Chapter Twenty-Five
Regecon listened carefully as Coragan recounted the experiences of the three men. As the bounty hunter spoke, the guild master could not help but notice his tattered clothes and disheveled appearance. A hole in his tunic gaped large enough to reveal the entirety of the man’s well-muscled shoulder, leaving the impression that the shirt was intended for a creature with, not one, but two heads. Blood stained the grey fabric around the hole, and several jagged scars streaked along the exposed flesh—it was unfortunate that the priests of Drellenor could not mend clothes as well as wounds; they could make a small fortune dealing with men like Coragan. The rest of the bounty hunter’s attire was covered with small rips and tears, and on more than one location the stains of additional blood. Regecon remembered the man had once had a black cloak which he had worn everywhere. Where that was now, he could only guess. Next to Coragan, the rogue stood in similar straits. He, too, lacked a cloak and his once blue shirt now consisted of a dull mix of brown blood stains and black streaks of dirt. Clearly, they’d had a rough time. They were only fortunate that the warrior had been so well-versed in the knowledge of such creatures and had been able to find a safe place for retreat. It was a shame the man was absent; his personal knowledge of the vampire would be extremely useful.
“Borak is now with the priests of Drellenor in their abbey?” Regecon asked.
“Yes, they said his arm needed some special care,” Coragan replied. “That was right before they provided us with these.” The bounty hunter reached inside a pouch and pulled forth four metal medallions, each carved with exquisite perfection in the form of a rippling pond beneath the rising sun—the waters of healing and the light of life. Four holy symbols of the god of healing could prove extremely useful against a vampire. “Neither Galladrin nor I are practitioners of that particular religion so we are somewhat doubtful of how effective these might be in our hands, but surely someone in this guild might be able to make use of them.”
“Yes, I’ll have them dispersed throughout the guards ... Keep one for yourselves, though; anything is better than nothing.” Regecon turned to Ambrisia. The Mistress of the Earth wore a puzzled frown on her face and seemed very much distracted. Her eyes focused inward while her lips pursed in troubled thought. “Is there a problem of some sort, Ambrisia?”
The sorceress looked up, startled. She glanced rapidly around the room and frowned. Regecon knew why. Neither Toreg nor Jacindra had shown up for this meeting. Apparently, both had found matters more pressing than the disappearance of a guild master—he would have to take some disciplinary measures with those two. “I just had a disturbing realization,” Ambrisia said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. “Did you say that the man, the vampire you encountered, identified himself as Lucian?”
Galladrin nodded, then glanced toward Coragan. “Yes, we did,” the bounty hunter said.
“That is troubling,” she said.
Regecon raised both eyebrows. “Does that name mean something to you, Ambrisia?”
“Perhaps.” Ambrisia glanced first at the rogue and bounty hunter, then returned her gaze to Regecon. She cleared her throat once before speaking. “There is a historical Lucian mentioned in some of the texts dealing with Morgulan. I was wondering if that might be the same man.”
“The same man?” Regecon asked, a little surprised.
Sitting on Regecon’s right, Morcallenon abruptly straightened in his chair, his eyes widening in shock. “You must be joking. The time of Morgulan was a thousand years ago!”
“Yes, it was.” Ambrisia’s face held no sign of levity.
To the left of Coragan, Methoin the fire mage scowled in challenge. “Do you realize what you are saying, Councilwoman? From what little research I have done, I have learned that vampires grow stronger with the passage of time. After a hundred years of existence, their powers overshadow even those of a wraith lord. It is said that the vampire Balzulan reached an age of five hundred years before he was slain by the dark wizard Ageros. Ageros, a powerful wizard in his own right, was only able to accomplish this feat with the aid of two minor demons he summoned. Before being destroyed himself, Balzulan slew both demons and wounded the wizard so severely that the man died the following week—he barely had enough time to leave his account of the events in writing. There is no other undead of comparable might. If this creature we now face was alive in the time of Morgulan, he will be a being of unrivaled power. It will take the efforts of every mage in this guild to ensure this creature’s destruction, if such can be ensured at all!”
“The fact that the truth is not in our favor is no reason to reject its veracity.” Ambrisia’s voice sounded steady, but her eyes acknowledged her fear. “Lucian val Drasmyr was Morgulan’s finest general. He led the charge on Rahmin Ordendra with a force no one thought capable of winning. They sacked the castle within a week and posted the head of King Ordesius on the gate. He was the only one of Morgulan’s human generals to willingly pass over command of mortal troops so that he could lead the Death Talons—a legion of wraiths, zombies, and other perverse creations of necromancy.” Ambrisia paused, her face pale. She licked her dry lips, then continued. “There are two corroborating accounts which claim that before the last battle and Morgulan’s Fall, the Sceptre of Morgulan was delivered into the safekeeping of Lucian val Drasmyr. He was charged with securing a secret haven in which to seclude the sceptre until some future time when Morgulan could return and wield it. Apparently, Zarina was asked to make Drasmyr immortal to keep constant watch—”
“Immortality is impossible—” Methoin began.
