Thief of Lives

by J. C.

  "Vatz, watch the hallway," she said. "Shoot anything that moves."

  The boy settled himself in next to Wynn, crossbow aimed down the passage toward the kitchen door.

  Wynn set the crystal on the floor and took a pouch of water from Leesil's belt. She shifted around and pulled him back to lean against her.

  "We simply need to speed up your body's ability to heal around your eyes," she said. "I am not a healer, but perhaps I can stimulate the process. Lean your head back upon my shoulder. I am going to rinse your eyes first."

  Leesil did as she instructed. Wynn carefully poured the water across his blinking eyes.

  "Now be still and quiet," she said. "I must concentrate."

  She placed her palms like a mask over his face. As she closed her own eyes, she began chanting softly.

  Magiere waited, impatient and anxious, as she watched Leesil. She couldn't finish this without him, and even if she could, she wasn't about to have him remain in this lair if he was blind. If Wynn failed, they would flee immediately.

  Wynn ceased chanting, and Magiere forget to watch the stairs. She wasn't certain what the sage was doing or how such magic worked, but there had been no light, sound, or other sensations. No sign that anything had happened at all from the sage's actions. Wynn lifted her hands from Leesil's face.

  "Open your eyes," Wynn said. "Is it any better?"

  Leesil pushed up to sit on his own. He blinked twice, squinting, and Magiere quickly crouched in front of him. At that he looked directly at her face, and she took deep, long breath.

  "Yes…" he said uncertainly, then nodded. "It's a little clearer."

  His voice was calmer now, but Magiere still heard the strain in it. Blindness was probably the worst thing Leesil could imagine. He was a fighter. He turned his head and squinted at Wynn.

  "Thank you. I don't know how—"

  "How well can you see?" Magiere interrupted.

  Leesil climbed back to his feet, and she grabbed his arm to steady him.

  "Better," he answered. "It's getting better quickly now. That's all I need."

  She nodded, uncertain whether he was completely truthful. "Then we go up."

  * * * *

  Chane emerged on the second floor, long sword in hand, and moved quickly to Tibor's room. It contained only thick curtains and a mattress on the floor. Tibor was deeply dormant, and Chane knelt next to him. He reached out and touched Tibor's shoulder.

  "Wake now," he said, his tone urgent. "The hunter is in our house."

  Tibor jumped slightly and opened his eyelids. He pulled back away from Chane with a startled expression before recognition dawned.

  "The hunter?"

  "Get your sword. We must protect the master."

  At mention of Toret, Tibor grabbed the blade lying next to him upon the mattress.

  "You lead," Chane said. "Head for the hidden passageway, and we'll slip upstairs."

  Without question, Tibor headed for the bedroom door with Chane close behind. As Tibor stepped into the hallway, Chane raised his blade. On some hidden instinct, Tibor looked back.

  Chane's blade cut a path through the darkness into Tibor's neck and cleanly through it.

  The sailor's head tumbled off, striking the floor and rolling down the hall. The body crumpled with a heavy thud, black fluids seeping into the hallway rug.

  Chane wiped his blade clean on the body and stepped over it, hurrying to the concealed entrance of the hidden second stairway. Inside the small space of cobwebbed stone, he took the narrow steps two at a time and emerged quietly in the third-floor hallway.

  He saw Toret peer from Sapphire's room, and Chane tapped lightly on the wall. Toret looked up at the sound and saw him. The small undead pointed back toward a spot behind the railing at the top of the stairs. Chane nodded and motioned for Toret to head for the far end overhanging the stairwell.

  Toret shook his head and pointed back into the room as he mouthed, Sapphire. He then pointed at the passage Chane had exited and downward.

  Chane understood. Sapphire was still in the room, and Toret wanted her in the passage so she could escape. He motioned for Toret to send her down the hall. Then he heard voices from below in the house.

  His small master pulled the struggling form of Sapphire from her room and pointed at Chane, but clearly Sapphire wasn't ready to leave. Could she possibly be any more vapid? With an angry expression, she scurried down the hall. To Chane's amazement, instead of coming straight to him, she ducked into Toret's room.

