Song Of Fury (Gods Of Blood And Fire Book 2)

by A. J. STRICKLER

  He bared his fangs and stalked towards her. She swallowed hard, almost crying out when she looked into his feral eyes. He pounced on top of her and unceremoniously thrust himself inside her. She screamed out, part in pleasure and part in pain, as he plunged into her again and again. The sorceress’s eyes rolled back in her head. The wildness of his lovemaking washed over her in waves of rapture. Letting herself indulge in the carnality of the moment, she became lost in a world of ecstasy.

  Tragedy awoke in the early hours of the morning. Her legs ached and her breasts and thighs were bruised. She was exhausted but she felt more alive than she had in a very long time. Kian stood a short distance away, dressed only in a pair of leggings. It was easy to see the shame written all over his face. “Well, I hadn’t quite bargained on that, swordsman.” She stood and wrapped her robe back around her sore body. Running her fingers through her tousled hair, she gave a soft sigh. “You are more than you appear to be, Kian Cardan.”

  “Free me now. I have done as you asked,” he whispered

  She reached up and brushed his dark hair away from his face. “I will keep my word, even though I think I would like to keep you as my prisoner.” She touched the lock on his cell and the door swung open.

  Kian quickly pulled on his boots and what was left of his jerkin. “Which way do I go to get out of here?”

  “I will see you out of the fortress, but beyond that, there is nothing I can do.”

  “Just get me outside. I will do the rest.”

  “Follow me then.”

  She had led him though the dark corridors beneath the Circle's vast fortress and out into the early morning air. Only a hint of the sun could be seen on the eastern horizon. They were just beyond the massive wall that protected the most powerful group of wizards known to man. “Trying to cross the Synsarian Waste may prove difficult even for you. Vanguard has allied himself with some of the scav hordes as well as two or three goblin armies. They roam the waste and the Forest of Claws with impunity. There are many dangers here and in the forest beyond, swordsman: giants, trolls, all manner of creatures call the waste their home.”

  “I will find my way.”

  She watched as Kian looked to the south. The land was bleak and rugged. Tragedy knew he was walking out into Vanguard’s trap, but she was no longer sure if even the arch-mage’s treachery would stop him from getting to Endra. She envied the love he had for her. She found herself not wanting to let him leave. “Out there, you will be surrounded by more enemies than even you can deal with. You are unarmed and alone. It will be almost impossible to survive.”

  “Endra needs me. What would you have me do?”

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “You could change your mind and stay with me, I would not be unhappy if you did.”

  “I must go. You know that, Tragedy, what I did I did for my freedom.”

  “You took no pleasure in it at all?”

  Kian blushed as the sun's first rays lit the sky. “I cannot say that, but you are not the woman I love.”

  Tragedy knew Kian thought of her as one of his captors, an evil sorceress and not a woman to be desired. It was foolish of her to think of what happened between them as anything other than what it was: coercion. “Be careful and stay vigilant, swordsman.”

  “I will heed your warnings if I can,” he said with a nod.

  “Good, I wouldn’t take any pleasure in your death,” she said, trying to not sound too concerned.

  “I must go. Goodbye, sorceress.”

  “Wait, Kian.” She took his face in her hands and softly kissed his cheek. “I hope you find her, swordsman.”

  He loped off at a steady pace. She watched him until he was lost in the distance. Tragedy’s hand slid down and touched her stomach. Her magic told her she was with child. She smiled. For the first time in a long while she had something to look forward to.

  Vanguard was waiting for her when she entered the secret door. Dressed in a simple black robe, the leader of the Circle regarded her with his cold dark eyes. He was so tall she had to look up to return his gaze. “So our prisoner has finally escaped?” he said, stroking his long gray beard.

  “Yes, he is gone.”

  “I detect a hint of disappointment in your voice. You got what you wanted, the fiend has planted his seed in you and broken your father’s curse.”

  “I know. It’s just I had grown fond of the creature.”

