“Don’t worry, boss,” the smiling swordsman replies. He draws his broadswords and has them dance above his head. “My people aren’t always known for being nice. Besides, every race has their share of rotten apples. Answer the man’s question, whelps.”
Riak draws his four blades and walks away from the tower, the black-haired man’s patience coming to an end. “I say we stop talking about finishing what we started fifteen years ago. We wanted to get our revenge on him, but you said the champions were too strong. Especially when our friends never returned from Pallice. Now he’s here without the others. Strike him down and get this drama over with.”
“First, we need to get rid of the audience,” Yeldar whispers as he pulls a flattened, bronzed rat skull from his pocket. He flips it into the air and watches it land face side up. “Elrin gets to charm the rabble away. I’ll let you scare them the next time, Riak.”
The metal vampire claps his hands for attention and hums a deep droning tune that shakes the encampment. Most of the tribespeople freeze when they stare at Elrin, their faces becoming a sea of blank eyes and wide smiles. For a brief moment, it appears as if they are going to charge the shining object of their affection. When he grunts and points to the distance, the enchanted crowd obediently turn to walk away and gathers at the far end of the camp.
“Impressive,” Delvin says while he signals for his friends to draw their weapons. Seeing the others react with a little hesitation, the champion decides to push for words a final time. “I’m going to ask one more time. What happened to you and why do you blame me?”
“You’re not worth the explanation,” Yeldar replies before his tongue lashes at the ground in front of his enemy’s feet.
“They were exiled for getting you killed, son!” Aaron shouts from atop the tower. With a predatory growl, Teka leaps up to the tribesman and dangles him over the ground. “Their stories didn’t match up and the Path Lord discovered what really happened. He found your favorite toy near the freshly broken ice, which forced them to tell the truth. They showed remorse, so the Path Lord exiled them as punishment. Several months ago, they came back as vampires and took over the tribe. Kill me if you want, but I won’t let you take my son away from me again. My wife and I have prayed for him to be alive for too long to remain silent.”
“Then I’ll throw her off next,” the woman says before letting go of the man.
Before Delvin can move to catch his father, Gerdo’s broadswords fly into the air and move their hilts under Aaron’s arms. The weapons carry him back to the top of the tower where their master feels it is safer. He is about to have his swords attack Teka when Elrin’s metal hand bursts through his chest. Gerdo gasps as the other vampire crushes his heart and is silenced when his head is bitten off and swallowed by the larger monster. The other mercenaries roar as they rush the Dawn Fangs, who grin at the enraged mortals. Yeldar prepares to fight Scorpion when Delvin tackles him from his left, the champion batted away with a vicious backhand.
“You die last, Cunningham,” the white-haired vampire states before taking two acid-coated daggers to the side of his head. He shudders at the feeling of his skin melting and reforming as he faces the black-clothed warrior. “That actually hurts.”
Yeldar’s tongue lances out and batters at the chaos elf, tearing his mask to reveal the panic on his face. Drawing a pair of dirks, the Dawn Fang puts more pressure on the mercenary by slashing with all three weapons. He risks a glance to his right to watch Pelo slice off Teka’s leg and knock her into Elrin. The nimble warrior lops off the woman’s hand before she screeches in his face, stunning him and creating deep gashes in his flesh. Pelo tries to continue fighting, but he is unable to stop Teka from ripping out his throat and tossing his body to her husband who rips it in half. Without a sound, Delvin rushes in to take a swing at the metal vampire and is sent flying by the upper half of his friend being used like a club.
“Only two more friends to go,” Yeldar whispers, wrapping his tongue around Scorpion’s head. He slits the warrior’s wrists with his dirks and retracts his tongue to slice his enemy’s head into several pieces. “Never tasted chaos elf before. Rather bitter, but I could get used to it. You only have one more friend left, Delvin. Hope you’re enjoying the fun. You should have remained friendless like when we were kids.”
