Loyalty

by Charles E Yallowitz

  Clyde cocks his head to the side for a moment and nods his head, but stops as if coming out of a trance. “There’s a big flaw in their plan. If you’re destroyed then they have to fight the Duragians without your superior strength. Seems rather short-sighted, but I’ve met plenty of nobles who aren’t very bright. No offense, Lord Exception. My point is that something doesn’t feel right about this, but my instincts could just be rusty. I’ll keep this a secret for as long as I can, but be prepared for the worst-case scenario. Not saying any of my people will talk, but conspiracies like this tend to blow up in a public way. Any ideas about who’s running the whole thing?”

  “Could be anybody, so I am hoping you can uncover more as you move through their hideouts,” the nobleman states, his voice tinted with frustration. He gets to his feet and walks over to a skull that has been fused to the wall. “I would appreciate it if you could bring me the mastermind alive, so I can deal with them personally. Of course, I will understand if the situation forces you to use lethal force. A show of power would help me rally the citizens of Nyte after so many losses. Perhaps you can do something about that by putting on a show with these missions like the old days. Consider it as you go wherever you are going. I assume you snuck out a minute ago since this is obviously an interactive illusion. You forgot to include the list, which was there a second ago. My senses are not as dull as you would think.”

  The fake Clyde stands so that the chair is passing through his legs, which bend to the sides as he bows. Getting nothing more than a friendly nod, the image disappears and the silence spell crumbles into a visible dust. Xavier is protected by a barrier around his body, which dissolves the colorful motes that give the entire room a rainbow sheen. The nobleman is about to cast a spell to get rid of the magical layer, but stops and runs a finger along the wall. Sniffing at the residue, he struggles to figure out what is wrong about it, but the dust vanishes in a foul-smelling puff of smoke before he can examine it further.

  *****

  “This place sure has become a dump,” Gregorio says as his translucent body walks through the stone wall. Spotting Clyde among the dining hall’s rotten furniture, he floats over the debris and perches on a chandelier that is held up by a single chain. “I take it Mab told you that the gang didn’t feel like staying in the old hideout after you were gone. At least nobody else was able to discover this place, so we have some privacy. Find something that deserves more attention than me?”

  “This broken chair was the one that Mab hurled at my head when we had our little . . . falling out long ago,” Clyde replies with a sigh. Rubbing his temple, he can vaguely remember the impact followed by the severing of his legs. “She was pretty angry. Telling her that she was always coy about how serious we were didn’t help the situation. Anyway, you wanted to talk to me, old fang? Hope this isn’t a trick to make me wander around this place. Nothing to find here except cobwebs, dust, memories, and a small fortune kept under one of the kitchen stoves.”

  Gently sinking to the floor, Gregorio’s body glows bright enough to force Clyde to avert his gaze. The phantom transforms into a doorway that the real gnome walks out of, the faint outline of his lab visible in the churning portal. Unable to handle the torchlight, he puts on his tinted glasses and takes a seat on the nearest chair. The piece of furniture buckles under his miniscule weight and the legs snap in half, which causes Gregorio to fall. Unfazed by the crash, he remains sitting on the rotting cushion and waves for Clyde to join him on the floor. The instant the other vampire comes close, he plunges his hand into the man’s pants pocket and pulls out the gauntlet sword. After examining the weapon for a few seconds, the inventor puts it across his lap and pulls out some tools to tinker with the gauntlet. The armored section hisses before splitting in half, the crystalline needles glistening as if covered in fresh blood.

  “I’m still trying to figure out what happened to you, but I do know that I have to make some adjustments here,” Gregorio explains as tiny lightning bolts leap from his fingers. His hand is nearly impaled by the closing gauntlet, which he smacks to reopen. “All I can tell you is that you’re not undead like the rest of us. You have a pulse and your blood contains air, which means your lungs are working too. Pretty sure your stomach functions, which brings up more personal questions that you need to consider before eating solid food. Still, you aren’t mortal. Don’t go thinking you’re a god either because Windemere isn’t suicidal enough to make you that powerful. There’s nothing else I can figure out aside from your body being more efficient at taking energy from blood and food. I’m trying to have your sword create a slower drain to avoid driving you into a hunger-induced rampage. Do you feel like you’re never full?”

