by Amy Cross
I pause, aware that I should not be listening but, at the same time, unable to tear myself away.
“Of course,” Keller continues, evidently having heard a reply. “I truly believe she will surprise you and get the information from the vampire, but if she does not...”
He waits, listening to Father's voice in his head.
“Absolutely, Your Highness,” he adds after a moment. “I humbly suggest that things will not come to pass in that manner, but if they do, then I shall have no hesitation in killing her and then I shall use other means to extract the information about Karakh. On that, you have my word as your loyal servant.”
With tears in my eyes, I realize that Father wants him to kill me if I fail.
“I shall report back to you soon,” Keller continues, before bowing. “I'm sure -” Suddenly he turns and notices me, and I can see the shock in his eyes. “Yes, Your Highness,” he adds. “As do I.” He pauses, before taking a step toward me. “I was just speaking to your father, Emilia -”
“I know,” I reply, determined not to cry. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to listen, I just -”
“I told him that I have faith in you,” he says, interrupting me, “and that his fears, while understandable, will prove to be unfounded. That's all I can do. The rest is up to you. If you fail, not only will he punish you, but he will never listen to my advice again. I hope, Emilia, that you will prove me right.”
I nod, still shaken by the thought that Father would end my life if I didn't deliver what he wanted. At the same time, I know Father values strength above all other qualities, so perhaps I should not be so surprised.
“Emilia,” Keller continues, “you must not let yourself feel -”
“I should go,” I reply, turning and hurrying along the corridor. “I have to get back to work. The vampire must give up his secrets and then die.”
Keller calls after me, but I ignore him and hurry down the steps that lead to the chamber. I feel as if I'm on the verge of breaking down into sobs, and that's something I can't possibly let anyone see. Stopping at the door, I take a deep breath and try to compose myself, and slowly I feel all the shock and sorrow twisting in my soul and becoming something else, something more useful. If Father really doubts me, then I only have one option. I must prove him wrong.
“Hello, Jonathan,” I say as I step into the next room. “I've come to end your misery.”
Abby Hart
I try to strike back, to slice the blade across his face, but somehow he manages to kick my legs away and send me crashing to the ground. I drop my sword in the process, and when I reach out to grab the hilt he steps on my arm, pushing down until I let out a cry of pain. I try for the sword with my other hand, but just as I wrap my fingers around the blade he takes the hilt and pulls it away, slicing my palm.
Again, I cry out.
“How about now?” Absalom asks, standing over me in the courtyard behind his home. “Are you finally willing to admit that you don't know everything?”
“Are you willing to admit that I'm still not even at half strength?” I hiss, trying to wriggle my arm free. “I'm still injured!”
“You don't get to choose when you fight,” he replies, moving his boot away and finally allowing me to grab the sword. “There's no concept of honor or fair play in these battles, Abby. You're good, but you're not good enough, not yet. You're undisciplined and reckless. I blame myself to some extent, I should have forced the issue and made you start training sooner. If this was a real fight, I'd have had your head off by now.”
“Wouldn't be the first time,” I mutter darkly.
“I could have killed you five times over.”
“You think you're that good, huh?” I ask, getting to my feet and trying not to let him see that I'm hurt.
“I fought on the plains of Gothos,” he continues. “That counts for something.”
“But you survived,” I reply, hoping to anger him and force him into a mistake. “How did that happen? Did you just hang back and let everyone else do the fighting?”
A flicker of irritation crosses his face. “You don't know what you're talking about.”
“I know the odds of survival were a million to one,” I continue. “I know some of the greatest warriors died, and you really don't strike me as a great warrior.”
“Fair point. I never said I was great, just that I'm better than you.”
I take a step toward him with my sword raised. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
He laughs.
Lunging at him, I almost manage to strike his belly before he knocks my arm and disturbs my balance, sending me crashing down yet again. This time, any pain I feel is swamped by a rising sense of anger at my own failures.
Not just anger, either.
Humiliation too.
“I always thought I'd die on the battlefield,” Absalom continues, making his way around me with the tip of his own sword just inches from my face. “I was certain of it, I still don't know how I managed to survive in all that chaos. I can assure you, Abigail Hart, I wasn't trying to save my own life. I was fighting as hard and as furiously as the rest of them, and not a day has gone by that I haven't wondered why so many died while I remained standing.” He stops in front of me, with the blade nudging the tip of my nose. “I still feel that I'll die on a battlefield, even though the battles are over.”
“You almost sound as if you miss the days of war,” I point out breathlessly.
“I absolutely miss it,” he continues. “I was born to fight, it's the only thing I'm good at. You have no idea how much I hate wearing a suit, spending my days talking and studying instead of being out there fighting. Hell, there's even a part of me that would welcome the return of the spiders if it meant I could get back to combat. I wouldn't want anyone else to suffer, of course, but I only feel like I'm really myself when I've got a weapon in my hand.”
“I need to be like that,” I whisper. “I need to be like you.”
“Then you need to embrace your vampire side,” he replies, “because your human side just won't cut it.” He pauses. “Do you know how many spiders I killed during the war?”
“How many?”
“None.”
I frown.
