by Jaxon Reed
About the time Erik’s eyes grew heavy, the sound of stone scraping on stone brought him fully alert.
The lid on Choster’s sarcophagus carefully slid open and the vampire sat up. He looked around at everyone sleeping and finally spied Erik sitting against the far wall.
He smiled, climbed out of the stone coffin and made his way over. When he came close, Erik realized he had not made a single sound, save for the initial scraping of the lid.
“Go ahead and grab some sleep,” Choster said quietly. “I’ll take the night watch. If she attacks, it will be very late, when normal people are asleep.”
“You won’t have the element of surprise this time.”
“To a degree, no. But I had the distinct impression she’s never faced a vampire before. And, I didn’t show her all my tricks.”
Erik smiled back at this and rested his head against the wall. Choster disappeared, turning into a dark mist.
Moments later, Erik fell asleep too.
-+-
In the wee hours of the morning, well before the sun was due to peek above the horizon, a shadow crossed into Grimuald Cemetery.
The guard on duty sat between the entrance to the crypts and the outside world, keeping one wary eye on the downhill slope behind him, and one on the gravestones in front. He never noticed a dark presence creeping past him, going down into the ossuary.
Dracaena stretched her senses out as she quickly swept through the first long passageways amid the bones of recently departed city dwellers. She cast a tracking spell, looking for elves, and two appeared in her mind beneath the city’s surface. She moved swiftly, heading down, down, down into the crypts.
Ancient magic festered in a few places here. For the most part, she ignored it. One, a marker spell she found three levels down, looked new. She smirked at the low level evidenced by the mage who cast it. A more proficient magic user would have hidden the lines used to draw the spell. These were plainly visible on the wall, a pair of eyes in a triangle looking down the corridor.
Dracaena flitted to the top of the tunnel that the marker watched, and avoided detection while cloaked in shadow. She continued making her way deeper into the dungeon, drawing ever closer to the elves she sensed.
At last she came to an opening leading into a large room. Magical light from a floating globe filled the area, and it flickered out into the tunnel.
She slowed to a crawl in her dark essence, carefully approaching the light.
Soon she could see into the entire room. Five people were sleeping on the floor or against the wall.
Wait, a sixth—
Shwaboom!
A streak of hot white light hit her, blasting her back into visibility.
She splatted against the wall of the passageway, then slid to the floor.
Dracaena hopped back up and flew into shadow form, racing into the room. There, to the right, a mage in a purple robe slung another Light Bolt at her.
This time she dodged and shot a black bolt of her own back at him. He took it in the chest and fell back, sprawling on the floor.
Dracaena appeared again, standing over him while visible.
Her voice sounded thin, and ice cold. She said, “You’re not the vampire. Was that your crude observation spell back there?”
Justen dragged himself off the floor, drinking a potion to help recover.
He cracked a grin at her as he struggled to his feet and said, “That was my decoy spell you were meant to notice, yes.”
She furrowed her brows in confusion and tilted her head. But at that moment the others attacked.
Choster flung Intense Damage at her back while Tawny cast Greater Fireball.
She whipped out of the way before either could connect, casting a death bolt at Justen as an afterthought. Justen dove behind a sarcophagus, the bolt whizzing by his head.
Floating in the air now, Dracaena’s eyes burned at Choster.
“You. Vampire. I will deal with you first.”
She unsheathed her dark dagger, and the light in the room grew noticeably dimmer.
She shot a black bolt at him. Choster turned into mist, darting out of the way.
“Dodge this,” she said, casting Scatter Shot.
Smaller bolts peppered the room, spitting out of the dagger. Everyone dove for cover, trying to escape the deadly blast.
One nicked Toby’s head before he could duck. He groaned and slumped to the floor.
Nessa said, “Toby!”
She immediately cast Greater Healing, and golden light covered Toby’s head. But he remained passed out.
Choster turned into a bat, which ironically was harder to hit than mist. He flew erratically around the room, and Dracaena shot at him while he made a wide circle around her and away from the others.
When her back turned, Erik hopped over a sarcophagus and crept closer, his sword drawn. The Nikos blade felt eager in his hand, as if anticipating the chance to cut into the dark mage.
He completely agreed with the sword’s sentiment, and scooted closer, hoping for a chance to let it go to work.
The bat swerved toward Dracaena, zigzagging unpredictably as it flew, dodging blasts from the dark blade all the way.
Choster poofed into existence a few feet out and cast Greater Lightning at pointblank range.
The spell slammed into her and knocked Dracaena out of the air, taking her by surprise. She landed on her bottom.
But even as he closed in, looking down on her, he realized his mistake. He was now wide open.
She raised her blade and cast Scatter Shot again. It spat out a shower of dark bolts at close range.
Three passed through the vampire before he fell to the side and rolled away from the onslaught.
Erik looked over to his right and saw Percel crouched behind another sarcophagus, his sword drawn too. He nodded at Percel, and the old man nodded back.
Together they jumped over the top and raced to the downed elven assassin with their swords aimed at her neck.
Dracaena swung with her dagger while turning on her knees. She cast Dark Barrier, stopping both men in their tracks.
