by David Combs
And, he thought solely to himself, justice will be served.
***
Kellen Ambrose watched a group of firefighters from the depths of a distant alleyway. Pure fortune had allowed the vampire lord to remain undetected. For all of his strength and cunning, Kellen had no desire to be drawn into another battle tonight. The explosion at the distillery had blasted him into unconsciousness, and burns now scarred him badly along one side of his body. He would be a long time in healing despite his regenerative powers. How could he have not known that auralesea dust was in that attic? His own bloody trap had nearly killed him.
A snarl crossed his lips as he caught sight of Galen, Nestor, and Tyrell. The slash across his back throbbed as he watched them working to extinguish the city fires. He truly had forgotten how hard that damned sword could bite. Why hadn’t he been able to beat the barbarian as easily as he had thrashed that skinny elf all of those centuries before?
The answer, of course, came to him in his own prophetic words. He had told the trio that only together did they have a chance of defeating the vampire lord. They had nearly done that very thing. They had thwarted him successfully at every turn, destroying all of his plans and gains for conquering the city. Even in the sewers, they had managed to escape his vampire vanguard. Their luck was absolutely infuriating.
Now his army was gone. His bid to rule had been shattered by three men who would have hung from the gallows so many weeks before. All of his scheming and careful attacks to build his forces had all come to nothing because of the actions of a trio of petty thieves, and a few sword swinging militiamen.
Kellen found himself surprisingly undaunted, though. The vampire lord watched the teams at work against the fire and smiled to himself. He had hurt them all very badly. With time, he could rebuild his army, his spy network, and correct his strategy for any more unseen contingencies. All he needed was time, and, after all, what was a couple of centuries to a vampire?
Ambrose laughed out loud and drew the attention of a couple of bystanders who quickly gave him a wide berth. It was time for Kellen to go home, and start his plans anew.
***
The last fires were finally under control. The auralesea dust had burned itself out, and the flames were all but extinguished. The resulting devastation, however, was enormous. The dock quarter was gone. Most of the marketplace was lost, and that which remained was covered in soot and ash. The homes of hundreds of people, rich and poor alike, had been completely consumed.
In the streets, casualties of the night’s battle lay all around. People who had been torn to pieces by the vampires, people who had died from their burns, and those who had succumbed to the thick blanket of smoke were fallen throughout the city. Those people who could went among the fallen, looking for survivors, and gave aid where they may.
Knarya lifted a body onto a wagon and wiped his soot-covered brow. The daylight brought a measure of relief, but also had revealed the extent of the damage around him. Tarnath would be rebuilding for years to come. He turned to lift the next body when he noticed Nestor, Galen, and Tyrell leading their horses towards him.
“Hallo,” he called to them. “Actually found your horses, I see. Well, you’ve done better than me. Think mine ran for the hills. Can’t say I blame the little fella.”
Tyrell smiled sadly. “They weren’t where we had left them, but they hadn’t gone far. More importantly, none of our gear was disturbed.” Tyrell pondered a moment on what the loss of his newly discovered book of magic would have meant to him.
“So, I take it you three are for leaving?”
“We still have some unfinished business with Ambrose,” said Galen. “He has a date with Shadow Reaver, and I’m a little anxious to stick my own blade in him as well.”
“We could sure use your help cleaning this up, but I suppose your own tasks are just as important. Besides,” Knarya said with a grin, “I don’t expect we’ll have finished up by the time you return.”
“We’ll return and help as soon as we are able, Captain,” said Nestor. The barbarian’s broken jaw only made his grim visage look more fierce, and Knarya couldn’t suppress a shiver.
“My men said that Kellen’s house was taken in the blaze, but I don’t suspect he has stayed in the city anyway. How do you propose to find him?”
“When I cast a spell on him last night, I was able to touch his thoughts. Somehow, I created a link between us. I can use that feeling to sense where he is heading. He’s moving quickly, Captain, so we really must be off.” Tyrell shook Knarya’s hand. “We’ll fill you in on everything when we return.”
