by N M Thorn
The four guards were manhandling Yaroslav. One of them wrung his long hair around his arm, forcing the vampire’s head down. The strangest thing was that Yaroslav wasn’t really fighting them. He was trying to reason with them, struggling to stay on his feet. Finally, either he gave in or the guards were able to subdue him, but Yaroslav ended up flat on the floor, with his arms twisted behind his back. One of the guards kicked him in his side and all of them left, locking the door behind them.
Gunz slowly slid down to the floor and kneeled next to Yaroslav. “Slavik, what happened?” he asked, observing the chains wrapped around Yaroslav’s arms. His skin under the chains was raw and bleeding. His back was crisscrossed by angry red welts, which for some reason weren’t healing.
“Chains,” he whispered, “take them off… please…”
Since there were no manacles or any locks, Gunz gently started unwrapping the chains. Yaroslav’s skin was peeling off together with the chains. The vampire moaned and bit his lip, tears of pain gleaming in his eyes.
“What are these chains?” asked Gunz once he was done.
“Silver,” whispered Yaroslav. “Don’t you know? Can hold any vampire down…”
“You’re not healing. Your back and the damage the chains did… Why aren’t you healing?”
“Silver…”
Gunz sat down on the floor next to him and carefully lifted his head, pressing his wrist to his lips. “Drink. You said my blood is stronger than normal human blood. It should help you heal.”
“I can’t.” Yaroslav tried to pull away, but Gunz held him down.
“Why? It wouldn’t be the first time you fed on me.”
“You’re also hurt,” mumbled Yaroslav closing his eyes, but Gunz caught the scarlet glow under his thick eyelashes. “I hurt you… and Novak ordered me not to heal you anymore.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” objected Gunz. “Novak did.”
He lowered Yaroslav down and turned around to his bed. On the side of the bed frame he found a loose screw and pulled it out. With a sharp move, he slashed his wrist with the screw. A thick dark stream of blood gushed down his hand. The heavy metallic scent lingered in the air and Yaroslav lifted his head slightly, his eyes glowing bright red, his long fangs extended.
Gunz placed his bleeding wrist to Yaroslav’s lips and felt his fingers wrap around his arm, pulling him closer. He gasped as the vampire’s fangs penetrated his skin, but as usual the pain was gone a moment later, replaced by relaxation and temporary oblivion. Gradually, the world around him started to get darker and the weakness became overwhelming.
“Yaroslav, stop…” he whispered faintly and passed out.
When he woke up, he was back on his bed. Yaroslav was sitting on the floor by his bedside. He got up as soon as he noticed that Gunz was awake and smiled tentatively. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed and exposed his own wrist, ready to bite it.
“No, stop,” said Gunz, grabbing his wrist. “You shouldn’t do it. Let’s see why Novak changed his mind first.”
Before he finished his statement, the door opened, and Theron walked inside. He stopped in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot and cleared his throat. For a man who looked like a mountain of muscles, he sure knew how to look shy.
“Hey, guys,” he said finally and cleared his throat again. “Master wants to see you. He summons both of you.”
As soon as Gunz walked into the office, he saw Aidan. The god of the Otherworld was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed, his arms resting atop his knees, surrounded by the circle of the God’s snare. His eyes bored into Gunz and he said something, but Gunz couldn’t hear him. Aidan probably realized that too, because he frowned and bowed his head.
Suppressing his anger, Gunz turned away from Aidan and met Mrak Delar’s mocking gaze. The Ancient Master of Power was sitting on the edge of the desk, his arms folded over his chest and there was nothing in this man that reminded Gunz of his friend. He was arrogant and cold, and there was a new vicious gleam in his obsidian eyes that Gunz had never seen before.
George Novak was standing next to Mrak Delar, observing both Gunz and Yaroslav with a nasty half-smile on his face. Yaroslav lowered down to his knees. Gunz smirked, staring back at the necromancer, his jaws set, and remained standing. Theron pushed on his shoulder and hissed, “You must kneel before your master.”
