Blade Of The Vampire King (Book 4)

by Lucas Thorn

  He didn't argue. Just let out a whimper and nodded.

  Lifted his arm and moaned more words of power. Each word uttered with a cringe as the agonised spellslinger prepared to feel the backlash of casting without a grimoire.

  When the splash of molten yellow plasma powered into the creature this time, it wasn't as powerful as the first. But it was still enough to make it fall onto its knees, held upright only by its massive arm which pounded at the broken ground.

  It squealed, a high-pitched sound which was more alien than natural.

  Melganaderna rushed in, but was driven back as the creature reeled around on its knees, swinging wildly. Its steely arm slapped Torment aside and it kept spinning, thrashing, and screaming.

  Grunting in frustration, the elf edged close, but it had enough awareness to take a swipe at her. Its driven purpose to kill all that was keeping it from falling apart.

  It was a weak swing, but its claws were long and dangerous. And the flesh, which had peeled away beneath Chukshene's blasts of magic, revealed more rows of daggers and swords. Blades with edges like broken fangs.

  She knew if the arm hit her right, even once, it would shred her body and leave her in ribbons. She spat another curse, disappointed the warlock hadn't been able to render it as helpless as she'd wanted. She'd hoped it would fall like a turtle on its back. Instead, it was a wolf caught in a trap. Jaws ready to snap and claws ready to tear through flesh.

  Melganaderna kept her eyes on the creature's back as she circled it.

  Mail armour flickering in the bright torchlight. Already sparking red as though wet with blood. Eyes wide, the young axewoman looked revolted by the creature, but also eager to cleave its head in two as she'd promised.

  She licked her lips. Didn't blink as sweat dripped down her brow.

  Torment glowed its eldritch purple glow, and the elf could hear a low hum from the two broad blades as though it was also thirsting to kill.

  But the creature's awareness was enough to know its death was being planned.

  It waited, arm at the ready. Knowing its position as hunter had been stripped too easily. Maybe somewhere in its tormented awareness, it had always wanted to die. But just as strong was the irrational will to survive and the desire to kill.

  Breaths heaving like a blacksmith's bellows, its primitive gaze flicked this way and that. The elf worried the creature would still be fast enough to take out the young axewoman before she got her chance to split its head wide open.

  She needed to distract it.

  Slowly, the elf sheathed her knives and reached down. Picked up a book. Its spine still hard, though the pages were little more than soggy ashes.

  Hefted it. Weighed it in her palm.

  Then threw it at the enraged creature's head.

  “Fuck you, you piece of shit,” she spat. Threw another book. “Get up! Come at me!”

  It tried.

  One leg gave way, the knee splintering with a wet crunch. Loosened blades skittered across the ground.

  The other struggled to keep its weight. The dark pitiless sockets in its skull stared through her with so much hate she felt it warm the back of her spine.

  She tossed another, catching its cheek.

  It screamed.

  Another hit its chest, the covers of the damaged book fluttering like batwings as it was thrown.

  Each time, it reached out with savage claws.

  Letting Melganaderna inch closer.

  Until it finally managed to get its single good leg to bear its weight. Held its balance for a brief moment before the monstrous head leaned toward the elf and it let out another mindless roar.

  She threw another book. Spat a wet stream at it, which splashed against its skeletal jaws.

  It took the bait.

  “Shit,” the elf grunted as the huge creature lunged. It couldn't run because one leg was shattered, but it still had the strength to send itself rolling toward her in an avalanche of old flesh and broken steel.

  She had to dart away, pushing herself out of its reach and feeling the savage blade claws whistle past her ear. Felt a sharp pinch of pain as one nicked the back of her neck to draw a thin splash of blood.

  She dove to the ground, her already-aching shoulder protesting as it took her weight. Yelled; “Now!”

  And Melganaderna brought Torment down. The heavy axe met the top of the creature's skull and sheared through bone and steel alike. Travelled down its jaw and throat, angling off to its right and severing the arm as cleanly as if it were clay.

  One side of its head burst free and landed with a wet crash on the ground at the axewoman's feet. Black slime sputtered free as it wheeled around, still refusing to die.

