by R. A. Miller
“Alec is still alive?”
“Of course,” Cristobel said, “When your queen’s greatest assassin gives you a sacred order, you don’t turn it down. When the stories of Her Majesty’s triumph over humanity are told, I will be the first chapter.”
“Assassin?” Cora asked, “He killed his own kind.”
“Alec has been Dremora's personal assassin for decades,” Cristobel said, “He was not simply hunting random vampyre. No, he was hunting the queen's enemies. But enough talk. Hand over the amulet and maybe you don't have to die. At least not today.”
“You and I both know that isn’t going to happen.” Cora stood her ground, keeping one eye on the two vampyre behind her.
“There is no way out for you, young one. You have already lost.”
An image of a woman in a green hood flashed in Cora’s mind. Cristobel looked at her with curiosity.
“Don’t fight the impulse,” he said, “Give up. It’s what your people are good at, after all.”
Another image flashed in Cora’s mind with Cristobel’s words. The image of the little girl in bed and her father trying to save her flashed three times through her mind. She glanced out the only window in the room, saw something glinting from the moonlight, and took up a defensive stance. She would tear out his throat before she gave him the amulet.
“Oh, very well,” Cristobel said. He let out a sigh, then raised his hands in motion to his bodyguards, “Boys, get me that amulet.”
CHAPTER 11
Tatiana smiled to herself as the wind blew around her. Her long, black hair whipped around her head as she rode on the back of Brostaigid, The Great Crimson Dragon. She knew they were closing in on what would become her greatest triumph, the city of Raven's Hold. She would use the great dragon to destroy the humans and take their land for the vampyre.
She retrieved her spell book from the satchel she carried and opened it to the page she needed. The Book, as the elves called it, taught her how to summon the great beast, and how to control it. The Book also taught her how to raise the dead, a trick that she used with flourish.
The vampyre instructed Brostaigid to land. The dragon flew down to a grassy area just north of a massive graveyard. Tatiana stowed her book and leapt down. She moved to the graveyard, raised her hands, and recited the spell that she had used a dozen times over now, the spell to raise the dead.
“Brostaigid thuas sa speir fuilteach bas, fuilteach bas, abaidi, abaidi, abaidi, anchuinseach Brostaigid abaidi.”
Almost instantly, the ground under every headstone began to stir. Brostaigid let out a tremendous roar as living corpses began to dig themselves out of their graves. Soon Tatiana had three hundred walking dead ready to do her bidding. She spoke one word to her new army, “Follow.”
Jumping back onto Brostaigid, Tatiana gave the order to fly and the great dragon took off once again. Below them, the army of undead went off in the same direction. She stopped twice more, both times at a graveyard. The unfortunate humans who lived around the graveyards became food for her army, then part of that army. By the time she had left the third stop she had amassed an army of undead now well over a thousand strong.
Proud of herself, the vampyre pulled The Book from her satchel and began flipping through it again. The necromancer was so consumed by The Book that she failed to see the nearly invisible barrier in front of them.
Brostaigid hit the barrier with a loud thud, let out a painful roar, and fell. Tatiana tried furiously to hold on to the dragon but could not get a grip. She watched as the ground came at her faster and faster. She did not want to end up a smear on the landscape, not after all the work she had done. As if in answer, her descent was halted a few feet off the ground as the crimson dragon slammed into the ground behind her. Hanging suspended in the air, she surveyed her surroundings.
"Reveal yourself to me!"
A figure dressed in black robes materialized in front of her. A hood covered the figures head and face. Tatiana could tell that it was a woman, but nothing else. She sniffed the air and her eyes opened wide with surprise.
"Dremora?"
The figure pulled back her hood and allowed the robes to drop to the ground. Dremora, Queen of the vampyres, stood before her. The Queen smiled at the necromancer. Dremora took hold of Tatiana's chin with her thumb and forefinger and looked her in the eyes. Tatiana saw anger in The Queen's eyes but the necromancer never showed fear.
