Bachiyr Omnibus

by David McAfee

  But the Galle that feared a human woman—any human woman—was long dead. Theron’s curse had given her that much, at least. Nothing Caelina could do to her would compare to what she’d already endured at Theron’s hands, and Caelina’s blood would revitalize her in ways that the girl’s could not. It might finally give her the strength to escape this damned cave. She had been praying to the gods for over a year to grant her deliverance from Vesuvius. It seemed they had finally deigned to answer.

  Galle launched herself at Caelina, who brought her sword up to intercept the charge. The blade cut into Galle’s exposed shoulder, leaving a line of red across her flesh. Galle cried out in surprise more than pain, then stepped back to assess the damage. The wound barely bled, which only went to prove how much she needed Caelina’s blood. She knew the wound would heal on its own, but it would heal much faster after she’d fed.

  Galle stepped to the side, casting a wary eye at Caelina’s sword arm. Caelina did not press the attack. Instead, she sidestepped as Galle did, taking care to keep herself between Galle and the child. Galle could have told her not to bother. Now that Caelina was here, she would not harm the girl. But Caelina’s protective instinct could be useful. It was a weakness, after all. Caelina would put the girl’s safety above her own. Galle could use that.

  If the past year had taught her anything, it was how to exploit a weakness.

  Galle began to circle again, but this time, she focused on getting to the girl. Caelina stepped into her path every time, sword at the ready. Galle occasionally feinted a strike at Caelina, only to have her claws batted away. But the strikes were never meant to hit home. They were meant to draw Caelina to the side. To make Caelina think that the girl was her primary goal. After all, the girl was weaker, more defenseless. Why wouldn’t a monster go for the easy prey first?

  Galle launched another strike, this time making as if to rush past Caelina.

  Caelina took the bait. She stepped to the left and into Galle’s way, but Galle changed course at the last moment, using her enhanced agility and speed, and undercut Caelina’s counter strike. She reached up and grabbed Caelina’s sword arm, then brought the other woman’s exposed forearm to her face. Before Caelina could react, she bit deep, pushing her fangs through the skin, flesh, and tendons of Caelina’s wrist. Caelina screamed and dropped the sword, which fell to the stone floor with a sudden, harsh clatter.

  Blood, warm and fresh, flowed into Galle’s mouth. She swallowed the first of it and felt it course through her veins, energizing her and bringing life back to her limbs. Sweet. So very sweet! She clamped down and took another deep swallow, forgetting everything else around her as she lost herself in red ecstasy.

  Before she could exult in her apparent victory, she felt her legs give way underneath her. Surprised, she released her hold on Caelina’s arm and fell backwards onto the floor. Her head hit the stone just as Caelina straightened herself from a crouch. She’d kicked Galle’s legs out from under her. The woman was fast. And strong! Galle supposed she should have known it would not be that easy.

  Galle shot to her feet as Caelina approached. The small amount of Caelina’s blood had given her a measure of strength. She hadn’t gotten much, only a couple of mouthfuls, but it was enough to make her want more. It lent her a strength borne of need, and as she felt its power coursing through her sluggish veins she knew, for the first time, that Caelina could not win. For once in her life, Galle was the stronger one.

  I could get used to this, she thought. Her lips parted in a smile.

  Caelina slowed in her approach, then stopped. She stared at Galle for several long seconds, then her eyes flitted to the floor at Galle’s feet. Galle glanced down and saw that Caelina’s sword lay on the stone, just ahead and to the right of her bare feet. She looked at Caelina and winked.

  Galle reached down and picked up the sword. It was lighter than she had expected. She swung it quickly, if clumsily, out in front of her. I might be fast and strong, she reflected, but I still didn’t know how to use this.

  The fact was not lost on Caelina, who smirked.

  “You will gut yourself with that thing before you ever get near enough to use it on me, Galle,” Caelina said.

  “I’ve no intention of using this on you, vile bitch,” Galle replied. She grabbed the blade in her left hand, near the tip. She then held the sword out level in front of her, as if presenting it to Caelina. While the other woman watched, Galle strained her shoulders and forearms, forcing the steel to bend to her will. It was easy, she reflected. The blade gave with almost no effort, folding in half like a piece of parchment until it snapped altogether.