Yeldar is surprised when he sees Riak struggling against Tavris, the mercenary’s claymore constantly keeping the vampire’s blades an inch away from striking. The mortal is bleeding form several superficial wounds, but his strength and speed force Riak to push himself to levels he typically reserves for other Dawn Fangs. Tavris steps into his enemy’s face and hears the four blades clang just behind his head, the weapons getting momentarily tangled. Twisting his wrist, he jabs his claymore into Riak’s jaw and pierces the vampire’s head enough to stun the screaming monster. Elrin tackles the mercenary before he can do any more damage, but is knocked off when Delvin rams into him. The champion rolls with the heavy vampire, stopping with him on top and using his shield to bash a long dent into the monster’s face.
“Impressive,” Yeldar says as his tongue lances out to taste Tavris’s blood. He gets a drop before the warrior smacks the pink weapon away and kicks Teka in the throat. “You were watching for signs of our abilities. Not a dumb brute, but a cunning swordsman. Such cruelty, too since you used your friends to reveal our strengths and weaknesses. Do you honestly believe you can defeat us?”
“Nope. I know this is where I die,” Tavris declares, pushing Delvin behind him. He catches Elrin’s punch with his sword and flips the heavy vampire into Riak. “You have friends to return to, Cunningham. I’ll hold them off while you run. Guess you won’t be joining the rest of us for those drinks.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” the champion swears as he presses his back against that of his old companion. Due to years of experience fighting alongside each other, the two warriors move as one and face the Dawn Fangs that are attempting to flank them. “I brought you into this and I swear I’ll get you out. I won’t fail all of you even if I-”
The touch of Delvin’s back disappears and Tavris notices that the four vampires are frozen in place. It is not a spell, but confusion and fear that has his deadly enemies hesitating. Turning around, the only thing he sees is an empty spot that is steadily consumed by the stretching shadows of evening.
*****
Deep within Pynofita Forest, Delvin is spewed from the shadows with enough force to get him stuck in the needle-covered canopy. Angry and worried about his friend, the warrior slices his way out of the branches and crashes to the ground. He takes a moment to gasp in pain, but he is quickly on his feet and walking toward what he thinks is the south. Delvin stops and turns around to check the other direction, but he is unable to see the sky which would give him a hint to where he has been delivered. When he whirls around again, he pauses at the sight of a familiar woman stepping out of the shadow of a thick pine.
“Send me back!” the warrior shouts as he charges Mab. The vampire lets him pierce her shoulder before she backhands him away, the blade remaining in her flesh. “My friend needs my help. I can’t let him die too. Please send me back to him. If you’re angry that we got in your way then understand that we didn’t mean to. All I wanted was to see my parents again and I didn’t expect our missions to cross. Even when it was clear that they would, I tried my best to stay out of your way. Don’t let Tavris die because I was an idiot.”
“I wonder if I was this pathetic when I was a mortal,” Mab states, jumping away from the man’s haphazard tackle. She plucks the bastard sword from her shoulder and examines the blade, its perfect edge telling her that it once held a great magic. “It’s very interesting that you can wield such a long blade one-handed, so it seems the residual enchantment has made it very lightweight. Just another curiosity that makes me glad I pulled you out of there. Don’t beg me to send you back, champion, because your friend is already dead. He fought to help you escape and whining will only insult his sacri
fice.”
“I thought you were going to take care of these Children of Clyde,” Delvin states as he takes his weapon back. “That was days ago. Are they too much for you?”
Mab ignores the insult and takes her jacket off, revealing a sleeveless tunic and arms that are as pale as snow. “I got caught up stopping the raiding parties, which were becoming the more immediate problem. If I took these children out then I’d have hordes of Dawn Fangs running around the plains with no organization to keep them in line. You’re lucky I was taking a peek on your old enemies when you showed up. Oh, please stop calling them Children of Clyde. They insult his name and lie about their lineage.”
“What does the term mean?”