  Gul'Se shrieked from the darkness, spewing threats and curses. The walls and ground thundered with her voice, each blasted syllable rising higher and more desperate than the last.

  The elf hit the agonised creature from behind, feeling something sharp drill into her thigh.

  But she was close, now. She could feel it.

  Could feel the creature's death bleeding into the room.

  Had to hang on as it tried to shrug her off. Tore more skin as the blades writhed against her.

  Yanked hard on its shoulder, pulling at chunks of cold dead flesh. Ignored the pain of many cuts as she reached between the shattered blades so she could at last search toward the ruined stump of its head. One hand, wrapped around an old sword's blade, slipped a little and bright crimson mingled with the creature's filth.

  Melganaderna hacked at the creature's torso, her battleaxe chewing into steel. But the swords were too thick so she wasn't doing the damage she'd been hoping for. Still, she swung the mighty axe with all her strength again and again. Keeping the creature confused as it tried to focus on both its attackers at the same time.

  The elf managed shove her free fist deep into the gore above its neck. Dug around, fingers pushing through thick muscle and cold cords of tendon until they found something small. Something different.

  An orb throbbing inside its throat.

  She yanked it free, feeling it bubble and hiss in her palm as its connection to Gul'Se's creation was severed.

  Whatever the creature had been, it died without a whimper. Just dropped and fell apart, rust-spotted swords clanking in shock as they showered down to rest inside a puddle of thick putrid slime.

  Leaving Nysta standing in its liquefied entrails, still gripping a broken sword in one hand and a darkly-glowing orb in the other.

  Which she looked at with a grimace. Slick with black gore, the glowing orb resembled something of the yellow orb which Chukshene often used to light his path. Gelatinous and cold.

  But darker. Like an emerald left in shadow. Just looking into its swirling depths made her uncomfortable.

  Feeling eyes on her, she turned slightly and saw Hemlock looking up at her as though waking from a long sleep.

  The necromancer lifted himself up onto one elbow and stared at the orb in fascination. Not knowing why, she resisted the urge to crush the foul thing and instead flung it toward him. He snatched at it as it rolled along the ground. “How-?”

  But the elf had turned her attention to Melganaderna, who stood beside the ruins of Gul'Se's revenge and was breathing hard. Torment's purple light flickered brightly for a moment, then dulled.

  The young woman didn't notice. Her eyes were on the puddle of gore. “What the fuck was that thing?”

  “Once upon a time? Maybe a troll. Reckon that was a long time ago, though. Does it matter?” The elf wiped her hands on her pants and dropped the broken sword. Didn't bother looking at her fresh wounds. Limped instead toward where Chukshene was dry-retching as he clutched his head.

  She didn't touch him. Didn't reach for him. She had no physical comfort to offer.

  Just stood watching as he whimpered.

  Felt the bubbling echoes of her rage calling her to lift his sweat-drenched head and slit his throat. Her violet eyes burned in their sockets as the image of him holding Tal
ek's Cage in his hand flickered in her mind.

  She had to kill him.

  Had to.

  Rigid in place, the elf kept staring down at the warlock, feeling hatred force her fingers tight around the hilt of Entrance Exam sheathed at her thigh.

  Then said, through her teeth; “You did good, 'lock.”

  “Fuck me, that was hard,” he said. He shuddered in waves. “Casting without a spellbook. It's dangerous. So dangerous. Sure, we know a few tricks. Everyone knows one or two tricks. But they're just tricks. Small things. You know. Light a candle with a wave of your hand. Zap your friends at parties. Lift a barmaid's skirt with a well-timed gust of wind. That kind of thing. Not throw fucking fireballs of any real size. Not this. Shit, that was hard. My brain felt like it was folding in on itself. I nearly died, Nysta. I was so close I could fucking taste the food in the Shadowed Halls. Hear the music. Awful music. Don't they have any decent bards? Grim's blasted fucking toenails that was the worst thing I've ever done. Ever. I couldn't do it again. I just couldn't. Look at me! I'm fucked. Completely fucked. Shit. I can taste watermelons. Why can I taste watermelons?”

