Blade Of The Vampire King (Book 4)

by Lucas Thorn

  The elf watched as Chukshene scuttled quickly toward the wall, hand outstretched and probing for the hidden doorway.

  She wondered why it was easy for him to open a door, yet hard to cast a spell. Magic wasn't something she understood. She'd always thought the books were just for recording the words of a spell. Yet, the warlock had said he used it as a focus.

  The cleric, though, seemed to cast without a spellbook at all.

  Hyrax just raised his arms and shouted words of power to heal.

  Rubbing at the scar on her cheek, she allowed she didn't care enough to ask. And the more she thought about it, the more it irritated her.

  In fact, the more she looked at the warlock's back, the more irritated she was beginning to feel.

  It wouldn't take much to throw Entrance Exam from here. One sweep of her arm and he'd fall with the balanced blade sticking out of the back of his head.

  Wouldn't be hard.

  Flick of her wrist.

  Slight movement, and the Shadowed Halls would engulf him.

  He murmured and the wall began opening, exposing a doorway into a dark hall. When he turned, he had a smug look on his face. Like he'd done something special.

  He'd never be able to avoid the glittering dart of steel.

  The insects scurried across her flesh. Calling for her to kill him. Move.

  Move.

  Move.

  She moved. But not how they demanded. She strode easily past the necromancer and Melganaderna, ignoring their murmured words. Hadn't even been listening to them.

  Walked past the warlock like he wasn't there and entered the hallway.

  Narrow and damp, it looked like it stretched forever in every direction. Flickering torches spaced rarely along the wall. Rubble strewn here and there. Dust. Cobwebs. Puddles of some kind of thick oil.

  Lifeless.

  “This way,” Hemlock breathed, suddenly behind her. He pointed left.

  She nodded, and took the lead. Chukshene's greasy yellow orb hovered above her shoulder, sending its infected light streaming ahead.

  As she walked, she thought she could hear a low hum emanating from the walls. Up from the ground. From all around. Thought the crazed Vampire Queen was murmuring to her. But soon decided it was just her imagination stirred by Hemlock's words.

  Looking back, she decided to pick up her pace. To lead the small group quicker through the dark. Only Chukshene groaned as he recognised the elf's sudden change in attitude and his mutters replaced the Vampire Queen's, only his were more real.

  More distracting.

  Hemlock called a few times for the warlock to open more magical doors. Each time, the elf wondered why the necromancer didn't open them himself. But she kept her silence and figured it was because he was saving his energy. Or concentrating on holding back the pressure being brought to bear on him by Gul'Se's dark dreams.

  They hadn't found any other rooms. Just more of the same kind of hall.

  Long. Thin. Dark. Stifled by dead air and a burnt metallic smell which was beginning to make her stomach churn.

  A recipe for claustrophobia.

  The others felt it too, she noticed. Melganaderna was a little more twitchy. She often swapped the battleaxe from hand to hand. Tapped one of the heavy blade against the wall sometimes as though testing to see if it could push them further apart to give her more room.

  If they were attacked now, the elf thought, the young woman would be at a huge disadvantage. Unable to swing the massive weapon, she'd fall quickly.

  Another reason, thought the elf, to find better ground.

  Because something was closing in on them.

  She could feel it.

  Gul'Se's silence had extended too long since the death of one of her favourite pets. No more shrill screams or malicious cackling.

  Just deathly silence which predicted nightmares.

  Finally, as Chukshene opened another doorway at Hemlock's bidding, he let out a growl. “Another fucking hallway. I'm getting fucking sick of this.” He paused. “Do you think these doors open where we think they do?”

  Hemlock cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “Fucked if I know,” Chukshene shrugged. Scratched his scalp with his fingernails and frowned. “Just, it feels like what you said earlier. That we're not navigating the Keep as much as it's navigating us. I thought you were just a bit fucked in the head at the time. But now? Now I'm getting ready to piss my pants. I mean, look at this place. Doesn't it look like where we were walking just a few minutes ago? Like we're being looped around and around. If I'm right, Gul'Se could make us walk in fucking circles until we die.”

