There was a long moment of silence while Yue looked slowly between us and the cauldron in the center of the room.
“Very well,” she said at last. “But we will take additional precautions.”
“Such as what?” I said.
“They must be watched as they enter the town,” said Yue. “To make sure they do not deviate from the course you intend them to take. I will not invite them into Lan Shui, only to have them turn aside and rip open the homes of innocent villagers who will be unable to defend themselves.”
I glanced at Mag. “Constable, you have seen how quickly the beasts move. Mag and I cannot track them from the walls all the way back to this house quickly enough to try and defend it.”
“No, you will remain here,” said Yue. “Ashta and I will see to the safety of the town. I am sure some others will want to help, as well.”
“Your lives will be in grave danger if you do,” said Mag quickly. “You would do better to—”
“No,” said Yue, swiping her hand through the air like a knife. “This is my town. You may go through with this plan, but only if you do as I say. We may be at some risk, but we would rather face that danger than let others face it in our stead. And once I tell the townsfolk what you plan to do, I doubt you will be able to keep at least some of them from trying to help. Better to accept the help, if it cannot be turned away, and use it to ensure that as few lives are risked as possible.”
Mag could hardly argue with that. “Very well, constable,” she said. “I wish you would allow us to face this danger alone. But I thank you nevertheless.”
“And I, for one, do not wish to face it alone,” I said. “If that matters to anyone, which it does not seem to.”
Mag held forth her hand. It took a moment, but Yue grasped her wrist firmly. “Just make sure you kill the things.”
“We will,” I promised.
The rest of the day was spent in frenzied preparation. Yue and Ashta put word out through the town, and the folk of Lan Shui rushed to secure themselves in their homes. Of those who were physically fit to fight, many volunteered to take up arms against the vampires. Yue took most of these and stationed them throughout the town, to hide with the others and act as guards. If the beasts deviated from the path we had planned for them, these guards would be the first to respond. The rest, mayhap a dozen of the fittest townsfolk, were stationed between the walls and the house—the first line of defense if the vampires should turn aside from their hunt.
We finished our work just in time. The sun lowered in the west, its edge just beginning to slide beneath the top of the land spur. The warm day had begun at last to cool. Someone brought a cold meal to Mag and me at the Shade hideout, and Yue joined us there to eat. We sat on the ground outside the house, scraping the last of the food from our bowls with our fingers. While we ate, I noticed Yue giving us sidelong looks—though she did not seem as suspicious as she might once have been, which encouraged me.
“Is this what you do?” she said, as Mag discarded her bowl on the ground and I gave mine to Oku to lick clean.
“What?” I said, blinking at her.
“The vampires. The ones who used to live here, in this house. Is it your duty to seek out such things and end them? Are you some special sort of … of Mystic?”
Mag and I laughed, together, though we probably should not have done. “No, constable,” I said. “This is not something we do often—that we have ever done before, in fact.”
“What brought you here, then?” she said. “And do not give me the same lies you told when you first arrived. I have placed much faith in you today. I want a real answer.”
Mag and I exchanged glances. But truth seemed the only option.
“We come from the town of Northwood, as we said,” Mag told her. “Some weeks ago, it was attacked.”
Yue’s brows rose. “Like here?”
“No,” I said. “Not vampires. By an army. They call themselves Shades. The ones who dwelled here were their compatriots.” I jerked my thumb at the Shade hideout beside us.
“Who are they?” said Yue, eyeing the building.
“In truth, I know little of their aims, or where they came from,” I said. “That boy, Pantu—may he rest in the darkness—he told me they came from Calentin. All I know for certain is that they had a stronghold in the Greatrocks, until a wizard came and drove them out of it. Then they attacked Northwood in great strength and nearly razed it in revenge.”
“And when they did, they killed my husband,” said Mag softly.
Yue let a long moment of silence pass. “That is an ill thing to hear,” she said at last.
Mag pressed on. “There was a weremage. She led their forces in Northwood. She took the form of a lion and killed my Sten. And when they withdrew, she fled west into the Greatrocks. We followed her trail here to Lan Shui. We hoped to find her here, though of course now we know she left this place before we even came.”
“Yet you remain,” said Yue.
“Of course,” said Mag, shrugging. “We are not without a conscience.”
I smiled, and Yue appeared to hide a smirk. “Well. You should not have kept all this from me when you arrived,” she said.
“I suppose the King’s law would say so,” I said. “Would you have allowed us in if we had been honest?”
“Do you jest?” said Yue. “Of course not. Yet I suppose, after a fashion, that I am glad you came.”
“That is how latrine duty often works,” I said.
Yue blinked at me. “What?” she asked, while Mag tried hard to suppress her laughter.
“Nothing.”
Stars had begun to appear in the sky above. The moons had not yet risen, but I could almost see the glow of them in the east. I pushed myself to my feet.
“Time is nearly upon us,” I said.
“In my experience, time is always upon us, depending on what time you mean.” Yue got to her feet and held out her hand a final time. She took Mag’s wrist first, and then mine. “Do your best not to get killed tonight.”