Erik felt everything slip into extreme slow motion, as if he suddenly swam through clear molasses. His movements slowed to a crawl. His eyes drifted to Dracaena’s face, in horror. She smirked at him.
She stood, and walked confidently, around the swordsmen. She headed straight to the back of the room, toward Toby, Nessa, and Tawny.
Her eyes focused on Toby, lying on the floor.
“Get away from him!”
Nessa stood up, shakily, and pointed her hand at Dracaena.
The assassin’s eyebrow went up, amused.
She said, “A cleric? And what can you do?”
Nessa concentrated and cast her only offensive spell, drawing in all her mana and all the surrounding power from the crypts she could hold.
A huge ball of energy formed in the palm of her hand. Nessa cast the largest Greater Damage spell of her life. Raw, unfocused chaos rushed at Dracaena, rapidly expanding, a maelstrom of colorful magic bent solely on destruction.
Dracaena deflected it with a wave of her hand by casting Dark Shield. She sidestepped the rest of the spell almost casually.
“Is that all you’ve got?”
She flicked the air in a dismissive gesture. Nessa jerked back as the shadow from Dracaena’s fingers slapped her jaw with considerable force. She crumpled, knocked down and out.
Dracaena approached Toby, still passed out on the floor, and pulled her dagger up to strike a deathblow.
Whumph! Whumph!
Dracaena staggered as two Greater Fireball spells struck her, head on. They split when they hit, scorching the stone coffins nearby. But she absorbed the force of the blows.
Tawny jumped forward and quickly followed up with Greater Light. An intense flash filled the entire room.
Dracaena blinked as the light slowly faded.
“A worthy effort,” she said with a smile, unfazed.
She aimed he
r dagger at Tawny and cast Scatter Shot again. Tawny dove behind a sarcophagus, but not before a bolt nicked her side.
She gritted her teeth in pain as darkness spread quickly over her body, starting in her middle and moving up to her chest. It seemed to suck out her life wherever it spread, and she felt herself growing numb.
Dracaena sighed, and returned her attention to Toby’s prone form.
“Now to fulfill King Sthenos’s task.”
She lifted the dagger once more . . . and heard someone stand up behind her along with the sound of shoe leather scraping the floor.
She turned, and looked back across the room. The mage with a dark purple robe stood and pointed his open palm at her.
Dracaena smirked. She said, “What can you possibly cast that would make any difference, little man?”
Justen smiled back, his face grimacing like a skull with skin stretched tight across it.
He said, “Lights of Phanos.”
The room grew bright, just as if Greater Light had been cast. But instead of fading rapidly, it grew brighter. And then, even brighter.
Dracaena’s eyes squinted, her pupils constricting. And still the light grew more intense, as if a thousand torches burned in the room, lending their strength to the spell. Then ten thousand torches. A hundred thousand.
Dracaena threw her arms over her face and screamed as the light grew brighter, brighter . . . Blinding white light that grew in intensity . . . So bright and pure it became light blue, and then clear . . .
Dracaena exploded into a cloud of black particles. They evaporated, each little piece swallowed whole and obliterated by the light.
Chapter 10
Lexa woke up to the sound of birds trilling at her window. She opened her eyes at the crack of dawn and smiled. Red, blue and black birds all tweeted and chirped, singing songs as they swarmed her window.
“Good morning, everybody!”
She sat up in bed and stretched, and the avian alarm clock dispersed. Such were the benefits of having a house mage who could set custom spells like this.
She padded into her large bathroom, another expensive feature in her house. Many of her contemporaries would have been aghast had they known she liked to bathe each day. Regular bathing was considered unhealthy by many in polite society.
But Lexa liked it. She enjoyed starting each morning fresh and clean. Besides, Justen had assured her that frequent bathing was in fact quite healthy. Many other notions he called “conventional wisdom” were wrong as well, and he would happily discuss it at length if one showed any interest.
She slipped out of the simple nightshirt she slept in and stepped into the large bathroom. Justen had enchanted the tub, too. It was always ready to bathe in, the water kept salty and warm at the ideal temperature.
She sat down and relaxed, waiting for the water nymph to appear. Soon, the image of a young girl made of bathwater rose up from the surface and began rubbing her down, splashing her arms, shoulder, and back.
Justen had explained to her the water nymph was not actually alive. The birds who woke her up every morning were alive. They were simply coerced to chirp near her window at the crack of dawn. He had to spell new birds on occasion as the old ones died.
But the water nymph was more akin to a golem. It was something he called a “magical construct,” and it had little in the way of conscious thought or will. It simply performed the task assigned to it. That task was to help bathe Lady Lexa.
The nymph gave her a final wet hug, splashing water all over her face before dripping back down into the enchanted tub.
Lexa sighed contentedly and stepped out, reaching for a towel.
She walked to her closet and dressed herself in a simple yet elegant outfit, then opened the door to her bedroom and headed down the stairs toward the kitchen. Her private chef would have something delightful ready by now, since he usually woke up at least an hour before dawn to begin cooking.