  Galle had the immense satisfaction of watching Caelina’s eyes grow wide with surprise and fear. She tossed the pieces of the ruined sword to the side. They landed on the stone floor with a loud clang that echoed through the chamber.

  “What will you do now, Caelina?” Galle asked as she took a step toward the woman, who seemed smaller and weaker than before. “Now that your sword is gone, how will you stop me?”

  “I—”

  “You can’t,” Galle interrupted. “I’ve been waiting over a year for this moment. I am going to enjoy it.”

  “I’m sorry, Galle,” Caelina said. “It was a mistake. I was angry, and lonely, and…I should not have done what I did. To you or to Gareth.”

  An admission! After all this time. I knew it! But hearing Caelina confess did nothing to ease her anger, or perhaps more importantly, her hunger.

  “I don’t care,” Galle replied. “I hope you have made your peace with the gods, Caelina. You will be going to meet them soon.”

  She took a step forward, enjoying the look of fear on Caelina’s face.

  ***

  Caelina turned to the child.

  “Run,” she said.

  But the child just stared at the bent and broken pieces of the sword.

  Caelina grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Did you hear me? Run!”

  The child finally seemed to understand. She turned from Caelina and bolted for the exit. Caelina whirled just in time to catch the full force of Galle’s closed fist on her jaw. The blow rocked her head back and she staggered into the wall. Caelina stood there a moment, dazed and leaning against the cold stone for support. She’d never been hit that hard, not even when Gareth had trained her to fight. Even Jarek, who seemed inhumanly strong, hadn’t been able to knock her around the way Galle just did.

  She looked up and saw Galle approaching swiftly from her left. Caelina dove to the right just in time to avoid another swing. She rolled across the floor and sprung to her feet, her instincts driving her into a fighting stance. But Galle was there before she could set her feet, and she was forced to duck under another blow. She just made it. The wind from Galle’s fist tugged at the hair on top of Caelina’s head.

  But Galle had erred. In her inexperience, she’d allowed Caelina to get inside her guard. Seeing a chance, Caelina punched out with all her strength, landing a solid, heavy blow on Galle’s solar plexus. She leaned back, expecting Galle to double over in pain.

  Instead, Galle grabbed her by the tunic and threw her at the wall.

  Caelina’s skull cracked against stone, and for a moment all she could see was a bright white flash of pain. She shook her head, forcing her mind to clear, knowing Galle would be upon her in seconds. She ducked, rolling aside just as Galle swung again, landing a heavy blow on the stone wall.

  Caelina couldn’t understand it. She’d used that hard strike to the midsection quite often during training exercises and had seen it bring seasoned fighters to their knees, but Galle, thin and fragile looking as she was, had absorbed it like it was nothing. Worse, she’d launched a counter that proved beyond doubt that Caelina had no chance of victory. Galle was simply too strong. If she kept fighting, she would die, leaving Galle free to go after the little girl.

  She needed to shift her strategy. Fighting was useless. Escape was a far better plan. She darted to the side just as Galle laun
ched a kick that would likely have broken her ribs, then turned and sprinted for the chamber exit.

  But Galle reached out, faster than Caelina would have thought possible, and grabbed her by the shoulders. She forced her around, so that the two were face to face, and Caelina saw the sharp teeth and bright red eyes up close. They reminded her again of the blond Roman. Clearly, the two were of a kind.

  Galled brought her face in close, and Caelina smelled the blood—her blood—on Galle’s breath.

  “You are not so great and strong now, are you?” Galle said, the sneer in her voice easy to discern. “To think I was intimidated by you. Afraid of you, even.” Galle lifted her up by her shoulders, crushing them together like a vice. Caelina struggled, but she could not break free. She kicked out with both feet, but she might as well have been kicking the stone walls of the cavern for all the effect it had on Galle.

  “You are nothing compared to me. Nothing!” Galle drove her forehead into Caelina’s nose. There was a flash of pain, accompanied by a sharp crack, and Caelina’s sinuses began to fill with blood.

