by Celia Aaron
The sounds of battle died slowly, along with the remaining mages. The vampires had taken the tower. Bodies hit the grass as the vampires threw them from the heights and into a pile, likely for burning.
“Paris,” I hissed.
I motioned him to back away, quietly trying to get his attention without alerting the vampires to my presence.
I failed.
An arm like a vise wrapped around my waist. A vampire hurled me out into the clearing, directly at the feet of the bloody soldiers.
Paris
I was stunned, not believing the vision before me. These were vampire soldiers bearing the crest of Priam—the mark of my father. The swirl pattern of life everlasting glinted from their shields. The same crest I and thousands of soldiers had worn during the Battle of Troy.
Could there still be vampires who were loyal to my line? It was hard to believe. Desmerada ruled with death and terror, never suffering anyone to question or seek a return to the old ways. But here they were, powerful warriors dispatching the blight of dark mages.
They had worked together as one unit, storming the tower and killing the evil that had taken hold, just as Priam had taught the Trojans those many years ago. Always a team, always together, fighting as one. I could hear the shouts going up from the troops in my mind in response to my father’s creed.
I snapped out of my reverie when I saw a blazing orb of fire growing into a maelstrom of destruction. Elena. I dashed toward her, covering the space between us in a moment. She stood before more than a dozen vampires who had formed a semicircle.
“One more step and you all get dusted.” The cruel edge to her voice was new—likely a part of her career as Artemis’s war chieftain.
They did not back away but stood unafraid, prepared to meet their fiery fate.
“Elena.” I eased up behind her, laying a hand on her upper arm.
A murmur went through the soldiers at my appearance. Some of their eyes lit with recognition, though I’d never seen any of them before. They spoke to each other in the ancient vampire language.
“Elena, drop the orb.”
She was ready to destroy them all, to burn them into floating ashes. “Why? Do you know them?”
“No.”
“Then we need to leave. Now.” The heat from her spell was singeing my eyebrows, but I could not turn my back on my people. That symbol was one of hope, and it seemed to glow even brighter with the reflected flames.
“Paris—”
At my name, the vampires dropped to their knees and laid their swords at their feet. Elena turned and looked up at me, a question in her eyes.
I held her gaze. “Drop the orb.”
With a whoosh, the flaming sphere of death disappeared, but the vampires remained on their knees before us.
“Askenith,” the one who seemed to be their leader said. “My king” in the old language.
“Askenith,” the men echoed, their gazes still trained on the ground.
“Shakorah.” I repeated the word I’d heard my father say on so many occasions. The king’s greeting to all loyal subjects. It meant “peace.” And it came off my tongue far too easily. I was no one’s king.
The vampires rose from the ground and sheathed their swords. Elena was still tense, her rigid back pressed against me. “Did I just miss something?”
The leader who had spoken first stepped forward, causing a shimmer of magic to erupt around Elena.
“I mean no harm, and I apologize for my rough actions.” He bowed low, leaving the back of his neck bare. There was no greater compliment or show of trust among the vampires than such an act.
I was at a loss, utterly unsure of what to say to these hardened warriors. They’d likely been fighting for the millennia I’d been avoiding the throne and living it up on earth. The shame at the realization burned me as sure as Elena’s fire. I’d had no idea any vampires loyal to Priam were still alive, but that was no excuse.
Gods, I’m a coward.
Maybe the mortals’ stories about me were true. So many times I’d read about myself, how I was a deserter, no mettle in my bones. How I ran from the battle with Menelaus when I felt I was losing. How I was inconstant and rash. None of it was true. Well, perhaps rash—yes, that was true.
But I’d fought for Troy, fought for Helen. I simply hadn’t won. History was hard on the losers. That’s what I’d always told myself. But now, knowing I’d left my brethren behind to suffer under Desmerada’s reign gnawed at me. The selfishness in such an act overwhelmed me as I looked at their battle-weary faces.
