When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  She pulled her boots and stockings off, and stared at her bare feet, crinkling her toes. It had been some time since she had taken off her armor. Even though it was flexible, allowing full freedom of movement, she now felt constrained by it. She had never felt that way before.

  The Light finds me unworthy.

  A clean set of raw-silk clothes, a simple white shirt, and matching loose trousers with a drawstring waist were tucked away in her pack. It did not get used that often these days, but its soft folds invited her.

  She heard more laughter downstairs. The apparent warmth drew her, and for a moment she thought about joining them. Then her shame wouldn’t matter.

  The moment passed, but she still felt inexplicably reckless. She had been so focused for the past six years on this war. She had been so focused all her life on self-control.

  She walked to the side of her room, and her breathing quickened in excitement. What am I doing? But it took her mind off the guilt.

  She rang the service cord, which set off a bell somewhere in the floor below.

  Soon thereafter, there was a slight knock at her door. Arda opened the door and saw a young girl with pale skin.

  “What does the lady require?” the girl asked. She hung at the door’s edge. “I cannot enter unless you invite me.” She turned her head quizzically. “Somehow, you have made this room your home. I would not have thought that possible.”

  “I would like you to draw me a bath,” Arda said. She wouldn’t go downstairs, but she would wash the grime from herself. She paused and added. “I want no trouble tonight.”

  The girl stared at her with the faintest hint of curiosity. “It is no matter. You have been forbidden from us. Besides, we are fulfilled. Would you follow me, please?”

  Arda knew she was being stupid, but she was angry with herself. All her trained discipline had failed her in Traversham, and now she rebelled against it, as if it were something distinct she could punish. She defied wisdom. It exhilarated her.

  She followed the girl to the end of the hall, and the vampire child drew her a hot bath, lighting candles in wall sconces for her. “Here are towels and slippers and soap,” she said, laying these things on a tray and setting them on a side table. “Do you require anything else?”

  “No,” Arda said. “Leave me be.”

  “As you wish, my lady.” The vampire girl closed the door behind her and left the darkling woman alone in the room.

  She pulled her armor off her body and sank into the hot water. She took the washcloth and scrubbed with the soap until her skin welted with red droplets of blood. The soap stung when she scrubbed deep, and then she dropped the washcloth, watching it float before it sank to the bottom of the tub. She pulled her legs up to her chest and laid her head on her knees, allowing herself to cry in the privacy of her bath. She couldn’t stop thinking about Traversham.

  Her breathing calmed and steadied finally. It was some time before she raised her head again, finally stepping out of the tub and dripping water onto the floor as she reached for the towel. She dried herself off and then blew out the candles. She had no need of light; her darkling eyes saw fine without it.

  Pulling on her white silk clothes, she cinched the waist and walked barefoot back to her room, leaving moist footprints behind. Her fingers touched the knob to her door and then froze.

  At the top of the stairs at the end of the hall, a little over ten feet from her, the vampire girl stood motionless, staring.

  “Will you join us?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Arda shook her head.

  “You will be safe,” the girl said. “As I said, you are forbidden to us.”

  “Forbidden?” Arda asked. A chill ran up her back. “By whom?”

  “It is also forbidden for me to tell you.” Her voice was neither old nor young. It held no threatening note, nor did it hold a hint of seduction or manipulative cuteness. It was just straight, natural, and matter-of-fact. “The others are gone now. It is just me and my mother. My mother is still human.”

  Arda considered. This was a chance to learn more than they ever had before. She had been sent to investigate. The little girl held out her hand. Arda found herself taking it, almost as if in a dream, and allowed herself to be led down the stairs. The girl’s hands were cold and smooth. She seemed almost as inhuman as a porcelain doll. In a certain kind of way, she was very pretty.

  A woman in her late twenties sat at one of the tables in the common room. The three of them were alone. The woman was very much alive, without the unnatural perfection of vampire skin. She breathed irregularly and had slightly dark circles under her eyes.

  Arda did not sit, choosing to remain standing at the other end of the table. The girl went to stand behind her mother. “We want you to understand,” the girl said.

  “Understand what?” Arda stared back at her.

  “That we want them here,” the mother answered. “They only want peace.”

  “We want to coexist,” the daughter said. “We have made the Covenant between us. She is my mother. Why would I want her to die?”

  “You can’t help yourself,” Arda responded dully. She seemed disconnected from her body. “You will kill her.”

  “No,” the mother said. “They need blood to live, which is why they don’t want to kill us. They are victims of a disease, and she is still my daughter. Why would I not give my daughter what she needs to live? See, let me show you.”

  The woman outstretched her arm, and the girl took her wrist in her hands. She leaned over the wrist, still looking up at Arda. Without breaking eye contact, she opened her mouth and her fangs slowly extended. She gently pierced her mother’s skin. The woman drew in a sharp breath, but after a few seconds her face relaxed in a peaceful sigh. The girl closed her lips over her mother’s skin, fangs still inserted into the flesh. She sucked, and a line of red blood pooled in the space between her lips and the wrist. The whites of the girl’s eyes flushed a dark red around her blue pupils.