“Yes it is, for men,” Ambrisia said, “not for vampires.”
Morcallenon was aghast. “They made the man a vampire!”
“History does not tell us that, but it seems likely,” Ambrisia said. “So he could keep eternal watch over Morgulan’s sceptre.”
Morcallenon shook his head. “That is insanity. How could anyone conceive of such a thing, let alone allow such a curse to be inflicted upon them?”
“Drasmyr was a zealot. From what is recorded of the man, I would not be surprised if he volunteered.”
Regecon stared soberly at the Mistress of the Earth, contemplating the gravity of her words. He frowned thoughtfully, then spoke. “If what you say is true, then it seems likely that Arcalian’s search for the Sceptre of Morgulan disturbed its guardian, a thousand-year-old vampire. If they were forced into a confrontation—”
“Arcalian would be dead,” Methoin said. “Alone, he would be no match for a vampire that old. None of us would be.”
“Why the other murders?” Morcallenon asked. “Last night, three guardsman and a student of magic were slain. Does this vampire have some vendetta against mages in particular? What was the purpose behind these killings?”
Galladrin stepped forward. “Guild Master Regecon, now that you know of the existence of this creature, what is your intent?”
Regecon folded his hands on the table before him and leaned back in his chair. “Well, obviously it must be destroyed.”
The rogue turned to Morcallenon. “With all due respect, Mage Morcallenon, the motive is obvious: kill or be killed. It knows we work for you and it knows we were heading back here when we escaped its clutches. Obviously, it is well aware that humanity would rest much easier if vampires were wiped from existence. Add to that the fact that it is sworn to protect the Sceptre of Morgulan—if I were evil and I wanted to protect such a device, I certainly wouldn’t want any wizards alive who knew that the sceptre existed and where it could be found.”
Beside the rogue, Coragan spoke. “Consider the weather as well. It has been snowing steadily since about midnight last night. By Lucian’s own words, he admitted to being responsible for this. It was intended to snow us in and keep us from reaching the guild. It also serves as protection, secluding his keep from your reach. As it was, by the time we finally reached here, we were having quite the time. Some of those drifts along the road are already the height of my waist. By this ti
me tomorrow, any passage between Drisdak and Fortress Nightguard will only be possible by air. Our vampire has a distinct advantage in that mode of transportation. I now regret leaving Borak with the priests; he may not be able to make the trip back to us.”
An eerie moment of silence descended on the hall, then Morcallenon spoke, his voice quivering. “The warrior, Borak, might not be returning, but we can be sure this creature, Drasmyr, will be.” He paused, his face and tone dropping into hopelessness. “We’re at war with a thousand-year-old vampire, and he’s got the upper hand.”
War, Regecon thought as the table erupted into argument, that was an apt description. Around him, Morcallenon, Methoin, and Ambrisia started yelling and shouting, engaged in their own type of battle. Each was very vocal about his or her thoughts and more than one was quick in making demands about what should be done and how to do it. Unfortunately, fear was starting to get the best of them and few of their plans made any real sense.
Regecon studied the mages and wondered briefly if he should be disappointed with them. They were obviously afraid, that was natural, but they were letting it control them and that was unacceptable. His gaze shifted to Galladrin. He supposed if there was one thing in the universe that could truly unsettle a wizard, they had found it. Death alone couldn’t do it—they faced that all the time in training—but death was not what faced them here. A vampire could do more than kill; it could make them what it was, an undead creature of the night. Many people risked their lives in their duties, but very few risked their souls.
The rogue met Regecon’s eye. For a man whose soul might very well be on the line, Galladrin seemed remarkably calm. Perhaps the wizards could learn something from the example he set. Regecon stood. “We may be at war, but Drasmyr does not have the upper hand.”
Silence filled the room.
“My friends, we are wizards. Each of you possesses powers ordinary men and women can’t even begin to comprehend. You’ve passed tests that could have claimed your lives if you failed. Everything has a price, my friends—with power comes responsibility. A vampire is loose and we alone are capable of facing it, yet you bicker around this table like a pack of frightened children.”
Morcallenon opened his mouth, then closed it as Regecon glared at him.
