Wolf Blade: Chains of the Vampire

by Marco Frazetta

  “Careful, they’re sensitive,” I said.

  “Are they?” Tiloshar smiled. “Come here, let me gaze upon you.” Vixerai leapt down from the parapet’s stone edge. Tiloshar turned her so that she could look at her backside. “Ah, and you have a tail. I had not noticed, with all the commotion of the last day.” The vampire queen cupped her hand around it and stroked it to its end. Vixerai gave a shuddering giggle. Tiloshar turned her once more and caressed her cheek with a finger. “You are a precious thing. I can see why Rothan mated with you.”

  Vixerai looked away from both of us a moment. “It will not be the same without him.”

  Tiloshar looked to me in confusion and I explained, “I cannot take her with me, for it would be dangerous for a succubus to roam Skald. All would see her as a demon. I will have to return someday to see both of you.”

  “I see.” Tiloshar said in a quiet voice, then turned to Vixerai. “You will have a home here, Vixerai. And there are realms to explore through the planar gate as well.”

  Vixerai nodded, though it seemed nothing would return her usual radiance. It pained me, but there were duties I had to fulfill, and came before all else.

  “I must go. There are two women who wait for me not knowing my fate, even whether I still live. And more than that, there is the land of Skald that might not endure what looms over it. Tiloshar, I will need some way off this island.”

  Tiloshar sighed with resignation. “I gave you my word that I would grant you your freedom, and I do.”

  28

  The winged panthers, nightmares and pegasi in Tiloshar’s stables wrapped my heart in thorns of sadness for the mount that I had left in Malfeon. Gaumoon. I wondered how he fared. Something told me, a whisper of the gods perhaps, that he lived, for he would heed my last command to him, to flee the floating isle of White Tear, should any danger come to him or should I not return.

  I spotted a wyvern among her many beasts, the very creatures I had slain when I first crossed the Planar Gate. However, this one was black scaled, though looking closely at his scales, they shimmered a midnight blue as that of the sky surrounding a full moon. And on his wings and the end of his tail he had great feathers, orange alternating with ultramarine. He beheld me with his lizard head, the great yellow reptilian eyes upon it. “You can carry two, can you not?”

  The creature let out a hissing screech of a roar, which tossed my hair back ever so slightly. I grit my teeth, became a Fenrir and let out a bellow of a roar that vibrated all through my body. A great flutter of wings, and beating of hooves and paws, went up in the stables—which was truly a mixture of stable, eyrie, and den as many a kind of monstrous creature was held here. The black wyvern reared its head back, and only stole glances at me side-eyed, as a hound might do when scolded by its master. I wrapped my chain around the base of his neck. He did not like this, but I pulled and asserted that I was his master.

  It took some time to break him, for he was not as Gaumoon had been, a ready friend, a creature that lived by chewing green moss; this mount was a predator of the sky and wanted to bend its will to no one. But finally after much effort of us roaring and swiping at one another with fang and claw, and much of him flailing about in protest of me straddling his back, he relented, and was broken.

  “I will call you Midnight,” I said, feeling the smooth, warm scales of his neck, “for your color, and for the eternal midnight of the isle you dwell in.”

  “I see you have made yourself his master.” Tiloshar stood at the entrance to the stables, Charlotte, One Eye, Abalo and even Sirucan at her side. They were all dressed comfortably, washed of the blood and grime from our time on the White Tear. Abalo had bandages over his eyes and walked with a cane. “We come to see you off, my Fenrir.”

  “But where is Vixerai?”

  “She could not bear saying goodbye.”

  I nodded, sad but understanding. I let my Beast recede enough that I was in the half Fenrir form.

  We all exchanged blessings and thanks. One Eye climbed on Midnight, took the saddle spot behind me, for the wyvern had more than enough room. Charlotte and Tiloshar stood next to one another, peering up to me on my mount. “Rothan,” Charlotte said. “You have given me not only my own life back, but also… a sister.” She looked to Tiloshar with a human warmth the vampire queen must not have felt in years.

  “Aye.” I grinned. “The most intriguing twins I have ever met.”

  Tiloshar stared at me a long moment, then yanked on my chain, pulling me down into a stoop, then hovered the rest of the way so that our faces met and our lips embraced. She said nothing else, only gave me a long glance of smoldering fire from her crimson eyes.