  Arda watched in fascination. The mother’s eyelids fluttered, and her lips relaxed and parted. She did not seem in pain.

  The girl stopped. She pricked her thumb on one of her fangs before the serpentine teeth retracted and wiped the single drop of blood over the bite marks on her mother’s wrists. The two red wounds closed and healed at the touch of vampire blood. The whites of the girl’s eyes lost their red hue and returned to their original color.

  “She won’t turn?” Arda asked.

  “Only if she dies while my juices are inside her,” the vampire answered. “We’ve learned not to drink until death.”

  “Why don’t you make her one of you then?”

  “Then our fate would be as in Roenti,” the girl responded. “We cannot take away what we need to survive.”

  “They learn to live with the disease,” the mother said. “Perhaps I will join them some day, but it will be my choice.”

  “All must come to us freely,” the girl said. “That is the way of the Covenant.”

  “Let her taste your blood,” the mother leaned forward over the table, an intense look in her eyes. “Then you will understand.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “You want it to,” the girl said.

  Arda gave a quick laugh.

  “It is true,” the vampire affirmed. “Do not deny it. You came down here, but you want us to take you by force. I can smell the guilt on you. But that is not our way. You must choose us.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You will. After all, you came down tonight. It is only a matter of time before you let us take you.”

  Arda backed away from the table in horror. The girl was right. She had come down here wanting to be taken against her will. She wanted to fight back. Part of her felt that she deserved it as punishment for what she’d done. Her heart thudded as adrenalin shot through her veins and she came to her senses.

  The ceiling and floors were covered in mist that she had not noticed prior. They were n
ot alone. The other vampires of the city had shifted themselves into fog, watching the whole conversation. She ran back up the stairs to the safety of her room, but no one tried to intercept her.

  Arda slammed the door closed, and quickly stepped over to her bed to grab her sword. She sat on the head of the bed, legs curled to her chest. She held her sword by both hands, resting it horizontally over her knees. She laid her chin on the sword and stared at the door. She trembled at the risk she had taken, and even more at realizing how close she had come to walking down those stairs and letting the vampires take her into their fold.

  When morning came, she had neither moved nor slept. Channeling the Light through the wall of guilt—it was even more difficult now to push through it—she erased her weariness.

  She removed her silk garments and carefully folded them, placing them back in the pack. She donned her armor, coat and weapons, and slung her pack over her shoulder. With a heavy breath of irritation, she set her hat on her head and then tugged its brim low over her brow so she wouldn’t have to look at anyone as she left the inn. She mounted Dart without a word, proceeding south towards the next town.

  She didn’t know how many more nights like this she could take before the guilt conquered her and she surrendered to despair. She hoped she could endure long enough to reach Astiana and find Tulley.

  If he was still alive.

  6 - The Disappointed Bard

  It wasn’t that Danry didn’t appreciate having her strength at his side—traveling was dangerous—but Anuit scared him. She was a sorceress, and her power came from demons. At least they didn’t openly walk beside her as they traveled north towards Kriegsholm, moving in daylight on the road and finding shelter in the forest at night. They were lucky so far not to have been disturbed by any vampires while they camped.

  It had been a few days, and now a cold wind descended over the Whitemist mountains into the valley. Danry pulled his cloak tight. Anuit wore only a simple green gown with no cloak. She didn’t seem to notice the cold wind at all, but walked in quiet serenity. It wasn’t natural.

  They hadn’t eaten much and were forced to sleep in the open under the trees on the hard ground. He knew she was as tired and hungry as he was. She had to be. He had not left Astiana unprepared, but his traveling provisions were still back in Rille. When Anuit shadowjumped them outside the town, he had to abandon his equipment still in Taglio’s house. At least he had his guitar and a small rapier. The sword wasn’t much. Not the best for vampires, and not nearly as good as the sunlight his music could summon, but it was better than no weapon at all. There were still other dangers in the world besides vampires. Brigands were the most likely in these parts, but he had faced a few goblins during his travels.

  Danry’s stomach growled. They had found some fruit trees along the way, and among the autumn fall, had picked out what unspoiled apples and pears they could carry. But it wasn’t much to go on.

  He touched the crystal that hung from his neck, taking comfort from it for no real reason. His dwarven friend Attaris had given him the magical trinket long ago. It did nothing more grand than give a soft glow of light when he needed it, but it reminded him of happier times traveling with his friends. He wore his guitar slung across his shoulder in its case, protected from the wind, although the cold wasn’t the best thing for the wood. There was nothing for it, though. At least it wasn’t freezing. Even better, at least it wasn’t raining.

  The sky was gray overhead through the thinning autumn foliage. Gold and red maple and oak leaves covered the ground and had encroached upon the road, nestling in wagon ruts. Squirrels made their expeditions through the leaves to find those precious acorns not yet eaten by beetles or other bugs. He stared at the ground in front of him as he walked, noticing the morning dew had collected tiny clumps of damp dust on his boots from the road where the leaves did not cover.

  A few hours passed, and the woods thinned until there were only grass fields. Then even that faded away, and they stood at the southern end of the desert. It was not nearly as vast as the deserts of Surafel, but was a strange pocket between the mountains on the road leading to Hammerfold where rain never seemed to fall and the air grew very dry. It would still be two days journey to traverse.

