by Jackson Lear
The only mantra burning through me was: ‘Don’t let him live.’
The sound of my own voice surprised me, as though someone else was doing a poor job mimicking me. As the vampire made it five yards, then ten, struggling with every step, I uttered my final fuck you. “Farewell.”
His body flung back towards me, hurled from an invisible catapult and crashing head on into my face.
According to the only survivor who saw it happen, I was still as a corpse for the count of ten. The vampire flopped one arm to the ground as he tried to right himself, then my legs started to move, followed by my hand. I clawed at his arm, trying to hold him down. He wasn’t having any of it.
I pried his dagger from my chest, expecting a blast of cold but instead receiving an overwhelming burn of heat. I buried it into his throat and yanked back. Licked both sides of the blade.
He slumped onto his ass, clutching his new wound, then decided that I was too much trouble to abandon. His lips broke apart, spewing blood over me – and not the ideal type of vampire blood as this was riddled with a paralyzing venom. I drove his dagger through his open mouth, his eye shooting open with surprise as he spluttered, choking on the hilt and handle of his weapon, the blade itself bursting through the base of his skull. He fell, slumping to the side with a cough, gag, and – if I could believe my luck – about to die.
I threw my mouth over his throat, drinking in as much of his blood as I could. Bile collected around my tongue as the burnt copper-tasting molasses made it across each and every taste bud, flaring them in unison. The rush of cold blood made it to the back of my throat as I forced it down, chilling my esophagus and sliding into my gut. More and more I drank, guzzling it down as I feebly pressed one hand against my chest to hold my wound closed.
I must’ve drunk too much and too quickly. My stomach spasmed, pinching itself shut and forcing me to clamp a hand over my mouth as I swallowed it all back down again. And then I fell, slumped to the side as I stared at the gray skies, my vision clouding over, a tingle forming in my fingers and toes as a gentle numbness started to spread. I lost feeling in my most of my body, the only thing remaining was my head, buzzing with a building high.
A face peered over. Adalyn’s. A spray of blood covered her forehead as she huffed. “Raike?”
I must’ve murmured.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive.”
“… Vampire …”
“He’s not moving.”
“… Hurry …”
She knelt down, trying to throw one of my arms around her neck.
“No … Vampire. Blood.”
She dropped me down. Called out to Wilbur.
“Ad … lyn?”
“Shh, shh, you’ll be okay.”
“… Healing …”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
I clicked my thumb and finger together, demanding her attention. “Vampire … blood … heals … But hurry. Dead vampire … poison …”
She stared back at me, the cogs finally working in unison. “You drank it?”
I’m pretty sure I nodded.
She peered at the vampire, uncertain, pressed one finger against his neck and wiped a trace of blood away. “This won’t turn me into one of them, will it?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Explain … later …”
She tested it, dabbing the smallest amount onto the tip of her tongue, pulled a face, then sucked it clean, swallowed, and presumably waited to see if she was going to be sick, fall unconscious, or turn into a vampire herself. She took another wipe along her finger. Started nodding with every swallow. “It’s ... okay … I can see this …”
“Aphrodisiac,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“Drug. Makes you horny.”
She breathed in with an energized rush, scooped up another finger’s worth of blood and swallowed. “How long do we have until it turns into poison?”
“Until … stops bleeding. Get everyone … over here.”
Adalyn shouted out to the survivors, though few, if any, actually moved towards us.
I rolled onto my side; my back, chest, and heart stinging like there were poisoned barbs burrowing through me. “Hurry … up.”
She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Twelfth Army! And civilians! Bring your wounded here now!” She pulled her knees in together, almost like she needed to use the bathroom. “Woah …”
“Welcome to paradise,” I muttered.
She nearly had to squat down as well. Instead, she sprung to her tiptoes and hurried forward. “Who needs a doctor? You?”
As Adalyn busied herself by coordinating a mass aphrodisiacing, I remained on my side, dealing with one wave of euphoria after another while still bleeding out. I had only tasted vampire blood once before, but there’s no mistaking the effects. It was often sold as ‘bliss’ and it was living up to its name. A spoonful could cause you to shed your garments in a matter of minutes. It could ease the joint pain of the elderly for days, heal old wounds, turn your gray hair brown, and reduce your suffering on the privy whether you struggled to go every day or were forced to go every hour. It was a shame then that I was spending my most wonderful of moments lying on my side, barely able to move as my chest tingled and blood continued to seep from me.
I was able to make a haphazard count of folks dead or alive. At least a dozen in my line of sight were face down, unmoving. Two dozen staggered among the suffocating smoke, either dragging or carrying their loved ones. Soldiers still alive ran to help the villagers out of their homes. Others tended to wounds. Several sat in a heap, stunned as tears streamed down their faces.
Wilbur crossed my line of sight, kneeling down in front of me. “Sir?”
“How many did we lose?”
“I don’t know. There are five dead soldiers, twenty alive, four missing. Of those still alive, fourteen are injured. The rest might have made it onto the ship with Lady Kasera Lavarta.”
“And the civilians?”
