Vampire Mist: Ballad of the B-Team, Book One

by Adam Thomas

  When they were done with this task, Shonasir waded out a little deeper. The water lapped their knees. They stood there for a long while breathing in and out with the flow of the water. Then, on impulse, Shonasir stabbed down a ray of frost magic and drew forth their Awakened Ice. It stood by them, a humanoid iceberg, tall and broad. It had no mouth to speak, but words flowed into Shonasir’s mind from its direction.

  I am Riven, the elemental embodiment of water. You have heard my call and have responded. What is it you seek?

  Shonasir kept their breathing steady despite the shock of hearing the voice. It sounded like a stream bubbling around rocks and at the same time like the roar of a waterfall – cheerful and everlasting. The elf responded, “I am Shonasir. I thank you for the gift of my elemental companions.”

  I grant but one. The fire and the storm are not of my substance, only the ice.

  “Who grants the others?”

  There are four elements that the Light shone on to make your world. Their keepers are stewards of realms like this one. I am the steward of the Realm of Water. Agmar burns in your flame and Ruarc in your tempest.

  A memory stirred in Shonasir, the carriage ride north into Sul before they met the vampire Rosamund Steele. Emric had spoken the name Agmar when he talked about a group. What was their name? Shonasir looked into the perpetually twilit sky and found the name floating there.

  “The Disciples of Four.”

  Ah, so you have heard of our followers in your world.

  “My friend made it out to seem like they were an ancient order, gone for hundreds and hundreds of years.”

  What is time to the ocean or the river or the rain? I cut canyons through the mountains in your world.

  “So you are the water in my world too?”

  I am present in all water, yes, but more so here in my own realm.

  “Can you tell me where in my world we might be able to plant this seed?”

  The water of your world holds creatures no eye can see. They swim in me as your own people do.

  “You’re speaking of bacteria? I’ve studied it at school. So it was a bacterium that killed the ironwoods?”

  Not all of them. I can feel ancient trees in your world whose roots grow deeper than any others. They drink of me deep, deep in the ground, where my water mixes with Lapiste’s stone.

  “Lapiste?”

  The fourth elemental steward. We swirl and mix in ways predictable and unpredictable. Riven. Ruarc. Agmar. Lapiste. We do not compete. We dance. Fire melts ice into water. Water then quenches fire. Do you see?

  “Yes, I do. Thank you for this wisdom, Riven. I would ask one more question, if I may?”

  You may ask any question, and then I will make a request.

  “We thought all the ironwoods were gone. Tell me, please, where are these trees which drink deep of your water?”

  Between ocean and sea, with mountain ice looking down from above. And now, I invite you to commune. Immerse yourself in my waters and become my disciple.

  Shonasir stood still in the water. If what Emric and Sorvek had said was true, such communion was wildly dangerous. “I am not ready for such a commitment, Riven,” Shonasir said. “Please forgive me.”

  There is nothing to forgive. When you are ready, I will be waiting wherever you are.

  The Ice crumbled back into the water, and Shonasir waded back to the shore. They sat down cross legged with the encased ironwood seed in their lap. With Riven’s cryptic direction in their mind, they entered their trance. Their dream of Karanathan was the most vibrant it had ever been. Somehow, the clarity of the Plane of Water made it so.

  Further up the beach, Rhys slept alone, but not alone. He hugged Tyrevane to his chest. All night it whispered to him as he slumbered. It was so, so thirsty. When Rhys woke, he felt a burning pain in his cheek. The sword had cut him while he slept, but there was no blood caking the blade.

  seven days until festival

  Rosamund’s First Delivery

  I need them back here soon,” Rosamund said. “Do you think she can do it?”

  Serafina was staring out the window, watching the pastel sunset play upon the Eldasin Sea. She turned to Rosamund and said, “My niece?”

  Rosamund was about to respond when a knock interrupted her musings. The knock came the precise moment the sun vanished from the sky. “Punctual,” Serafina said. “Your contact knows her business well, I presume.”