  “We have to move, Chukshene,” she said. Forced herself to release her grip on the throwing knife. “Now, I need you to look after Hemlock. I need Melganaderna to fight whatever else is out there. Ain't sure what Gul'Se's got left to throw at us, but I don't thinks she's finished with us yet. You and the necromancer are useless to me right now. So, you keep an eye on him for her. Need her concentrating on keeping us alive right now. I don't want her distracted worrying about him.”

  “I'll try.” He wiped at his mouth, wincing. “You don't know what this place must be like for him. Gul'Se's been playing with necromancy. That's obvious now. But in a way which even I can now feel calling to me. She hasn't just made things out of leftovers. She's raised the dead. Mutated them. Maybe that doesn't mean anything to you. But she's done worse than what we've seen. I know it. I can feel it in the walls now, too. Humming in the walls like it's a living thing. I don't know what she's done just yet, but I have a feeling we're going to find out. And, Nysta? I don't think even your boundless fucking energy is going to save us.”

  She nodded. “Then wake him up, 'lock. We need him.”

  “Fuck.” He looked over at where the necromancer was cradling the small orb. “Undead. Have I told you how much I fucking hate undead? They've got no business running around as though they're still alive. Worse than fucking goblins. Shit.”

  The elf watched him move away. Suddenly felt tired as the slithering insect swarm retreated. She frowned, rubbing at her cheek and tried to focus her thoughts on what had just happened.

  Tried to push thoughts of insects back into the box she'd put in her mind just for them.

  “Do you think there's more of them?” Melganaderna hadn't moved, though her expression was calm. Not afraid. As though she'd simply come to an understanding and accepted the violence she'd unleashed. “More of this thing?”

  “Fucked if I know,” she said. “Ask your necromancer. The 'lock and I saw something like it before, though. Long way from here. A big bastard with a back full of chains. The 'lock seems to think Vampire Lords played with dead things like they were toys, and I reckon that sounds about right from everything I know.”

  “Sounds right to me, too.” The young woman shuddered, her axe still leaking black slime and gore. Her mail armour glistened wet. A smile suddenly toyed with her lips. “Good fight, though,” she said.

  “Yeah,” the elf found herself grinning, too. She squeezed her fist, feeling the blood from her fresh cuts drip. Her fingers tingled slightly and a part of her knew the flesh was already knitting closed, though she refused to look. “Good fight.”

  “For a second, I felt it. The enchantments in this axe. As though they were responding to me.” She glanced at the weapon with a look of satisfaction. “It could just be Gul'Se being close. But it nearly triggered. It nearly knew me. I was so close. Closer than ever before. Do you think we'll get to her?”

  “Reckon so.”

  “Before the Accepted?”

  “The Grey Jackets?”

  “That's what you call them.”

  “Ain't sure about that,” the elf said, absently nudging a few ruined books from her path as she headed toward where the warlock was bending over Hemlock. “They're ahead of us. Not sure how far. And in this maze, they could be anywhere.”

  “I hope they're not here,” Melganaderna said, following. “I don't want them getting to her first. Because I want her. Gul'Se. She's the key for me and this piece of shit. I can feel it. Funny, isn't it? We came in here for Hemlock. Ends up it's exactly where I need to be, too.”

  “Reckon we're all right where we deserve,” the elf said with a twist of her lip. Waved a hand at the mounds of useless books. “On account of where we're standing.”

  Melganaderna shot her a puzzled look. “Where?”

  “Lost among the pulp.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “It's incredible,” Hemlock was saying, eyes wide. He held up the small orb. “Look at it. Do you see it?”

  Chukshene shook his head. “Sorry, my friend. I'm more in touch with the demonic arts than the necromantic. For me, it's a pretty fucking light. Sure, I know it's special. I know it's magic. But the best use I could put it to is a fucking paperweight.”

  “This is important,” the necromancer insisted. “If I could make more of these, I could create an army strong enough to hold back Rule himself! We wouldn't ever have to hide from him again. I'm sure of it.”

  “Sure,” the warlock said, trying to lift the young man to his feet. “But how about we get the fuck out of this place, first, yeah? How about we help Nysta stab the Vampire Queen in the face? That would be fun, wouldn't it?”

