by Avell Kro
years.”
“Silence, fool.” The blood-drinker snarled. For the briefest moments the glamour upon her failed,
and I saw her viper fangs and ash grey skin hanging in folds around her cadaverous form. A blink
later the glamour returned, and she was once again a voluptuous redhead, her ample charms
barely concealed by the silken robe. Ulthvarr didn’t react, which led me to believe he hadn’t seen
her true form, but he kept his weapon up. I hoped this meant that he wasn’t entirely beguiled by
his erstwhile comrade’s unnatural athleticism. “As you can see, old friend, not only am I not in
trouble, but I’ve been rejuvenated. I feel better than I’ve felt in years.”
“What happened?” Ulthvarr asked again as he backed a few more feet towards me.
She threw a sheet over the body on the bed. Her claws were gone, replaced by delicate pink
fingernails. “The same thing that happens to all of us. I got old.My knees started to give out, my
back, my eyesight, you know how it is.” The barbarian grunted in agreement. “I had to keep
working, keep taking the coin of every petty baron and weakling prince just to keep body andsoul
together. And then I met someone who gave me the gift of immortality. That’s why I brought you
here.”
“I don’t understand,” Ulthvarr said as he backed towards the door.
“She’s offering you the gift of immortality,” I said as I also began to make a surreptitious retreat.
This situation could go wrong for me in so many ways, I had to laugh.
“The beast is correct. Look at you, Uli. You’re old, soft, going grey. I’ll bet your eyesight is failing
and your prodigious strength. Now, look at me.” She opened her robe. Ulthvarr’s eyes widened.
“I’m as old as you and yet I have the body of a woman half my age.”
“I bet she keeps it under the bed,” I side-mouthed,but the barbarian wasn’t listening to me, he was
too busy ogling his dead comrade.
“Join me, old friend. Together we’ll find the other Ferrics who yet liveand we shall ride again.” She
smiled. I was no sorcerer, but I could feel magic thicken the air as she tried to bend his mind to her
will which was probably not the most challenging spell she’d ever cast. “Put the ax down, Uli. You
don’t need it, we’re comrades.” He looked at the weapon like he was surprised to see it in his
hands. I took another half step back. His arm shot out and blocked my path to the door. The blood-
drinker nodded. “I’m so glad you brought a friend. I would have preferred a hot-blooded human, but
given the circumstances, a warspawn will do.” She prowled towards us.
I decided that I’d stab the big, hairy bastard and while she was lapping up his claret, I’d run like hell.
He raised his ax, halting her in her tracks. “Tell me, Mur, why did you send for me? I know we had
that, er, thing in Kandandooran, but that was a long time ago. Why me?”
“Because you’re strong and brave.” A slow smile spread across her face. She shivered, pul ed her
gown tight across the fulsome curve of her breasts. “And because of that thing that happened in
Kandandooran.”
The big ox smiled stupidly. I couldn’t let this go unchallenged, not unless I wanted to be their
reunion meal. “Hey, Uli, listen. You might not be the only one she’s sentfor. For all you know those
boxes in the cellar might be full of your comrades. Maybe she just knows you lot will come running
for old times’ sake. Or maybe she’s just too fucking lazy to hunt down her prey and would rather it
came to her.”
She snarled at me, hate shining in her red-rimmed eyes. “Don’t listen to that animal, Ulthvarr. You
know me. We’ve fought side by side, we’re Ferrics.”
He lowered the ax. Murai allowed herself a little smile of triumph and resumed her slow prowl.
“Think of it, Uli. No more aches and pains, no more growing old and slow. Eternal youth will be
yours.”
He nodded slowly. I prepared to open his throat. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over the decision to kill
him, given that it looked like he was fixing to slay me. However, there was something in the way he
looked at me in that moment that stayed my hand. Instead of stabbing him I ducked, and he hurled
his ax at the blood-drinker. She seemed surprised but reflexively slapped the great weapon aside as
it arced towards her head. Black blood sprayed across the gauzy drapes and she let out an
unearthly howl as her severed fingers tumbled through the air.
“Run!” Ulthvarr shouted entirely unnecessarily as I was already pounding down the corridor ahead
of him.
Chapter Five
I didn’t stop running until I reached the abandoned village and even then, only because Uli had
fallen behind. He eventually caught up, panting and red in the face.
“You… left… me,” he said andcollapsed, gasping for breath.
“No, you failed to keep up. But let’s not dwell on who left who. Did your friend fol ow you?” I asked
although I saw no sign of the infernal harridan on the trail. Ulthvarr shook his head by way of
answer and gulped air like it was the most excellent wine.
A few minutes later he’d recovered enough to sit up, whereupon he put his head in his hands. “Oh.
Murai.”
“Yes. Murai. Indeed.”
“I don’t know how it happened?”
“Wel , sirrah, I’m no expert, but I believe that discourse with an infernal being is required, wherein
a deal of some kind is struck,and power is bargained for a service, or perhaps given on a whim.”
He looked askance. “How the hell do you know that?”
