Unfortunately for me, the vampire still outmatched her in strength. That meant she had to be more nimble than it was—and after a few heartbeats of frantic battle, that meant she had to leap out of the way of a swipe, landing on the vampire’s other side.
It turned on me in an instant and pounced.
I shrieked—and not a noble battle-cry, either—and barely managed to leap to my left as its slashing claws sailed past. But now it had me backed up against the steep slope, with nowhere to run.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the natural wall that climbed up like a stair.
Nowhere to go but up.
I jumped atop the stone surface just as the vampire lunged, and it slammed bodily into the slope. Oku came flying from nowhere, snarling and yapping, and the vampire recoiled from the hound. Then Mag attacked, and the vampire screamed hatred at her as it retreated. But it, too, had nowhere to run other than the top of the wall.
It hopped up, still facing back down towards Mag. Suddenly my perch was far more dangerous than the ground had been. I edged towards the lip of the stone, readying myself to jump down. But the vampire spotted the movement out of the corner of its eye. It must have thought I was attacking, for it swiped at me again, forcing me a step back.
Three more steps up we fought that way, and now I was too high up the slope to jump down to the ground without risking a broken leg. Oku stood in front of Mag, trying to help but only, in fact, blocking her spear. And the vampire turned back and forth as it tried to pin one of us down, unable for the moment to do so.
My bow was useless with the vampire so close, and I drew my sword. But that proved to be even more futile. I swung, and for an instant I thought my strike would be true, for the vampire did not try to duck it. But that was only because it caught the sword in its hand instead. I felt the steel bite into flesh, but I did not lop the hand in half the way I would have a human’s. It only hissed at me through its pointed teeth, dragged the sword from my grasp, and tossed it over the ledge.
“Blast!” I cried, my hand outstretched futilely towards the sword as it fell to the ground some ten paces below.
And then I saw something.
The vampire swiped at Oku, who leaped back only to become tangled in Mag’s legs. She cursed as she spun, flipping over the dog, her green cloak flying about her.
But the moment’s distraction had given the vampire an opening. It stalked towards me, black eyes glinting in the moonslight.
“A fair hunt,” I said. “But I do not wish to grant you an easy meal.”
I leaped over the ledge.
“Albern!” screamed Mag.
The vampire roared and leaped after me. A fall from this height would likely kill me—but the vampire would survive, and it would have a meal waiting for it at the bottom.
But then I grabbed the thick, outthrust branch of the pine tree that I had spied from the ledge.
The vampire’s roar grew much louder, and then faded as it fell scrabbling past me.
I swung up and landed kneeling on the branch, slinging my bow off my shoulder and drawing an arrow in the same motion. I lined up the shot at the vampire, which was still falling through the air, and loosed.
The vampire landed. I heard nothing break, but the impact obviously winded it. Still, it looked up at the sound of the flying arrow, catching it in midair. It hissed up at me as it snapped the arrow between its dirty claws.
Then Mag’s spear struck it in the neck, flying straight through it and into the ground. The vampire’s eyes went wide with shock, even as a black corruption spread from the spear’s wooden shaft through its skin. It looked like rotting meat, but it spread as quickly as flame.
Around us, the woods settled to silence except for Oku’s throaty growling. I looked across the gap between the tree and the slope, and Mag looked back at me, panting.
“Sky above,” she said. “That was a fight.”
“It was,” I said. “What do you think of your helpless pet now?”
“Much the same,” she said. “After all, I still had to kill the thing.”
My lips formed a thin line. “Only because I distracted it.”
Mag chuckled. “That does seem to be what you are best at. Oh, do not look so offended, Albern. After all, we have a true pet now.” She pointed at Oku.
I sighed. “Just get back to the ground. It will take me a little longer to climb down.”
It did take me longer to reach the clearing than it took Mag, but not by much. When I joined her, she had already extracted her spear from the vampire’s corpse and was cleaning it.
“We should take the head,” I said. “Just to put Yue’s mind at ease about the truth of our words.”
“A good idea,” said Mag. “And mayhap now she will not look upon us with such disdain.”
“Mayhap,” I said. “Where did my sword land?”
Mag pointed. Then, as I went to fetch the blade, she took the vampire’s head off with one sweep of her spear.
We found the horses, who shifted nervously at the stench of the vampire’s corpse, and rode back through the woods towards the road that would take us to Lan Shui. As we emerged from the woods into the clearing with the farmhouse, I took one last look at the darkness beneath the trees.
Something within me was still uneasy. The forest held no answers, only menace—and now a vampire’s corpse. So why did I think I would not rest this night?
“It is irritating when you do that,” said Sun. “When you ask a question like that, and then the story turns in another direction. You already know the answer. Why are you asking me? You could tell me if you wanted to. You choose not to.”
“Hush,” said Albern. “Let me have my fun.”
PANTU PACED IN ONE OF the upper bedrooms of the Shade hideout. He strained to hear any sound of fighting, of struggle, in the town outside.