  Vanguard rubbed his hand through his neatly trimmed hair. “I would have let you keep him as a pet if I could, but He Who Dwells in the Darkness bid me to set him free. He wants the Slayer too, for his own purposes. It is why we captured him in the first place.”

  “I understand. I just…”

  Vanguard raised a finger, cutting her off. “You would not want to thwart the plan of our god, would you?”

  Tragedy shook her head. “I think even the dark god will find it hard to bend the half-breed to his will.”

  Vanguard chuckled. “The Slayer rushes to his designed fate. With the powers arrayed against him, he has no chance to avoiding his destiny. So you see, I have fulfilled the task our dark god set for me and satisfied the request you made.”

  Tragedy sighed.

  Vanguard reached down and cupped her chin. “I have indulged your whims, Tragedy, because you are a powerful caster. I suggest you remember why you are here; your personal concerns must always come second to the interests of the Circle, my dear. Soon we will prove to the world that the power of the Circle is absolute. Then we can all have what we desire. Till then, it is our endgame that must take precedence above all else.”

  The sorceress acknowledged her compliance with a bow.

  The soft light of dusk and a heavy mist limited Siro’s vision of the old keep. Sitting high in the Blue Dagger Mountains, the old decaying castle looked like a repulsive boil on the escarpment’s primordial ass, its shabby condition spoiling the beauty of the pristine mountainside. The dense fog that surrounded the structure was characteristically typical of Trimenia’s climate. Even in the warm months, the air always seemed cold and wet. The necromancer didn’t think his comfort mattered much anyway, he would most likely be dead soon.

  Siro always admired Tavantis’s audaciousness. He had even on occasion grown to enjoy his master’s bold approach to life. The small misshapen wizard had adapted to dealing with the unexpected and hidden dangers of his master’s conspiracies and intrigues, confident in the arch-mage’s ability to outwit even the most lethal of foes. However this time, he thought the master’s plan was sheer lunacy.

  He was going to die, all because Tavantis could not tolerate the thought of Malaiss being his master. After his transformation, Siro had explained that since Malaiss had turned him, if the Lord of the Vampires so desired, he could assert control over the dark wizard and command him to do his bidding.

  Tavantis had flown into a rage, blaming him for the entire predicament. Now the vampiric wizard had devised this harebrained scheme to free himself from the inconvenience of being compelled by destroying the vampire lord once and for all.

  What his master didn’t seem to grasp was that they were dealing with a creature nearly a thousand years old. Siro was petrified of what Malaiss would do to them if Tavantis’s outrageous plot failed. He had the utmost respect for the creatures of the night and the power they could wield. Tavantis, however, claimed the living dead were just too stupid to know they had died, and the power they allegedly possessed was akin to that of a rabid dog. Even though he had joined their ranks, Tavantis put little stock in the strengths he had gained from his unlife.

  A significant amount of the master’s reckless ruse depended on him and he wasn’t sure if he was up to the task. Tavantis had put too much on his shoulders this time. In the most stressful situations, Tavantis displayed an unwavering confidence born from his vast ego and a perpetual madness. The more dangerous the circumstances the bolder the arch-mage became. Siro didn’t possess any of those traits; he wasn’t even the slightest bit brave. He was s
imply nervous, frightened, and unsure if he would live to see another day. The only reason he had agreed to help was that he was more terrified of refusing his master than he was to try to destroy Malaiss.

  He jumped a little when Tavantis’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “It’s nearly dark, Siro, and Malaiss will arise soon. Do you remember all that I told you to do?”

  “Yes, Master, I’m just not sure about all this. What if something goes wrong?”

  “Nothing will go wrong if you do as we rehearsed. Just do as I have instructed and we’ll be in and out of there in no time.”

  “I will follow the plan to the letter, Master. It’s just that Malaiss is so powerful and your strategy seems so…uncomplicated. Destroying the Lord of the Vampires can’t be that easy.”

  Tavantis softly laughed. “Lord of the Vampires, ha, his legendary reputation is built on slaughtering village girls and peasants. Tell me of one true enemy you have heard of him facing?”

  Siro shrugged. “I really can think of one.”