“The real spiders, the big spiders...” He pauses again. “They're deadly, Abby, and almost impossible to kill. In all of recorded history, no vampire has ever managed to kill more than three. Well, there are some who say your father Patrick might have managed four, but that count is unconfirmed. The point is, with their razor-sharp legs and their venom sacs and their plated bodies, the spiders are formidable opponents. I fought well and I fought hard, but I still never managed to kill one. I wounded a few, sure, and I slowed them down, and I helped others to kill, but... If you're going to stand a chance, Abigail Hart, you need to be a much, much better warrior than I ever was. And so far, you're not even close.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to work out how I'm going to strike at him. I'm sure he's anticipated everything I can think of, so I need to come up with something else, something that'll take him completely by surprise.
“Are you thinking?” he asks with a smile. “Big mistake, Abby. You should just act. Go on, strike at me.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” I mutter.
“I'm waiting,” he continues. “What are you waiting for? For me to make a mistake? For me to drop my guard? You need to win this fight because of something you do, Abby, not because of an error on my part.”
Taking a deep breath, I know that he's right.
“So?” he adds. “What are you -”
Before he can finish, I use my sword to knock his arm aside and then I get to my feet, spinning and slashing at him several times. He steps back, defending well but clearly on the back-foot. For a moment I think I've finally got him, and when I push him back a little further I can see a hint of concern in his eyes. Trying not to over-think things, I strike at his chest, only for him to block me and push me back with a grunt. He swings high, forcing m
e to duck, but in the process I'm able to shift my balance and aim for his torso. Just when I'm about to strike, however, he slices down and cuts the side of my hand with his blade, carving a thick gash that sends me staggering back with blood flowing down to my wrist.
He looks pretty pleased with himself.
“Abby,” he says, stepping closer, “I -”
And that's when I strike, flashing the blade toward him and striking his face. I don't even see what happens, not at first; everything's a blur as I feel my sword cutting through his flesh, and then I pull back in time to see him clutching his cheek and muttering a few curse words. He turns away for a moment, with blood spattering down onto the flagstones beneath our feet, and when he turns back to me I see with a sense of shock that I cut not only his cheek but also his left eye, slicing straight through the pupil.
“That,” he hisses, “stings!”
“It'll heal,” I reply, unable to stifle a faint smile.
“Yeah, laugh it up,” he mutters, grabbing a towel and dabbing at the wound. “Just don't make the mistake of thinking you've progressed, because you haven't. You're still as chaotic and amateurish as ever.”
“I guess that was a lucky shot, then.”
“Yes!” he shouts, before letting out a grunt of frustration. “Damn it, you really think you achieved something, don't you? One freak hit and you're full of confidence.”
“I think I'm getting better,” I reply, checking my watch. “Five hours down, nineteen to go. There's still some more room for improvement, so let's get started again.”
“Oh, we'll get started,” he mutters, setting his sword down, “but we're done warming up. I think it's time to give you a real test. This way.”
“But -”
“This way!”
Amused by the fact that I've managed to annoy him, I follow as he leads me into his house and then down the steps in the far corner. I've never been to the basement before, but the steps twist and turn as they go deeper and deeper, until finally we stop in a stone chamber.
“Nice wine cellar,” I mutter, “but how is this going to help me save my brother?”
“You're getting cocky,” he replies sternly. “You think you're good, but you're not.”
“Your eye says otherwise.”
“I'm nothing,” he hisses, “compared to what you're going to face if you go after the spiders. What we did just now was a parlor game. If you think you're remotely impressive, you're wrong.”
“So help me get better,” I reply, starting to find his constant negativity a little draining.
“Through that door,” he mutters, pointing toward a wooden door set into the far stone wall. “Go on, I dare you. If you manage to hold your own in there for even ten seconds, I'll be surprised.”
“What's in there?” I ask cautiously.
“Something that's a lot tougher than me.”
“But...” Pausing, I realize that maybe things are moving a little too fast. Still, I can't back down now, so I take a step forward with my sword still in my bleeding right hand. “Can't you give me a clue?”
“If you knew what was in there,” he replies, “you'd never go in.”
I turn to him.
“Is it safe?” I ask.
“No.”
“Could I...” I pause for a moment. “Could I die?”
“You're supposed to die at Karakh,” he replies, “but... Yes, you could die in that room. Fear alone might even do the trick. If by some miracle you make it out alive, let's see if you're still so keen to lecture me on the meaning of war and survival.”
Taking a deep breath, I tell myself that I have to face this. Absalom leads me toward the door, and I can sense that he's in no mood for jokes.
“But if the prophecy says I'll die at Karakh,” I point out, “then I can't die here, can I? It's almost like a guarantee that I'll be fine so long as I stay clear of Karakh.”
“Is death really the worst thing you can think of?” he asks, unbolting the door and pulling it open to reveal darkness on the other side. “If it is, I pity your lack of imagination. There are far, far worse things that death, Abby. You really need to get your priorities straight, or one day you might find yourself pleading for a death that'll never come.”
Staring ahead into the darkness, I realize I can hear something rattling, like a chain against the stone floor.