“We will not,” said Mag. “You have made it clear to us how much trouble it is to get rid of bodies.”
“Not so much trouble,” said Yue. “The vampires will only be acting in self-defense, after all. Does that not excuse any amount of killing?”
I laughed at that. “Keep yourself safe as well tonight, constable.”
“I will try.”
She took off down the street at a trot, making for the gate where she would stand with the vanguard. Mag and I prepared our weapons and made ready for the night’s battle to come.
THE WOODS AROUND THEM HAD grown cold, and the fire had begun to burn low. Albern huddled farther under his cloak for warmth.
“Would you mind throwing some more wood on the fire?”
Sun shook herself and rose quickly. “Of course,” she said. “Forgive me for not noticing sooner.”
“Think nothing of it,” said Albern. “I think we both lost ourselves there for a moment.”
“I cannot imagine it,” said Sun, slowly adding logs to the fire. The flames swelled and crackled, and she relished their sudden warmth. “Sitting there in Lan Shui, knowing the vampires were coming and intending to face them head on. I think I would have died of fright.”
“Well, you must remember that we were hale and hearty youths in those days,” said Albern. “Much as you yourself are now.”
Sun could not help but laugh, though she quickly stifled the sound, which was far too loud in the silent forest. “I do not mean to be rude, but you were already a fair bit older than I am now.”
Albern frowned with mock severity. “I was barely past my fortieth year, thank you kindly.”
“And I have not quite seen my twentieth,” said Sun. “You will forgive me, but that is more than twice as old.”
“Ah, but life’s summer lasts long, and our leaves had not yet begun to brown—only to grey a little bit around the temples.” Albern’s eyes twinkled in the firelight.
“I
n any case,” said Sun doggedly, “that only proves my point further. You were grown, and warriors as well. I do not think I could sit and wait for such a creature to come for me. The fear would be too great.”
“Oh, I think you have a great deal of courage in you,” said Albern. “And I can tell by your walk and the strength in your arms that you are a warrior in your own right, even if you have not yet been tested.”
Sun could not help the blush that put in her cheeks, though she shook her head to try and dismiss it. “You cannot win an argument with flattery.”
“Oh? I seem to recall having done so before.” Albern scratched absentmindedly at his stump. “But I do not mean to flatter you. What you have said is the same thing everyone says, until they are thrown headlong into a fight. Some see it coming. Others never do. Either way, they come out the other side a warrior, or they do not come out at all. After you have seen it happen enough times, you tend to pick up a gift for knowing the outcome in advance. I would not say you were a warrior in the making unless I believed it.”
A feeling like a cold weight settled in Sun’s chest. “I wish I could believe that were true.”
Albern gave her a long, searching stare. “Sun, why did you come into my tavern tonight?”
Sun avoided his gaze. “You have not asked me any questions about myself,” she said quietly. “You said it did not matter who I was before I walked through that door.”
“You do not have to answer,” said Albern.
The little clearing settled to silence. For a long moment, Sun planned to do as he suggested, and remain quiet. But then, almost without meaning to, she began to speak.
“Ever since the War of the Necromancer, my family has been dishonored. You know … everyone knows how it ended. And most know how we have been viewed for our part in that ending. Now everyone in my family seems obsessed with regaining our honor.”
She fell silent for a moment. Albern had not removed his gaze from her. His hood cast shadows over his angular face. “That is not such an evil wish,” he said quietly.
“Except that they seem more interested in having honor than in doing honorable things,” said Sun. “They no longer want to be viewed as traitors, as cheats, as faithless scoundrels. Yet none of them seem willing to see why we are seen that way. They think they can reclaim their status by building alliances, by strengthening our trade connections, by amassing more power. To me, it seems that such actions are what brought about our dishonor in the first place.”
“I would tend to agree with you,” said Albern.
“They want me to act like they do,” said Sun. “They want me to want what they want. But I … I do not. I would rather do good deeds unpraised than receive accolades I know I do not deserve. Does … does that make sense?”
“It makes all the sense in the world,” said Albern. “And if the opinion of an old man matters to you at all, I think you have the right of it, Sun of the family Valgun.” He leaned closer to the climbing flames. “I think I had better carry on. We are nearing the end of the tale.”
Sun balked. “We are?”
“Oh yes.”
Sun could not help herself; she pouted. “I suppose I have no one to blame but myself,” she grumbled. “I had harbored a hope … well, you told me you were not giving the tale of your arm, but I thought that might be a ruse. I thought mayhap you were going to surprise me and tell the story I really wanted.”
“No, I am afraid I spoke only the truth,” said Albern. “And despite what I have told you earlier tonight, it is all the truth, though it did not always seem that way.”
“What do you mean?” said Sun.
“What I am telling you now is the truth as I know it now,” said Albern. “I thought the story was somewhat different when I was living it. And afterwards, I thought it was something else again. Whenever I give you a tale, I try to tell the truest version of it that I know at the time.”
“Humph,” said Sun, holding her hands out towards the fire. “I still think I would rather read a history book.”
“Who are you going to believe?” said Albern, smiling slightly. “Some scholar from your family’s court, or the man who lived the tale?”
