by Jess Lebow
In the clearing space, Liam could see Shyressa again. She opened her arms, letting Knoblauch’s body fall lifeless to the ground. Lifting a finger to her lips, she pushed a stray drop of the man’s blood back into her mouth.
Ryder didn’t hesitate. He ran right for her. His electrically charged chain circled over his head, lighting up the night with a purplish glow. Then it came down, discharging as it slapped against Shyressa’s flesh and plunging the streets of Furrowsrich again into darkness.
The electrical energy played over the vampire’s frame, but if it did her any harm, she didn’t show it.
“Is that it?” taunted the vampire. She grabbed Ryder by the chains wrapped across his chest and pulled him close to her. “I told you this wasn’t over.”
Ryder ducked out of the metal links, sloughing off the chains and escaping the vampire’s grip. His makeshift armor rattled to the ground.
“Come back here,” shouted the Rune Mistress. She grabbed hold of Ryder’s ducked head, one hand on each side of his face and lifted him onto his tiptoes. “Your blood will be the sweetest of all.” Distending her mouth, she plunged her teeth into his exposed neck.
“Yie, yie, yie, yie, yie!” The ululating cry came from behind the ancient vampire, and the woman who had ridden out of Zerith Hold with Ryder sprang onto Shyressa’s back.
She was smaller than the withered creature of the night, but she was fast, and her curved blade struck Shyressa hard, sliding lengthwise down her spine. The blow would have severed a normal woman in two. As it was, the vampire let out a terrific wail, pulling her teeth from Ryder’s neck and letting go of his face. His body fell limply to the ground, and Shyressa’s screeching turned into an ear-splitting howl.
The leaves on the trees shook, and the hairs on the back of Liam’s neck stood on end. His skin felt cold, and the night seemed to grow darker.
Shyressa’s body collapsed in on itself, and she leaned forward, putting her hands on the ground. Her gown changed into a thick coat of fur, and her face grew a long nose and two pointed ears.
The vampire had transformed herself into a dire wolf.
The creature growled, saliva dripping from its lips. Shyressa howled once again, a long spine-rattling sound that jangled the nerves. All around, the noise grew, filling the air. The Crimson Awl, every last one of them, paused amidst the fighting and howled along with their mistress.
When it had finished, the dire wolf turned toward Liam and leaped. He dropped to one knee, guarding his head with his arms. But it didn’t matter. The creature was over him and gone, dashing off into the shadows, its spawn following right behind it.
EPILOGUE
It was a sad day.
“May he find rest in the afterlife …”
It was the day of Ryder’s funeral.
“May we all find it in our hearts to forgive him for his mistakes …”
Liam stood with his head bowed, his arms around Samira. The rest of the village had come out. So too had a contingent from Zerith Hold. A unit of elite guardsmen stood at attention while Baron Purdun himself presided over the ritual.
“But most of all, may we always remember Ryder of Duhlnarim for his bravery, honor, and courage in Ahlarkham’s greatest time of need.”
The baron finished his speech, and the casket holding Ryder’s body was lowered into the ground.
People formed a line and took turns putting shovels full of dirt on top of the casket, saying their final goodbyes to a man they all knew and loved. It was a ritual Liam had never really understood until now. He was glad to be able to do one last favor for his brother, glad to be able to say good-bye even if Ryder couldn’t hear him.
Once he had taken his turn, Liam grabbed hold of Samira’s arm and the two of them began walking back toward the village.
Someone put a hand on Liam’s shoulder.
“Excuse me,” said a young woman.
Liam turned around to look into the beautiful brown eyes of the woman who had accompanied Ryder, the same woman who had mortally wounded Shyressa only two nights before.
“Your name is Liam, right?” she asked.
Liam nodded. “Yes.”
The young woman smiled sadly. “My name is Giselle.” She offered Liam her hand.
“You’re Ryder’s friend,” said Samira.
Giselle nodded. “Was.” She looked as if she might cry.
Liam pulled a handkerchief out of his pants and handed it to Giselle, but she shook her head.
“No, thank you,” she said. “I’ll be fine.” She lifted her chin, gritted her teeth, and cleared the tears from her eyes. She smiled again. “But there is something you could do for me.”
Liam looked at Samira, then back at Giselle. “Any friend of Ryder’s is a friend of mine,” he said. “What can I help you with?”
“I was thinking that I might like to stay around here, in Duhlnarim,” explained Giselle. “And I thought maybe you could put in a good word for me with the baron. Thought maybe I could join up with the elite guard.”
“What about your friends?” asked Samira. “The ones who came with you to our home?”
Giselle smiled. “They have their path, and I have mine,” she said. “Most of them have returned north, to the Giant’s Plain. Some will no doubt find trouble in other parts.”
Liam put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure the baron would be happy to have you,” he said. “Come. I’ll introduce you to him right now.”
In the dark of the night, a lone figure walked into the graveyard outside of Furrowsrich. It didn’t have a torch or a lantern. It didn’t need one. All it carried was a length of rope and a shovel as it walked through the rows of tombstones, looking at each of the names.
The figure stopped over a fresh grave. This one didn’t have a tombstone. It hadn’t been placed yet. All there was to mark the location was a plank of wood with the name “Ryder” burned into it.
The figure smiled and dropped the rope on the ground. Then, placing the head of the shovel into the fresh dirt, the figure began to dig.
The figure stopping digging when it reached the wood of the casket. When it found the edges, it got down into the grave and finished the job with its bare hands, carefully removing the dirt little by little, uncovering the casket as if it were a priceless artifact.
Grabbing the rope, the figure attached it to the handles on the edge of the casket and climbed out of the hole. Then, with the free end, it began to pull, slowly, carefully dragging the coffin to the surface.
At the top, the figure lifted the lid and peered inside.
“Rise, child,” the figure said in a hollow, wispy voice. “Your master awaits you.”
Inside the coffin, Ryder’s body sat up straight. He lifted himself to his feet. “Where am I to meet her?”
“In the tombs outside Dajaan. Near the Deepwash,” said the figure. “Do not keep Shyressa waiting, or you will find that there are far worse things in this world than death.”
In the far corner of the graveyard another man, this one invisible, turned and walked toward Zerith Hold. “Yes. Just as I thought,” said Curtis to himself. “Yes, yes. This might be a problem.”
About the Author
Jess Lebow wonders about stuff a lot. For example, he wonders when someone is going to invent a handheld device that will include a cell phone, an MP3 player, a camera, a voice recorder, a PDA, and a wireless videogame system. He wonders this because right now he carries around too much stuff. Jess is currently working at ArenaNet designing and writing the story for the PC game Guild Wars. He hopes to continue to do this for some time, and by the looks of things, he just might. Master of Chains is his fourth novel.
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