Spring Showers Box-set

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