  “Midnight.” I pulled on his reins. “Come now, show me the sky!” He flared his wings open, and as I had loosed the chains that bound his feet, he was free to fly up though the tower that housed the stables, and out through its gate.

  The wind howled around me, the cold upon my eyes as we soared high above the black castle. I had not truly seen the island in all its contours, the castle in all its dread architecture, for I had been a prisoner as I had approached the isle upon the Dominion. I searched for the imperial ship now, and could not find it, for it must have long crossed the horizon of these black seas. I only stared south toward the Imperial capital, to the Emperor’s seat where the Dominion sailed.

  “Flee, Eschellion, and enjoy your days of cigars and conquering,” I bellowed, my hair wild in my face, “for I will be there when you enjoy your last.” We circled above the island, Midnight’s wings turning from narrow swords to billowed curtains as he gracefully sliced the sky.

  I spotted something. Another pair of sharp wings. I tensed, ready for anything.

  “Rothan! Rothan!” the high voice came from the slender figure spiraling in the sky.

  “Vixerai!”

  My succubus came swooping toward us, until she landed on Midnight, at the base of his neck in front of me, her thin legs straddling him. His grumbling screech pierced the air.

  “Easy, Midnight.” I calmed him, my hand firm on his scales. “Vixerai, I’m glad you came to say goodbye.” Her dancing wine hair and turquoise eyes looked alluring in the moonlight.

  “I didn’t. I’m coming with you.”

  “Vixerai…”

  She did not answer me with words. She only slipped a ring on. A thread of magic light sizzled through her, beginning at her clawed feet and working its way up her sleek body. Her claws turned to a dainty maiden’s slippered feet. Her skin went from rose to a rosy beige. Her membrane malliot and brass bustier turned to a raspberry colored summer dress. Her wings and horns were nowhere to be found.

  “Vixerai! You’re…”

  “Human.” A smile sparkled on her face. “Charlotte’s ring. She modified it. And wanted to surprise you, said you gave her a sister, the least she can do is give you a mate.”

  I reached out and stroked her gusting hair. “It will be an exotic color, but nothing that will draw more than an admiring glance. It’s perfect!”

  “Good.” She stood to her full height, balancing on Midnight like a gymnast. “But while we fly, I don’t really need it.” She let herself fall into the endless black. It shook my nerves for a moment, to see herself fall in a human form like that, but then again how could she fear the sky when she was born to it?

  Half a moment later she was already swooping up, her wings spread wide.

  I laughed. I had my bird maiden once more.

  “Up, Midnight! Up!” I commanded, pulling back on the chain turned reins. He let out a dagger of a screech as we soared, spiraling up, feeling the wild pulse of his scaled muscles beneath me. We climbed and climbed, Vixerai circling around us, until we broke through the limit of The Black Tear’s spell. Black sky gave way to a cloud filled blue. Outside of the Black Tear’s enchanted territory, it was day. The yellow sun, its light suffusing the cloud titans which drifted around us, made me think of the child sun that was shining somewhere in Malfeon. What would come to be of it,
I did not know. All I knew was that I was glad to return to a place where there was no red or green sun. There was only the familiar one that I now believed perhaps had been birthed by a cosmic dragon as the legends told after all.

  “You have not tried to slay me midflight!” I shouted to my mount, feeling a grin upon my face. “So I have no reason to believe you will from here on out. I will not be cruel to you, Midnight!” He returned a sharp reptilian growl. “Though I will not let you feast on anything you please, I will let you feast on my enemies.” I turned, looking toward the North. “And I feel there are many waiting for me to return to my homeland. Let us keep them waiting no longer!”

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  The wings of the great wyvern Midnight sliced darkening clouds. There below was our prey: a man traveling a trade road on his carriage.

  It was no simple carriage. It was a wheelmarket, a longhouse of iron-studded wood, pulled by ten brawny workhorses. The merchant driving it, reins draped from his hands, was oblivious to the enormous wings that soared above him. “Down, Midnight.” My black wyvern swept down like a falling dagger, his shadow engulfing the traveling wheelmarket.