  They came to a small cluster of wooden buildings. No one could be seen on the streets, and the only sign of movement were the shop signs blowing in the wind on rusty hinges, chirping and squealing with every sway.

  “A supply shop,” he said, pointing to one of the stores. “We’re not equipped to travel. We should see if there’s anything in there.”

  “You mean to steal?”

  “If someone’s there, we’ll buy,” he frowned. “But if not, yes. We’ll steal.”

  Anuit cocked her head with an amused smirk. “I wasn’t criticizing. We’ll do what’s required.”

  He nodded and opened the shop’s door. The shelves had supplies on them—axes, rope, knives, hammers and other tools—and no footprints could be seen on the thick dust that covered the floor. Anuit followed him inside.

  “Looks like no one’s here,” she said. “I think the town’s been abandoned. Not many traveling these days.”

  “Here’s something,” he said. He had found a medium-sized oiled-canvas backpack, large enough to hold the small two-man pup tent on the shelf beside it. “There’s also a cloak over there,” he indicated.

  “I don’t need one,” she said.

  When he looked quizzically at her, she tugged at the collar of her sage-green dress, pinching the fabric between forefinger and thumb. “There’s magic in my gown,” she said. “What you do with your guitar, I do with needle and thread.”

  “Not sorcery then?” he asked.

  “No.” She gave him an odd look. “I’m going to look around.”

  “Okay.”

  He gathered some other items. Flint and steel. Two bedrolls. In the room behind the counter, he nearly jumped with joy when he found stocks of preserved dried meat, and thick, unleavened bread rations. Why would someone leave all this here? Probably because the inhabitants didn’t flee. They had died. Maybe they were still here.

  “I found a bathtub!” Anuit announced. “And there’s a well in the back. I’m going to draw some water.”

  “We need to leave before nightfall,” he said. “I don’t think the folk here are gone.”

  “There’s time for a bath,” she said. “It’s been two days. You could use one, too.”

  “I suppose,” he considered.

  “That was not a question. But I’m first.”

  “Okay. I’ll continue to look around.”

  He got the tent to fit rolled up in the pack, but there was only room for one bedroll. He heard her make a few trips to the well and pour water into a kettle, and then the crackle of fire as she lit the stove.

  A bath did sound good. He kept busying himself, but as time passed, he became more aware of how long it was taking. He wondered if he should check on her. The thought of her naked in a tub of water flashed through his mind and his heart quickened. He located another backpack, this one smaller but large enough for a second bedroll. He heard her body moving in the tub, pouring water over herself.

  He found himself unconsciously standing before the hall that led into the back rooms, but suddenly there was a tiny man, six inches high with dark indigo skin, hovering in front of him. The man had miniscule horns and outstretched wings that did not flap. His arms were crossed firmly over his minute, muscled chest, and he shook his head firmly.

  Danry backed away from the imp and went to sit outside on the porch.

  Anuit emerged from the house a bit later, wearing her green gown. Her hair was still damp, but her skin was dry. Her gown seemed clean as well. She held two apples, one with a bite missing, and handed him the other. “There’s a tree in the back,” she said. “These are good.”

  “I found a second backpack,” he said. “Winter is coming, and you’ll want a bedroll.”

  She nodded and sat on the porch
, eating her apple. “Go take a bath,” she said. “I put out a towel for you. I’ll wait here.”

  He went back into the shop and found the back room with the bathtub. The water was still warm and steam touched the walls. Embers glowed in the iron stove.

  It was just past noon, so they were still good on time. Danry hoped the town didn’t have any living thralls, though it seemed abandoned. Maybe the vampire infestation had taken it before they had learned to curb their appetites and protect their food source, forcing them to leave and find other towns.

  He stripped his clothes off and slid into the tub, noticing she had left a bar of soap for him as well. Even though the water was no longer hot, it felt quite good compared to the outside cold. He knew it would be unpleasant leaving the bath, so he indulged for now, sinking down to his shoulders. He took the white soap and scrubbed his body until he felt fresh. Time seemed to slow, and the air felt cold when he lifted his arm out of the tub. So that’s why she took so long, he thought. Then his thoughts took another turn. She was quite attractive. He imagined her in the tub with him. His eyes closed.

  There was a knock at the door. He sputtered in surprise, splashing water.

  “You’re taking a long time,” Anuit said. He looked towards the hall, but she had not entered the room, remaining outside to respect his privacy.

  “I think I fell asleep,” he answered.

  “Gather your things,” she replied. “We do need to leave here, as you said.”

  “I’ll be right out.”

  Her footsteps retreated down the hall to the front room as he steeled himself to leave the comfort of the bath. He winced when the crisp air pricked his skin with goose bumps and quickly toweled off. He pulled his clothes back on and found her outside.

  “Let’s go,” she said. She had added two filled water skins to their supplies, one for each backpack, and had already shouldered the smaller one.

  He fastened his guitar case on top of the larger pack and slung the ensemble on his back. It wasn’t too heavy, but he suspected it would become so as the miles grew long. There was no helping it.