The vampire gestures for the mercenary to follow her, but he refuses and forces her to grab him by the ear. With a wild swing, Delvin tries to hack off Mab’s arm only to miss when she spins around. As if nothing happened, she catches his ear again and tries to move him a second time. A similar scuffle takes place, but she ends it with a chainmail crushing punch to the warrior’s stomach. He collapses to the root-covered ground and rolls onto his back where he is pinned by a strong foot against his chest. Mab digs her heel in with enough force to tell Delvin that she could easily splinter his ribcage.
“I know you’re angry and tired, so I’ll answer your question before we travel to a place where you can rest,” the vampire says, easing the pressure on the warrior enough to let him breath. Long claws grow from her fingers, their keen edges glinting in the dim light. “Clyde is the first of the Dawn Fangs. He’s the one who transformed others into his kind and started the revolution. Occasionally, young vampires appear to cause trouble for mortals and they seem to always call themselves the Children of Clyde. I guess they buy into the historical dogma of our people without realizing that we have no interest in conquering the world. Our king has tried to find the source of these rogues, but he never gets very far. So I get sent out to either bring them in for redemption or kill them on the spot. These four get the latter.”
“Your progenitor was named Clyde?” Delvin asks, coughing when the pressure returns to his chest. He smacks at the woman’s booted foot and feebly tries to kick her in the back, his leg repeatedly being slapped away. “Sorry if I said something wrong.”
“It was the tone of your voice,” Mab admits before picking the warrior up and shoving him to walk ahead of her. “Don’t think that every powerful creature and evil being was born into such a life. Many started as innocent babies whose mothers gave them a normal name with the expectation of a normal life. Even Baron Kernaghan has a first name, which is rather tame compared to his reputation.”
“You know about the Baron?”
“Never met the man, but his son tried to recruit Clyde and the Dawn Fangs long ago.”
“So you’ve met Stephen. How did it go with that monster?”
“Monster? I’ve met monsters and he’s nothing but a mewling child.”
Delvin stops and watches Mab with his mouth open, the vampire casually walking by him to lead the way. She cocks her head to the side and makes an abrupt turn to her left. As his head clears, Delvin pays more attention to how Mab moves and uses her graceful stride to determine her reflexes. He can tell that the woman is holding back and assumes she is stronger than the four who killed his friends. The warrior still realizes that his abilities are not enough to keep him alive, but his time sparring with Luke has given him a few tactics to use against quicker opponents. By the time they come upon the simple cabin, he has the beginnings of a plan that will help him avenge his loved ones and free his former tribe.
“We’ll rest here for a day before heading back into the plains,” Mab announces before opening the door. She holds it for Delvin and gestures for him to enter, a wicked smile on her face. “You can go in first if you’re done examining my backside. I assume you were using my movements to compare yourself to a Dawn Fang. Don’t be surprised because I already know you’re the planning type, Delvin Cunningham. Took me a quick trip to Gaia and Gods’ Voice to get a little more information on you, but I know enough about the man whose blood perked my interest.”
“What kind of interest?” Delvin asks while he enters the barely furnished cabin. He sees bunk beds to the side and the abandoned remains of a couch, but decides to claim a chair in front of the empty fireplace. A warm breeze passes through a window, the pane nothing more than shards sticking out of the frame. “I’m interested in someone back home, so I’m not going to do anything like that. Besides, I’m not into vampires, even though a few friends of mine tell me it’s a powerful experience.”
“Gross and no, meat snack,” Mab replies, locking the door behind her. She strides over to the kitchen and pulls a hunk of bloody pork out of a cabinet. “By interest, I mean there’s a unique taste to your blood. I should have known when I first encountered you because I’ve yet to meet a mundane champion. The current flock already has a channeler, a Callindor, and that sweet naiad blood that one of my companions wants to taste. Not kill, but just a vial. That wouldn’t be creepy if you were one of my kind. All of us want tastes of various beings all the time instead of the whole thing. After all, once we drain a unique blood type, we can’t get it back.”