  “Gods save me!” the man screamed as Midnight perched on his carriage like a rude raven, rocking the whole thing to a stop, so that for a moment I feared it would topple over. The sound of pots, pans, trinkets of every sort jangling filled the air all around it. The horses which drove it on whinnied, kicking as if a great serpent was upon them, which I supposed was not far from the truth. The man scurried into the massive carriage like a mouse into a kitchen hole.

  “Skald,” I muttered, breathing in the clean northern air.

  My feet crunched onto the rocky soil.

  With a long lunge, I pressed into the wheelmarket’s dark interior, which was filled to the brim with trade goods. Its driver was curled up, recoiling as far back into the corner of the carriage as the walls would allow, like a child about to be beaten by a drunk parent.

  “Please, take anything! Take it!” Curly hair fell over his face, and oily, pockmarked skin clashed with the seafoam green of his silk finery.

  My huge fist snatched something hanging on a hook: a rolled up black tarp. It was the right size. My eyes fixed on the man. “Forgive me for frightening you.”

  His eyes jittered from the steel haft of my ax rising from my back, to my two clawed gauntlets, one black as obsidian and enwrapped in chains, the other like white marble, a ghostly sheen upon it like water running over smooth stones.

  “Please, just spare me!”

  He was an Imperial merchant, traveling upon the newly built Imperial roads in Goldwater, the capital Jarldom that was slowly becoming Imperial territory in all but name. Still, I would not punish him for the treachery of his King, or his Emperor.

  “You think me a thief. In that you are wrong.” I flicked him a gold piece. Ten times the price of the tarp. It clattered at his feet. He did not pick it up, still sweating with fear. The black tarp unfurled in my spreading arms. The ripping sound of me tearing a hole into it made the man jump. I draped it over myself, forming a makeshift hooded cloak large enough to engulf my massive frame. I plucked a stud from the wall. The large iron nail squealed as I bent it in my fingers, clasping the folds of my cloak together. “But you are right about one thing, merchant.” I paused for a moment, before I leapt out the door. “In this land, I am a criminal.”

  CHAPTER 1

  The towers of Stone Mantle raked the burning sky.

  “The sunsets here in Skald must remind you of the red skies of Malfeon, Vixerai!” My voice boomed as winds made my hair dance and my words toss about in the air.

  My succubus darted closer, her wings beating with easy grace. “They do, Rothan. These are the reddest I have seen in your world.”

  Midnight tilted his massive wings so that we cut through a thin cloud. “One Eye,” I spoke, my voice growing more grim, for I knew my old friend was still not himself, and knew not what the sight of Wolf Rein would mean to him, “we are home.” A quick glance back at him riding on Midnight behind me. He seemed overwhelmed with a confused gladness. I reassured him, “Do not worry, friend, you will return to yourself in time.”

  We circled, and I took in the rolling green hills, the city which sprawled all throughout them. “Come Vixerai! We approach my home, and you must be a woman once more!”

  Her sleek rose body came swooping onto my wyvern. She perched on the base of his scaly neck as easily as a bird on a tree branch, her wings gusting just enough to steady herself no matter how Midnight stirred. “Do I have to?” she said, but took the ring from her pouch, for she already knew the answer.

  “Aye.”

  “Well, to play dress up again.” She slipped the ring on, and a string of magic crackled through her, transformed her claws to the slippered feet of a young damsel, and continued up through her body until she was a young maiden with a magenta summer dress fit for a long night of revelry. She turned and sat with her slender back pressed up against me, her red wine hair grazing my chin.

  Flight. A young woman wrapped in my arm. The towers of Stone Mantle growing larger.

  “Strange,” I muttered almost to myself, “Wolf Rein’s banners do not fly. One Eye, do you recall the last time that the proud banners of Wolf Rein did not flutter atop Stone Mantle’s towers?”

  “No, I wish I did,” One Eye responded.

  My mind grasped at possibilities. Jarl Bardawulf had been at death’s door for some time, perhaps bringing the banners down was some kind of mourning. Perhaps King Albrecht had imposed some kind of new law, to replace the banners as a display of loyalty. Or perhaps the Imperials were involved.