"You have been trying to deceive me." Dremora said.
"No, my queen," Tatiana kept her gaze locked on Dremora, "I was going to retrieve the amulet for you. I tracked it to Raven's Hold. I have someone there now retrieving it."
"Don't lie to me, Tatiana. It’s unattractive. I know what you've been doing and how long you've been doing it. I have eyes and ears all over Elvintika. Even a few out here."
Dremora tightened her grip on Tatiana's chin, and with her free hand, scratched a deep cut down the necromancer’s left cheek from the bottom of her eye to the top of her upper lip. Tatiana never flinched. Instead, she thought of murdering The Queen.
"Let this scar be a reminder of your betrayal, necromancer. Be thankful I did not kill you. Now, show me how to control this beast."
Dremora let go of Tatiana and the necromancer dropped to the ground. Dremora offered a hand to Tatiana to help her up but the necromancer refused. Tatiana stood up and brushed off her robes. Inside she was seething with new hatred for The Queen, outside she was calm and collected.
"This beast, as you call it,” Tatiana said, “Is Brostaigid, the great crimson God of the Gaelach. She will only obey the one who summoned her. If our connection is severed, she will obey no one."
"Gaelach?” Dremora said, “So now you use their language? If this dragon will not obey me, then you will. We will use this beast to destroy the humans of Raven's Hold, but my amulet is not there.”
“Excuse me?” Tatiana said.
“My amulet is not at this Raven’s Hold. It is in possession of a troublesome traitor that you let get away.”
“If I had crossed paths with such a vampyre I would not have let them live. Who do you speak of?”
“The child you left in Fayth.”
Tatiana suddenly remembered that encounter. She had left the young vampyre alive. But she didn’t have the amulet on her. She was sure of it.
“Because of your blundering,” Dremora said, “She has made it all the way to The Temple of Alec with it.”
“Then Cristobel will kill her for us,” Tatiana said, “We shall go there first.”
“No,” The Queen said, “I have another taking care of that problem. She should have never been allowed to live all these years. You were supposed to have killed her after you drank from her father.”
“What do you mean?” Tatiana asked, “I had never seen her before two nights ago.”
“You have,” Dremora said, “But a hundred years has clouded your memory of the night we took Elvintika.”
Understanding covered Tatiana’s face. She did remember the young vampyre. She wasn’t a vampyre back then. She was an elf.
“Now,” Dremora said, “We continue to the humans. I want to be there when the city falls. Once I have the amulet in my hands, we will make our way to Alun Doom. I have already dispatched soldiers there. They will meet us on the north face."
"As you wish, my Queen." Tatiana tried hard not to spit out the words. She went to Brostaigid's side and tried to get the dragon back on its feet. The dragon looked more annoyed than angry. Upon standing, the great crimson beast stretched her wings and gave them one good beat. The resulting wind blew The Queen's hair back away from her naked figure. The Queen smiled up at the sky and took in the blast of cool air.
"We are off to war, my queen. Shall I retrieve your robes?"
"No.” Dremora’s grin returned.
"Yes, my Queen."
Tatiana helped Dremora onto the dragons back. Dremora waved a hand and the barrier vanished, giving them a clear path. Dremora spotted a large mass advanc
ing from the south.
"Is that your doing?" The Queen asked.
"Yes," Tatiana said, the pride showing in her face now. "Those are my children."
Myra steadied herself in the tree, the faint remnants of a blue mist dissipating around her small hands. She watched the enormous gathering of undead as they moved past her below. She saw the wall in the distance where dark gray smoke rose into the air, billowing over the walls and escaping into the sky. This is where the undead were headed. High above the tree where she resided, a large shape that the girl knew to be a dragon flew past carrying two smaller, humanoid figures.