“We have two hours before dusk, two hours before Lucian will return, and we will use that to our advantage.” He turned to Methoin. “Methoin, find Azarin, Ortherius, Delreen, and anybody else you can locate. I want fire sigils on every window, every door, every peephole, and every crack between the inside of this guild and the outside. If anything tries to enter, I want to be sweeping its ashes up tomorrow morning. Ambrisia, find Korina and any other mages under you who you deem necessary and help them. Find Porthion, as well. He should have a map of the guild. If you run out of time, you may have to section off parts of the building until tomorrow. Mathagarr—” the guardsman stood stiffly at attention, “I’m leaving you in charge of the wooden stakes. I want as many of them as possible in this guild before sundown. Carve them, buy them, whatever; just get them here. Once that’s done inform your men that all watches will be doubled. No one will patrol these halls by themselves. As a matter of fact, every patrol will have a wizard assigned to them. Ambrisia, Methoin, see to that. Three from each of the elements. Morcallenon, find Jacindra and Toreg and the three of you collect every rose and silver weapon you can find in the City of Drisdak. Once all this is done, the Council will meet me with two mages of every discipline in the Chamber of Making.” He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “Now, go!” he said.
The High Council Chamber emptied moments later, leaving Regecon alone with the rogue and the bounty hunter. “Gentlemen, I need a moment of your time if you would. I believe I have a plan and I need to know what your intentions for this evening are. Come, follow me, and we shall discuss it.”
A glance passed between the two travel-weary men, then Galladrin shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Lead on, Guild Master.”
Regecon led the men to one of the doors leading from the room. He opened it, and the men followed him into a well-lit hall beyond. “Tell me. What were your plans for this evening?”
Coragan shrugged. “Actually, I wasn’t really decid—”
Galladrin cut him off, his weariness burnt away by a sudden flash of angry determination. “Clarissa. We were going to hunt Clarissa.”
The bounty hunter started. “What? How do you propose we do that?”
Galladrin stopped in the hall. “Actually, it’s remarkably simple,” he said. “I figured we’d wait for her at a tavern called The Roaring Lion. It appears I may have inadvertently managed to get the lovely young vampire invited into the establishment. It stands to reason that the number of buildings to which she has unrestricted access is rather limited. Meaning, she’ll turn up there some time soon when she’s hunting. When she does, we’ll kill her.”
“With what?” Coragan asked in exasperation.
Galladrin opened his mouth, then closed it again. A puzzled expression worked its way across his features. “I hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps we could use a wooden stake?”
“Yeah, sure. You wrestle her to the floor while I drive a stake through her heart. Somehow, I think we’ll need a better plan than that.”
Regecon motioned for the two men’s attention. “I may be able to offer you some advice, but I will need your help after.”
Galladrin shrugged. “Sure. I guess we’re open to suggestions.”
“In my opinion, your plan should work provided you are properly equipped. At the moment, I would suggest that you forestall any action for one evening so you can prepare yourselves. There is a weaponsmith in town with a considerably sized shop renowned for his speed and skill in the forging of weapons both common and rare. If you provide him with the silver, and he has the help of one of our wizards, he and his lads might be able to deliver several silver weapons of high quality before sundown tomorrow.”
Coragan frowned suspiciously. “By tomorrow? That would be impressive.”
“As I said, he is renowned for his speed and has several young men helping him. Plus, with a wizard’s aid… If you keep the order reasonable, he should be able to deliver. If he gives you any problems, show him this.” Regecon pulled out a small yellow sash from a pocket in his robe. He handed it to the bounty hunter.
Coragan took the sash and opened it, studying the symbol laced in black on the front. “The sign of the guild. Thank you, Guild Master, this should prove useful. What is it you need from us?”
Regecon motioned for the two men to continue following him. He led them to a door which he opened to reveal a large stone staircase descending into the earth. He walked down the steps, the two men coming behind. When he reached the bottom, he entered a passage going perpendicular to the stairs. This he followed to the right. After thirty paces he stopped and turned to a large wooden door. Arcane symbols marked the surface, crawling across the wooden planks at the height of a man’s head.
“You have told me of your plan to destroy the vampire Clarissa, so now I shall reveal to you my plan to destroy the vampire Lucian,” Regecon said. “Both creatures are diabolical, and both must be hunted until the end. Unfortunately, we cannot go to them, therefore they must come to us. As you noted, Galladrin, a vampire may often return to a building into which it has been invited. In our case, I think we are assured that Drasmyr will find his way into this guild. Our problem here will be to survive long enough to set a trap for him. If we can keep him out until we are ready, we just may have a chance at victory. What I need from you gentlemen is a little help in regards to the final element of my plan.”
