Immortal Defiance

by Laura Maybrooke

  “My general, King Tarim, swears by his soothsayer’s word.”

  “I do not doubt he does. It is what his mentors taught him to do.”

  Dulcea pursed her lips, wondering what uncommon practices he thought the norm. He was a creature of the dark, burdened with an impossible task. Was it unreasonable to think him interested in outlawed arts?

  Krath glanced at her. “Why the silence? Is there something you wish to ask me?”

  Dulcea cleared her throat but said nothing.

  “Come now. I’m no stranger to that look. If you want to ask me if I am accomplished in the dark arts, go right ahead.”

  “Are you then?” She swallowed. “Have you ever practiced black magic?”

  Krath was silent for a moment, and Dulcea realized she had her answer.

  He sighed. “I am not proud of it, but… yes. We have all done things we regret, haven’t we? I was not strong enough to resist its temptation. I lacked the foresight to see what it would cost me.”

  “Foresight. Hindsight…” She shook her head. “Either way, it is anything but easy.”

  “It was a long time ago, and I was only trying to use it to gain an advantage.”

  Dulcea frowned. “Is this to do with Grom?”

  He sneered. “Does not everything?” Krath shifted, brushing her shoulder. Dulcea startled at it a little but remained otherwise motionless, pretending she had not even noticed. “My failure led to something I can never justify. It is because of our first battle that my former home in S’Aruse is but a frozen plain anymore.”

  “I am sorry. I remember the horror it is to witness your homeland destroyed.”

  The vampire nodded but said nothing in response to her sympathy.

  Her breath hitched. “Y-you… do you still practice black magic?”

  “No, and I never will.” The words were cold, final. “But I beg your pardon, my lady, this here is not a subject to my liking. I would rather not discuss the utter stupidity of my youth. It pleases me none to think about it. If one must dabble in magic, there are plenty of far more satisfying little tricks around that also often serve some useful function on the side.”

  “Like the enchanted candlelight at our dinner…” she said, recalling the sea of candles in the private little dining room where he had hosted her a half a fortnight before.

  “Or like the stars in your star chart.” He gestured at the embroidered canvas map.

  “It’s wonderful. I like it a lot. It’s akin to having my own private piece of the sky.”

  “It is stunningly accurate.” He sounded impressed. “Where did you get it?”

  “It was… an engagement present,” Dulcea said, her tone a little awkward.

  “A recent one?” the vampire asked. “Or from your rescinded betrothal to House Loraquel?”

  Krath had inquired a few days back about the odd array of gift items stored all around her tent. Dulcea had no reason to lie to him, so she had told him about her race’s courting rituals.

  “A recent one, from one of the more prominent Houses of our empire.”

  “It’s ingenious. Someone paid a lot for that.” The corners of his mouth tugged upward in a smile. “Light bends to many interesting charms. I may be a creature of death and darkness, but do we not all desire light? Maybe that is why I’ve collected so many of them. Some charms respond to the amount of daylight, some stay burning regardless of the hour, and some unusual ones even change color on a whim. They serve no specific purpose, other than to amuse me. They are a welcome diversion.”

  “That is what a good enchantment does: it diverts you. It needs not all be so serious,” she said. The memory of the haunting charm around his castle rose unbidden into her mind. “I know you are not an enchanter. How do you get the spells?”

  “From items. I’ve some acquaintances who trade in the things.”

  That was not it then. There was no way a charm that potent came from a stored enchantment.

  “Enchanters and mages, I suppose,” she said. “I know the type, willing to exchange anything imbued with magic for a few pieces of silver. I think they give our guilds a bad name.”

  “It is not always even for a few pieces of silver—sometimes even a few coppers will do. I agree with you: they cheapen your profession. I do not deal with their kind.”

  “Oh. Pardon me my assumption.” Dulcea dropped her gaze. “I did not mean to presume.”

  “Do not trouble yourself with it. Like you, I also disdain those who would sell the secrets of your guild short by parting with them to anyone with coin to spare. I know how hard a good mage works for his skills, which makes it even more objectionable.” He frowned. “One of the worst of my acquaintance is a lord of your elven kind. He would have sold me his own mother, if he could have.”

  Dulcea blinked. “A Silver Elf mage, you mean, selling cheap tricks and fancy nothings?”

  “Something of the kind, yes.”

  She sighed. “It is a pity about the fraudulent characters this world produces, but I am not surprised that one of them was an elven mage. Magic has always enchanted my kind. Perhaps it is because of our longevity. We have never stopped thirsting for knowledge—not even when the Saruseans had us exampled as lawbreakers and criminals, forbidding us from studying any arts.”

  “That was all Grom. He distrusts your kind in your guilds and academies.”

  The vampire gave a sudden sharp chuckle, the tone of it a little bemused.

  “That reminds me: when I first learned the Golden Dragonlord was some elven enchantress, I plain out laughed. I assumed the world would soon fall into slavery again.”

  “I am astonished you would generalize so.” Dulcea narrowed her eyes.