“Any lights?” I ask, trying to delay the moment when I finally have to go inside.
“Once the door is shut. If you could see what you're about to face, you'd never dare go through.”
Taking a step forward, I listen to the sound of the chains and realize I can hear something else, like a kind of slow, heavy scratching sound. The air in the room is noticeably cold, and as I make my way through the doorway I can't shake the feeling that something large is waiting, something -
Suddenly the door slams shut, leaving me in darkness.
“Hey!” I shout, turning and trying to open the door but quickly finding that it's locked. I know I shouldn't panic, I know that's exactly what Absalom wants me to do, but it still takes a moment before I manage to get my nerves under control. Hearing the sound of something creaking over my shoulder, I turn and look into the darkness, and for the first time I start to realize that I'm in a large chamber. Whatever's in here with me, though, it's clearly not too close. I tighten my grip on the sword and take a step forward, firmly aware that I can't be seen to back down.
Somewhere in the darkness, there's the sound of bones creaking.
“Hello?” I call out, my voice echoing all around. “Hey Absalom, what about the lights? I thought you said -”
Before I can finish, a single electric strip-light flickers into life high above me, and I find that I'm in a large stone-walled chamber that stretches at least fifty feet in every direction. Looking around, I'm immediately relieved to see that there's nothing here, but a moment later I see that a little further ahead there's a large pit taking up the farthest half of the chamber. Whatever's down there, it's starting to move more and more, and I can hear chains being dragged across the ground.
“Okay, Absalom,” I mutter, heading toward the edge, “I hope you don't think I'll -”
Stopping suddenly, I stare down in horror at the sight of a huge spider at the bottom of the pit, its body held in place by several thick chains. Too shocked for a moment to move, I watch as the creature struggles to get free, pulling at the chains as it twists first one way and then the other. The spider's central body is as big as a truck, and each of its eight legs is as thick as a man's torso, with thick razored edges. After a moment, I see the creature's eight eyes staring up toward me, and the spider immediately starts pulling even more tightly on the chains, as if it's infuriated by my presence. I guess that's its instinctive hatred kicking in.
Filled with fear, I take a step back.
“No,” I whisper, “this isn't possible, this -”
The sound of my voice seems to anger the spider even more, causing it to pull harder on its chains as the tips of its legs scrape against the stone walls.
“This can't be real!” I shout, looking around but seeing no sign of Absalom, not even a camera. “What do you think you're going to achieve with this? Do you think I'm stupid?”
Hurrying back to the door, I try the handle again, even though I know it's locked. The spider is fake, it has to be, but I can't keep my sense of panic under control any longer and I start furiously pushing against the door in a desperate attempt to get it open.
“Absalom!” I scream. “I'm not falling for this! You're not -”
Suddenly I hear the sound of a metal chain snapping, and I turn just in time to see one of the spider's huge legs rising up over the edge of the pit. A second later I hear the same sound again, as if in its fury the creature is starting to get free.
“This isn't real,” I whisper, trying to remind myself that I need to stay calm, even though my heart is pounding. “It's just a trick, it's -”
Two more chains snaps,
and another leg rises up from the pit, reaching about as if it's trying to feel for me.
“What is it?” I shout. “A robot? A hologram? Absalom, you -”
Another chain snaps, and this time the whole floor seems to briefly shudder as yet more legs rise up from the pit. Finally, I stare in horror as the spider's head comes into view, followed by the center of its body rising into view and finally I see its huge, smooth abdomen, pulsing as the venom sacs quiver with anticipation. The creature's eyes are fixed on me, as venom drips from its fangs and falls onto the stone floor. It raises its body slightly before starting to crawl forward, towering over me and widening the gap between its fangs as its eight black eyes keep me firmly in view.
“Absalom!” I shout, backing against the door. “You've made your point! I'm not ready! I can't do this, I'm not ready to face a spider yet!”
As one of the spider's legs reaches out toward me, I lash out with my sword, almost cutting the creature before it draws back slightly.
“You're not real,” I whisper, despite the tears in my eyes and the sense of pure panic that's rising through my body and threatening to rip me apart. “You can't be real! That's what he's trying to teach me. It's something to do with fear and -”
Suddenly the spider lunges at me, its two huge fangs slicing down and barely missing my chest. I duck out of the way, half-stumbling in the process but just about managing to stay on my feet as I try to avoid another of the beast's swinging legs. I swipe at the nearest leg with my sword, but I feel the blade sliding harmlessly across the thick, plated skin without leaving a mark at all. Before I can turn and try again, another leg bumps hard against the back of my neck, sending me tumbling forward until I land hard, dropping the sword in the process and banging my face against the stone floor.
I immediately haul myself up, just as the spider uses one of its legs to kick the sword away.
“No!” I shout, turning and staring in horror at the beast's eyes as it towers over me. Its fangs are still dripping venom, and there's the foulest smell coming from its body as it lunges toward me. Spotting the sword, I duck down, losing my footing slightly and righting myself with one hand against the ground. Feeling something wet on my palm, I realize I've accidentally touched a pool of venom, and a sharp pain shudders through my body as I duck under several of the spider's legs and grab the sword before rolling out of the way.