heading toward the battle when they had noticed Gareth, a stranger in a city under siege.

  Adele took one more step near the church grounds, and the power beneath it swelled within her. It pushed at her barriers hungrily, and it took all her willpower to hold it in check.

  “I need a moment,” she whispered urgently, her voice rough with effort.

  Gareth stepped closer and then away again as he could feel the discomfort of her presence. “What’s wrong?”

  “Too much. It’s overwhelming. I can barely hold it in.”

  “You must!”

  Gareth looked up at the vampires descending toward them, and Adele immediately knew what he was contemplating.

  “No! You can’t win against all of them. I can hold this. I just need time.”

  Gareth tensed and then stepped away from Adele, veering from the church. The vampires landed, encircling him. All of them wore the festooned wardrobe of soldiers, a mix of different styles and periods, but all military in design. Their very physique was different from the three at the gate. All muscle and attitude. They challenged Gareth in their native dialect. It always sounded so guttural and harsh to Adele’s ears.

  Gareth responded to their call in French. “I am Prince Gareth of Scotland, son of Dmitri of Britain, and I’ve come to see King Vittorio before this city falls to the humans clawing at your doors.”

  Gareth could play the haughty prince nearly as well as his brother, but with far less embellishment. The gathered vampires stared past Gareth’s long form and Adele tensed, wondering if they could see her. Then they stated the obvious, as if it were a joke. “You are alone.”