  The necromancer said nothing.

  He didn't need to.

  The thought hung over them all like a heavy fog. It kept the elf's shoulders buzzing with insects. Her eyes narrowed to glittering slits. Hands firm around the handles of her favourite blades.

  She moved faster.

  They followed, Hemlock dragging himself with Melganaderna's help.

  But the elf couldn't bear to slow. The air soured. Slowly at first.

  A sharp sick smell which made the back of her throat gag at the taste of it.

  She stopped.

  Chukshene swore.

  Melganaderna looked up. “What is it?”

  The elf pointed at the wall to her left. “Here,” she said. “Open this fucking wall right now.”

  “I don't think that's how it works, Nysta,” the warlock tried to explain. He picked his words carefully. “I kind of need a door. Hemlock's pretty good at spotting them. Maybe we should-”

  The elf rounded on him, hand reach out to grab him by the robe. She jerked hard, swinging him into the wall. She didn't look at him. Her eyes blazed with rage as they stared forward into the murky darkness further down the hallway.

  He struggled in her grip, his face pressed hard against the cold stone. But the elf didn't let go. “Don't fuck with me, Chukshene. Not now. You open this fucking wall. You open it here. You open it with your magic, or I'll open it with your fucking head. You understand?”

  His body shook and he flailed wildly, not wanting to grab her by the hand in case it made her worse.

  “Okay, okay.” He scowled. “Here? You want a fucking door right here? Fine. Just let me fucking go. I'll see what I can do.”

  “Fast,” she hissed, dropping him.

  “Move back,” he told the other two as he pushed up his sleeves.

  “Now, Chukshene,” the elf said. A Flaw in the Glass hummed noiselessly in her fist.

  “Hey, Nysta,” he said, forcing a casual attitude into his voice. “It's time for you to shut the fuck up. You want this done? Then don't fucking distract me.”

  He placed both hands on the wall and closed his eyes.

  The swell of magic made the elf's nose ache as the acrid stink fought to overpower the already putrid air.

  A torch, far in the distance, flickered and died.

  Then another.

  Melganaderna squeezed past the warlock. Stepped up behind Nysta and whispered. “Something's out there?”

  Another torch gave a sputter and succumbed to the dark. The elf nodded. “It's coming.”

  “What do you think it is?”

  “The dead,” Hemlock said. His voice was close. He'd pushed up next to Melganaderna so he could see. His grimoire tight in his hand, he was already absently sliding his fingers between the pages. “It's not one of them. It's many. So many. Countless.”

  “Time to run,” the young woman said. “Hem? We run, right?”

  “Yeah.” The necromancer swallowed hard. Small beads of sweat pushed through his forehead and down his cheeks. “We run.”

  “Chukshene?” The elf let her voice whip through her teeth. “Open the fucking wall.”

  Another light. Closer.

  Melganaderna took Torment by both hands. The purple enchantment gave a flicker. “We should-”

  The explosion rocked the hall, vibrating up through the soles of their boots and s
ending them reeling away. The elf spat curses as the shockwave sent her slamming into the wall. Her shoulder, still not quite ready for more punishment, whipped lashes of pain into her brain.

  The warlock stood. Eyes watering. Face pale and dry. Robes covered in dust and specks of plaster. The wall in front of him was a ruin.

  He choked on the dust, looking puzzled by the size of the hole he'd created through almost three feet of solid rock.

  “Grim's diseased balls,” he croaked. “It fucking worked.”

  “Come on,” Melganaderna was the first through. She grabbed Hemlock by his arm and dragged him into the yawning hold still curtained by falling dust and chips of stone.

  The elf paused, still pressed against the wall and clutching her upper arm.

  A light flickered into black and a low groaning wail began to lift from the distance.

  “Shit,” she spat. Then looked back to where the warlock was looking down at his hands, still amazed by his achievement. Though why he was so shocked was something the elf couldn't understand. Mages destroyed with magic. It's what they did. Yet, here he was, acting as though it was the first spell he'd ever cast.