Pediford rushed in as she sat down at her breakfast table. Like her chef, he was another pre-dawn riser, and was already dressed and ready for the day. He carried a plate with breakfast on it, and a hot pot of tea for her. Everything had been prepared before she woke up.
She truly had a marvelous staff of servants, she thought. And the copious sums she paid to retain them all seemed well spent. Everything just worked. Her days came together perfectly, starting with the birds chirping at dawn, and the enchanted tub, and now another delightful breakfast . . .
The servant’s door clicked open and somebody came in off the side street, back first. They closed the door softly and . . . Justen turned around.
“Ah, Lady Lexa,” he said with a note of surprise in his voice. “I bid you good morning. Pediford, you too.”
Both Lexa and Pediford stared at the mage with some measure of surprise themselves. He looked tired, and . . . bedraggled.
“Justen! Where have you been? Have you been out all night?”
“I say, Justen. Most unbecoming.”
“Yes, m’lady. I was assisting the elves you rescued. And their team. They had a bit of trouble with an assassin again and I was able to lend my skills down in the crypts.”
This elicited even more surprise, and no small measure of concern. Lexa insisted he sit at the table and have some breakfast. She shooed Pediford out to the kitchen to fetch the man some food, Justen’s protestations notwithstanding. Then she insisted Justen tell her all about it while he ate. Pediford stayed to listen, too.
“Well, it seems the king of the elves issued an edict calling for the execution of Tawny and Toby. Since the last pair of assassins failed, this time he sent the very best. A legend known as Dracaena. Evidently she was a master of something called Shadow Magic.”
“Was? I take it that means you defeated her?”
“We did, Lady Lexa. Tawny’s team decided to set a trap for Dracaena down in the crypts. It seems they rescued a corpsman from a different dungeon recently who happens to be a vampire, and he is also a practitioner of Shadow Magic. He helped thwart Dracaena when she first sought out the young elves at their headquarters. I heard about their plan and went down into the crypts to lend a hand.”
Lexa nodded. This sounded like something Justen would do.
Pediford said, “I hope this was on your own time, sirrah!”
“Pediford, let the man talk!”
“Yes, it was. I left after my evening duties and spent the night in the crypts. Anyway, we had a full-pitched battle down there with the assassin. She was . . . extraordinary. I’ve heard of her, of course. But it’s one thing to hear and read about an opponent of this caliber, and quite another to see her in action. She countered our every move. She easily held all seven of us off as she closed in for the kill.”
He paused at this point to eat a bit of eggs. His face looked like a skull with very tight skin stretched across it. Watching him eat was not the most pleasant thing in the world. Lexa twisted her napkin nervously, but she and Pediford waited patiently for Justen to go on.
“So, at last, the pivotal moment came. I had been knocked down, and was in the process of standing up, trying to think of anything I could cast that would make a difference. That’s when I remembered a local spell unique to this city.”
“Local spell?”
“Yes, Lady Lexa. Each city typically has a set of spells unique to their location. I learned of this from our municipal mages. There are ones that help defend the city from attack, and others which benefit the population in some way or other.
“Down there in the crypts I recalled Lights of Phanos. Phanos, as you know, means ‘torch’ in the Old Tongue. Lights of Phanos casts the light of every torch that has ever shone in the city, all in one place.
“I gambled that this would at the very least disrupt the assassin’s Shadow Magic. However, much to my delight, deep within the crypts an extraordinary level of mana remains in the vicinity. I was able to channel that mana into the spell, making it quite powerful, and it killed the assassin.”
&nbs
p; “Killed? Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes. The light swallowed her up. She will not be bothering us any more. I was worried about the vampire on our team, but it seems that high exposure to sunlight is more of a problem than torchlight for him. He was injured, but far enough away from the epicenter of my spell to avoid any permanent damage. Also, he hid behind a stone sarcophagus which afforded some measure of protection. Apparently they’re quite resistant to light.
“I don’t think any of us could see much for a while afterward. It was a truly bright spell. Fortunately their young cleric has recently improved with her healing capabilities. That along with some potions got everyone back to normal.”
Pediford said, “I say! Splendid.”
Lexa said, “What will the team do now? The threat is eliminated, right?”
Justen nodded, and seemed to sink down into his dark purple robe, the thrill of victory rapidly receding and giving way to personal exhaustion.
“It’s a problem. King Sthenos’s edict stands. I imagine new assassins will be sent, or perhaps even a military force.”
“He can’t send a military force without risking war with Queen Elliah!”
Justen nodded again, but his skullish face looked troubled.
“I think, if war were to occur once more between elves and humans, this pair might be the source of it.”
“What makes them so special? Why does Sthenos want them gone?”
“I talked with Tawny at length about it, and looked into some of her story. You see, there are four classes of elves.”
“Yes, I know something about this. They choose to align with one of the four ancient virtues, correct?”
“It’s not a matter of choice, m’lady. They are born into one of the classes. And each one has fewer than those below it. There are strict rules between . . . crossbreeding, for want of a better term. It seems Tawny’s mother, who hails from the second highest, their guardians, had an affair with someone in the highest class. That someone is the king’s brother.”