I had to make this right. With Elena at my side, maybe I could.
I squeezed Elena’s upper arm before stepping next to her.
“I am Paris, and this is Elena.”
Rising from his deep bow, the leader replied, “I am Captain Faren Lewin, leader—”
A screeching roar resonated through the wood, and the soldiers hurried into action, as if driven by the sound. One whistled, and a bevy of amaranths, the vampires’ mounts, hurried from the trees on the far side of the clearing. They whinnied, fear in their gentle eyes.
“We must go, my lord, and quickly,” Captain Lewin said.
“What made that sound?” Elena asked, her eyes wide.
“The same thing that destroyed this tower.”
The roar sounded again, louder now.
“We’ve not much time.” The captain jumped astride his mount, patting its neck in calming strokes. The beasts were akin to horses, but furry and with shorter snouts. Another soldier brought an amaranth, this one tall and with curly fur, to me. I hesitated only for a second, but the image of the Trojan symbol emblazoned on the soldiers’ armor and the show of trust from the captain made my decision for me. I lifted Elena astride the beast and jumped up behind her.
As we fell in line with the soldiers leaving the tower, she leaned back and whispered in my ear, “So, this is a good idea? Going with them?”
“They are loyal to my father.”
“That doesn’t mean they are loyal to you,” she hissed.
I tightened my arms around her. “Let’s see where this leads. I know I can always count on you for firepower if anything goes wrong.”
She shook her head, the flowery scent of her hair catching on the breeze. I breathed in deeply, though I didn’t need the air.
“At this rate, you are going to be spider food before sunsdown,” she bit out.
As we left the clearing and began weaving through the trees, a great blast of wind hit us. Then a few thuds, as if more of the large stones were falling from the tower, sounded behind them. Huge, veiny wings hung down and obscured the entire structure from sight. A dragon. Its talons, the tips stained red with some unfortunate creature’s blood, gripped the old stones of the tower as it claimed its perch. It either didn’t sense them or didn’t care, for it made no attempt to give chase.
“Was that a dragon? Are there dragons here?” Elena’s voice was tipped with wonder.
“It would seem so.”
“Only one remains,” the captain said. “That is Farnkelan, the Slayer. He rules the skies over Darkwood. They say he once belonged to your father, Priam, but was corrupted by Desmerada and loosed upon the wood to slay trespassers and enemies alike. Who knows who he serves now? Perhaps only himself. We stay out of his way.” Captain Lewin turned and shouted orders to his men. They increased their pace, following a path I could not see.
Elena reached down and petted the soft fur of the amaranth. It chuffed in response and almost pranced along.
She glanced back toward the tower. “I feel kind of sorry for the dragon.”
“First the queen of spiders and now the dragon?” I shook my head. This woman was mad. Some beasts were never meant to be tamed. “These are dark creatures, Elena, that would kill you as soon as look at you.”
“My lord speaks true,” Captain Lewin said. “No one can gentle any of the beasts of these woods.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” The fire in
Elena’s words silenced any dissent from Captain Lewin. He turned forward and continued on, leading them over a swift stream and up a slope.
Helen lowered her voice so that only I could hear. “Well, the dragon can’t help that he’s powerful. He didn’t ask to be a dragon. And then to be taken against his will, mistreated, and made to do terrible things. Of course he’s destructive…”
I stroked her hair, my thoughts following hers. “You are fierce but not quite a dragon. And the things Menelaus forced you to do—they weren’t your fault. None of it was.”
She leaned back into me, resting her head on my shoulder as she perused the thick branches above. “Things can change. I made a deal with Arachne, the spider queen, for gods’ sakes. She kept us safe all night. Who would have thought that possible?”
It was true that she handled the monster with a mastery I never would have been able to manage. Could she tame a vicious dragon? Perhaps, but I didn’t intend to find out.