She watched the dragon and its riders pass, the mist around her hands reforming as she watched. Sammy moved down a branch. He began to move again until Myra’s hand on his shoulder caused him to pause. Her younger brother was anxious, ready to move. Despite how close the two had come to being swallowed up by an angry and confused dragon, Myra felt little fear. It spoke to her, eased her apprehension. She didn’t know what it was, but it made her confident.
She had felt a connection with the old beast when it tried to swallow them. Brostaigid, as the Gaelach people called the dragon, had emerged from the ground in a rage. The child’s spell that was meant to repel ghosts also ripped the dragon from her slumber. By the time it had chased the two children as far as the river, the fog over her had lifted and the great dragon recognized the little ones for what they were, Gaelach.
The girl knew this from her conversation with the dragon. She was not surprised that she could speak to the dragon, and neither was Brostaigid. Her brother on the other hand, found it worrisome and exciting all at once. She did not understand fully where the ability came from or how she was strong enough to awaken, albeit painfully, a god. Brostaigid understood. Myra could hear it in the dragon’s tone, and in the way the dragon looked at her.
Brostaigid knew something about her; something special; and the God of all Gaelach wasn’t telling.
“We have to save her.” Sammy said.
"Not yet," she told him, “They outnumber us a thousand to one. We wait for them to reach the walls. The humans will thin out the undead and that’s when we make our move.”
Sammy settled into the branch he was kneeling on, and waited. Myra leaned back against the trunk of the tree and allowed the mist to dissipate once again. She thought of the dark haired vampyre that had stolen Brostaigid, putting the dragon under a spell and brainwashing her to obey. The young Gaelach questioned how the vampyre was able to control God. At the moment, however, she only questioned how she was going to get God back.
Myra toiled over what she would do to that vampyre when they met. Each passing thought of the vampyres death turned the girl’s eyes white before passing back to their normal brown. She was beginning to understand her power, and the blue mist in general, a bit better as they traveled. Her emotions triggered the mist and a really strong emotion, caused her to lose control. Her anger at the loss of the dragon caused her to explode a tree a ways back. Since then she made a conscious effort keep her emotions in check. She was Gaelach after all.
They hid now as the vampyre passed over with her undead army following on the ground. But the time for hiding would soon be over. Taking back Elvintika had never been the goal, but now that she knew God was alive and within her grasp, she had to try. She had to free God, The Mighty Brostaigid.
Chapter 12
The large vampyre closest to Cora moved quickly to subdue her, before she could put up a fight. The young vampyre sidestepped the larger foe and gave him a swift punch to the lower back. Just as quick, and before he could counter, Cora gave another punch, this time to the ribs.
The larger, dark haired vampyre took a step back from his smaller opponent then came back at her with a right to the head. Cora dodged this one, ducking, and then landing one more blow of her own to his large chin.
This stunned the big vampyre, but only for a moment. Just as fast as she had knocked him in his jaw, he grabbed her by the neck and kneed her in the stomach. She fell to her knees. He looked at his comrade, another large vampyre with blond hair, and laughed at his small foe.
Cora rose to her feet, wiped away the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, and stared down her attacker. She wasn’t as skilled as him, true, but it didn’t mean she was going to lay down either. As if on cue, the bigger attacker came at her again. Cora hit him with her own right to the temple.
She did not waste time. With a quick, sharp kick to the ribs she began a barrage of attacks, her dark haired attacker unable to protect himself. She stunned him with three kicks to his ribs and followed them up with two hard punches to his head.
The vampyre reeled, disoriented from the smaller vampyre’s barrage. Two successive kicks to his knees and the dark haired attacker dropped to the floor. The second vampyre, the one with the blond hair but just as big, moved to confront Cora.
She began punching her new attacker with quick jabs to the left and to the right. She could see the dark haired one on the floor getting back up. She was holding her own for now, but she did not know if she could keep up the fight. Her experience would soon begin to show.
“Save some for me now, darlin’.”