  “She does,” Rosamund said. The two were sitting in the kitchen, the one room in the house they never used, except for its convenient back door. Clandestine deliveries wouldn’t do coming to the main entrance, after all. “I’ve never understood the superstitions about gnomes. I find her an excellent enchanter and discreet.”

  Humans don’t trust people they can’t look in the eye,” Serafina said, moving to the door.

  Rosamund smiled triumphantly. “That’s the first time you’ve said ‘humans’ as if you’re not one of them. A big step, my love.”

  Serafina’s hand went unconsciously to her neck. The scarf was there, covering the scar from her self-inflicted neck wound. Indeed, her scarf collection had grown vast in the short time they had been back in Thousand Spires. She opened the door for Rosamund, who stood framed in the doorway.

  Outside slinked two furtive people. The taller was a young human man, slenderly built with medium brown skin that glistened with an undertone of bronze. He had high cheekbones below dark, wary eyes, and he was entirely too pretty to be wasted as a member of the male populace. Rosamund’s eyebrow twitched at the sight of him, the only sign that she found him desirable. She rarely found men to be so, but there was something odd – and altogether fascinating – about this peculiar specimen.

  Rosamund’s eyes traveled down to his waist, which was blocked unfortunately by the other individual, a halfling of no particular interest. He was utterly forgettable, especially in the presence of the human.

  “Delivery for Magnolia Hall from Elsany the Enchanter,” the halfling said. His voice was high-pitched and lilting in the manner of the accent of the Twenty Tatters.

  “Do come in,” Rosamund said. “Place the bags on the counter.”

  The human spoke in a tenor range that held a hint of huskiness at its lowest register. “This is bone dust from undead skeletons, Miss. I’d hate for some of it to get mixed with your food.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Serafina said, and she passed the couriers a small purse with the practiced ease of the wealthy granting her inferiors a small boon. “Thank you for your trouble.”

  She showed them out and turned to Rosamund. “Bone dust?”

  “The accurate term is luranko. I need it for the animation project. You did well there, sweetling. You’re almost back to your old self.”

  “Hardly.” Serafina laughed, high and clear as a bell. Rosamund loved her laugh. She moved to her partner and nuzzled against her neck. Serafina said, “I was never so generous a tipper when spending my husband’s money.”

  Outside, the two couriers headed back around the house to the lamplit streets of the Diamond Spire.

  “This district is way too fancy for my tastes,” the halfling said. But the lilting accent was gone, replaced by the nasal voice of a fast-talking city dweller. “I feel like if I scuff the cobbles with my boot, someone will arrest me.”

  The human didn’t respond, so the halfling continued, “Someone might arrest me for wearing clothes not expensive enough for this place or because my presence is lowering the property values.” He looked up at his companion. “Syne, what’s gotten into you?”

  Syne stopped and looked down at his friend. “Nothing, Wiggins. Sorry. I’m just a little distracted by how that woman was looking at me.”

  “How was she looking at you?”

  “Like she wanted to gobble me up.”

  “That’s just because
you’re too attractive for your own good. It’s why I keep you around. With you by my side, I completely disappear, and I don’t need illusion magic to do it.” For a moment, Wiggins dropped his magical halfling disguise, revealing his true gnomish form beneath. He winked at Syne and cast the illusion again.

  twenty-eight

  Ravenest

  The next day, after a hearty breakfast provided by the grateful Aldabrachians, the B-Team made ready to depart the Realm of Water. Chief Kelona had politely refused their offer to help rebuild the village. She used the magical sapphire from Azurenn’s gullet to open a portal, and the party stepped through after many farewells. The Aldabrachian children were especially sad to see Astrid go. The six of them – two dwarves, two half-elves, an elf, and a human – emerged in their own world in the salty shallows of the Glass Ocean near the seaside city of Ravenest.

  “Never been here before,” Alurel said. “Any of you?”