“I don’t know. At least sixty are dead. Lots more are injured. A few of them have fled so the numbers might be worse.”
“Agnarr?”
“There’s still no sign of him.”
“What about Draegor’s people?”
“Thirty five dead. Two of them are vampires.”
“Two? Who got the other one?”
“We all did, thanks to you.”
“I didn’t kill yours.”
“You trained us, sir.”
“You didn’t need me to tell you to aim for the neck, head, or chest. Are there any of Draegor’s people left?”
“We’ve caught a couple of the injured ones, sir. We might be able to interrogate them.”
“Good. Get on that quickly.”
Wilbur wasn’t exactly rushing away.
“I’m okay. Just leave me here for a bit.”
“We can’t find Lieutenant Loken. Did you see him go with Lady Kasera Lavarta?”
I rolled onto my back. It turned out to be an instant mistake as my chest wound had yet to close. An electric agony splintered along the dagger’s wound. “Loken didn’t go with her. He stayed behind.”
“He’s not among the dead.”
“What about Sergeants Bren and Saskia?”
“That might be a little complicated, sir.”
I managed to lean up. “I’m not exactly feeling my best right now so let’s skip on the ‘sir’s and just tell me how bad it is.”
“Bren was mauled to death. Saskia is convulsing. There’s blood all over her neck and face. Blood seeping out of her mouth as well. The vampire got them both.”
I closed my eyes for a moment while my limbs continued to tingle. “Choose your answer to this very carefully because it better not be me. Who’s next in command?”
Wilbur held his tongue.
“No.”
“You were a lieutenant, weren’t you, sir?” There was always one person who knew exactly how to ruin a good euphori
a.
“Who the hell said I was a lieutenant?”
“Someone said you were primo delta.”
“Oh, fuck you, fuck them, and fuck all of this. After Sergeants Bren and Saskia, who’s in charge of the general’s vanguard?”
“Jarmella, I suppose …”
“Is she still alive?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank fuck for that.”
A shout broke through the choking smoke of the village massacre. Two soldiers threw themselves down on top of an ally, pining them down like a surgeon was on his way and there was no time to get them liquored up before a leg was coming off.
I threw one hand up to Wilbur. He helped me onto my feet. I retrieved my blade from Razoz’s skull – careful to avoid his fangs, and searched the lake. It was consumed with mist. Wherever Alysia was, I hoped to all hell that she was safe.
I needed one arm over Wilbur’s shoulders to steady me. Each breath was still agony. My chest twisted and constricted with every step. My pulse thumped against my ear drums and there was still a reasonable chance that I was still going to die.
A ‘reasonable chance’ was an understatement for Saskia. Her face was slashed to pieces, the poison-tipped claws of a vampire had raked down from her forehead to her chin. Her armor had been broken apart along her left hand side, wrenched open by the overwhelming strength of her attacker. The side of her neck pulsed with blood as one of the mages ditched a bloodied rag and applied a fresh one to the wound.
Jarmella rifled through Saskia’s pack. “You’ll be okay.”
“Please …” rasped Saskia.
“Don’t talk … you’ll be okay … we’ll get you … where’s the fucking elder leaves?” At last she had it. A small wooden tub with a brown paste inside protecting a fresh luminescent blue leaf within. Volbrig pulled the fresh rag away from Saskia’s neck. Jarmella smeared the paste across the wound, slapped the leaf over the bites marks, causing the skin to sizzle just as Volbrig applied a fresh rag. Saskia shrieked in untold agony, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, and she went out like a candle in a storm. Jarmella leaned back, her hands covered in blood. Looked to Volbrig. He shook his head at her.
“Someone needs to take care of her,” said Menrihk. “Anyone?”
Saskia regained consciousness, now with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t …”
“You’ll be okay,” blurted Jarmella, now shaking herself.
The vanguard were starting to draw people together, making a defensive line, keeping the unknown northerners from getting too close.
“Where’s Loken?” I asked.
Jarmella held onto Saskia’s hand, trying to provide some comfort in her friend’s dying moments. “They took him.”
“You saw this?”
“I saw a female vampire knock Loken down and throw him onto the back of a horse with a human rider.”
“He was still alive?”
“I’m busy, okay?”
Saskia blinked back at Ewen, one of the soldiers standing over her. Her face crinkled up, her mouth trembling. “Do it. Please.”
Ewen drew his sword. Held it over Saskia’s neck.
“Wait,” I said.
“Sir, she’s …”
“Our best chance at survival. We’re bringing her with us.”
Jarmella shook her head at me, pale and distraught. “We can’t let her turn into one of them.”
“We have to. We need her blood. And if we’re lucky she’ll turn quick enough to help us find Loken.”
Wilbur leaned in. “Sir, we’re done here. We’re Miss Kasera Lavarta’s escort on a diplomatic mission. That mission is over and she’s already left.”
“Yeah, she left on the only ship we had,” I said.
“The rest of Agnarr’s fleet will return.”
“Not soon enough. We need to get Loken back before they turn him.”
