Cold Blooded

by Jackson Lear

  Zara rose. Dusted her hands. “Let’s go.”

  I pointed the vanguard to the far door. “Our gear should be through there. Down a staircase. Zara and I are going after Alysia.”

  We broke apart, the five members of the vanguard briefly searching the nobles for any weapon before Jarmella hurried them into action. Zara and I ran back the way we came.

  Boots stormed behind us, forcing us down one corridor and to a flight of stairs with incoming grunts from above. Zara threw herself against the wall beside the opening. I did the same. The first sword emerged. Northern. I ran my chisel through the bearer’s throat. Zara did the same with Elizandria’s dagger. The northerner shuddered, his muscles squeezing tightly while momentum propelled him forward. He staggered on the last step, falling, instinctively twisting to the side to brace himself against the impact.

  Shouts of an attack bellowed into my ear as the next northerner skittered to a stop, swinging down from the staircase with his sword and swiping to the side while I kept him busy. Zara scooped up the fallen cub’s sword, skewered our new attacker in the shin. He howled in agony, the cut driving cleanly through his calf muscle. Zara snapped her sword up, nicked his attacking hand. I caught him in the gut. She got him in the thigh. Both twisted. Both wrenched our weapons away. The cub behind thumped his friend forward with little regard for his wellbeing. I drove the chisel into the dying man’s throat. Twisted. Gathered up his sword and wondered who would give me a third weapon.

  Zara and I feinted a retreat, drawing the cub into pursuit. She turned first. The cub skidded forward. Zara ducked, scythed through the air and swung upwards on the return. The cub dodged her first attack, recoiled from the second, and found my new sword hurling towards his face in a haphazard throw.

  It thumped him side-on, a nice nick just beside his nose as he brought both arms up in a cross to block the attack. Zara skewered him an inch from his balls, striking his femoral artery. She pulled back. The cub hissed and hobbled away, his leg going numb and unable to hold much of his weight. Just as he realized that this was his end he drew in a deep furious breath – a death knell spell rising forth. I threw my chisel at his face. He shuddered, eyes closed, blocking himself once again and giving Zara the opportunity to ram her sword into the underside of his chin, straight through his tongue, and slicing all the way into his tonsils.

  I retrieved my chisel, handed the cub’s sword to Zara, took one for myself, and charged up the helix staircase. “It’s no longer a diplomatic mission!”

  Zara whistled a quick burst of a bird’s call, a signal to the vanguard in case they could miraculously hear her.

  We reached Alysia’s floor. The bear and three of his cubs were barreling down the corridor, racing towards us and Alysia’s room.

  Outside a thunderous BOOM lifted us off our feet. Our mages had obliterated the door to the dungeon. The vanguard were about to storm the castle.

  War cries flooded the grounds, rising through the narrow windows with shrieks of mayhem and murder echoing all around us.

  The half-bearded bear was going to reach Alysia’s room first. He slowed, his cubs still racing towards us. Two with axes. One with a sword.

  I bellowed a warning to Alysia and charged forward. One of the cubs fired off a spell, knocking my ankle out from under me and dropping me into a belly flop. Another threw his ax at me, it arcing through the air and striking my arm. I felt the slice shear through my armor and send warm blood towards my elbow.

  Zara leapt over me. Engaged with the cubs. I got back to my feet. “Stay to the right!”

  She shifted over. I ducked and sliced into the cub’s boot, using my chisel hand to block the next attack. Swiped again at the other foot, skewered his heel. He didn’t even realize the hit but his balance certainly did.

  “Forward!” I shouted, driving Zara through the narrow corridor. Our cub hobbled back, expected to land easily and couldn’t, now flailing about as we pushed him back. He slipped, dropping to one knee. I ran my sword straight through his temple. Couldn’t retrieve it easily. Left it in his head. Scooped up his sword instead.

  Zara lunged at the other two and stepped back, feinting and provoking, concentrating an attack one, two, three to the middle of the corridor. The cub finally fell for the routine and swiped for where Zara should’ve been exposed, but Zara had it covered. The moment the cub lunged Zara did the same, throwing her body against the wall and pinning his ax hand against the brickwork. Rammed her sword straight up into the cub’s throat, tongue, and head.