  Tavantis raised his chin high and threw his shoulder back. “I am an arch-mage, you little boob. The Goddess of Magic herself is my patron, I cowed Vanguard and the Circle, and I even defied the Beast himself and lived to tell the tale.”

  Siro had to bite his lip not to remind his master that he really hadn’t lived to tell the tale, as he thought it would be a grave mistake to do so. He just kept quiet and listened as the vampiric wizard raved on.

  “Malaiss is nothing. In truth, it is we who have the advantage. If not for this insufferable power he has over me, I would rid the world of him with a wave of my fucking hand. Just because he is old as dirt doesn’t make him clever. In fact, I am counting on his false sense of superiority and the cadaver’s overconfidence, which is what will be his undoing. Now come over here, it’s time to cast the spells.”

  Siro hung his head and reluctantly moved in front of the sorcerer. “I don’t mind telling you that I'm a bit fearful, Master. Malaiss is wary and will be on his guard. What if he just decided to kill you out right, then what will I do?”

  Tavantis sighed and gave the little necromancer an angry look. “If he does, then you will die, Siro. Is that so bad? I thought you loved death?”

  Siro shook his hands frantically. “I love the dead. I don’t really want to be dead, unless I was to become like you or my special people, then I suppose the change in my lifestyle wouldn’t be so bad.”

  The wizard gave him a look of disgust. “That’s not going to happen. I told you, if you die, you’re going to stay dead. You are unsettling enough now; I won’t have your rotten corpse strolling around the tower annoying me day in and day out. That would be more than even I could endure. Now stand still and close your mouth, this glamor has to be cast just right.”

  ***

  Malaiss had just arisen. Slowly walking up the chipped and broken stairs from the bowels of the keep, the vampire stopped and stretched his ancient bones. He was feeling a little out of sorts. Most likely he needed to feed, it had been a few days since he had partaken of any of the nearby villagers. Tonight, he would have to pay a visit to one of the young peasant girls of Trimenia. He had a bad habit of neglecting to feed, now that his advanced age had quieted the hunger that had gnawed at his reason during his early years as a vampire. Now he often simply forgot to tend to it.

  He tried to spread his feeding among various towns and hamlets throughout the northern part of the kingdom. Malaiss had learned long ago that if he fed to many times from the same settlement, he would get a visit from the villagers who resided there. Not that they were much of a danger to him, but he had long ago tired of slaughtering peasants.

  Having been turned when the mighty Church in Asqutania had been just a thought in the mind of Saint Illias, the blood he had once relished was now just a nightly act he had to perform, a chore to be completed so his existence could continue, nothing more.

  Hunting had become tiresome to him. Unlike the bloodthirsty and power hungry Baron Serban, his thirst for violence had long ago been sated. He hated thinking about the villainous baron, why had that bastard so quickly sprung to mind? The younger vampire’s behavior was intolerable and perilous. The undead noble was seditious, cruel, and a danger to his own kind.

  It angered him that Alexis Serban, the Baron of Brova, did little to hide the fact he was creature of the night. In fact, he brandished his vampirism like a weapon, spreading fear among the peasantry, using it to aid him in stealing their lands and in trying to suppress any ideas of retaliation the poor bumpkins might entertain. Serban terrorized the villagers of his barony until they had no choice but to submit to his repugnant demands or die beneath his fangs or the swords of his butchers. He and his army of mercenaries and cutthroats were seizing more and more land north and east of Brova. Malaiss thought Serban may even have designs on the throne of Trimenia itself.

  Like the good baron, he too had once been drunk with power, but centuries of experience had taught him that it was better for their kind to pull the stings of authority from the shadows, never openly flaunting their dark gifts. In the end, arrogant displays of power would bring only one thing: a swift and true death.

  Serban would not last long if he continued down the path he was on. He had already been forced to put down two revolts in the lands he ruled for the monarchy. Malaiss wondered if the king knew his baron was a murderous, vampiric tyrant. It was possible the fiend may have already wormed his way into the royal court of Trimenia, perhaps controlling some of its nobles or even the king himself. It would explain the crown’s tolerance for his oppression of the peasantry.