  “Of that I am guilty. I fell prey to my own expectations, based on what limited experience I had of your kin. It was not proper of me, and I apologize for that. I shall remember not to generalize again.”

  “Good.” Her brow furrowed. “That mage, did you know him for long?”

  “Long enough to know his blood was the only thing I liked about him.”

  Dulcea paled, chilled at his nonchalance. He was only obeying his nature, though, and it was insane to take offense about some death that happened ages ago, perhaps centuries before she was even born.

  She grimaced. “I am not sure I like this topic.”

  “Forgive me, my lady. We can discuss whatever you wish.”

  The summer night was warm and silent, disturbed only by the occasional noise of soldiers milling about outside her tent as they changed shifts or reported for duty. Summer Solstice was three days away. Tarim had sent her a message early that morning, claiming he would absolutely, positively die if she did not declare it an official day of celebration. Dulcea could not help her amusement. It was so like Tarim. The young king was turning eighteen soon, and yet, he sometimes still behaved like the fourteen-year-old kid he once was.

  Dulcea smiled to herself, recalling several of Tarim’s more extreme antics over the years.

  Krath quirked an eyebrow, a smile on his lips. “… As long as it is not the weather.”

  “What?” Dulcea startled out of her reverie, blushing at his sardonic tone. “No. Sorry.” She tried to think of a topic. “How much do you know about elven cultures?”

  “Not all that much. These past fifteen centuries have allowed me scarce few opportunities to speak with people of elven lineages. To my knowledge, your war is the first occasion to have brought elves and humans together in such large numbers. Until now, all elven societies were exempt from continental affairs, and because of it, even I know them only by reputation. We all hide behind our own cultural identities and are not keen to befriend those dissimilar to us.”

  “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Why are hate and dislike so inbred into one’s own children and grandchildren? My kind has always been unwilling neighbors to the Mist Elves; yet this past half a decade has shown me they are none different from us. So often we prejudge those we do not even know, based on nothing mor
e than the inherited tales of our fathers.”

  Dulcea clasped her hands behind her back, stretching her limbs.

  “War is heinous. We commit the most atrocious crimes in the name of justice and liberty, seeking what justification we can for it. However, if not for the war, most of us would have never met, and the friends we have today would still be our heated enemies or ignored neighbors.”

  “That is true, I suppose.” Krath turned to look at her in the dark. “But do you know why war is such a waste? People make up the most ingenious justifications for their actions… Justice and liberty, what a classic. It is not so much that the innocents die, not even that children are killed and maimed, but that war will always take away centuries of culture. That is the real shame of war.”

  “Is that why you will not fight? Do you fear destruction?”

  “There is no war to end all wars. I could stand the destruction if there would be eternal peace after that, but that is pure fantasy. It will never happen. You can have your peace, or you can have your freedom… but you can never have both at once. You are free now, but you do not have peace. Under the Sarusean rule you had your peace, but you did not have freedom.”

  She nodded. “I agree that a world without war is an idealistic concept. Even if I should win, a century or two from now somewhere in the world another battle rages. However, that is no reason to not save the people who are suffering today. War is always a crime, no matter how necessary it may be, but sometimes we must be criminals to achieve equality. History will thank us for it.”

  “I do not see how that would come to pass. History thanks nobody; it will only remember how many tens of thousands you got killed in this war,” he said. “A hundred years from now someone will say that this world would have been better off without you. If you continue to fight, and you lose this war, the descendants of your contemporaries will curse your name one day.”

  “Why not help me then?” Dulcea raised her chin. “If I am to meet Grom anyway, what further harm can it do? Think what it would mean—us together against him. You whose task it is to kill him, and I who am determined to do it, aided by two dragon clans. How can you say no?”

  “Because I must. Saying yes would be easy. It is not like I never miss the challenge of it, but saying no is the right thing to do. I will not see you suffer because of me.”

  “What do you mean?” She crossed her arms. “How does that correlate?”

  “There is death… and then there is death.” The way he said the words sounded ominous. “Meet him alone, and Grom will kill you as the opposition to his plans, but be with me, and he will think your life worth something to me. It will not suffice to just kill you then. Grom will savage, torture, and cripple you before that. You will wish many times you were dead before he is through with you.”

  Dulcea swallowed. “Could you not… protect me?”

  “Like I protected my progeny six hundred years ago?” He gave a short, bitter laugh.

  She bit her lip, something strange twisting in the pit of her stomach. “Krath, I—”

  “Not now, Lady Dulcea.” He shook his head. “Let us just… be silent for a while.”

  Chapter 24

  A New Threat

  War was destructive. It was never easier to see than when melancholy pierced her heart at witnessing the destruction wrought upon the wild north, but Dulcea refused to wallow in self-pity. She had to have a heart of stone. Sentimentality was dangerous. A wounded soldier registered only as a statistic, and when combat healers struggled in vain to save a life or a limb, she made herself look the other way. She did not flinch or cower, but inside she doubted the things they did in the name of freedom.

  Her heart was full of sorrow, but she kept a brave face. She had to be strong for those who depended on her. Even Myoden was no comfort to her; he would not have understood, despite his great capacity for empathy.