“My mother’s a sorcerer.”
“Ah. Right.” He got up, dusted himself down. “She was my friend. My comrade, my blade sister
and—”
“And now she’s a blood-drinking infernal.” He glared at me. “Don’t give me the evils. I’m not the
lackwit who made a deal with a demon.”
“She must have been tricked into it.”
“You believe that if it makes you feel better.”
“It doesn’t. My friend is lost to evil. Gods’ know how many innocents she’s slain.”
I drew my dagger and picked some filth from under my claws. “Aye, ’tis tragic, there being such a
shortage of humans and all. Anyway, as much as I would love to discourse with you on the matter, I
must be going. I take it you’ll be heading back to slay her, perhaps find that beautiful death you’re
so looking forward to?”
He looked aghast. “Sweet Salvation, fuck that.” He shook his head vigorously. “Oh, no, no.”
“No?”
“Do you take me for a lack wit?”
“Certainly not. I took you for a mighty warrior, fighting for honor and glory and all that shi… stuff.”
“None of that stuff involves having my blood drunk by a demon, even if the demon used to be a friend. I’m not as young as I was and even then, this is too much.”
I changed my estimation of the fel ow. It turned out that he was brighter than he looked and yet a
part of me was disappointed that he wasn’t the grim, pebble-brained hero thatI’d taken him for.
Being heroic was undoubtedly a mug's game, but I felt that someone ought to do it. Alas, the
worldwas most likely populated by pragmatists, cowards, and liars— people like me.
“As we didn’t rescue Murai I think it only fair I keep hold of the coin,” Ulthvarr said, his hand
resting lightly on one of the
axes tucked into his belt.
I could have argued that a deal was a deal, but the only arbiter out here was steel. I didn’t want to
kill him over the matter, I quite liked the big, huffing lump and I also didn’t want to risk being
killed by him which was always a possibility when events turned sharp and pointy. Happily for me
I knew of more than one way to skin a barbarian.
“I understand entirely, Uli,” I said with a smile. “Come, friend, let us embrace and bid each other a
fond farewell. We are comrades born out of circumstance rather than of choice, but we are
comrades nonetheless.”
“Aye.” He beamed, eating the flattery like a plate of honey pancakes. He wrapped me in his massive
arms. “If you’re ever in Grundvelt, come visit me,” he said without offering any means by which I
could find him.
“I shall,” I replied when he released me. “And thank you for seeing beyond these scales and fangs to
the person underneath.”
He planted his massive paws on my shoulders. “You are as human as I am and anyone who says
otherwise will have me to answer to.”
I inclined my head in a display of sham gratitude. It was all an act fashioned to buff his ego. I could
hear him now, regaling bored listeners with the grisly tale of this day in whatever shithole,
farmers’ tavern he frequented back in Grundvelt. I’m sure he would paint himself the hero and I
wished him well in that endeavor. All I knew was that he’d have to borrow money if he wanted to
buy a round for his audience because while he’d been hugging the breath out of me, I’d been
extracting gold from him. Quick as a switch I’d cut the strap on his breastplate, slipped my hand
inside his coat, and palmed his coin pouch without him noticing anything was amiss.
With oaths sworn and farewells bade, I waved him goodbye and made a show of heading in the
opposite direction to that which I intended. When I was out of sight, I hunkered down to examine
my hard-won gains. My plan was to shadow the trail I’d taken to get here and then cut across
country. It would bring me closer to the patrols if they were still on the hunt, which I doubted, but
further away from the damnable keep and its thirsty occupant. I tipped the contents of the pouch
into my hand.
“You utter prick.” There were four gold crowns, three gold quarter bits, a couple of silver tals but
mostly copper pennies. About a year’s wages for a farm hand. I, however, was an upstanding
member of the Midnight Court with debts to pay. I counted them again, just to make sure and
cursed the lying snotpocket and all his descendants. I didn’t blame him for lying, I was more
annoyed at myself for taking him at his word. At least the gold chain I’d liberated from the crypt
made up for almost being killed by a blood-drinking infernal and swived by that hairy tosser. It was
then that a familiar sinking feeling hit me like a rock in the face. I patted my jerkin, and then, when
I couldn’t feel the reassuring bulge of thick, gold links I tore open the laces and rummaged through
my shirt pockets. Nothing.
The chain was too valuable to abandon, so I retraced my steps from the village to the bridge in the
hope that I’d dropped it during our mad flight.
I hadn’t, or if I had, I’d dropped it nearer the damnable keep or worse, inside.
“Bollocks.” This was a disaster. Not only would I get back to the Guild and the Mouse’s Nest days
late, but I would be returning as empty-handed as an honest beggar. I’d be a laughing stock,
mocked by my peers which would mean I’d have to kill one of them to save face and re-assert my
position, and that would be a damn shame. If I wanted to avoid the slight and thereby save the life
of one of my comrades, I reasoned there was only one thing I could do. I’d have to sneak back into
the blood-drinker’s keep and rob the dead. I wouldn’t go near her boudoir, where I guessed she’d be
holed up for a while nursing her wounds. I’d stick to plundering the crypt, where I knew there
were rich pickings to be had. Why, the gold and gems on the waxed mummy alone would cover my
debts with plenty to spare.