  I would have to find out, and be careful as I did so, for by King Albrecht’s own edict I had been handed over to the Imperials to be mind flayed. It was to be a death sentence, my body and mind used for whatever purposes the Imperials had for me—General Eschellion had hinted that my Fenrir condition would be useful to the Imperial military, and I did not want to find out first hand what that use was.

  We landed in a small clearing, just large enough that Midnight had to recoil his wings as tree branches grazed against his long, scaled body. He curled himself about, like a hound finding a spot to nestle himself.

  My feet felt the soft ground of the woods.

  “Vixerai, One Eye, stay here with Midnight. Stay hidden,” I commanded my woman and companion.

  “Will you be gone long?” Vixerai asked, ever eager for my presence.

  “That, only the gods know,” I said, but gave her a reassuring smile.

  The trees gave me cover as I swept through them, my cloak making me truly like a shadow in the falling dusk. It took me only moments to reach the base of Red Hill, where our ancestral manor watched the fields around it. All seemed still. Far off I could hear the clinking of some oxen pulling a cart along, farmers headed home for the day. There was no one watching, so I darted out of the small tree cover where I crouched.

  The back entrance to our manor was locked. My cloak grazed the red painted wood as I stayed under the eaves and their growing shadows. I worked the latch of my wooden window—I had done this countless times growing up. My thick leg looped over and a moment later I was through. Darkness. Or near so, for just enough light seeped in through the imperfections of the window frames for me to see the lacquered wood, furs, and brass torchlights built into the wall. They were cold, however. As I made my way through the home, it seemed abandoned. “Father!” I whisper hissed. “Yorbrand!” My footsteps caressed the wood floor, hoping not to startle anyone—my suspicion of an ambush was growing as well. “Eliette,” I called to our maid, but no one answered. Fear rooted into my heart. Both King Albrecht and Jarl Bardawulf had reason to wish my family ill.

  My mind turned to the wisest man in Wolf Rein, and my cloak billowed.

  “Dorgramu,” I said as I perched on his window sill, my claws digging into the window frame above me. I had summoned my half Fenrir form, for I had to leap two stories u
p Dorgramu’s domed, frozen lava home, and my hairier self was more suited to such a thing.

  “Gods!” The Wizard turned, his heart nearly leaping out of him from the look of his face. He was in his circular study, with tomes filling the curved walls, along with all manner of arcane items, scrolls, ancient idols, strange skulls, ceremonial daggers, jars and flasks holding powders, liquids, oozes of every sort. “Rothan?”

  “Aye.” My feet landed more softly in the chamber than any would imagine for wearing steel greaves. “You must tell me what has happened, to my father and brother, to my women and friend—to this whole city, for the banners of Wolf Rein do not fly.”

  “You were sent away on the Dominion, to the Black Tear. How did you escape?! Did you truly live to see its vampire queen?” His eyes were wild with a wizard’s hungry curiosity as he drank in my form with its arcane armor and weapons. He rubbed his neatly trimmed gray beard unconsciously, like a hungry cat wetting its lips, and was almost unaware of his shirtless body.

  “I can explain later, wizard. First answer me.”

  “Yes, yes of course.” He shook his head as if waking from a drug. He turned, plucked his grey robe with its crimson mantle, and slipped them both on, covering his bare, wrinkling chest. “These are dark times, Rothan.”

  “How dark?”

  “Shortly after you were taken, Jarl Bardawulf’s brother Dren Klauser arrived in Wolf Rein with an escort of Imperial and Royal troops. He demanded that he be recognized as the new Jarl of Wolf Rein, for he was his brother’s legitimate heir and Siv’s rule was unrecognized, by both the the crown as well as the Emperor.”

  “Was it civil war then?”

  “Almost. But I convinced your father that this was unwise. But I did recognize that he was in danger, and so he gathered what men were loyal to him here in Wolf Rein, and took his force to Three Points, where the borders of Jarkandur, Ironrise, and Wolf Rein meet. He went there with the objective of holding the advancing Orc horde. For we were right all along, of course, the horde marches on, driven by Thousand Fangs, who how appears before the crazed green masses as a fiery mouth that stretches near a mile wide above them. In this way your father has escaped a confrontation with Dren Klauser, as well as gathered warriors from all three Jarldoms who are eager to defend Skald from the Orcs.”