“If I were to heed a wisdom I have only recently learned, I would not believe any of it,” said Sun, feeling almost ashamed at how good it felt to say the words.
Albern laughed. “An excellent riposte. But I have only my tale. Shall I finish it?”
Sun nodded.
Just after sundown, Mag and I entered the Shades’ hideout and descended to the basement. We rummaged through some of the cabinets along the walls and found several small packets of brown cloth. I untied one to find a collection of black crystals about as large as a finger. Magestones. Oku sniffed at them and growled.
“How many should we use?” I said.
“All of them,” said Mag.
I looked at her. “That might burn straight through the bottom of the cauldron.”
“I do not think we will have that long before the vampires reach us.”
“A heartening thought,” I said. “As you wish.”
We piled the magestones up under the cauldron and lit them. They caught the sparks easily, like dry leaves, but they burned with a black fire that immediately sucked light from the air. I hastily snatched my hands away from the flames.
“That will do it,” I said, edging backwards as waves of heat rippled across my body. “Let us return to the street.”
Together we ran up the stairs, weapons in hand, and stopped on the street outside. Mag stuck out a hand, and we gripped wrists.
“Let us become heroes,” she said.
“You have been one a long time,” I countered. “Tonight I might finally join you.”
“Fah.” Her grip tightened for a moment. “In earnestness—be careful. If you let yourself die, I may have to kill you.”
“And you as well,” I said. “Though I suppose you would have to let me.”
“I will,” she said. “But enough words. Climb, little squirrel.”
I headed around the side of the building. Oku started coming after me, but when he noticed Mag holding her position, he paused, looking between the two of us and whining.
“Kip, Oku,” I said. “Mag will need you more than I will, I think.”
“Kip, is it?” said Mag. “I will remember that when I want to get rid of him.”
I frowned at her until, with a disgusted expression, she scratched Oku behind the ears in apology. Then I left her.
Around the side of the house, the roof descended close to the street. I jumped, just catching the edge of it with my fingertips, and hauled myself up. From there I climbed until I was near the roof’s peak, where I knelt and readied my bow. I took half the arrows from my quiver and jammed them into the soft wooden shingles of the roof. Another I held loose in my right hand, ready to fire.
The sun had been down for nearly an hour when we heard them.
First there were cries of alarm from the north end of town. The guards on the walls had seen them. We had left the gates open. There was no point in closing them when the vampires could leap over them anyway.
The cries of alarm spread, coming from different directions but always moving south towards us. That was good. It meant the vampires were not stopping for anything, and none of the townsfolk had been drawn into fights. The battle would happen here, in the street in front of the hideout, as we had planned.
And then, at last, we saw them.
Two of the pallid, twisted, screeching creatures burst into sight at once, a distance down the street straight ahead. One had a narrow, jutting jaw and teeth that stuck out from between its lips, and the other had massive arms, thicker than my legs. For half a heartbeat they paused, sniffing at the air.
“Biter,” I called down to Mag, pointing to one and then the other, “and Shoulders.”
She glared up at me. “They are not pets.”
“Oh, come now. Would you not love to take one home?”
&n
bsp; The beasts focused on the door of the hideout, and on Mag standing before it. She hefted her spear. Oku bristled and growled.
The vampires screamed with fury and hunger as they charged.
My right hand moved in a blur, nocking, drawing, loosing. They did not expect the first arrow, but my aim was imperfect. The arrowhead nicked Biter in the arm, but no wood pierced its flesh, and it hardly seemed to feel it. After that they kept an eye on me, and they dodged every shot.
In no time they had reached Mag, and a deadly dance started on the street. By Mag’s side, Oku snapped and snarled as he tried to catch hold of Shoulders, but it moved too quickly. Mag slashed and weaved, looking for an opening. The vampires kept trying to push past her, attempting to reach the building, but she managed to stop them. Twice when they tried it, she scored a hit with her spearhead, but not deep enough for the wood to penetrate the skin.
In the space of a few moments, I realized I would not be able to get a clean shot from my position on the roof. I scanned the streets all around the building instead—when more vampires came, I would be Mag’s first warning. And the other townsfolk—not to mention the constables—should be coming soon, once the rest of the vampires arrived.
But in watching the streets, I forgot the rooftops.
I caught a flash of moonslight on Elf-white skin. That was the only warning I had before the vampire launched itself through the air, flying from the next rooftop onto my own. I managed to catch its wrists and keep its claws from sinking into my chest, but the momentum bowled me over. We tumbled back onto the rooftop, sliding down the wooden shingles, which shook me hard enough to jar my very bones.
At last I managed to tumble, kicking the vampire off me and slowing my headlong descent. I had my sword in hand before I got to my feet, and I fell back into a defensive position. My bow was up near the roof’s peak, useless, but I had a few arrows left in my belt quiver. Slowly I drew one, trying not to move suddenly and provoke an attack. The vampire hissed, but it hesitated, studying me through its beady black eyes. A mottled pattern of black spread across its face, outwards from the nose like someone had thrown an ink pellet straight between its eyes.
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