  “I did at first, but now I’m only hungry if I’ve been really active,” Clyde answers while picking a piece of bone out of the sword teeth. A push against his fingers causes him to catch the weapon before it briefly awakens. “Seems this thing really likes the taste of me. I’ll be careful and save it for emergencies. You called me out of a meeting with Xavier, so I would like to leave with more than what you’ve said. Revealing that I’m alive, but not mortal isn’t telling me anything new. Figured that out when Mab tore my chest open. My heart was beating and I didn’t die, which means I’ve become something else.”

  “Give me more blood and I’ll do another round of tests while you go noble hunting,” the gnome casually states before putting the weapon aside. Holding three syringes between his fingers, he jabs Clyde in the chest without warning. “Don’t look at me with surprise. I listen to what’s going on and peek in on our people. Heard rumors of the council wanting to get rid of Xavier, but it wasn’t my business. I remain neutral, which is why Nadia never came to me for help. She’s been worried about this possibility for a while. Probably shouldn’t bore you too much. The two of us aren’t very interested in politics. Let the nobility kill each other if that’s what they want and they usually do.”

  “I would, but my friends are invested in this.”

  “That’s a problem, so I’ll lend a hand if you ask.”

  “Thanks, old fang, but you’re doing enough by looking into what I’ve become.”

  “My pleasure since I love mysteries.”

  “I’d agree except that I’m the mystery here.”

  Gregorio abruptly fills the vials that are still attached to Clyde’s chest, the tiny holes disappearing as soon as the needles are removed. The gnome grips his vampire son by the shoulder to help himself stand, his bones creaking from sitting in the same awkward position for so long. He licks his lips and realizes how hungry he is, but finds that he forgot all of his meal flasks in his lair. Not wanting to be tempted by the blood he needs for his experiments, Gregorio tucks them into his robe and gestures to revive the portal. He starts to step through when a thought crosses his mind and he returns to where Clyde is still sitting. A clay jug emerges from the entrance to his lair in order to follow him and he takes a long drink to take the edge off his hunger. The bitter taste and slight coagulation makes him gag, but the gnome forces the meal down his throat.

  “Feel free to visit with those virgins soon,” Gregorio says while wiping his fangs on his sleeve. A scent in the air causes him to sigh and he takes one step closer to the portal before clearing his throat. “Keep in mind that my research might come up with nothing. Blood doesn’t always tell before it hardens. All I ask is that you prepare yourself for failure since there’s a first time for everything. Might be able to do more if you visit every other weekend. Contrary to my hermit lifestyle, I do enjoy company from the people I like. Bring Mab around too or that other one with the handprints. You still talking to her?”

  “I’ll see what I can do, old fang,” Clyde cheerfully replies while guiding his maker towards the portal. As soon as Gregorio is gone, he turns towards a doorway that is covered in thick cobwebs. “You still smell like alcohol since you mix it with your meals. Strange that you got here so quickly when this was an unplanned trip. If you must know, Gregorio need
ed to check my weapon because of a few complaints. Don’t want there being problems like losing an arm or lopping off someone’s head. With my bad luck, it would end up being Mab and she’d take offense. So, are you here as friend, family, or messenger for your maker?”

  “Hopefully a friend, but I’ll leave that up to you,” Decker answers as he enters the room. He picks up an abandoned decanter and watches it crumble in his hand. “I left a few traps in the hideout. Nothing lethal, but they let me know if somebody enters. Before you ask, I still have the ring you gave me, which teleports me here if I’m badly injured. Had to saw through half of my neck to get sent here and I’ve been busy healing for the last five minutes, so I missed most of your conversation. Not that it’s any of my business. You and Gregorio have always had your secrets.”

