Bloom of Blood and Bone

by R J Hanson

  Dunewell moved to one of the horses, both were strange to him for Jonas switched mounts often, and began saddling it. He worked with the swift hands but faltering hands of a desperate man.

  “He knows about Belyska,” Dunewell said, not taking his eyes from his task. “He knows about my unborn daughter.”

  “Take it easy, Dunewell,” Jonas said, changing his tone to that of a soothing priest. “That is bait, and you know it.”

  “Of course, it is,” Dunewell said. “Still, I must stop him.”

  “There’s another way,” Jonas said. “He wants you going to Ivantis to draw you away from him. Slythorne is the mission. Stopping him is our duty.”

  “You would murder watchmen and talk to me of mission, of duty?” Dunewell demanded.

  “Yes,” Jonas said. “What are you going to do in Ivantis? Tell me? What do you know of facing thralls, or professional assassins?”

  “I served on…”

  “Yes,” Jonas said. “You served on the Tarborat front, and you were an inquisitor. And the first time you went up against a true professional killer, you were nearly slain yourself. You could tell Lady Belyska, but what effect do you think that would have? Would she lock herself away, or would she seek them out? Think like the warrior you are instead of some love-sick fool!”

  Dunewell whirled and found Jonas standing with his hands behind his back and his jaw thrust forward. He was waiting, calmly, to be struck.

  “If punching me will get you beyond this stupidity, then, by all means, strike me so that we may get back to the work of hunting and destroying this monster!”

  Dunewell relaxed the fist that he didn’t recall making. He took several heavy breaths and then turned back to his horse, unable to look at Jonas. Unable to look upon someone so unashamed of what he’d done.

  “I’ll send word, I know people who are experts at the sort of peril Lady Belyska is now in,” Jonas said. “People who would do a far better job than you at protecting her. If anything happens to her, I promise you…”

  “If anything happens to her, I’ll kill you,” Dunewell said in a cold and even tone.

  “Excellent,” Jonas said. “We have a deal. If any harm comes to Lady Belyska, I’ll bare my breast before you and gladly accept the point of your rider’s pike. In the meantime, do you mind if we focus on killing this master vampire?”

  Dunewell was quiet for several moments. Jonas was about to speak again when Dunewell turned around.

  “Do you know why he would be tracking another vampire?” Dunewell asked.

  Jonas’s eyes glinted, and the corner of his mouth turned up.

  “I take it you do,” Dunewell said, too exasperated with the man to continue to play his games of hide and seek with information. “There was an investigation in Moras. Medaci, a friend of mine, was investigating the vampire attacks. Slythorne was, I’m not sure how to say it, but he was looking through my memories of that case. He found something there that interested him. He seemed to think the letters ‘BT’ indicated something of significance. They were marked on a few slips of paper the victims carried.”

  “Of course!” Jonas exclaimed. “Yes, yes, yes! How did I not see it? How? We must ride!”

  “To where?” Dunewell asked.

  “Back to Split Town,” Jonas said as he mounted his horse, neglecting the campfire that was still burning. “We must get on a ship and depart for Moras immediately!”

  Moras, where the watchmen hunted him and an enchantress that tried to entrap him controlled House Theald.

  Epilogue

  Professionals Required

  The assassin, perhaps the most skilled assassin to ever walk the stones of Stratvs, caught a familiar scent on the air. Ashdow the Sure, sometimes called Jasper the Marshal of Lavon, and once known as Kelmut the Fierce, slipped a sliver of lexxmar into the gray silk scarf he wore tied about his head.

  The lexxmar would dampen his own Shadow Blade spells, but it would also protect his mind from unwanted intrusions. Ashdow had a feeling who awaited him within his private chambers in the security-conscious port city of Lavon. Just the same, he had not lived as long as he had by being foolish.

  He was not so inexperienced as to touch the weapons and tools he had hidden about his body. He had seen many young assassins and cutmen show the world where their hidden daggers were by that quick, almost unconscious, touch. A simple flex of a few muscles and a subtle twist of his torso confirmed all his weapons and equipment were still concealed and secured.

  A quick check of the door told him that none of the locks, or traps, had been picked or triggered. That meant someone had teleported into his chambers. Ashdow had known many in his line of work who preferred to ward and protect their homes from such spells. However, he had always liked the idea that he could teleport out just as easily as anyone could appear within.

  He took in a great breath and held it, for he knew vampires could locate their prey by the smell of their exhalations. With the power of his mind, he activated a silver dragon earring, which made his body appear as cool as his surroundings, camouflaging him from those with infravision. Then rubbed a thumb over the top button of his shirt, causing the cloth to remain elastic but take on the magical hardness of plate armor.