  The acrid smell was still strong.

  Reminding her again of Talek.

  And of her husband's scars.

  She lifted her leg and shot out her foot. Her boot smashed into the warlock's lower back, sending him flying through the ruined wall. He let out a cry as he went, his leg catching on a block of stone to send him sprawling.

  Mildly satisfied, the elf followed, leaping inside as quickly as she could. She landed hard. Rolled, and shot to her feet. Looked around. Grabbed Chukshene by the collar as he tried to investigate a few more fresh wounds. Pointed back toward the hole in the wall.

  “Good work, 'lock,” she snarled into his face. “Now fucking close it.”

  He paled more. “I can't.”

  She pulled him closer, pressing her nose against his and unleashing all the hatred she could muster in her violet glare. “I said, close it.”

  But before the warlock could answer, Hemlock let loose words of power in a string of magic which resulted in a gelatinous ball of green light spinning from his open palm to splash against the rock above the opening.

  It showered down like acid, fingers of necromantic plasma dragging at the rocks above to bring them tumbling down. An avalanche of stone which ground to a halt with a deep grumble made more terrifying by the frustrated shriek of Gul'Se which echoed from the hall behind it as her plan to trap them within the hall was thwarted too easily.

  The elf slowly let her fingers uncurl from the warlock's robe and let him fall to the ground at her feet. He rubbed at his ankle. “You can be a real bitch sometimes,” he said. “You know that?”

  The sound of something sharp and dry scrambling around the blocked wall.

  Like spiders crawling over the rubble.

  Then they started digging. The sound of heavy stones being moved made the warlock let out a whine of dismay.

  She shuddered, but managed to meet Chukshene's eyes with an impassive gaze. He flinched, obviously wondering if his words had gone too far. “Ain't sure that's an accurate call, Chukshene,” she said evenly. “On account of you being the one who's doing the bitching.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The wall yawned open and they rushed into another of what seemed to be an endless number of hallways and large empty rooms. This time, a large room. Bare and draped in shadows.

  At first, she'd thought the reason so much of the fortress was so ruined was because the Keep had been empty so long. That much of the furniture might have decayed or been ruined in the war which had taken place throughout its innards.

  But now she was becoming less sure.

  “This place is just an empty fucking tomb,” she growled as they found another large cavernous hall.

  “It's said it was a place filled with treasures,” Hemlock said softly. “But that Grim and Rule allowed their armies to loot it to its bones.”

  Melganaderna didn't look convinced. “Something's not right, Hem. I don't care how big it's supposed to be, this is too much. And too bare. It's like the rooms are being created, rather than the doorways.”

  “Can we stop for a few minutes?” Chukshene struggled for air. “I can't breathe. This isn't easy.”

  “Neither's getting your limbs torn off by a horde of undead,” the elf countered.

  “Thanks,” he said drily. “I needed to hear that. Always so fucking cheerful, you are.”

  Hemlock paused in front of the doorway Chukshene was about to open. His face thoughtful and his brow deeply furrowed. He looked older than his years, the elf thought.

  “There might be something to what you say,” he said to Melganaderna. Reached out and pushed his hand against the wall. Touching the spidery runes. They glittered lightly under his palm. “Maybe you and Chukshene are right. This place is ancient. But I don't think it belonged to the Vampire Lords. I don't think it was even built by them. This is something else. The runes look strange to start with. Sure, they're the same runes you see on most ruins left by the Vampire Lords. But it's like they weren't always that way. Like they're trying to reform themselves into what they were. As thought originally, they might have been made by someone – something – else. It feels like the Keep was made by someone else. Maybe the Vampire Lords corrupted it, like they did everything else. But it wants to be free. So it hates them. And I think it's that hatred which has been spilling into my brain as we've gotten closer. There's something here. I'm sure of it. Something I'm missing. Something obvious. Or maybe I'm just meant to think that.”

  “Might also explain why Gul'Se hasn't just locked all the doors,” the elf said.

  The necromancer blinked as if the thought was new to him.