  I stepped into the opening. The final cub was a whirlwind of frenzied panic, hacking and swiping with two small axes and a reach greater than mine. But there was a pattern. I lunged. Missed. He recognized it too and pulled back to protect his hands on the next swipe, but I got him. Sheared two of his fingers clean off at the knuckles. His ax remained. His grip still tight. I crashed my sword into his ax. Slowed his momentum down, stabbed his hand again with my chisel. The ax fell from his grasp. I stabbed again and again, severe wounds to his hand and doing whatever I could to scare him. I kicked at his knee. Hooked it. Knocked him off balance. He fell into a lunge while I pulled away. Zara knocked his ax to the side, kicked him in the face. He lunged again, catching her foot in a tight grip and wrenching her off her feet. He slammed his forehead into her leg while Zara yelped, twisted, snapped both legs around his torso as she tried to find a choking point. I crunched down on the cub’s weapon hand. Drove my chisel through his padded shoulder, into his heart, skewered him again into his lungs. His strength at holding on was downright impressive. He punched at Zara, getting a couple of decent hits considering his near death situation.

  The bear finally unlocked the door to Alysia’s room.

  “Get him!” shouted Zara.

  I ran forward.

  “Arras!” shrieked Alysia, shredding the bear’s ax hand down to the bone.

  I reached the doorway. The bear made a grab for her, either as a human shield or to be used as a hostage.

  “Arras!” Her next spell broke the bear’s hand apart, bursting his out-stretched palm. She ducked. He swung down with the back of his ax, thumping her to the ground as she tried to dive under him.

  The room was too narrow to get any decent kind of movement. I jabbed forward, connected with the bear’s back and skewered his thick hide armor and mountain of furs. He turned, swung his ax across as I yelped out of the way. It slammed into the wall, pulverizing the brick and mortar into dust before he swung again in a berserker rage as he crashed his ax from side to side until the blade snapped and shattered, leaving him with a club which he had no problem wielding.

  I spluttered a spell – one of the cruelest I had ever used on a human, but he left me with no choice. One of his enraged eyeballs burst like a phlegmy sneeze. His club slammed from one side of the wall into the next, a delayed reaction as the pain had yet to register. Then the realization began to trickle in; it wasn’t just some shrapnel that he had to wipe away. Nor could he open his eye again.

  Zara ran in, grabbed onto Alysia. Pulled her to safety.

  I targeted the bear’s other eye, damaging it sufficiently to break the iris. He continued advancing, swinging his club and roaring with venomous rage.

  “Pull back!” Zara shouted.

  A wise idea, considering there was no way I was getting within stabbing range of the berserker and his club. I pulled the door closed as I ran; Zara in the lead, Alysia behind her, me in the rear. Two of us drenched in blood, all of us leaping over a pile of bodies.

  “What happened?” huffed Alysia.

  “Someone’s killed half the nobles and are framing us,” I said.

  We reached the stairwell. Isparian shouts and bellows ran through the corridors. Clinks of metal and boots and shields and bows.

  Loken spun, his sword drawn, a look of unbridled focus on his face as the rest of the vanguard behind him were quickly arming themselves from Jarmella’s dungeon crawl. “My lady!”

  Alysia hurried towards him. “Get
us out of here!”

  An bone-shattering roar broke through the mayhem. Human. Male. Someone in a blind rage. Draegor. It was enough to freeze the entire vanguard.

  I held one hand out to Jarmella. “Who has my blade?”

  She passed it over. I wiped the last of the fire-ant paste from the handle and unsheathed it. Oh, it felt good to be properly armed once again.

  “We have to go,” whispered Alysia.

  I held one hand out to keep Alysia at bay. “When you met with Draegor did he give you any kind of indication that someone was using him as a puppet? That he might become an ally?”

  “No. Why?”

  I locked in on the roar. Downstairs, no question. Nudged Alysia into Loken’s grasp. “If I don’t get back to you in time, leave without me.”

  Alysia reeled around. “Where the hell are you going?”

  “To break the alliance.”

  “What? No!”

  I gave Alysia and Zara one last fleeting look. Turned. Ran.

  Alysia shrieked after me. “Raike! No! Not like this!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Draegor’s roar wasn’t far away. I flew down the stairs, stopping at every corridor and doorway to make sure I wasn’t about to run straight into a spear. Then a dull thum shuddered me to a stop. The whole castle seemed to thump, cough, and wheeze, showering one wall with clouds of dust and debris.

  An explosion. If not from a physical blast then certainly from something magical. Whatever it was it came from deep within the ground, a dungeon or secret passage buried below the castle.