Dizzy and lightheaded from the blood loss and still in considerable pain, Gunz swayed, but the anger surging through him gave him some strength to retaliate. He grabbed Theron’s hand and ripped it off his shoulder. This move opened the wound in his wrist and blood trickled down, sliding from his fingers to the shiny clean floor of the office.
George Novak flicked his eyebrow at the Master of Power. “Just what I expected. I’ve been the Head of California House for a while now and I broke enough supernatural fighters into submission. Speaking from my experience, I’m telling you, Mrak, there is nothing you can do to bend this man’s will. He’ll be a step away from death, but he will still defy you. I ordered Alucard not to heal him. I assumed, that if he was in pain, he would be more agreeable. I have to admit, I was wrong. So, he’s all yours, Master Mrak Delar. Do what you must.”
Mrak Delar got up and strolled toward Gunz. He halted, staring down at him and then took his wrist into his hand, observing the bleeding cut and the puncture wounds. Then he turned to Yaroslav and grabbed his hair, yanking his head back.
“You fed on him?” he growled, iron notes in his voice. “He was beat up and in pain, but you still fed on him. Fascinating, truly.”
Being a vampire and a natural blond, Yaroslav’s skin was pearl-white, but at Mrak Delar’s words, whatever color he had, drained from his face. Noticing his reaction, Mrak laughed and let go of his hair.
“Stay still and do not fight me, boy,” ordered Mrak Delar, turning back to Gunz. He placed one of his hands on Gunz’s forehead and the other over his heart. Channeling the healing power of Earth, he mixed some Fire into it and circulated it through Gunz.
Gunz groaned, the healing magic the Master of Power was wielding made him feel weak and lightheaded. His knees buckled and he started to fall. With vampire speed, Yaroslav jumped to his feet and caught Gunz before he hit the floor, returning him into the upright position so Mrak could finish healing him. A few minutes later, Mrak Delar stepped away. He took a piece of Kleenex from the desk and wiped his hands, an expression of disgust on his face.
“Feeling better, Gunz?” he asked, snickering. “You can let go of him—um—Alucard.”
Gunz glanced down at his wrist, noticing that the bleeding stopped, and the wound was gone. His body wasn’t aching, and he felt stronger. He never experienced the effects of the healing magic of a Master of Power before, but right now he had no time to appreciate it. He raised his eyes at Mrak Delar, searching his face for any signs of his friend but found none. His friend was gone. The man in front of him was the evil former dictator of Kendral.
“Yes, Master Mrak Delar,” replied Gunz, lowering his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Oh, don’t thank me, boy.” The Master of Power smirked, shaking his head. “Let’s chat. There is something your current owner, Mr. Novak, and I need you to do for us.”
“Mrak, I already told him,” said Gunz, his voice painfully hoarse. “He wants me to fight for his House? He got that. There is nothing else I’ll ever do for this asshole.”
George Novak roared, standing next to Gunz in a heartbeat. He raised his arm, ready to strike him, but Mrak Delar seized his wrist, stopping him.
“George, we are partners. Are we not?” he said dryly to the Head of House.
“Yes…” hissed Novak, his voice shaking with fury. “But he is—”
“Disrespectful? Yes, that he is. But you’ll survive,” Mrak Delar frostily interrupted him. “I don’t feel like healing him again just because you can’t control your emotions. Let me deal with him, George. I swear, I’ll get him to do what we need him to do.”
“Fine! You do that
, Master.” George Novak slipped another scorching look at Gunz, then walked away and sat down behind his desk.
Mrak Delar switched his attention back to Gunz, his lips touched by a light smile. “Gunz, I need you to try and give me your full attention,” he said softly. “Can you do that?”
“Why?” asked Gunz, without raising his eyes. He couldn’t bear looking at this man who was once his friend and now was… He didn’t even know what he was now.
“Did Alucard knock your brains out, boy?” Mrak Delar cackled. “I need you to listen to me because I’m going to tell you what you need to do. And I don’t feel like repeating myself twice.”
“I’m not doing anything,” objected Gunz calmly, finally raising his eyes. “Not as long as you’re siding with that dumbass.” He jerked his chin toward George Novak, eliciting a low growl out of him.