  She broke my nose, Caelina thought, dazed. What will Gareth think when he sees my nose?

  “I don’t know what he saw in you,” Galle said, and she launched Caelina through the air as though she weighed less than a sack of flour.

  Her head slammed into the stone near the exit. For a moment, the world went dark. Caelina nearly gave in and allowed the darkness to swallow her whole. It would have been so easy, but then she caught movement from the corner of her eye and saw the child huddled in the cavern just outside the chamber exit. Instead of running, as she’d been instructed, the girl had stopped just outside the chamber. Perhaps she didn’t know where to go.

  If I die, Caelina thought, so will she. She couldn’t let that happen. She shook her head, trying desperately to clear the cobwebs from her mind, and looked up to see Galle approaching yet again. Her fangs were longer than before, and her eyes seemed to glow brighter. Or was that just Caelina’s imagination? Not that it mattered, Galle’s intent was clear enough.

  Caelina looked around for a rock, or a stone, or even a branch, anything she could use for a weapon, but there was nothing. She tried to rise to her feet, but the shadows in her head made it difficult, and she lost her balance before she even made it to her knees.

  Galle chuckled, then leaned down and pinned Caelina’s arms to the stone with a grip like iron. She leaned in close, a smile on her face. Her fangs shone an eerie orange in the flickering glow of Caelina’s torch, which lay in the doorway some ten feet away.

  Too far, Caelina thought. I’ll never reach it.

  “Say hello to the Ferryman for me,” Galle said.

  Caelina closed her eyes. She did not want to see Galle’s eyes or her fangs. She forced an image of Filo into her mind, wanting him to be her last thought.

  She gasped when she felt a sharp pain in her throat. At least I’ll be with him again.

  There was a sudden flash of warmth, then a thud, and several tiny prickles of intense heat touched her face. Someone grunted right next to her ear—Galle, Caelina thought—and the pain in her throat eased, along with the grip on her wrists. What happened?

  Caelina opened her eyes to find the little girl standing over her, waving her torch at Galle, who knelt on the floor several feet away, rubbing patch of burned flesh on the side of her face. The smell of singed hair filled the room.

  “Keep back!” the girl shouted, waving the torch back and forth. Caelina knew the girl could not hope to defeat the creature Galle had become. She’d obviously surprised the woman, but that would not happen again. If they were going to escape, they needed to go now, while Galle was still confused.

  She got to her feet, grabbed the girl’s wrist, and pulled her through the chamber exit, not bothering to shut the door behind her.

  “Run, child,” she said. “Run as though your life depended on it.” She didn’t feel the need to point out that both their lives did depend on it. The girl probably realized that already.

  Sure enough, Galle shouted from behind them. The shout held no words, but the intent was clear enough. She was coming after them.

  Caelina pushed and shoved the girl forward, scrambling through the caves in the dying light of her single torch, trying desperately to remember the way out. A right turn here? Left? Down that passage? Is that right?

  Damn! The cavern was a rat’s warren of tunnels and side tunnels.

  Wait! That rocky ledge! She remembered it. They were close.

  Caelina allowed herself an exultant shout. They would be out of the caves soon. Maybe they could get reinforcements from Pompeii. Maybe she could find Gareth before…

  Her thoughts ended abruptly when she saw a shadowy figure in the darkness ahead. She slowed, grabbing the girl to prevent her from running into him. In the weak light of the torch, his features were dim, but she would know that face anywhere. The hard set jaw, the neatly trimmed beard. The scar over his left eye that she had once found attractive.

  The sharp teeth and red eyes were new, however.

  “Jarek,” she whispered. “What have you done?”

  ***

  Taras slumped, unable to stand or walk on his own. Tendrils of smoke curled up from his skin. They poured from between his clothes, which were also charred and cracking, to writhe upward in thin gray curlicues and gather in a faint cloud on the ceiling of the cavern. His vision was hazy, or was that the smoke from his charred flesh? Impossible to tell in the gloomy tunnel.