  “Don't you fucking dare,” Melganaderna said. “If anyone's stabbing her in the face, it's going to be me.”

  “There has to be something,” Hemlock murmured. He looked around frantically at the library of ruined books. “Something which can help me make more of these. Show me how to use them, at least.”

  Chukshene patted his shoulder when he was sure the necromancer could stand on his own. “If there is, it's not in here.” He turned slightly toward the elf. “Okay, Nysta. You've got this thing for predicting danger. Neat trick it is, too. I wish I had it. Might've stopped me marrying my last wife. But I don't. And I did. So, help me out here. Which way do we go? What's the fastest fucking way out of this shithole because I'm sick of being in it. Let's forget Gul'Se and just get out.”

  “What about your spellbook?”

  “Fuck it. I can find another.” But he already sounded uncertain. Winced as her eyebrow arched without altering her impassive expression. “Fuck you, I can.”

  “No!” Hemlock's voice was suddenly strong again. Insistent. More like himself, his eyes blazed with energy as his long thin finger snaked out to grab the warlock by his robe. “We must keep going. The Vampire Queen keeps the secrets close to herself. You heard her say she wouldn't let us have it. It must be powerful, whatever she's protecting. I mean, she couldn't have done any of this on her own. Somehow, and I don't know how, she's controlling the interior of this place. Moving it around. It's the only reason we're getting lost. You know I'm right. Imagine, Chukshene, what she must have hidden away! We've come this far, we must keep going. The risk is worth it.”

  “Are you sure?” Chukshene didn't look at him. He chewed on his nail, looking uncomfortable. “You've been getting worse. Look what just happened. We were attacked. If Nysta hadn't been able to rip its fucking guts out through its throat, we'd be dead. We're just lucky she figured out how to kill it. I can't cast anything worth casting without Sharras Exilium. You were on the ground, dead to the fucking world. If we come across Gul'Se right now, she'll tear us to pieces. We're just lucky she's content to fucking toy with us like mice. But sooner or later, my friend, the cat will show its claws. Its real claws. If you're not able to help, we're going to die. No fucking argu
ment about that. We need to be sure of you. Sure you can stand when your mind says fall. Because if we're not sure, we might as well sit here and die.”

  Nysta nodded in agreement, surprised at the warlock's tone. For once, all trace of fear was gone from his voice. Replaced by a steely resolve she hardly recognised.

  She spat wetly on the ground, feeling her shoulders ache as a small swarm of insects wormed beneath her jacket. “The 'lock's right,” she said. “We all got things we want here. Chukshene wants his book. The kid here wants to soak her axe in the Vampire Queen's guts. You want your own secrets. Me, I just want to pay a couple of debts and get the fuck out of here. And we ain't going to do any of that with you like this.”

  “I know,” he said. He clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes. “I can feel her, you know. Out there. She's a powerful necromancer herself. She could teach me a lot. But she's insane. Totally insane. The force of her madness is like waves of sound just smashing through me. It makes it hard to think. I can hear her whispering all the fucking time. It's like it's humming out of the walls and driving me just as mad as she is!” He ignored Melganaderna's hand on his shoulder. Kept his eyes on the elf. “But I can do this. It won't happen again. Believe me.”

  “Are you sure, Hem?” Melganaderna's grip tightened on his shoulder, squeezing as if to transmit strength into his shivering bones.

  “I'm sure.” He let his breath blow hard from his lungs. “I won't let her push me down. I might be new at this, but I know I can stand. I have to. If I can't face her, how will I face the mages Rule will send after us?”

  Chukshene echoed the necromancer's sigh with one of his own. “I must be as fucking mental as the rest of you.”

  Guessing this meant they would continue into the Keep's haunted bowels, the elf tucked her thumbs behind A Flaw in the Glass and Entrance Exam. “Then we'd better move. Fast. Willem and his fucking Grey Jackets are still in here, too. It ain't just the Vampire Queen we've got to worry about. So keep your eyes open. And be ready.”

  Melganaderna showed a small grin. “I'm ready.”

  “Then we need to head this way,” Hemlock said, waving an arm toward the back of the room. “The Keep's power seems to radiate from that direction.”