The tension left her as she relaxed against me, at least somewhat. She was likely ready to strike should the vampires make any move. Still, she was trusting my judgment, letting me lead for now. Her faith was gratifying, but I was unworthy of it. The warriors ahead of us proved the fact. They had stayed. They had fought. I couldn’t begin to imagine how much they’d lost at the hands of Desmerada. And now they bowed before me? I shook my head.
“What?” Elena asked.
“Nothing.”
She shifted forward on the amaranth as the slope steepened even more. “Worrying about all those little spider mouths on you?”
I couldn’t help my smile. “Well, I have been thinking about one mouth on me, but it doesn’t belong to a spider.”
She laughed under her breath, a sultry sound that drew me from my bad humor.
“We’re here, my lord.” Captain Lewin signaled to a vampire atop a wooden wall ahead of them. It was well disguised—still under the canopy of trees. A gate, marked with the same symbol of Troy, opened, and the soldiers rode inside in single file. Elena and I were last in line. She stiffened as we entered, on guard for any attack. The amaranth whinnied beneath us, the beast sensing Elena’s powers simmering just under the surface.
We arrived in a courtyard surrounded by squat buildings, camouflaged in the dark colors of the forest. A handful of children ran past the well in the center of the cobblestones. Their laughter, though welcome, was incongruous with the darkness of the wood. Several men and women darted from the buildings or dropped their work at the edge of the square to rush to the soldiers. The vampires jumped down from their mounts and embraced them. Returning heroes.
I dismounted and helped Elena down. Her magics quieted as she watched the children run and play.
She put a hand over her heart. “I thought vampires couldn’t have children.”
“They can. When vampires are young, their hearts still beat, and they are alive. Only when natural-born vampires freeze into immortality do their hearts stop. After that, the only way to make another is, well, the way I was made. But vampires can only be born here, in the Underworld. They wouldn’t last long on earth or Olympus. The sun would see to it.”
A child approached slowly, the curiosity in her innocent gaze clearly warring with her fear of strangers. Elena knelt down and accepted a tiny doll from her. The girl’s brown hair fell in braids around her face, cherubic in youth. She could be no more than four years old.
“Are you a fairy?” she asked, staring at Elena’s golden hair in open wonder.
Elena laughed, a sweet sound that had the other vampires stopping to watch her. “No, but I’ve seen fairies. They are beautiful and have wings that move faster than you can see. And they flitter about, putting fairy dust everywhere and making everything sparkle. But fairy dust makes me sneeze.”
“Really?” The child’s brown eyes were as big as saucers.
“Really.” Elena smiled.
“You’re so pretty,” the girl said.
“You are too.”
The girl blushed.
“I like the braids in your hair,” Elena said. “Maybe you could teach me how to do mine?”
“What’s your name?”
“Elena. What’s yours?”
“Keilana.”
“What a beautiful name.”
“Thank you.” The child smiled shyly.
Elena looked up at me, the pure joy on her face giving me heart to continue on this journey. If I could get a woman as precious as her to look at me like that, maybe I wasn’t the coward I feared myself to be.
Chapter Fifteen
Elena
The vampire encampment consisted of a main road with several communal buildings. Great trees shielded them all from prying eyes, with dozens of small houses nestled among the roots. The branches above dispersed the small wisps of smoke rising from the cottages.
Captain Lewin showed Paris and me to one of the squat buildings situated on what seemed to be the central town square. The doors bore the same swirling pattern as the vampires’ armor and the mark on the gates. I trailed my fingers across it as we entered.
“What is it?” I asked Paris.
“The symbol of the line of Priam.”
I glanced at him. “I thought there were no more vampires who were loyal to the line?”
“That makes two of us.”
I couldn’t see the entirety of the encampment but wagered there were likely no more than a few hundred vampires, with only a fraction of those as warriors. If the group from the watchtower were any indicator, the soldiers were fierce and battle-hardened. We could use their aid to take the Bloodkeep.