  They all shook their heads and splashed their way onto the beach. They walked by a gaggle of gaping holidaymakers, who, apparently, were not expecting to see a squad of heavily armed and armored people appear as if from nowhere. Emric struck up a lively tune on his lute as they passed to set the beachgoers at their ease. The party entered the bustling downtown of the city, a confusing array of markets, businesses, theaters, and residences. Bright-colored awnings and banners announced all sorts of enterprises, as did the various barkers walking up and down the streets.

  “This place is great!” Sorvek said, smiling at the hubbub swirling around them. “I never knew there was a city on this coast of Sularil.”

  Emric stowed his lute and said. “It was a sleepy fishing village until the Three Sisters War. Then, when the orcs made passage to Thousand Spires too dangerous, ships began stopping here. Ravenest has been growing in importance ever since as a cultural destination for vacationers and theater-lovers. The government is a tri–”

  Astrid patted Emric on the shoulder. “Thank you, Professor. That’ll do.”

  “Right, right. Let’s get you to the gateway.”

  “Are you sure you won’t come home with me?”

  Emric took Astrid’s hand in his and they strolled together up the street, the others trailing them. “I can’t yet,” he said. “Out here in the world, my magic is growing by leaps and bounds. I know I can find a way to help Lorn. And I’m going to keep searching until I do.”

  “You’re a good brother, Emric.” Astrid leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “And an even better friend. I’m sorry again about how I acted last night.”

  “Me too. You’ve been through a lot. I should have been more sympathetic.”

  “Don’t get weepy on me now. You just promise to come see me in Anvilcairn soon.”

  “I will.”

  They dropped Astrid at the gateway where she could take a runegate to the Overcity of Anvilcairn. When she was gone, Alurel couldn’t hold in her questions any longer. “So, Emric, you and Astrid?”

  “We’re just friends, Alurel.”

  “Friends who suddenly realize one day they both want more?”

  “Probably not.”

  “But you just saved her from being dragon food. That’s got to count for something.”

  “You don’t understand. I don’t want our relationship to change. I like being her friend. Being her lover isn’t more; it’s just different, and I like our friendship the way it is.”

  “But I saw the way she was looking at you.”

  Emric put up a hand and splayed his fingers. “I have five brothers. Astrid can pick one of them.”

  “Fine, fine. I’m just saying, if you change your mind, I think she’d go for it.”

  The B-Team exited the gateway’s building as Emric and Alurel had this exchange. Nearby stood the Theatre Uxan, and the party treated themselves to brunch and a matinee. Afterwards, they decided to pamper themselves a little more following such an arduous time in the Realm of Water. They found an inn called the Shade Tree, which advertised several relaxing treatments: massages, hot stones, ki-alignment, acupuncture, and more.

  They entered the inn and were met by the scent of lavender and a smiling elf standing behind the concierge’s desk.

  “Welcome, friends, to the Shade Tree,” the elf said. “My name is Tuvala. Will you be staying with us or are you here for the amenities?”

  Sorvek stepped forward. “I find I am in dire need of a bath, as are my companions.”

  Tuvala wrinkled their nose, and their smile widened. “I would concur with that assessment. Shall I show you to your rooms and have hot water brought to your private baths? I can have your clothing laundered as well for an additional fee.”

  “How much are we talking?” Alurel said.

  But Sorvek cut in. “Who cares. I’ll pay for everyone.”

  Tuvala disclosed the exorbitant price for the Shade Tree’s services, and it was all Sorvek could do to keep his mouth closed. He emptied his coin purse onto the desk. “That should cover it. Now about that bath.”

  Three hours later, scrubbed and dressed in freshly laundered clothes, the B-Team met in the Shade Tree’s bar. They ate a sumptuous meal and discussed their options. Shonasir told them about the existing ironwoods and Riven’s enigmatic description. None of them had a map of southern Sularil, but Sorvek was more than happy to request one from the elven concierge. He was gone entirely too long from the table, and when he returned, Alurel’s questioning eyebrows were enough to prompt him.