  He saw her as Lady Lightbringer, the one who had promised to save them all. He idolized her, and his adoration made him blind. After so many years of war, and so many moments of great friendship, it was a wonder how he could know her so well and yet miss something so simple.

  It would be Mead Moon tomorrow, half the year done and another six months ahead. Dulcea entered her tent with her arms full of old maps and other documents. She did a startled double take just past the flap door, dropping her things in surprise. It was shadowy in the tent since there were no lights burning, but even in the half-darkness she could make out the distinct shape of a man. He got up upon her entry, moving to the other end of the sturdy wooden table, but he stayed in the shadows.

  He bowed to her. “Not to worry, my lady. It is only me.”

  “Lord Krath.” She inclined her head at him.

  He moved to light some nearby oil lamps, admitting light into the dark tent. She looked at him with a frown. This was the first time Krath had entered her tent while she was out, and Dulcea resented the thought of it. She did not store any war secrets in her tent, and she doubted he was interested in such, but the knowledge of him having stayed without permission displeased her.

  Krath helped her pick up her scattered maps, before returning to the same seat he had occupied a few moments before. Dulcea laid the scrolls on a side table and grabbed a lantern from its hook, moving it to the table between them.

  “I do not have the time for this now,” she said but sat down, nevertheless.

  “You consider a musty old map more interesting than a few hours of your time with me?” The vampire gave her an amused grin. “What is your hurry? No one wants to disrupt the peace on this Summer Solstice’s night. What else is there to occupy your attention?”

  “Correspondence, tactical strategies, and inspection reports aplenty.”

  “How exhilarating.”

  Dulcea snorted. “I cannot change who I am.”

  “We can neither change who we are.” He leaned back in his chair. “I am a scholar. It does not mean I would choose a dusty book over a lively conversation, if given the choice between that and your company.”

  She fisted her hands. “I do not see how a high work ethic makes me dull.”

  His smile was wry. “I never said it did. You are brave, vivacious, and full of life. This friendship is still new, but I dare say I already know you better than most. Your soldiers and fellow generals have all witnessed your heroism, but that is just surface. Anyone can learn that. Your inner self, however, hides behind your valor. You are not Lady Lightbringer every hour of the day, even if that is the role and name your followers have chosen for you. Every question you ask, also tells me something about you, Lady Dulcea. You are full of questions, and I have answered them for more than a month now.”

  Dulcea huffed in annoyance but found it impossible to refute his statement. She pressed her elbows against the table and leaned her chin in her hands, wondering what to make of him. He smiled at it a little, amused at being so scrutinized, and as if compelled by an invisible force, Dulcea was helpless to do anything but to stare. His grin widened, revealing the sharp tips of his fangs.

  “Y-your teeth…” she said, trying not to sound too vulgar. “Is it not… difficult? Do you never hurt yourself when talking? Or drinking b-blood?”

  Krath laughed, which she thought almost absurd, considering the validity of her inquiry.

  “What a strange question, my lady,” he said. “But it is not without merit. All young vampires need to learn how to live with their new fangs. Time will teach them. I do not even think of them anymore; they just are. I know it may upset you, but they are an integral part of me.”

  “I am not… repulsed. Just curious, I suppose.” She shrugged. “How do you even get them?”

  “The fangs, you mean? That is the same as asking me ‘why are you so pale, even though you can go out into the sun’, isn’t it? One of life’s mysteries. I once described my death feeling like I had endured a hundred centuries in the Netherworld before awakening and ascending to this mortal world once more. And had it? No. In rea
lity but a short few moments had passed. The other vampires told similar tales. Magic? Evolution? Rebirth? Who knows? All I know is that while the body is dead in this world, something occurs in the Netherworld that reconstructs us to this form we then come to inhabit.”

  Dulcea hummed, thrumming her fingers on the table. She said nothing. A sudden silence stretched between them. It was not all uncomfortable, but she was still glad for a new topic as it entered her head. She seized her movements and rested her chin back in her hands.

  “How can you turn invisible?”

  The vampire raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? How can you?”

  “I cannot, not really,” Dulcea said. “I can use enchantments to hide my presence, and to make people either disregard, ignore, or forget they have seen me, but I cannot turn invisible.”

  “Well… I inhabit a kind of half-state when using the Netherworld. When phasing, I am not here, yet not all there, either.”

  “Does that mean you can spy into the real world from the Netherworld?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes, but it is not convenient to do so. It is akin to looking at the real world through a hazy dream in black and white. If I intended to spy or listen in on somebody, or pass them by without disturbing the Netherworld, I would take a page out of your book. I would do what you do: force them to ignore me with the power of my mind. Your ability for it comes from the school of enchantments, mine from a vampire’s powers of mind control.”

  She pursed her lips. “How does it work, that thing with the Netherworld?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How are you able to traverse it? It seems incredible that someone can just appear and disappear like that.”

  Krath grinned. “Well, aren’t you feeling inquisitive today, my lady!”

  Dulcea chuckled. “I am always inquisitive.”