  Ashdow took extra time to ensure perfection of his teleportation spell and disappeared from the deep shadows of the alcove in the abandoned alley. He re-appeared an instant later in the corner made by the north wall of his rooms and the ceiling. He had taken great pains to create and then conceal small ledges there. Now he pressed his knees and his elbows against those ledges, using the tension to maintain a position of perfect stillness in the dark recesses of the shadows.

  He could see the chair beneath him was occupied. It was no accident. Ashdow had made sure to keep the most comfortable chair in his chambers in this particular corner. For, this corner offered the best vantage point to surveil the one and only door into the rooms and would be an excellent choice of anyone hoping to ambush him returning home.

  Again, drawing on the powers of his mind, although they were dampened by the lexxmar, Ashdow cast a spell allowing him perfect vision into the dark of the room. He could see the crest, crossed spears behind a two-headed dragon, on the black onyx ring and hilt of the longsword the potential assailant carried and confirmed his initial guess was accurate. Slythorne, and he was alone.

  Never one to surrender an advantage, Ashdow decided not to announce his presence. There was no need to allow Slythorne to know he had snuck up on him. That knowledge might lead the vampire to be more cautious next time, which was not something Ashdow wanted.

  Ashdow, a Shadow Blade and master member of the Shadow Council, magically and silently transported himself to the steps outside his own apartment. He took a moment to brush any telltale dust from the knees and elbows of his clothing and then entered his home.

  “The years have been rather kind to you,” Slythorne said from his chair in the shadows.

  “A rather expensive herb from the jungles of Janis has been kind to me,” Ashdow said.

  “Still, you must be approaching your one-hundredth birthday,” Slythorne said as he rose and walked across the wine rack mounted on the wall. “You look no older than a man of perhaps forty.”

  Ashdow smiled and nodded diplomatically, wishing Slythorne would get to the point.

  “How long have you been wearing that bit of lexxmar in your scarf?” Slythorne asked as he perused the wine rack.

  “Since the last time we met,” Ashdow said, taking a seat behind his desk, the most defensible position in all of Lavon.

  Slythorne smiled at that and selected a vintage bottled by House De’Char. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something he particularly enjoyed about the De’Char wines. Slythorne glided to Ashdow’s desk, wine bottle and two glasses in hand, and poured them each a drink.

  “Are you going to tell me why you are here?” Ashdow said after first smelling, then lightly tasting his wine.

  “I hav
e two problems,” Slythorne said. “One should be on his way to Ivantis, in which case he will be no trouble. However, the other is likely on his way to Moras. I need him killed.”

  “Who is this walking corpse?” Ashdow said with suspicion plain on his face.

  “Lord Jonas, brother to Lord Velryk, and known in your circles as the Gray Spider,” Slythorne said after he had sampled the wine.

  “Lord Jonas, widower of Gisele?” Ashdow asked.

  “The same.”

  “That will be expensive. Perhaps more than you can pay.”

  “More than I can pay?” Slythorne asked with a smile.

  “Perhaps more than you’d like to.”

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  About The Author

  R. J. Hanson

  RJ Hanson has been a cop for over two decades. In that time, he accumulated a number of real-world experiences that have served to give him a unique understanding of the human condition and a perspective that gives his writing an honest grit. He has also benefited from years of training ranging from interview and interrogation techniques to hand to hand combat to SWAT tactics. RJ is a certified Firearms Instructor and Linguistic Statement Analyst. He currently serves as a Lieutenant in the Criminal Investigations Division of a small Texas police department where he specializes in crimes against persons.

  He also enjoys the distinction of having scored a touch, or 'touche', against an Olympic fencer during a pickup match in college. He's really too proud of it.

  In his youth he worked as a cowboy having grown up on a small ranch in north Texas. At the age of 16 he was selected for the TAMS (Texas Academy of Mathematics and Science) project at the University of North Texas where his young eyes were opened to the world.

  In his spare time, RJ has studied medieval combat and military tactics as well as arms and armaments of various cultures and times.

  RJ plays in a weekly pen and paper RPG game (Rolemaster) with some close family and friends and some of the characters played have been around since 1996!

  RJ and his wife, Michelle, live on a small ranch where they maintain a modest heard of cattle, two dogs, a variety of barn cats, a peacock named Henry and a peahen named Margaret (aka Ferd).

  "Hanson's very visceral writing style captures the breathtaking excitement, terror, and wonder of fantasy adventure that I've found in roleplaying, computer gaming, and classics of the genre...but is so often lacking in contemporary offerings. The mental world inhabited by his characters is very well developed. Combat scenes are invariably creative, well-thought, and realistic in a way that will please purists while remaining fast paced enough to satisfy others. And it is an intriguing blend of high and low fantasy: while inhabiting a gritty world and hardly infallible, the protagonists are high-minded people trying to do the right thing in an often complicated and confusing world. If you're uncertain about your next fantasy read ... just get this one." Award winning author Jon Black

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  Books By This Author

  Roland's Path

  When two spies escape during young Roland’s watch, they begin a chain of events not intended by Fate that may threaten a kingdom. Roland is driven by his shame to take up his axes and track them down. Raised on the rural edges of Gallhallad, can he survive the dangers of the road ahead? Can his ideals of right and wrong weather the complexities of the path before him?