  Maybe it was, she thought. He didn't look too good. His white skin was more pale than before.

  “Yes,” he said, his words coming slow. “That's something. Why didn't she just open more doors for her creations? Why not let the undead surround us? Lock us in, as you said. And deliver us to her pets?”

  Chukshene pursed his lips. “It's said Rule left her alive for a reason. His hatred for the Vampire Lords was total. But Gul'Se wasn't born one. She was something else. A sorceress, it's said. Rule thought of her as a traitor. Worse than that, maybe. He wanted her to suffer. Wanted her to live the rest of her cursed existence here. Trapped in the dark.”

  “That's awful,” Melganaderna muttered.

  “But why would you trap someone in a place they can manipulate? It'd be like putting someone in a prison where they could do anything they want. It wouldn't be much of a punishment, I think. At least, not from Rule's perspective. So maybe she's less powerful than we think,” he said.

  Hemlock nodded. “And maybe the Keep is growing in power, too. Maybe it's fighting back.”

  “You speak like it's alive,” the elf said.

  “In a way, I think it is.” He'd kept one hand pressed to the wall and he looked at it, nodding as the alien writing twinkled around his fingers. “Maybe not the way we think of life. But it's responding to something. As though it's waking up. I don't think it's Gul'Se leading us in. I think it's the Keep itself.”

  “Right.” The warlock hitched his robe and looked nervously around. “That's it. I'm officially never going to be able to sleep again. Have you any idea how fucked up that sounds, Hemlock? The Keep is alive, and it's dragging us in like flies to its web? You know, I'm not sure which would be worse. Vampire Queen? Grey Jacket bastards? Or this? A hungry Keep. Today's not a good day. Not a good day at all. In fact, I remember waking up one day and finding out I wasn't very good at magecraft. Finding out I was about to be kicked out of Godsfall. Never to return. Destined to shovel shit on a farm full of pigs for the rest of my fucking life. And I hate pigs. Have I told you that? They smell. And they're always fucking angry. They're worse than Nysta in that regard. Anyway, I always thought that was the worst fucking day of my life. But you know what? Thi
s is it. This one right here. We're surrounded. Completely and utterly. By evil shit which wants us dead. And there's no way out.”

  “It might not be all that bad,” Hemlock said, but even he didn't seem to believe it. “Maybe it just wants our help.”

  “By trying to kill us? That's a fucking strange way to ask for help. I say it can go fuck itself.” Chukshene tapped the wall with his foot. Unwilling, even in his obvious disgust, to kick hard and threaten breaking a toe. The gesture looked more petulant than irritated. “This place makes me sick. Right to my core.”

  “Let's keep moving,” Melganaderna said. “Whatever's happening, it can't be safe standing around like this.”

  “Nysta?” Chukshene raised an eyebrow, looking to her for guidance.

  The elf grunted. “Reckon she's right, 'lock.”

  Gul'Se chose that moment to let out another scream of rage.

  This time, the sound blasted around their ears and the elf had to block her ears as the scream made the walls shudder and the sound of stones grinding against each other groaned hoarsely from beneath their feet.

  For a moment, the elf thought the ground would drop away and send them falling to their deaths. But, slowly, the vibrations ceased and the Keep's wounded spasms settled.

  “Shit,” Chukshene said when the silence returned. “What was that all about?”

  “Reckon it means we're wasting time we ain't got,” the elf supplied. “She's getting more pissed by the second. If she was a sorceress half as good as you said she was, then it won't matter much if the Keep likes us or not.”

  He nodded and fumbled his way toward opening the hidden doorway. Magic seethed in the air around him and the elf was forced to look away. She caught Melganaderna's troubled expression. The young woman was watching Hemlock, whose eyes were fastened on the dark green orb in his palm.

  He looked up. Caught Melganaderna's look and smiled softly. “It's okay,” he rasped. “I'm fine.”

  “You don't look fine, Hem.” Her mouth twisted into its impish grin. “In fact, I think you look like shit.”

  “Thanks.”