  Baella was on his left, her arms curled under his underarms as she and Theron half carried, half dragged him across the floor toward the cavern where Galle and the girl waited.

  “You almost killed him,” Baella noted.

  “If need be, I can make more.”

  “Without the binding ritual?”

  Theron shrugged, an action which sent a fresh wave of pain through Taras’s shoulder. “The lack of a binding ritual has not hindered me thus far. I see no reason to concern myself with it now.”

  Like Baella, Theron’s arms were locked under Taras’s armpit. The blackened fingers of Theron’s right hand were obscured from view by Taras’s shoulder, but he had only to look at his own hand, charred and broken, to remind himself of what Theron’s hand looked like. Maybe they were more alike than Taras thought.

  No, that’s not true, Taras realized. I’m a killer, but I only kill those who deserve it, and I take no joy in it. He kills anyone he wants, anytime he wants, often for no other reason than his own pleasure.

  Not that knowing such helped Taras in any meaningful way. He was weak, injured, and would likely never get another chance to feed, unless he happened to get his fangs into Theron’s throat somehow, which seemed unlikely given his condition and the fact that Baella was, apparently, working with the bastard. He would have liked to ram his clawed fists deep into her gut, but that also seemed unlikely.

  Theron halted, then held up a hand. He leaned forward a moment, sniffing the air like a wolf, then turned an excited gaze toward Baella.

  “He’s here!” Theron whispered.

  “He?” Baella asked. “He who?”

  “Ramah!”

  Baella blanched. “Where?” Was it Taras’s imagination, or did a look of fear cross her face at the sound of Ramah’s name?

  “Up ahead. Not far, but not near, either. We can surprise him if we circle back.”

  Baella shook her head. “Not now,” she said. “We are not ready.”

  Theron looked surprised. “What do you mean? I am strong, you are strong. Together, we—”

  “Are nowhere near as strong as Ramah,” Baella interrupted. “Come, Theron. If there is another Bachiyr within a thousand miles of me who knows how dangerous Ramah is, I would hope it would be you. We are no match for the Blood Letter, and you know it.”

  “I think you underestimate us,” Theron said, his lip curled into a snarl. “Me, especially. I have spent decades studying powers that normal Bachiyr do not even know exist.”


  “Have you forgotten the power of the Council? Don’t you understand, Theron? The ability to burn both sides of your blood is an impressive feat, but they invented the skill! They hoard it like misers over gold. They know more about using the other side of your blood than you can learn in a thousand years, let alone a few decades. For your sake and mine, we must not engage Ramah. He will kill you.”

  “But not you?” Theron arched an eyebrow.

  “I will not go to meet him,” she said. “If you wish to do so, that is your choice. But know this: he will kill you, and all your work will die with you.”

  The ‘work’ she referred to was responsible for the blackened skin that covered Taras’s burned and broken body. In his opinion, Theron’s work deserved to be forgotten. He would have said as much if his mouth could be made to form words. He groaned, instead, which earned him a sharp rap on the head from Theron’s knuckles.

  Theron and Baella stared at each other for several long moments, holding Taras between them, until finally Theron broke the silence.

  “Very well,” he said, “I will refrain from seeking him out. But Ramah will find us if we stay here. If you have any ideas that might allow us to escape these caverns, now is the time to use them.”

  “What about him?” Baella asked, nodding toward Taras.

  “Leave him for the Blood Letter.” Theron shrugged. “The Roman may slow him down long enough to cover our escape.”

  Baella laid Taras none-too-gently on the floor. Theron simply dropped him. The result was that Taras flopped over on his side and banged his temple against the stone. Luckily, he was already in so much pain that he barely felt the jarring impact.

  “I can get us out of here,” Baella said. “I can build a portal to my sanctuary, but it is vital that I not be interrupted.”

  “I would not dream of it,” Theron said. He looked at her eagerly. Taras could understand why. The ability to create a portal could prove extremely useful. From what he had been able to learn in his few encounters with other Bachiyr, only the Council knew how to construct them, and even then the sheer power it took to make them left the Bachiyr very weak and dazed, which is why so few of them were created. Only the major cities had them, and those had been created centuries ago.