That was a ridiculous urge, and he knew it. Even if the vampire did strike tonight, it would do so in the fields, the farms, a long ways away from Lan Shui itself. He would never hear it.
If it did strike tonight. But mayhap it would not.
Tonight was the night. Tonight was the test. Come morning, he would know whether or not his mad scheme had worked—whether he had finally driven the vampire away from Lan Shui for good. He had been trying to sleep, hoping to wake to a bright and happy morning, but he could barely lie down, much less close his eyes.
A floorboard creaked on the first floor.
Pantu froze. As he stopped pacing, the floorboards beneath his feet gave another, louder creak.
Had he imagined the sound?
But no. Now he heard something else. Someone coming up the stairs.
Someone? Or something? He heard claws scrabbling on the wooden steps.
Claws. No. Not possible. Not here.
He burst out the door of the bedroom onto the second story landing. At the top of the stairs crouched a figure. But it was not the vampire that Pantu so feared. It was a cat, dark of fur with a white tail, like one would find in the mountains. Pantu knew the sight of it well—every child of the foothills knew of mountain lions.
Even as disbelief struggled to work its way through his mind, even as he tried to reason out how the beast got this far into the town, the lion pounced. It gave two great swipes of its claws. Pantu felt them slice into his flesh like daggers. He gasped, his chest laid open, and felt the alien, terrifying sensation of cool air on his insides.
He fell on his back, the mountain lion perched on his chest. Its amber eyes, pupils wide as coins, stared into his own.
And then the lion said, “You were the one who was supposed to die.”
Pantu blinked through the pain, through the darkness creeping in at the edge of his vision. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. He would wake. But then he realized the truth: the lion’s eyes were glowing. It was already partway through a transformation—it had already formed a human mouth with which to speak. As he watched, the transformation finished, and Kaita knelt over him, one hand on his t
hroat.
“Dellek should be alive,” she said. “All the others should be. Why are you the only one who survived? You are the weak one. The worthless one.”
Despite the terror, despite the knowledge of his own death, Pantu gasped out a laugh. Blood came with it. “Not so worthless. I have saved Lan Shui.”
Kaita hissed and narrowed her eyes. “You have saved nothing.”
“I completed the ritual,” said Pantu, wheezing. “Five magestones. It is finished now. The magic will drive the vampire away forever.”
He had expected Kaita to grow enraged, to storm at him, mayhap even to finish him off quickly. Instead, she only stared at him in amazement. And then she began to laugh. The laugh grew louder, ringing on and on, even as Pantu felt himself slipping into darkness.
Mag and I rode back to Lan Shui.
Though it was the middle of the night, we found many people awake and there to greet us. Yue stood among them, watching from the wall atop the south gate. Sinshi, one of the other constables, was there with her. The gate was closed, but as we rode up, Yue ordered it open before descending the stairs to meet us on the street.
“What happened?” she demanded, before we could even pull our horses to a stop.
“We fought the vampire,” said Mag simply. “We won.”
She cut the leather thong with which she had tied its head to her saddle and threw it into the street. The crowd recoiled and gasped. Yue’s hard features were pale. “I … how did you—”
Most of the faces in the crowd had turned worshipfully to us, and I quailed under their gazes. “I played but a small part. I merely distracted it so that Mag could strike the killing blow.”
“He almost killed it twice,” said Mag. “Indeed, he might have had more clear shots if I had not gotten in his way.”
I could see that Yue was growing frustrated with our modesty, and in the moment I agreed with her—at least when it came to Mag. I knew without a doubt that Mag could have defeated the creature alone, and that the same could not be said for me.
The small crowd now pushed in close around us, wanting to know more about the battle. Oku was nearly crushed against my legs by the press of people. He slipped through their legs and stepped away from the crowd, looking somewhat miffed.
As Mag, suddenly uncomfortable, tried to answer their questions, I looked over the heads of the crowd. There, near the back of the group, I saw the boy Pantu. He wore plain, grubby clothing, his face smeared with dirt. It looked as though he had been working all day. I hoped that meant he had at last found a more honest line of work. Beside him stood Dryleaf, one hand holding his walking stick and the other hand on the boy’s shoulder. The old man beamed a pleasant smile, his eyeline a bit to my right. But Pantu’s expression seemed strange—eager, but not as joyous as most of the other townsfolk.
I pushed past the crowd, which seemed preoccupied with Mag, and went to speak with the two of them. As he heard my footsteps approach, Dryleaf turned towards me.
“Is that Albern?” he said. “I imagine it could not be Mag, for it seems she has quite a following.”
“It is,” I said. “Greetings, Dryleaf. And to you, Pantu.”
Pantu gave a start, as though he was surprised to have been noticed, and ducked his head. Dryleaf chuckled and patted the boy’s shoulder.
“Do not mind him. He is only a bit shy. We heard what you did. This town will never be able to properly express its gratitude.”
“As I tried to tell them, Mag did most of the work, and all the hardest part of it,” I told him.
“I suspect you are underestimating yourself again, though I am sure the Uncut Lady fought admirably,” said Dryleaf. “But no matter. I am here for quite another reason. Pantu came to me. He said he had something urgent to tell you, and so I brought him here so that we could both wait for you to return from your hunt.”