  “Good to see you still respect a man’s privacy,” the other vampire says, patting his friend on the shoulder. Feeling tension in the dwarf’s muscles, Clyde takes a step away and cracks his knuckles. “If you only heard part of our conversation then you know nothing. The simple answer is that I’m having trouble getting used to the new world. Gregorio is a hermit, but still knows about the changes. He’s kind of combination of me and the rest of you. We’re also periodically checking me for any long-term issues. I spent most of my containment with nothing more than vermin to eat and even those were hard to come by. The old fang is surprised I didn’t rot away, but I told him I rationed my food.”

  The soldier holds up his hand to stop his companion from talking. “Again, it’s none of my business. If you want me to know then you’ll tell me. That’s the deal we’ve always had since I was never a full-fledged gang member. The situation is different this time, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to be so open with me. Like my mortal father used to say, it pays to have a friend who isn’t emotionally invested in your life. Sorry to be so cold, but you and I were always fairly blunt with each other when in private. That’s why I can end this conversation quickly and tell you that the others have chosen a target. Luther has already left to observe the enemy and Titus went with Bob to pick a nearby base of operations.”

  “You are grinning far too much.”

  “Do you remember the time we tried to steal the Scepter of Palqua?”

  “The one where we got lost in a sandstorm that came out of nowhere?”

  “Yes.”

  “I take it Mab picked the desert hideout.”

  “Actually, Bob did because he wants a camel for his stable.”

  Clyde scratches his head and shrugs before saying, “Can’t argue with that. Mostly because Bob seems a lot crazier than I remember and I don’t want to lose one of the few friends I have left.”

  5

  With the afternoon sun beating on his light brown night cloak, Luther crawls over a final dune and rolls towards the bottom. Halfway down, he abruptly sinks beneath the sand and bumps into what feels like a wooden wall. Unable to see through the grit, he uses his hands to search for a door while hoping that he is on the front of the submerged building. Sensing a repetitive thud beneath his palms, Luther presses his face against what turns out to be a window. At first, he can only see Mab, who is dangling by her claws, but she swings to the side to reveal the others standing on what would normally be the rear wall. All of the furniture has been thrown into a pile around the gang, who wave for him to get inside. He tries to signal that barging in is a bad idea and frowns at how his friends begin making faces at him. With a sigh of resignation, Luther throws the window open and is violently shoved inside the enchanted cabin. He plants his feet against the floor, which is now a wall, and billows his cape in an attempt to catch the sand, but he is driven into the others by the forceful blast. Those below the flood try to climb to higher ground while Mab uses her legs to shove the window closed.

  “In our defense, the pocket cabin was on solid ground for the first hour,” Titus explains as he fishes Luther out of the sand. He dusts his coughing friend off with a bit more strength than he expected, his attempts reminding the others of a bear mauling a halfling. “We have five hours before this place turns back into a cube and crushes us. Honestly, it’s only a matter of time before the gnomes stop pushing this hazard as a housing option for homeless mortals. Even our people can’t survive when these things collapse. Could work for a nice trap though, so that’s something to keep in mind. Anyway, what are we looking at? The map we have doesn’t show much, which is why I was against this being our first mission.”

  “Did they have any camels?” Bob interrupts with a glint of hope in his eyes.

  “I saw about fifty horses and a few goats,” Luther answers before patting the disappointed vampire on the shoulder. Taking a seat between Decker and Clyde, he pulls a stick out of his cloak and begins to draw the hideout. “They are living in a collection of tents that surround a clump of forest. I don’t know where the trees were brought from or how they’re surviving in this type of environment. By all natural rights, they should have fallen over in the loose sand or dried out from the sun. I counted about seventy vampires and they remain fairly inactive when the sun is out. Having been here for a day, I found that they leave at night to gather food. Now, this is only the tent area. All attempts to get into the trees were met with guards that nearly caught me several times. I wasn’t even in my normal form, which proves they are suspicious of anything that moves. Whoever is leading this group is probably in there, which is strange. I’ve yet to see anyone go in or out of the forest. My best guess it that there is a supply tunnel that connects to one of these distant ridges.”