The unfamiliar female voice came from the doorway behind her. Cora continued to hit the larger vampyre in the face. A slender woman, cloaked in green, stood in the doorway; an angry Father Cristobel struggled with her. The newcomer had Father Cristobel with one arm across his neck and the other held a loaded crossbow to his temple.
“Who are you?” Cora asked.
“Quin, monster hunter. King Markus sends his regards.”
The second vampyre was off the floor and reaching for Cora, when an arrow plunged into his skull. The vampyre was knocked to his right and fell back to the floor, dead.
“You don’t know who you are messing with, girl.” Cristobel snarled.
“You know,” Quin said, “I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“Her Majesty, Queen Dremora, ruler to all vampyre, will have your head on her wall. She will drink your blood and use your bones for toothpicks.”
“Well now,” Quin said, “That’s just about all I need to know.”
The hunter squeezed her fist and a hidden blade popped out from the edge of a gauntlet, which she wore on her left wrist, the wrist that was currently holding Cristobel’s neck. In one motion, the hunter released the blade and plunged it into Cristobel’s neck. The vampyre tried to fight but was losing blood too rapidly from the hole that now existed in his aorta.
“Hunter…” Cristobel attempted to speak but all Quin heard was the sound of blood rushing out of his throat. The vampyre continued to plead, blood splattering down his chest and over the hunter’s arm with each attempt.
The hunter smiled under her hood. Father Cristobel took this as a sign and attempted to wiggle free from her grasp. She jabbed her hidden blade into his neck again, producing a new hole in his neck. She let Cristobel fall to the floor clutching his wounds.
Quin reloaded her crossbow as the remaining guard switched his attack from Cora to her. He was on top of her in an instant. She tried pointing her weapon at his head but he was faster and stronger than she thought. He had her pinned to the wall, both weapons useless. Cristobel tried to laugh but could only produce a gurgling sound. Quin, out of options, looked her attacker in the eye.
“Seems I underestimated you, big guy.”
The large vampyre smiled back at her at the same moment a hand appeared in front of his throat. The hand, belonging to Cora, grabbed the vampyre’s flesh and ripped his throat out, spraying blood across Quin’s face and chest. The vampyre crumbled to the floor.
“Thanks,” Quin said, “I actually got a little worried with that one.”
“Before he dies,” Cora pointed at Cristobel, still lying on the floor and bleeding out, “I need him to tell me where to find this vampyre queen, Dremora.”
“Enough,” Quin said, “If you want to live long enough to find her, I sug
gest we go. I can hear more footsteps on their way, lots of them.”
“This isn’t your concern, human.” Cora shoved Quin aside and grabbed Cristobel by the collar. “Where do I find her?”
Cristobel’s body relaxed, his head falling back and the choking stopped. Cora let go of him and his lifeless body smacked the stone floor. Cora turned to Quin, who was peaking out the door.
“You do not fear me?”
“Of course I do.” She said, “You just ripped that guy’s throat out with your bare hand.”
“Then why do you let me live?”
“They were trying to kill you. I figure that puts us on similar ground here. Besides, if you’re one of them, I don’t figure I’d be fast enough to stop you.”
“But you had Cristobel by the throat and he is a vampyre, same as me.”
“Thankfully he was cocky. I took advantage.”
Quin moved away from the door and began searching the room. Cora stood and watched the hunter with curiosity.
“We should go now.” Quin said. “There are at least ten of them out there. We barely took out three. I don’t like those odds.”
“The window,” Cora said, “It’s the only way out.”
“Alright then,” Quin agreed. She extended her arm, gesturing towards the window, “Shall we?”
Cora fit easily through the window. Satisfied the way was clear, she motioned for Quin to join her. As Quin began to slide through the window, Cora stopped her.
“Wait,” she said.
“Out of time, remember?”
“No,” Cora said, “We need the cross.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The vampyre lying in front of the desk, the one with the hole in his chest. He wears a cross around his neck. We need it to get out.”
“You mean for the barrier?” Quin asked.
“Yes.”
“You won’t need a cross. I’ll show you.”