  Chane looked at Toret in disbelief, and saw his little master clench his jaw with frustration. The hunter could come up the stairs at any moment. But before Chane took a step to go after Sapphire, she slipped back out of Toret's room with a purse in her hand.

  She'd wanted money. She wore a midnight-blue gown and a gold pendant with a sapphire, and carried a large matching bag with a drawstring closure. She dropped the purse into the bag. As soon as she was close enough, Chane grabbed her arm and pushed her into the passageway so he could close it.

  "I'm not climbing into some sewer!" she hissed, swatting at him.

  Chane's anger flared but realization presented an opportunity. Perhaps Toret was not the only annoyance he could be rid of this night. He peered over his shoulder at Toret hiding above the stairwell at the hall's other end, then pitched his voice low to Sapphire, making sure his little master would not hear.

  "Then just go to the exit for the second floor and wait," he instructed her. "Toret and I will take care of the hunter. When all is finished, I will come for you."

  She mulled over his suggestion. "If I hear the fight move upstairs, couldn't I just slip out onto the main floor and out the front door?"

  "No, wait behind the second floor's entrance and do not come out until I open it."

  Chane pushed her inside and closed the passage entrance.

  He would never come for her and, eventually, Sapphire's impatience would be too much. She would try to sneak through the house. With luck, she would also join Toret in a second death.

  Chane opened his senses as wide as possible.

  Soft growling and the barest footfall upon stairs sounded from far below. He crouched in the hallway behind the railing near the landing. Toret was at the far end of the railing over the stairwell, examining his sword for a long moment. To Chane's astonishment, he put the blade down. What did he plan to fight with?

  Where's Tibor? Toret mouthed without sound.

  Chane drew a line across his throat with one finger and pointed down the stairwell to the sound of approaching steps.

  Toret looked blankly down over the railing's edge. He crouched, angry determination on his face. Chane settled low, waiting.

  With a little luck, Toret would find himself very suddenly alone against the dhampir and the half-blood. Not the best plan, but it was all that Chane could arrange in the moment. Freedom was perhaps only moments away.

  Chapter 18

  Leesil let Magiere lead the way up the staircase. Her slightly blurred form was silhouetted by the glow of her topaz amulet, an unsettling sight. Hopefully, the orb was the last surprise they would encounter. Although he could see enough to fight, he couldn't clearly make out the carpet's pattern. Spotting any fine detail of warning was impossible until his vision cleared further, and they didn't have time to wait. He feared little in the world, but the prospect of blindness had never occurred to him.

  Chap snarled softly as he mounted the stairs beside Leesil. Wynn and Vatz followed behind, the sage now carrying her cold lamp crystal and the crossbow Magiere had given her. Nearing the second floor, Magiere stopped with one foot on the landing and looked back at Leesil, her dark eyes troubled and uncertain.

  Leesil unsheathed his second blade, one in each hand, and took two steps up to peer through the stairs' railing along the hallway floor.

  A headless body lay there, and a pool of dark fluid was already soaked into the rug. Leesil reached out to touch the stained spot—it was still freshly wet.

&
nbsp; Magiere stepped onto the landing and into the hall, and Leesil followed. Halfway down the passage lay a decapitated head. A gasp came from behind Leesil, and he looked back.

  Wynn's eyes were wide and round, fixed on the corpse.

  He waved a hand at her several times before she looked up, and with a scowl, he put one finger to his lips. She nodded slowly.

  Vatz sidestepped the body at Leesil's feet. He glared at it as if someone had stolen a dockside fare out from under his wrinkling nose.

  Leesil gave Magiere a questioning glance, but she merely shook her head in confusion and moved down the corridor. They passed by the head and reached the base of the final flight of stairs.

  Creeping upward, Magiere led them. As they stepped beyond the halfway point, Chap snarled loudly.

  Magiere shifted back against the wall and Chap inched another step upward. Fur on end, the hound looked up toward the floor above. Leesil followed that crystal gaze.

  Somewhere above were undeads.

  Chap cut loose a wail that shattered the silence, and the world around Leesil became a flurry of motion.