Being a greedy cove, the more I thought about it, the more I warmed to the idea, and the more the
memory of the undead wench receded. My greedy little mind pictured sneaking in all nice and
quiet, robbing the dead, and fleeing beforeshe knew I’d returned. After all, why would she loiter in a
cel ar? What kind of fool would return to a place from where they’d just escaped the claws of
death? Being somewhat of an optimist, it didn’t take long to convince myself that this was a
brilliant plan.
***
Much to my surprise, no one had bothered to lock the doors behind us. I’d half expected the trap to
be reset like a spider’s web, primed for the next victims, a fact that in hindsight should have
encouraged me to greater vigilance. Hindsight, eh?
By the time I returned, the dead insects had been devoured save for their heads which lay scattered
across the floor. I tiptoed around them and into the crypt. It was full dark now, the lights having
either been spilled or blown out by the gale that was howling through the undercroft. Darkness
didn’t hinder me. I could see almost as well in the inky black as in daylight, andas I’m an
avariciouscove, I’d learned the knack of picking out the faintest glint of gold and the slightest
twinkle ofa precious stone even in such a benighted pit as this mausoleum.
The wax-coated corpse was where we’d left him, spread around his tomb. It was a mess, but all I
had to do was pick through the pieces, divest fingers and ears of rings, his waist of the remnants of
his jeweled belt, and retrieve the golden links from the neck chains that the lying oaf had smashed to scrap.
By the time I was done,I’d accumulated enough chink to pay my debts with some to spare. As I
stuffed the loot in the barbarian’s discarded bag, the wind shifted just enough to save my life. The
instant that the hot stink of fetid blood and rotten flesh tickled my nose I dropped and rolled,
discarding the bag as claws sliced the air where my head had been.
“I expected Uli, not you.” The blood-drinker said as she dropped from the ceiling. She hadn’t
bothered to disguise her true self this time. She was grey and had a distended maw and fingers
like knives, at least some of her fingers were like knives. Her right hand was just amangled, bloody
stump missing four of its five digits. “I thought warspawn had more sense.”
“I’l have you know that we can be just as stupid as humans.”
“In your case at least.”
“What can I say? I’m special. You look different. Have you done something with your hair?” I tried
to keep her distracted as I stood with the tomb between us. “Your mate Uli said he never wanted
to see you again.”
“Liar.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, madam, honestly. I called him a cur and said he was an ingrate for spurning
your generous offer. “I never want to see that mangy corpse-fucker as long as I live,” he said as true
as I’m standing here.”
Rather than buying me time to work out how I was going to escape, my little lie incensed her. She
leaped at me, horribly fast, despite her injury. I drew my blades and had to use all of my not
inconsiderable speed and skill to hold off her frenzied assault. More by
luck than judgment I
avoided her raking claws which struck sparks from steel when we clashed. She jumped up onto the
tomb and lashed out again.
I leaped back and hit the wall. The rotten wood of a coffin crumbled under the impact of my
shoulder, releasing more noxious gas into the stagnant air. Muraicrouched on her haunches and
pounced. I parried her functioning hand but didn’t dodge the kick in the gut. Had she caught me
with her claws I’d be tripping over my intestines instead of merely gasping for breath, so I
suppose I should have counted myself lucky.
Before I could recover,she was on me, lunging for my face. I made to stab her in the stomach, but
she dodged aside and grabbed my wrist. This was bad. She squeezed and had I been human she
would have crushed the bones. As it was, they ground together, trapping tendons and forcing me
to release the sword. I swung my remaining blade, intent on cutting the demonic wench in half, but
she pinned my arm against the wall with her bloodied stump.
“Can’t we talk about this?” I enquired hopefully.
“I play with my food, I don’t talk to it. Such a pity warspawn taste like shit, but I’ll choke you down.”
Her snakish tongue lolled from her mouth, quested towards my face.
“You don’t have to eat me, sweetling,” I said and drove my knee into her gut as hard as I could. “You
just have to kiss my arse.” Her grip on my wrist slackened. As she folded, I punched her in the face.
It felt like I’d hit a wall, but her head snapped back, and she staggered sideways releasing her grip
on me. I dived in the opposite direction, rolled to my feet, and ran for the stairs. Behind me, I could
hear her claws scrabbling furiously, like a mad scribe writing my epitaph on the cold stone.
Thus encouraged, I put on a burst of speed and pelted for the crumbling arch. As I drew closer a
patch of shadow resolved into the familiar, blocky outline of the barbarian. The creak of sinew and
the angle at which he was holding his arms told me he was drawing a bow.
“Down,” he shouted. I dropped and skidded beneath his arm. He let fly at the blood-drinker. The
arrow took her in the chest and punched her off her feet. She gave a strangled yelp, flipped
backwards, and landed on her face, finally as dead as she should have been. Ulthvarr knocked