  Whatever the case, Baron Serban had gone too far and committed to many transgressions for Malaiss to ignore him any longer. Maybe he would pay the good baron a visit himself and destroy Serban for the people of his homeland. After all, he did owe them a great deal. Tonight, he would travel to Serban’s fortress and see to the undead lunatic. He could feed and renew his strength then travel south and end Serban’s reign of terror. The baron would be no match for him. He didn’t care to destroy his own kind, but this was a special case. It would be just another chore to perform.

  Opening the door at the top of the stairs, he found an old man standing at the threshold with his eyes lowered.

  “What is it, Karl?”

  “A guest, sir.”

  Malaiss gave the man a quick grin. Karl had been with him for nearly seventy years. He had been just a boy when Malaiss had taken him in. Lately, the old man's health had begun to deteriorate, which concerned Malaiss greatly. It would cause him no small amount of grief when the aged valet finally passed on. “Who has braved this foul weather to come and pay us a visit?” the vampire asked.

  “He said his name was Tavantis Cardan, and that you would know him.”

  Malaiss had been expecting the wizard to eventually pay him a visit, though he had been dreading meeting the vile sorcerer that called himself the Dark One. The arrogant bastard knew nothing of true darkness. A lesson he would soon teach the presumptuous buffoon.

  When the necromancer Siro had summoned him to turn his master, he had wanted to refuse. He had heard the mage was a reprehensible creature and prone to treachery, but the little hunchback had been so frantic with his pleas that he took pity on him and saved the necromancer’s depraved master. He didn’t want to spare the time but he needed to show the wizard who his new master was and the proper respect he should show his new lord. The young vampire may even prove useful to him later. One never knew when they might need a bit of magic.

  “Have him wait in the library. I must go upstairs and change. I will be down shortly, and, Karl, next time I’m down here, send one of the younger servants to notify me if need be. There is no reason for you to come down here. There are far too many stairs for someone of your age.”

  “Very good, sir,” Karl said as he closed the door and departed to go deal with their unexpected guest.

  Malaiss decided he would wait a good while before he went down and en
tertained his guest. From what he had heard about this Tavantis, he would have to use a heavy hand to put his new fledgling in his place. He opened the hidden door that led directly from the lower level to his bed chamber. It had been a long while since there had been a caller he needed to make an impression on, he would have to present just the right image.

  ***

  The room had no windows and the walls were lined with shelves of books and knickknacks. A huge oval rug lay in its center, and sitting in precise positons on the carpet sat three small tables with high-backed matching chairs. The beautiful walnut furniture had been hand carved by a master craftsman and was worn smooth with age. A great chandelier hung from the ceiling, its numerous candles illuminating the décor of the well-kept room.

  Malaiss abruptly opened the double doors and walked into his library like a king. His dark hair was oiled and neatly combed, and he had dressed himself in finer clothing than the richest nobles of the Celonian court: a black silk shirt with ruffled cuffs and collar, black pants, soft knee-high boots, and a red velvet coat embroidered with black thread that emphasized his affluent lifestyle. With his aristocratic features, Malaiss felt he looked every bit the Lord of Vampires.

  He met the gaze of the shorter creature that stood near one of the tables. The man was dressed in a simple and tattered black cloak that he would not have let his cleaning women use as a rag. The half-breed was as he remembered him, though: long black hair, slight build, and just enough elven blood to make his visage inhumanly handsome, now that his vampiric blood had healed the wizard’s horrible disfigurements. “To what do I owe this visit?”

  Tavantis bowed deeply to his maker. “I have come to pay homage to you, my lord, and thank you for saving me.”

  “There is no need,” Malaiss said, raising his hand. “Your servant used a spell to summon me and I thought having a wizard as one of my children may be of benefit, so I agreed to assist Siro in his endeavor. So you see, I did not aid you out of any benevolent feelings, my good man. It was simply a deed to further my own causes.”