Galen absently fingered the petals of a flower from the grave they had made for Lorelei that morning. Knarya also noticed a bracelet on the thief’s arm that he couldn’t remember ever seeing before. The thief looked at the sun climbing in the sky. “We’d better get moving.”
“Farewell, Captain Knarya,” said Tyrell as he pulled himself into his saddle. “We’re riding north.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The atmosphere that surrounded the trio was much different than on their previous ride to Del Torac. The nervous excitement that abounded during their quest for Shadow Reaver was now replaced by malice and grim determination. The three friends said little as they each remained lost in the depths of their own vengeful thoughts.
Tyrell had used his magic to repair some of the damage to Nestor’s jaw, easing the barbarian’s pain and allowing him to speak more clearly. Nestor had refused to let the mage try to fully heal his wounds, asserting instead that the lingering pain would sharpen his focus and anger. The wizard sighed as he regarded the young thief, and wished there was some magic he possessed that could heal Galen’s wounds.
Galen had changed dramatically since the Night of Terror. The mischievous glint of his eyes had been replaced by a scowl of sorrow coupled with abject rage. What dreams of past joys haunted the young man? What gazes into a now impossible future tore through his heart, thought Tyrell? When Galen looked at either of his companions now, the laughing trickster gave way to someone driven by a far more malevolent purpose.
Tyrell pulled the Book of Torax’alamien from his saddlebag and opened it across his knees. “I’d have thought you’d have that book read by now,” said Nestor as he pulled his horse closer to the mage. “You’ve been thumbing through it every chance you could get.”
“I just hope to gain every possible advantage against Ambrose as I can. When I touched Kellen’s mind in Tarnath, I saw a glimpse of just how ancient and evil his magic is.”
“And you are afraid of failing if you have to go spell against spell with him.”
“I know my limitations. At my present level of skill, Kellen could incinerate me in a spell duel.”
“And you still aren’t giving yourself due credit. No matter how stunted you believed your skill was when we started this thing, Tyrell, your powers have grown considerably. I don’t need some magic book to prove that to me.”
“It’s more than just hoping to stumble across some new spell that I can use against him. I want vengeance on that black-hearted bastard just as badly as you or Galen. When I think of how many people suffered because of him...” The wizard left the thought unfinished. “I can picture Lord Tessarin swinging from the gallows because of Ambrose. I can hear the screams of terror and pain as people were attacked by his horde of minions. I can still feel the heat of the roaring flames as Tarnath burned around us.” The wizard met his friend’s gaze levelly, with a look of cold steel. “It is for all of those innocents whose lives have been lost or overturned that I will stand against him.”
Nestor nodded and looked away. He let his friends words fade as he watched ahead, and listened to the sounds of the road. The barbarian expected an ambush from the vampire lord, despite the fact that Kellen had been sorely wounded and was in a panicked flight. Nestor’s thoughts drifted back to the moment where Kellen’s fist had broken his jaw. The warrior knew that he had felt the full strength of the vampire with that
one blow, and he had sworn upon Shadow Reaver that he would return with a strike of his own. He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword, as he had done so many times since they had left Tarnath, reveling in the jolt of arcane power that flowed into his arm.
The gates of Del Torac appeared as they crested the next ridge, and the men rode through without incident. The taproom of the Belching Griffin warmed the chill from their bones, and after ordering food with instructions to send it up to Drayton’s room, the three men found themselves once again in the company of the blond knight.
“You look well, Drayton,” said Nestor as he warmly grasped the knight’s hand.
“In truth, I still wobble like a newborn when I go to the taproom, but I am alive and recovering, thanks again to your efforts, my friends. Tell me how things went in Tarnath.”
“Kellen escaped us,” commented Tyrell. “He attacked the city with legions of vampires that he had been creating for months. We fought him several times, but the cagey bastard still managed to slip away. His army was stopped, but a huge part of Tarnath was leveled, and the loss of life was staggering.”