“What is your plan?” Galladrin asked.
“It is very much like yours. I wish to trap Lucian and destroy him.”
“What do you need from us?” Coragan asked.
Regecon hesitated. Perhaps there was another way to do this. It was not an easy thing he was about to ask them to do, but he saw no alternative. The m
age stared at the two men for quite some time before finally speaking. “I need a lure. Once the vampire is in this building, I need to get him inside this room.”
“How do you intend to do that?” Galladrin said, his voice filled with curiosity.
“I don’t know. One possibility that had occurred to me was using ... live bait.”
Coragan’s jaw slowly opened in disbelief. “You want us ... to be fish food ... so you can catch a shark?”
“If you have a better suggestion, I will gladly listen to it. Lucian val Drasmyr must enter this room. If he cannot be driven, he must be lured.”
Coragan turned to stare at the door. “This room, huh. This isn’t exactly the typical service required of a bounty hunter.”
“I’ll double your pay.”
Galladrin’s eyes widened. “All right, we’ll do it. When’s the big showdown?”
“You have five days to plan. That is how long it will require for us to make preparations.”
“I hope you can keep the vampire out of this guild for five days.”
“So do I,” Regecon said. The guild master dismissed the two men and watched as they headed back up the corridor and disappeared.
Turning, Regecon opened the door and stepped inside.
The guild master strode along the length of the room counting thirty steps before he reached the far wall of the Chamber of Making. It was an old room residing on the first subterranean level of the guild and it was little used. In ages past, it had been used by the wizards in the enchantment of weapons and other items. A door on Regecon’s right led to an old forge, a room whose fires had not burned for any length of time longer than a day for nearly half a century. No, it was a rare thing for the wizards of Drisdak to construct an item requiring the use of a chamber such as this. Most of the work done in the field of item construction now was accomplished in the privacy of a study. Arcalian’s pottery dish, for example, had no doubt been constructed in the very study that had been ravaged by the fire. In fact, the last time this room was used was probably when Regecon had made a helm of fire warding some five years ago. It had been a grueling task, requiring three months of arduous, painstaking, continuous labor.
Regecon paced to the center of the chamber. A rarely used room; one that was completely expendable. It was perfect.
How many circles would they need? Legend said that nine were required to hold a minor demon, but only a demonologist would know that for sure. He supposed the same demonologist could tell him if twenty-two actually could hold Lubrochius. Then again, maybe he couldn’t. It would take quite a mage to draw and cast twenty-two circles. Regecon had little doubt that such a feat was well beyond his own powers. Even with a helper. It would be Ambrisia, of course. She was the next in power and skill, and it would be best if the strongest mages were at the center. The others could help with the secondary wards and the elemental amalgamation sigils. He’d also need two to construct the containment jar. Initially, he planned to have Toreg and Burudon the earth mage do it, but according to Ambrisia, Korina was considerably stronger than Burudon.
Regecon laughed quietly to himself with the thought of Korina. The more he learned of the young woman, the more impressed he became; it seemed almost like she was born to study magic. For a brief moment, he’d even considered having her take Ambrisia’s place, but had rejected it. If the young sorceress had had another year or two of training, she probably could have cast the whole spell herself, but she was still too young. Besides, he knew what the young woman was taught in her classes; she would be hopelessly unfamiliar with anything like a circle of binding. It was better to keep her working on the jar. After all, she still had a month or two before she would even be considered a true mage.
Regecon scratched his beard as he went over his plan one more time to himself. He had the two strongest to bind the circles, the next two strongest to construct the jar, and more than enough other mages to set the base elements in order and take care of all those other little details which required neither Ambrisia’s attention nor his.
After that, all they needed was the lure. They couldn’t go to the vampire, but they were sure the vampire was coming to them. Once he entered the guild, they had to figure out how to get him in this room. They had to trap him, contain him, then kill him. According to Methoin, vampires were notorious for being elusive foes. If they engaged a superior party, they would fight for no other reason than to inflict injury, then flee. Consumption of blood would speed recovery of the vampire’s wounds. Once healed, he’d return. Slowly, he’d wear you down and bring the odds to his favor. Then, he’d kill you, or worse, make you his undead slave.
But now, Regecon had a plan. Unfortunately, though, he could think of nothing to lure a vampire into a room except the promise of a fresh corpse, and that presented a host of difficulties. Things could turn bad very quickly once Lucian entered the guild. The matter had to be handled with the utmost delicacy. Otherwise, it would be a long time until spring.
Drasmyr (Prequel: From the Ashes of Ruin) Page 50