  With the help of his lifelong friend Eldryn, the Cavalier hopeful, and an uneasy bargain with a dagger wielding cutpurse, Roland pursues a wizard of unknown powers and a woman of uncommon beauty and deadly skill.

  Will Roland’s vanity not only doom him, but his friends and a king he hoped to one day serve as well?

  In Roland’s world of Stratvs, vanity has a high price. A price paid with the blood of the innocent and the guilty. Around him, swords once pledged to justice rust on the altars of the self-righteous.

  Roland's Vow

  The Warlock of the Marshes is a man marked and cursed by a past of horrible deeds. Will Roland hear his plea? Can Roland trust the daughter of such a man, or will his own desires betray his reason?Roland and Eldryn take to the seas of Stratvs, alongside their new Slandik friends, and discover an exotic city that exists in the shadow of harsh laws and savage practices. Lavon is home to every type of trade and pleasure. However, such riches place its very soul in peril.In the distant land of Lawrec, Roland will face trials that will test not only his physical strength, but his own code of honor as well. Roland’s constitution continues to be forged as he struggles against the evils of the world and his own pride. But will his efforts be enough to save a land besieged by raiding armies and a people starved of hope?Join Roland as he takes Swift Blood in hand to battle pirates, fallen champions, and worse. Roland’s quest to earn his father’s approval continues in Roland’s Vow, Book II of the Heirs of Vanity series.

  Roland's Triumph

  An unseen evil gathers just beyond perception. In the quiet mornings jaundiced eyes peer out from imagined shadows. Daeriv’s forces have withdrawn, but his pall touch still lurks in Lawrec. Its presence stirs Roland’s every nerve. Will he understand its nature before it’s too late?Roland faces a choice. He struggles to fulfill two vows, one to his lord and another to his betrothed. Will he ignore the wisdom offered by his father? If he does, what will it cost?An army that curses the very ground it walks upon puts the future of Lawrec at stake and threatens a bloodline. How does a knight weigh the life of a single child against the possible desolation of thousands of families?Bound by his struggle between oaths, Roland may fail to see Claire’s own dilemma. As she risks what may be fatal rejection, will her love for Roland be enough to see them through?Roland’s journey continues in Roland’s Triumph, the third book of the Heirs of Vanity Series.

  Fires that Forge

  Murder. Lies. Betrayal. Magic? Can one inquisitor’s quest for the truth in a city bound for chaos save its soul? A serial killer roams the shining streets and dark alleys of the great trade city. How can you count yourself safe against a murderer that may wield magic as a weapon? As the body count rises, those in power demand someone pay for the heinous crimes. What if the one that stands accused is innocent? Is there still such a thing as innocence in Moras?

  When he learns that his life-long friend is the sole suspect, the decorated veteran turned King’s Inquisitor takes it upon himself to save his friend and root out the murderer. Already struggling to keep the doors open to his hospital for those the city has forgotten, the young physician must now also find a way to prove his innocence and dodge the han
gman’s noose.

  Can the Inquisitor find the elusive killer before the executioner calls?

  If you enjoy murder mysteries, psychological thrillers, and epic swords and sorcery fantasy tales, then this story is for you!

  Charged with tension and intrigue, this thrilling tale of murder and betrayal will leave you second-guessing your own suspicions… and perhaps your perceptions of right and wrong as well.

  Return to the exciting world of Stratvs and the adventure of the Bloodlines Reforged Saga! www.bloodlinesreforged.com

  Whetstones of the Will

  Dunewell, seeking the path that embodies both his oaths and his conscience, is pursued by honest and just men across the wilds of Stratvs. Moving as both predator and prey, he and Jonas track the legendary vampire, Lord Slythorne. Will their uneasy alliance hold long enough to destroy the monster before it’s too late? Slythorne has enthralled many, honest and devious alike. Can Dunewell evade his pursuers without spilling innocent blood? Wearing the mark of an outlaw, what other allies will the Lord of Order be forced to trust?

  Silas, meanwhile, secures his position by way of treaties and pacts under the astute tutelage of the drow and his mistress, Lady Dru. Now understanding the threat Slythorne poses, will Silas manipulate Dunewell, wielding his brother’s devotion as a shield against this master vampire?

  Can there be reconciliation between Dunewell and Silas, or will their pride doom their fate, and perhaps, the fate of the world?

  The Original Betrayer, the Warlock of the Marshes, walks the shores of Tarborat. What could bring the terrible and mighty Lynneare forth from his cursed fortress?