“I understand. Mr. Novak here has no idea how to motivate his sl—um—fighters properly.” Mrak Delar walked to the circle that held Aidan imprisoned and stopped there, half turned to Gunz. “Allow me to demonstrate how it’s done.”
He raised his arm, gathering his magic in the tips of his fingers and touched the blazing light of the circle, whispering something. The light got considerably brighter, and Aidan cried out, squeezing his head with his hands like he had an unbearable headache.
“Mrak, what are you doing? Why?” yelled Gunz, his hands clenching into fists involuntarily.
“I know you are not going to believe me,” said Mrak Delar airily, ignoring his question, “so, I’ll allow Aidan to tell you the truth.” He turned back to Aidan and continued, “Aodh mac Lir, would you kindly tell our fiery friend what’s going to happen to you if I continue applying my magic to the circle of the God’s snare.”
Aidan didn’t reply and Mrak Delar sent more of his magic through the blazing circle. Aidan screamed, raising his hand up, asking him to stop. Mrak Delar stopped, removing his hand from the circle.
“Now speak,” ordered Mrak Delar. “He can hear you.”
“Gunz, I’m sorry,” said Aidan quietly. “I used it on you a while ago, so you know how the God’s snare works… He can’t kill me, but he can hold me imprisoned forever and put me into perpetual torment.”
Mrak Delar waved his hand again and muted Aidan. Then he slowly made his way back to Gunz, moving with the swagger of a man who was confident in his power.
“Mrak, please, let Aidan go. I’ll do what you want,” pleaded Gunz. He didn’t know what he was hoping for, but he had to try.
“I’m a Master of Power, boy,” hissed Mrak Delar, towering over him with malice. “I’m not your buddy and you’ll do well to remember that. I appreciate when people have good manners. So, next time you address me, remember to use my proper title. Just like I always remember that you’re a Great Fire Salamander.”
“He is what?” gasped Novak, slowly rising.
Mrak Delar threw a quick glance back at him and chuckled. “You held him captive for all this time and you had no idea how powerful he truly was. You’re disappointing me, Mr. Novak,” he stated. “But in all fairness to you, the boy got remarkably skilled in shadowing his energy signature.”
“I knew that he was a Fire Salamander, but Great?” mumbled Novak, observing Gunz with new interest.
“Yeah, that he is. Not the best of his kind, I must say.” Mrak Delar smirked coldly, turning back to Gunz. “Okay, Gunz, let’s get back to business. I need you to complete a serious task for me. I believe you are ready to listen now?”
“Yes, Master Mrak Delar,” hissed Gunz, his jaw set.
“Wonderful. Just the way I like it.” Mrak Delar patted him on his cheek and Gunz cringed from his touch. “You see, your owner and I need to create a little concoction. Elixir, if you will. But we’re missing an important ingredient. I need you to travel to the Land of Dreams, find it and bring it back to me.”
“What do you want me to find, Master?” asked Gunz.
“Nothing big,” replied Mrak Delar. “I need you to travel to the farthest land of the magical nexus, into the thirtieth kingdom and bring me back the Apple of Youth. That’ll be it.”
“The Apple of Youth,” parroted Gunz incredulously. “You’re almost three hundred years old, but you don’t look a day over thirty and you need the Apple of Youth?”
“Do not question me, boy,” growled Mrak Delar. “You’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. I’ll let you get one good night’s rest before I teleport you to the gates of the Land of Dreams. In the meantime, to insure your compliance and swift return, I’ll keep your friend Aidan here. If you don’t come back… Well, you don’t really want to know what I will do to him, should you defy me.”
“I will come back,” promised Gunz, stiff with anger. “Count on it.”
“Was that a threat, boy?” asked Mrak Delar, laughter ringing in his voice.
Gunz didn’t get a chance to reply, as George Novak walked up to him with two controllers in his hands. He pressed a button on Gunz’s controller, and he felt a wave of fire and magic rush through him. He held his breath as his eyes lit up with fire. Satisfied with his reaction, Novak seized Gunz’s collar with one hand, Yaroslav’s collar with his other hand and started to chant. Both collars lit up with a dim light and when the light dissipated, he let go.
Mrak Delar frowned and for a moment his face hardened. “Novak, I thought you were going to take the gray stone jewelry off of him,” he said through his gritted teeth.