Drayton lowered his head in a moment of reverence. “And now you follow Kellen on a road of revenge.”
“We go to finish what we started,” said Galen. “Kellen set us on this path to kill a vampire lord. Now his death will finish that job.” The thief's cold gaze met the worried glances of his friends. Finally, he turned away to look at the flames in the hearth.
Drayton looked at Tyrell and Nestor. “And what of you two? Will Kellen’s death satisfy you?”
“Nothing can ever repair the damage done by his evil. What we go after is not satisfaction, but justice. We want a reckoning for what he has done,” said Nestor.
“Be careful, my friends, for many times justice is simply revenge in different clothes. I also caution you, do not go blindly into Kellen’s den. Wherever Ambrose flees to, you may expect it to be well fortified with the ingenuity of centuries. I fear that should you rush in foolishly, his lair may tear the lives from your bodies as easily as he might himself.”
“Your order has hunted him for centuries,” said Tyrell. “Have you learned anything about his home that might help us?”
Drayton shook his head. “Precious little, as none of my brothers have ever found his hideout and lived to tell the tale. I could send for some of my men to go with you, but they would not obey you even at my direction. Damn, I wish that I could go along with you myself, but I can barely get out of bed unaided let alone sit a horse or wield my weapons.” He balled his fist, and lightly pounded it against his thigh.
“Still, I’ll tell you what I may, and counsel you against the vampire lord’s cunning. Kellen is a shrewd opponent as you undoubtedly already know. Though I’ve never seen where he lairs, you can bet that it is a virtual fortress, if not an actual one. As he has known of our order for centuries, I would imagine his home to be capable of repelling an army. This may prove to be his undoing. Where an all-out assault of mounted knights might prove incapable, the three of you might manage to approach by stealth.
“It will be his traps and bodyguards that will give you pause. He could have anything from vicious animals to the most fearsome undead horrors watching the pathways into his home. And I will promise you also that his innermost sanctums will be more insidiously trapped than the fabled Vault of the Nine Kings.” Drayton winked at Galen. “However, the treasures within should prove no less precious.”
Nestor rose from his seat. “Then I’ll chop the heads off of anything that he sends to us with Shadow Reaver, while Galen and Tyrell can see us through his traps, whether mechanical or magical. The only question I have left is would you like his head on a pike or a platter?”
“You sound dangerously close to underestimating him, my friend.” The knight laughed sadly. “That is what my men kept doing with you, and look how that ended. Kellen Ambrose has proven himself time and time again that he is a power to be reckoned with. So much so that he was able to nearly level one of the mightiest cities this side of the Fire Plains. If you underestimate him, then you’ll die.”
Drayton’s words left Tyrell and Nestor in somber silence. The men sat in silence until Galen lifted his head from hands. “Someone should send him the same warning,” he replied.
***
Two days of hard riding found the men slightly northwest of the ruins of Khasharsta. Tyrell’s magic had fed their horses the strength to run on with little rest. The terrain whipped past them as they covered the ground with a pace that they had never dreamed of.
As they settled into camp that night, Nestor drew out an old map that the knight had given to him. “Drayton said to look for a place that an army would find hard to reach.” He scratched his beard as he studied the brittle parchment. “Tyrell, are you still getting some sense of where the devil is headed?”
The wizard nodded. “Kellen is still to our north, but I don’t sense that he is moving any longer. I suspect that he has reached whatever lair he sought.”
“Then there’s only one place he could be given the amount of time he had to travel.” The barbarian tapped the map before him. “He’s somewhere in the Pillars of Heaven. It lies in the direction we’re headed, and it just makes good tactical sense. Those rocky crags are the highest peaks around, and they’re right in the middle of the northern Thelvenin Woods. No army would march in there. Takes too many troops to guard the supply lines.”