Jarmella spoke through gritted teeth. “Sir, I appreciate the gesture but the lieutenant made our orders very clear. We were to keep Miss Kasera Lavarta safe. She’s our mission. Rescuing the lieutenant is not.”
“Tell me, what secrets does Loken know about the Kaseras? Or about Syuss? Where exactly is General Kasera stationed? What’s the layout of his villa? Who runs it? Who’s the general’s chief of staff? Or Governor Gustali’s? Where are the biggest forts in Syuss? Where is the province weakest? When do the food caravans arrive? When do troop rotations end? What paths do they take when they’re walking back home?”
The rest of the soldiers remained quiet, except for Wilbur. “He won’t tell them anything.”
“He will. We have prisoners?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you’re going to come with me and find out how long someone under duress can hold their tongue.” I looked back to Saskia. “Patch her up as best you can. It’s going to be a rough couple of days but soon enough she’ll turn, and when she does she’ll be more useful than any doctor among us.”
Jarmella squinted back at me, ready to give the okay to mercy-kill their commanding officer. I stared back at the twenty year old, having just kissed death myself and now surrounded by the very best of Kasera’s unmarried and childless soldiers. It would be her first test of being in command and I wasn’t sure how she was going to take it. Neither did she, I imagine.
I wish it was as clear cut as simply heading after Alysia but it wasn’t. There were still twenty one of us and only two fishing boats – row boats at best. We wouldn’t all fit. I don’t know if Jarmella knew this yet but it would soon become clear that we had no hope of rowing after Alysia. If we waited for another of Agnarr’s ships to return then we would have a hard time fighting their crew with most of us injured. It was better for Jarmella to come to that realization without me sticking it to her.
I went to find our prisoners.
Chapter Thirty
Kasera’s vanguard had managed to wrangle three of Draegor’s people to the ground, injuring them sufficiently so they were too much of a liability to take back with them. They were all bearded, all hardy, but none looked like professional soldiers. Professional raiders, maybe, but they were more likely to have been sailors and fishermen before the fight began … which I guess was true for a lot of Ispar’s soldiers, who were masons, foragers, and carpenters until they needed to drive their sword into someone’s chest.
Of the three choices I went with the young blond guy first. Braided hair. Braided beard. Maybe twenty five years old. Almost as tall as me. Two streaks of vertical war paint down each eye. One of his legs seemed off, right around his knee. He didn’t dare move it.
I looked to Wilbur. “Where’s Lindum?”
“She went with Miss Kasera, sir.”
“Do we have another translator?”
“I can find someone. One of the villagers, maybe.”
“There’s a girl. Anka. About eleven years old. You might have seen me with her yesterday.”
“I think so.”
“Her.”
He ran off. The prisoners and I spent some time staring at each other. The other two were older, also with war paint over their faces, also with unique braids in their hair. They were sporting wounds and were bleeding out. They seemed well versed in being held prisoner and later exchanged for a ransom. If they hadn’t experienced it personally then they at least knew someone who had once been a captive. The young one was full of boyish bravura.
Wilbur returned with Anka and her grandfather hobbling behind. She could barely get one foot in front of the other for all of her trembling, terrified at the attack which had just destroyed her village.
“I’m sorry for what’s happened to your home and your loved ones but I need your help right now. Are you able to translate what I say to them?”
She squinted at me, her eyes locked onto my mouth as I spoke and weaving her head from side to side with every change of word. Yesterday she was fine with her language skills. Now? Not so much.
“There are three guys down there. Can you poin
t to the blond one and – in Isparian – say ‘him’?”
She pointed at the young guy. “Him.”
The blond raider glanced between me and Anka, uncertain of what we were saying.
“Did you see any of these three hurt anyone you know?”
“No.”
“Can you point to the same blond guy and say ‘he did’?”
She did so. The blond guy sank back a little, his bravura slipping away.
I turned my attention onto him. “I have drugs that will ease the pain and I have a paste of fire ants that will burn your skin.” Anka translated.
The raider stared back at me, breathing deeply to combat his broken leg.
“So be it. I’ll ask you some questions. You will give me some attitude. Together we will waste each other’s time until things get unpleasant, so know this: there is no ransom here.” I waited for Anka to translate, more for the sake of the other two who were listening. “I’m going to separate each of you. I’m going to ask you each the same set of questions. If one of you gives me an answer that is different to the other two – even if it’s the truth – that person gets the fire ants. Whoever is most useful will go free. Today. You might make it back home. Whoever is next most useful can decide how they die: by drowning, by fire, or by decapitation. Whoever is the least helpful will be a gift to the people here. Your weapons will be a gift to them as well. Your fate will be left completely up to them. So have a moment to think about it because you three fucked up by getting caught. You attacked these people and you weren’t able to get away.” I gave them to the count of three. “Your moment’s over.”
I grabbed the blond one by his hair, dragged him as he scrambled to hold onto his scalp while hobbling backward with one functioning leg, the other bouncing over the uneven ground and causing him to shriek with every bump.
“Anka? I need your help, please.”
Anka – now as pale as a ghost in the full moon – followed.