I looked at Pantu in surprise. He ducked his head again. “Is that right? What is it, boy?”
His bulging eyes glinted up at me, though he hardly raised his head. “I think you should both hear it at once.” He hardly stuttered, as he had last time, and he did not whine.
“A moment, then,” I told him, and turned back towards the crowd surrounding Mag. Pushing my way through them, I put a hand on Mag’s arm and spoke quietly. “If you are done playing the grand hero, I think we should return to the inn. I could use a meal and a bath. And that boy Pantu wishes to speak with us.”
“Sky above, yes,” muttered Mag.
We excused ourselves from the crowd. They did not wish to see us go, but Mag got rather insistent, and then at last, Yue commanded them all to be off to their homes before she started making arrests. I gave her a final grateful nod before we left, but she stepped close for a final word.
“I will not deny my gratitude for your actions, nor your right to a warm meal and rest,” she said. “But I would speak with you again before you leave Lan Shui.”
“Why, constable,” I said, feigning surprise. “We would be honored. I thought you could not wait to be rid of us.”
Her familiar scowl returned. “We shall see if I end up changing my mind on that count.”
I laughed, and she stalked off. Mag and I went to Dryleaf and Pantu, who now stood alone on the torchlit street.
“Well?” I said. “Here we are. What do you have to say for yourself, boy?”
“And why have you said nothing before now?” said Mag sternly.
Pantu avoided our eyes again at that. “I … I am sorry for what happened before. I was too ashamed to come speak with you right away. But I realized you needed to know something. About the weremage.”
I tensed, stepping closer to him. “The one working with the Shades?”
He nodded. “Yes, that one. I know little about her—but I do know where she is going. She told all of us. She said her next destination was the town of Opara, in Calentin. They—the Shades—they are up to something there. She never said what it was, but it sounded important.”
The boy’s words struck me like a hammer blow between the eyes. Mag, too, suddenly wore a grim expression, though hers was mostly out of concern for me. My heart must have shown on my face, for Pantu looked at me curiously.
“What is wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Thank you very much for telling us this, Pantu. You did the right thing.”
He nodded and turned, heading off into the town. It was as if he had forgotten Dryleaf was there. But the old man did not seem to notice, much less mind, for he only kept beaming at the two of us.
“Do you see what I meant?” he said. “A good boy, if sometimes misguided.” He swallowed hard and put out a searching hand to shake. “Now then, ah … I understand I have the honor of addressing the Uncut Lady. Is that correct?”
Mag suddenly looked just as confused as she had seemed grim a moment ago. Without thinking, she took Dryleaf’s wrist and shook, frowning down at him.
“I … have been called that, yes. But please, call me Mag.”
“It would be my highest honor,” said Dryleaf. “Sky above, to think I should have lived to see you in person. Or, to meet you, I should say.” He gave a hearty laugh, and Mag gave a weak one as she tried to join him. “You are even better than in the stories.”
“You are very much too kind,” I told him. “Truly, I mean that. But come. Let us walk you back to the inn. It is late, and surely you are tired.”
Dryleaf frowned at me—not out of anger, but with a sudden, strong interest. “It is late, but I am hardly weary. You are trying to cut our conversation short. Why?”
I opened my mouth, trying to summon a lie. But above us, a raven called, and I looked up at it. The bird perched on the edge of a nearby building, staring at me unblinking. My nerves tingled, a sensation that crept up and down my limbs, leaving me anxious and wishing to move. Whatever lie I had been dreaming up fled my mind.
“Pantu’s words trouble me,” I told him truthfully. “If the Shades are truly in Calentin, and if they are plott
ing something there … well, I wish to find out what they are doing, and why, and then I wish to stop them as quickly as I can.”
“We should search their hideout,” said Mag. “We hardly had any time to investigate it, the last time we were there. And I do not think Yue will begrudge us a little look about the place now.”
“I would be surprised to find anything there,” I told her. “But for lack of any better ideas … yes, let us go. In any case, I wish to ride for Opara in the morning.”
“Agreed,” she said. Together we turned and set off down the street, but we had not gone two steps before Dryleaf, who I had entirely forgotten, piped up behind us.
“Wait!” he said. “Wait for me!”
I clapped a hand to my forehead. “Sky save me, I am sorry. Of course I will walk you back to the inn.”
“The inn?” said Dryleaf, stepping briskly up beside me. “Do not be silly. I will come with you. I would not wish to delay you for an instant, and it would be my great pleasure to accompany the Uncut Lady on one of her adventures, even such a small and uneventful part of the tale as this.”
I looked over my shoulder at Mag. She shrugged. “What harm could it do?”
“I will try not to take that as an insult,” said Dryleaf, his bushy eyebrows shooting skywards.
“Very well,” I told him. “It will be our pleasure to have your company.”
“Of course it will,” he said, beaming. As we set off together, Oku fell into step next to the old man, his tongue lolling to the side.
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