  A tall figure appeared above the railing along the third floor and slashed down at Magiere with a long sword. The clang of it colliding with her falchion rang in Leesil's ears, and he missed a grab for Chap as the hound bolted past Magiere to the landing.

  Magiere slashed the sword out of her way as she climbed upward. The sword's wielder stepped into full view as he brought his blade back to swipe at Chap's lunging form.

  He was tall, with brown-red hair, and dressed in a simple but finely tailored tunic. As Leesil took two more stairs, he heard Wynn cry out.

  "Chane!"

  That single word made the swordsman falter as he looked down the stairs past Leesil. Indecision broke the cold determination on his pale face.

  A quarrel sailed past Leesil's head and struck the tall undead in the chest. Smoke welled around the embedded shaft. Leesil glanced back to see that it was Vatz who'd fired. Wynn stood petrified beside him with her crossbow clutched at her chest. Vatz was already reloading.

  As Leesil rushed upward, he glimpsed a form leaping over the railing along the back of the hall and down into the stairwell. It landed on his back and crushed him against the stairs. Wiry hands like skin stretched upon bone snatched both of his wrists to pin them down.

  "You're dead, half-blood," hissed a familiar voice in his ear.

  Leesil felt the chill of Ratboy's grip on his wrists as if the cold burrowed into his flesh and spread through his body. Burning pain shortened his breath as teeth clamped against his hauberk's collar.

  Not again.

  The teeth closed hard on Leesil's neck, but his collar took the brunt. As shock finished its rush through his blood, he folded his left leg and kicked against the stairwell's left wall.

  The thrust threw him into the right wall, crushing Ratboy behind him, and the wiry undead lost his grip. Leesil jerked his left elbow back and felt the rearward point of his blade sink into Ratboy's side. The teeth upon Leesil's neck released.

  Leesil slipped down two steps and chopped back with his right blade. It bit into the empty steps. Rayboy already stood upon the landing.

  The eye that Leesil had stabbed was now a mottled white orb in a bruised socket. There was only a dark, circular stain where the iris should have been.

  Leesil followed carefully, both blades out in front of him. "Chap!" he yelled.

  The hound spun from Magiere's side to face Ratboy.

  A quarrel struck the small undead above the right eye and pierced the top of his skull. His head recoiled off the wall as smoke rose from the wound. Ratboy screamed, slapping at his face, and Chap slammed into him with both forepaws, sending him back hard into the landing's corner.

  Leesil couldn't look away to see where Wynn and Vatz were, or which of them had fired. He rushed upward and made a backhanded swing with the left blade directly at Ratboy's neck.

  Ratboy jerked the quarrel from his forehead as he ducked, and Leesil's blade scraped along the wall. The shock shuddered through his arm, and Ratboy ducked under toward the stairs.

  Leesil turned.

  Wynn stood down the stairs, an empty crossbow in her hands. She swung it at Ratboy as he drew back a claw-shaped hand to slash at her with his fingernails.

  Time slowed to a crawl in Leesil's vision. The undead's nails could rip open throats. A twinge passed through the faded scars on his jaw.

  Chap leaped down the stairwell.

  The hound struck with his forepaws and full weight against Ratboy's back. Dog, vampire, and sage all tumbled down the stairs together in a rolling heap. Vatz grabbed the railing with one hand and barely avoided getting entangled.

  A low male voice called out, "Wynn!"

  Leesil couldn't help following the sound in surprise.

  Magiere's eyes were black, canines bared, as she swung at Chane with her blade. It had been Chane who'd called out in panic to the young sage.

  There was no time to puzzle over this, and Leesil rushed down the stairs after Ratboy.

  * * * *

  Chane was furious. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong had before he could react. He had planned to momentarily engage the half-elf while pushing the dhampir off on Toret, but his little master's eagerness for revenge fouled everything.

  He had not given due consideration to the hound's involvement. The beast's teeth were more than an annoyance. The gashes on his legs burned. In avoiding the dog, he had ended up fighting the dhampir after the boy shot him in the chest. The wound still smoked, even after he'd jerked the quarrel out.

  And now Wynn was somewhere below, trapped between Toret and the hound.