  With a sharp whistle, Mab drops from the ceiling on the other side of the map and holds out her hand for the stick. “If this is perfectly accurate then the best place to get in is the north. There are a few tents here, but that won’t make too much of a difference. I expected them to be in a rocky area or put up some permanent buildings. There’s very little cover for a group like us to use, which means we can’t go in together. A frontal assault could work if we simply want to kill them all. This isn’t factoring in the possibility of a noble being in there. I’m betting on there being someone like that in the trees. What do you think, Luther?”

  “You would lose that bet,” the forest tracker replies while taking the stick back. He spins it in his hand instead of adding to the drawing, which has become covered in markings. “While I believe their leader is hiding, I saw no evidence of a noble. If such a person was at this hideout then you would see the other traitors acting more . . . cautious. There is a lot of tension and fear among them, but it’s a different taste than one normally gets from being around a superior. At first, I thought they were nervous about being discovered and executed.”

  “But now you think there’s something else in there that scares them,” Decker finishes in a low voice. Drawing his axe, he wipes away the map to remove the distraction, but it returns a second later. “Sorry, but I thought everyone was done. It sounds like we need to do a deeper level of recon. No offense, Luther, since I know you did your best. Do you think you could get further in and stay there?”

  “I did that for a few hours, but only heard what we already knew.”

  “What about pretending to be one of them?”

  “My plan to do that was foiled by them routinely dropping code words in conversations.”

  “That’s bizarre for a group like this.”

  “Not if they’re guarding something important.”

  With a yawn, Clyde heads for what would normally be the ceiling and takes his night cloak off a rafter. Urging his friends to do the same, he waits for everyone to get prepared before delivering a punch to the pocket cabin. The blow destroys the roof and creates a large hole in the dune, which they rush through before it swiftly closes. Exposed to the desert sun, the vampires pull their cloaks tight around their bodies. They are about to ask why Clyde destroyed their temporary base until they hear shouting from the direction of the traitors’ camp. Luther wastes no time leaping to the top of the dune where he can wat
ch their enemies scramble among the tents. It is not long before a small army of black-cloaked figures charge across the sand, leaving only a few people behind. Another explosion happens to the east, which causes them to change directions with a total lack of grace and organization.

  “That second boom was one of my illusions,” Clyde admits with a bow. Joining Luther, he sits on the warm sand and watches the army disappear into the distance. “We aren’t going in yet because I want to see how long it takes for them to come back. This should help us figure out if they’re protecting something or are hiding here. I’m still not sure because everyone leaving for an attack doesn’t make sense for either situation. Anything you can tell me about those who are still in the camp?”

  “I saw no hierarchy and they aren’t patrolling or standing in anything that resembles defensive posts beyond those near the trees,” Luther replies with a sigh. A groan from beneath his feet causes him to move before the damaged cabin collapses along with the entire backside of the dune. “I’m sorry that I’m not more help, but this stronghold has no logic behind it. The trees shouldn’t be here, they might not have a leader, they are obviously paranoid, and they go on the attack at the slightest provocation. All I can suggest is getting into the forest regardless of the guards coming after us or not.”

  “That wouldn’t work with all of us,” Titus says as he climbs up. Reaching down to help Decker and Bob, he waves for Mab to join them. “She’s antsy about being so exposed, Clyde, so maybe she should stay behind. Bob can keep her company or they can head over to those nomads we saw a few miles to the south. Getting some camels to escape on would put me at ease and make Bob happy. What do you think?”