  “I’ve got a date tonight!” Sorvek said. “It took some doing, but Tuvala and I are going out after their shift.”

  “Always picking up folks at inns,” Emric said, shaking his head.

  “I find hospitality workers are most...” Sorvek trailed off.

  “Hospitable?” Emric finished.

  “Sorvek, the map?” Shonasir asked.

  In his excitement, Sorvek had been gesticulating with the rolled up parchment. “Anyway, it’s not like that. I have some questions about being part elf, and Tuvala said they would help.”

  “You could just ask me,” Shonasir said.

  “Or me,” Alurel added.

  “The questions are of a, uh, delicate nature,” Sorvek said, running a hand over his head.

  Rhys snorted into his drink. “Nice cover.”

  “How dare you?” Sorvek protested, his voice all damaged innocence. “Tuvala made it very clear that our outing is for knowledge only.”

  “So, not a date, then.”

  Sorvek spread his hands wide. “What can I say, I’m an optimist.”

  Shonasir cleared their throat. “Sorvek, the map.”

  “Right, right.” He handed them the parchment, which they unrolled in the center of the table.

  “Between ocean and sea, with mountain ice looking down from above,” Shonasir repeated under their breath. “There!”

  They ran their finger from the Glass Ocean off the east coast westward to the Verinon Par, the Sea of Sularil. “The Dasost Forest. It must be! The Eastern Mountains are north of it and there are large bodies of water on either side.”

  Alurel held the sprouted seed on her lap. Lifting the glass globe she said, “That would explain why the Dasost are so reclusive. If there are still ironwoods alive in their forest, they would want to keep out any foreign influence that might bring the blight.”

  “Would they need that seed if they already have ironwood trees?” Rhys asked.

  “Who knows how often ironwoods flower,” Alurel said. “The seed might still be the last one, and even if it’s not, I swore to Ashlyra and myself that I would plant it. The Dasost Forest is the perfect place.”

  “If they let us in,” Shonasir said. “The Dasost are wildly xenophobic.”

  “Let’s cross that bridge when we get there. The seed might be our ticket.”

  “Back to Daen, then,” Shona
sir said, turning to Sorvek. “I’m sure there are plenty of elves there who would be happy to...uh...teach you things.”

  But Sorvek wasn’t listening. He was staring across the room at Tuvala. They wore their long, copper hair in a ponytail segmented at intervals by thin leather thongs. Their light blue skin held a tint of pink on the cheeks, which framed their welcoming smile. Their handsome features were made all the more beautiful by their open spirit, which Sorvek could sense all the way from the bar. As a guest turned away from their counter, Tuvala snatched a glance in Sorvek’s direction. Their eyes met for an instant, and Tuvala’s smile widened. Sorvek turned quickly away.

  “All right, now I’m getting nervous,” he said. “I’ve never courted anyone as myself before...in this body, I mean.”

  Alurel’s eyes went to his waist. “Afraid you might not, ah, measure up?”

  Before Sorvek could respond, Shonasir cut in. “Elves don’t care about stuff like that. Just be yourself.”

  “But not too much,” Alurel added hastily.

  The evening wore on, and the B-Team ate and drank to their hearts’ content. Everyone but Rhys predicted various outcomes of Sorvek’s date. The big swordsman was uncharacteristically quiet. He had left the sword in his room, and it was all he could do to remain in his seat and not go check to see if it was still there. The alcohol helped, but he longed to feel its weight on his back and its hilt in his hand. He squeezed his fingers together, imagining the blade’s balance, its –

  Rhys’s drink shattered in his hand, covering him with beer and shards of broken glass. Tuvala rushed over from the concierge’s desk, concern written on their face.

  “Sorry, so sorry,” Rhys said. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “Sometimes he doesn’t know his own strength,” Shonasir said, their cool eyes trained on the Kelenite.