  Chane roared and swung at the dhampir. When she snarled back, he saw her extended canines. Unlike the crystal shimmer of an undead's eyes fully opened to the night, her irises were black pits that swallowed all light. She forced him back down the hallway. The wound in his chest hindered his sword arm, and to make matters worse, as he blocked another swing, he saw the boy near the stairs reloading his crossbow. If he did not do something quickly, this could end in his second death.

  Chane feinted and stepped back.

  "Toret will gut your half-blood," he said. "Tear him from throat to groin."

  The dhampir hesitated. Chane feinted again, and when she moved to block, he followed with his left fist.

  The blow struck her jaw. To Chane's surprise, the impact sent a jar up his arm. She was far more solid than he anticipated, but her head still whipped to the side.

  She stumbled back, striking the door frame of Sapphire's room and spinning along the wall. Before she hit the floor, the boy with the crossbow stepped into the hall. Chane grabbed the railing and leaped over it, the hiss of a quarrel passing behind him as he dropped into the stairwell.

  Wynn huddled on the floor at the stairs' bottom, with the snarling hound guarding her. Chane heard small footsteps on the upper landing, and turned to see the boy again trying to recock the crossbow. He lashed out with the long sword. The blade tip cracked against the top stair, and the boy skittered back to fall against the wall.

  Chane leaped down to the second floor landing. Before the hound could turn on him, he swung the flat of his blade into the side of the animal's head. It tumbled across the floor.

  Wynn looked up at him with terror in her eyes.

  It was an expression he never thought to see upon her face when she gazed at him. He bent over to grab her wrist with his free hand and pulled her up. I "Chane… no!" she cried out.

  There was no time to explain, and he hoisted her over his shoulder. Wynn's body was so small she seemed to weigh nothing. She struggled, but with little effect.

  Toret scrambled to his feet, and the half-blood kicked him in the side. The small undead toppled against the closed door of the empty spare room. As the elf closed in, Chane kicked him in the back, sending him careening into Toret.

  Chane took two long steps down the second-floor hall, grabbed the railing
, and leaped into the next stairwell. As he raced down the last flight of stairs and out the front door, he heard the half-blood yell out Wynn's name. He sped off into the street without a backward glance.

  * * * *

  As Toret struggled out from under Leesil, he caught only a glimpse of Chane leaping over the railing with the robed young woman over his shoulder. Then he saw Tibor's head upon the floor.

  Toret was alone.

  Of all the ways he had thought this would play out, facing the half-blood and the dhampir on his own had never entered his thoughts. The hound as well was on its feet, inching forward. Leesil gripped two curved blades directly in front of himself.

  Leesil's eyes shifted briefly to the railing where Chane had just fled, and Toret knew the half-blood wanted to run after the abducted woman.

  "Why don't you just lie down and die for good," Leesil snarled at him, and rushed forward, clearly trying to force his way farther down the hall.

  Toret dodged and slashed at Leesil's face as one of the blades dropped too low, but he was buying time, and he knew it.

  He was going to be destroyed, and Sapphire was in the sewers, fleeing to escape. What would happen at the moment of his second death? These intruders might go after Chane, but they might also use that wretched hound to find the passageway Sapphire had followed. They could hunt her down or even separate to go after both her and Chane.

  Toret glanced quickly about for some advantage, but he saw only Tibor's head. He backed another step, and his foot bumped something on the floor.

  The body.

  He waited for Leesil's next advance, and when it came, he dropped low under the blade's swing.

  Toret dropped his blade in midcrouch and grabbed Tibor's headless corpse with both hands. As he rose up, he pushed with his legs and flung the body forward.

  The half-blood's eyes widened as the corpse collided with him. Living and dead limbs sprawled backward toward the hound, and the animal retreated. Toret leaped over the railing into the stairwell and ran down to the foyer.

  The front door remained open from Chane's flight, but Toret didn't follow in his servant's footsteps. He pressed upon the wall at the stairs' bottom to release the catch and the hidden entrance popped open. Slipping inside and slamming it shut, he heard the padded footfall and snarl of the hound beyond the wall.