“Why would they need so many guards,” asked Galen as he looked over the warrior’s shoulder. He identified the rocky terrain but failed to see what Nestor was implying.
“The northern Thelvenin is rumored to be filled with creatures every bit as fey and foul as the black-hearted fiend that we’re chasing.” The barbarian gave the thief a wicked grin. “They say that all the misfired experiments of Khasharsta’s elven wizards loom in the shadows. Beasts that the gods toyed with and cast aside dwell in the depths.” He chuckled as he watched sweat bead up on Galen’s brow. “Probably some simply nasty natural critters too. I suppose that simply referring to the place as a haunted forest was too plain for the storytellers.”
“Rumors more likely started by Ambrose himself to keep away unwanted visitors,” said Tyrell. The mage took the map from the warrior’s hands. “The Pillars are situated close enough to the elven kingdom that he could have struck at their villages from his lair, and retreated to safety when he needed to. I would guess that whatever place Kellen is calling home is likely to be near some of these sunken passes. There are bound to be high cliff walls that he would use to keep watch over his domain.”
“That’s right,” said Nestor. “Drayton said the lair would be a fortress that no army could reach, surrounded by strange guardians. I’m willing to bet that Ambrose probably has some kind of keep way up on a cliff wall. Most likely with one tiny, solitary bridge to get to the door, and every beast with claws or teeth in the vicinity standing in front of that watching out for intruders.”
“Perfectly logical from a tactical standpoint,” muttered Galen. “So how in Alhambra’s Hells do we get to him? Call it a professional quirk but I’m not accustomed to walking up to the front door and giving a rap with the door knocker so that some pet of Kellen’s can eat, I mean, meet us at the gate.”
“We’ll have to figure that much out once we actually get there. Finding the place in question is still the first task.” Tyrell looked again at the map and frowned. “According to our estimates, we’ll be passing the edge of the northern forest shortly. I probably need to stop enhancing the horses so that I can save my strength against anything that may go bump in the night.”
“We’ll slow our pace down when we head out. Take it slow and easy for a while. Things will be safer that way anyhow.”
“I have a deeper concern though,” added Tyrell. “I’m afraid that Kellen knows we’re coming.”
“I imagine that he sort of expected that part,” said Galen.
“Yes, but I have a bad feeling that if I
can sense where he is, then most likely he can sense my presence through the same bond. That most likely means that he is already gathering his forces for his defense.” Tyrell rolled up the map and handed it back to the barbarian.
“So you expect an attack soon,” said Nestor matter-of-factly. He looked around the camp, peering into the shadows.
“Soon, and then with ever-increasing frequency until we arrive at his doorstep.” Tyrell looked into the solemn faces of his friends. “No one ever said this was going to be easy.”
“Wouldn’t be worth doing if it was,” said Nestor. Galen nodded in silent agreement.
Tyrell shook his head as his friends began to lay out their weapons. It was all too plain from their grim faces that, in order to reach Kellen, they would charge into a fight with anything and everything that the vampire lord threw their way.
***
The foothills sloped upwards before them as the green of the forest fell away to the rear. Despite the fact that they had passed through the darkest part of the Thelvenin Woods, no attack had yet come at them. Rather than relief, the three men felt ever more apprehensive at the fact that they remained unchallenged. A rustle in a nearby bush caused a dagger to fly from Nestor’s hand, but rather than some undead horror, a scrawny rabbit bolted from its hiding place to the safety of some nearby rocks.
The trio moved even more cautiously now. They were certain that every rock outcropping and every shadowy crevice hid a servant of Kellen Ambrose who only waited for some cue to unleash an ambush.
The rocky ground now forced the men to walk their mounts. As night fell in the mountains, a chill fog settled over the craggy slopes. Before long, the friends’ visibility was reduced to only a few yards, and they were forced to huddle closely together to avoid getting separated in the mist. In the distance, a wolf howled at the pale moon that cast an eerie sheen through the dense clouds.