“I changed my mind,” replied Novak frostily and ordered. “Alucard, get up. You’re going to go with Gunz. I want to make sure he’ll come back and do it within the time frame I give him.”
“You can’t be serious!” yelled Gunz, taking a step forward. “I can’t take a vampire with me. He’ll slow me down! He’s sensitive to the sunlight, remember?”
Novak put his hand in his pocket and produced a ring with a single red stone in it. He seized Yaroslav’s hand and forced the ring on his finger.
“I enchanted this ring myself. It’ll help Alucard move easily during the daylight,” explained Novak and added, addressing Mrak Delar. “I need some additional security.”
“You don’t trust me, Mr. Novak?” hissed Mrak Delar, his voice infused with danger.
“I trust you, Master Mrak Delar.” Novak cackled and pointed at Gunz, switching his attention to him. “I don’t trust him. So, here is how it’s going work, Gunz. I just placed a connection spell on your gray stone jewelry. From now on, you and Alucard are connected. If one of you dies, so will the other. If the two of you separate by more than hundred yards, you both will die. I know that as a Fire Salamander you’re immortal, but Alucard isn’t. And I don’t know why, but you seem to like him, and I believe you don’t want to see him dead.
“And here is the best part of my little spell… You have fifteen days to find the Apple and return here with it. After ten days, the gray stones will start feeding on Alucard’s vampiric essence – the essence that sustains him. From that point on, you’ll have exactly five days to return. If you are not here within five days, Alucard will die the true death.”
Gunz shrugged, staring at him with a crooked smirk. “And what makes you think I care if the vampire lives or dies? I killed hundreds of vampires on the streets of South Florida to protect humans.”
“Good question,” said Novak, folding his arms. “Before I went through all the trouble of creating this neat connection spell, I tested your loyalty to Alucard. I beat him a little and restrained him with silver before sending him to you. Even though you were a bloody mess yourself, you donated your blood to heal him. So, yeah, I know that you care.”
“Dammit,” cursed Gunz quietly, exchanging a quick look with Yaroslav. “Fine, we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”
“I think you should know one more thing, Gunz,” said Novak, arrogance and aversion in his every word. “While I reset your controller to almost zero, it’s still blocking your magic a little. So, you won’t be able to revert and use your full Fire Salamander’
s magic.”
“Why?” yelled Gunz, notes of desperation breaking to the surface. “You’re sending me to the Land of Dreams, a magical nexus. I don’t know what I will run into there. I need my full power and my physical strength to complete this mission. What if I get hurt? If I can’t revert, I can’t heal myself.”
“Well, this is another reason why I am sending Alucard with you,” seethed Novak, seizing his collar and forcing his face up. “I believe he has experience healing you, boy!”
Gunz seized Novak’s wrist, directing some of his fire toward his hands. Novak yelped, jerking his hand off, red spots of burns decorating his wrist.
“You… you… son of a bitch!” yelled Novak, striking Gunz across his face.
Gunz fell back, wiped his bleeding lips with the back of his hand and laughed mirthlessly. “You shouldn’t be touching a Fire Salamander with your bare hands, dumbass.”
Shouting curses, George Novak moved closer, ready to kick him, but Mrak Delar stepped between them, holding Novak away from Gunz.
“You can make minced meet out of him when he returns with the Apple, Novak. He’s your slave after all,” he said coldly, slightly choking on the word slave. “But right now, I need him in good shape. Am I clear, Mr. Novak?”
Mrak Delar kneeled next to Gunz, quickly healing his split lips.
“Gunz, Gunz, Gunz,” he said with a sigh filled with mockery. “It doesn’t matter how much your father and I teach you. Everything we say seems to go into one ear and come out the other. I guess, you’re just not that smart, boy. If you were listening to us back in Kendral, you would know that there is no way the gray stones magic could keep a Fire Salamander under control. If Kal was here, he would be out of these restraints in a matter of a few minutes.”
“What do you mean, Master?” asked Gunz, his heart thundering against his chest. He searched Mrak Delar’s face and found nothing but mockery and loathing in the Ancient Master of Power’s expression.