Captain Lewin led us through the rough-hewn building. His face was handsome, but deep scars marked his cheeks and forehead. He looked like a man of thirty or so, with thick brown hair and deep brown eyes. He had battled long enough and hard enough to make a dent in his immortal good looks. This was no easy life for any of the vampires in the village, least of all the soldiers.
The captain showed us to a modest room. A large chair made from twisting branches sat at the back, something akin to a rough throne. Several other, smaller chairs were scattered about in front of it. He motioned for us to take the two chairs nearest the throne before he exited to an antechamber at the back. Candles lit the room with warmth, and the roof was left open in places, showing the canopy far above them. Paris’s chair creaked as he settled on it, his large frame testing the vampires’ workmanship.
I sat next to him and shifted in my seat to look behind us, watching our flank. I wasn’t too worried, though, as the vampires seemed genuine and welcoming, especially when I’d seen the children. I couldn’t imagine any children flitting around the Bloodkeep under Desmerada’s bloodthirsty gaze.
“Do you think they’ll help us?” I whispered.
“I don’t know.” Paris squeezed my forearm before affecting a cool air, hiding his feelings under an inscrutable mask.
I kept my palms out on my lap, ready for trouble. I hoped the symbol, the one that had ensnared Paris as we’d watched the battle at the tower, was not leading us astray. The vampires at this settlement clearly lived outside the reach of Desmerada, but I didn’t know if they would turn on Paris. After all, he was a prize long sought by the self-appointed queen of vampires and had a sizeable bounty on his head.
Captain Lewin returned from the antechamber with a radiant woman on his arm. A simple tiara rested atop her dark hair bound in braids similarly to the girl from earlier. Her hazel eyes were warm and welcoming, and her ebony skin shone in the low light. She smiled at us as she took the few steps into the room. She looked at the throne and then back to Paris, before choosing a smaller chair closer to us.
Captain Lewin helped her sit.
“Thank you, Faren.” She looked up at him with open adoration. The captain’s face softened for her, the scars that marred his cheeks fading in the flickering candlelight.
“Askenith,” she said to Paris and bowed her head.
“Shakorah,” he rep
eated.
I had no notion of what these words meant, but they were said with such reverence by the vampires that I knew they carried weight.
“Have you come to claim your throne, finally?” The woman beamed.
Paris shifted forward in his seat, the wood screaming its disapproval. “You are still loyal to the line of my father?”
“We are. My name is Shildreth. I have been the regent in your absence. But now that you have returned”—her eyes shone with tears—“we will take back our homeland from the vile Desmerada.”
Captain Lewin spat onto the dirt floor at the mention of the vampire queen’s name. I was satisfied there was no love lost between this group and Desmerada’s minions in the Bloodkeep. How much they were willing to help retake the keep remained to be seen.
“She hunts us, tortures us whenever she captures one of our number. None of us have escaped suffering at her hands,” Shildreth said, her eyes downcast.
Captain Lewin moved closer to Shildreth, though he did not touch her. A light was in his eyes, something that spoke of a deeper affection than simply a warrior to his regent.
Shildreth looked up at Paris. “But now you have returned. Now we have a chance to end her.”
The fire in the graceful vampire’s voice, the desperation to destroy the queen, was unexpected. I believed her words, knew that many had suffered and died because of the evil at the Bloodkeep. Shildreth seemed to wrangle her emotions into check by smoothing the coarse fabric of her dress.
“Why did you never send for me?” Paris asked, his tone hard and streaked with something verging on grief.
“We couldn’t risk it. Desmerada has spies everywhere, and you aren’t exactly easy to find. We have limited resources. We used them to survive as we continued to hope that one day, you would come.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke, hope tingeing her voice. She drew back, breaking the moment, and turned her attention to me.
“And who is your lovely companion?”
“This is Elena de Artemis, warrior maiden of the goddess.” Paris spoke with such pride that I had to take a steadying breath.