Delvin takes off his armor and puts his sword on a three-legged table before getting up to join his companion in the kitchen. “Let me cook and you can focus on talking. Maybe the more I know about Dawn Fangs, the better my chances are at killing those murderers. It’s strange that your kind are powerful and feed off blood, but you don’t attempt conquest. One would think you’re the perfect beings for such ambition.”
“The old world vampires desired world domination, but Clyde disagreed,” she explains while taking a seat on the counter. With razor sharp claws, she slices the meat into more manageable pieces and licks the blood off her nails. “He had a lot of time to think about how Windemere works. A force rises to conquer the world or threaten others only to be knocked down by the appearance of a hero. It happens all the time in our history, so I’m surprised people still attempt to rule the world. Maybe they think they’ll be the ones to earn Gabriel’s blessing and avoid a destined opponent. My people wouldn’t really know since we exist outside of his influence. None of us have a destiny, so we simply exist and do what we can to survive. Besides, what would be the point of enslaving the rest of the world? Mortal blood tastes infinitely better when you’re allowed to live the way you want to live. That’s how we get such a variety of flavors and . . . you’re looking at me funny.”
“You’re oddly sociable and polite when you’re not trying to get me out of your way,” the warrior admits as he heats a pan and drops the pork into the thin layer of oil. “What are you going to eat? No offense, but I can hear your stomach rumbling. When was the last time you had a meal?”
Scratching at her belly, Mab slips off the counter and heads for a metal cabinet in the far corner. Her boots vanish into the shadow of a chair as she passes by, leaving her barefoot and silent. With a twist of the polished handle, she opens the creaky door and reveals shelves of bottled blood. The enchanted containers keep the colorful liquids fresh, but the vampire knows that this meal will lack the extra spark that she enjoys when her meal comes straight from a living creature. Grabbing her last bottle of fireskin blood, she pops the cork and returns to the kitchen where she sips at the orange serum.
“There are two reasons why I’m so polite right now,” Mab admits while she licks a drop of blood off her chin. She cocks her head to the side and hisses, silencing a distant voice that is suggesting she taste the champion. “I feel sorry for you because of your recent loss. Being centuries older than you, I’ve seen enough friends die to forget what it feels like for mortals. All I know is that you’re hurting and trying to distract yourself. Probably your warrior training is kicking in to prevent a breakdown. After all, you still have a job to do and that’s the other reason I’m being nice.”
Delvin flips his meal onto a nearby plate and grabs a mug tha
t he fills using the white ring from his new collection. “Well, thank you for your sympathy and letting me work with you. I’ll take some time to mourn and make a memorial after I eat. There’s pain and anger in my chest, but Selenia trained me to remain calm when the mission is still going on. That’s what will keep me alive and help me do what I need to do, which is to put those rogue Dawn Fangs into the ground. Now when do we avenge my friends?”
“First you need an army.”
“Give me time for that. We can focus on the second thing that you’re about to tell me.”
Mab waits for Delvin to put his mug down before she pounces. Her claws tear the front of his shirt as he jumps back and grabs a steak knife off the table. The two circle each other until they are clear of the kitchen, giving the vampire an opening to charge again. She can see that the champion only blocks and dodges because he has picked up on the fact that she is restraining her strength. Darting behind him, Mab slashes his back deep enough to draw blood without injuring his spine. She notices that it takes an instant before the wounds actually bleed, which makes her smirk and lick her lips.
“One more push,” the vampire whispers under her breath.
Mab catches Delvin’s wrist and pulls him off balance to expose his neck. After centuries of hunting and feeding, she finds it a challenge not to bite the warrior in the spot that would incapacitate him. Her slender fangs hit the fleshier part near the back of Delvin’s neck and drive deep into the meat, dribbles of intoxicating blood hitting her tongue. A magical pulse ripples through the cabin, which gives Mab barely enough time to release her prey and leap into the nearest shadow. The burst of invisible energy that erupts from the champion’s body blows the door off its hinges and shatters every piece of glass in the building. Delvin shudders and stares at the destruction as the Dark Mistress’s head pokes out of the shadowy floor.
The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9) Page 26