  Northern bellows ricocheted through the corridor, forward and back, spinning me around. I needed a clue, a lucky break, anything that would guide me towards my moving target.

  A sickeningly wet shriek of metal, skull, and blood saved me. The great hall. I peered around the corner. The King of Vasslehün stormed inside, single-handedly fighting three mercenaries; an ax in one hand, a flail in the other. He swung, clobbering one fool in the temple and dropping him in an instant. The other two fell back defensively as Draegor charged forward, swinging with berserker rage. They checked, dodged, tried to get him with a jab here and there but they were too cautious and Draegor didn’t give a shit about getting injured. Silver coins dropped from the purses of both mercenaries, tinkling against the stone floor as Draegor wailed about, throwing his full weight into each attack. He swung his flail low, obliterating one man’s ankle. Swung high as the fool fell and cracked him across the side of his head, his neck folding back like a door flying open in a storm. Draegor threw his ax into the third mercenary’s chest. The young man brought his sword and light shield in towards him, cowering, and blocking his eyes from the attack. He realized his mistake only when it was too late. Draegor snapped his flail around the mercenary’s body, striking his spine and breaking it in half. The mercenary cried out, the rest of his silver coins spilling onto the floor. Draegor lifted his oversized ax and wailed again and again and again on the mercenary’s shield, battering the guy’s arm into submission until the shield broke. The mercenary’s eyes screamed with scorching fear as Draegor slammed his ax blade deep into his chest, breaking every rib and leaving his weapon imbedded in the cavity like he had been chopping firewood and wanted to leave his ax in the stump for safe keeping.

  The mercenary shuddered his final breath, a slow death even with half of his organs now a puddled mess. His fingers twitched, reaching for the ax handle, maybe hoping that he still had a chance, until Draegor lifted his flail and slammed the pointed ball into the mercenary’s face. Blood exploded outwards, carpeting everything around him.

  Draegor heaved. Sniffed. Wrenched his ax free from the mercenary’s chest. Strode over to the main table. Thumped the ax on top. Kept the flail in one hand. Poured himself a gallon of wine from his skin, and guzzled himself stupid.

  If that was vampire blood then not only was the fucker fueling himself up for another frenzied attack, he was healing himself as well.

  I glanced over the great hall. Fourteen dead bodies. Three with swords. Two workable shields. Glass bottles. Tankards. Tripping hazards. Slick patches. An exit through the main door to my right. A narrow exit through the side door that Draegor had fought his way through. Possibly more bodies, weapons, and shields down that way, but also equally likely that a usable passageway down below had suffered a cave-in after the thunderous boom. Not sure. Didn’t really want to find out while fighting for my life.

  Draegor turned, our eyes catching. He flicked his tankard across the room with such force that it flattened the fine metal trim like it had just been crushed by a vise. The remains of the king’s drink trickled through his beard.

  I hurled an ax straight for him. He snapped it out of the air and threw it back. It bounced off the corridor wall behind me. I dove after it. Scooped it up. Threw it back. Draegor knocked it out of the way with an arcing wrist as he stormed after me, a flail dangling by his side in one hand and his four-foot double headed ax now in the other.

  His voice cracked with venomous anger. A spell – one that skittered me towards him with surprising speed. I grabbed onto the doorway just as Draegor began his first swing. Kicked my legs out of the way as he slammed his flail into the ground, the tiles shattering beside me and coughing with dust. He slammed with the ax, stepping closer, then with the flail, closer still, as I scrambled to my feet.

  I bounced off the corridor wall, somewhat protected from the whirlwind attack until Draegor fired another spell at me. I was wrenched off my feet and thumped in the ribs with the flail. My leather armor wasn’t enough to save me, not from the catastrophic impact or the instant winding as a white-out daze took a hold of me.

  I crumpled to the ground at Draegor’s feet, shoved my blade towards his thigh and got lucky, but his ax was still slamming towards me. He fired off the last of his spell – I fired off the opposite – and we both flew across the room in the same direction. I face-planted into his ax, catching my cheek, and managed to find an opening in his armpit. I rammed my blade in just as he twisted away, driving my steel two inches deep before he broke the attack. He swung his flail-fist at me, punching me in the face, releasing his grip and snagging the back of my hair. I cried out as he snapped my neck back. I stabbed and stabbed and stabbed at his elbow, slicing a couple of strikes on his armor until a usually-quiet voice screamed at me to swivel and kick his face. I thumped his jaw and nose with my heel, again and again. He brought his ax up, ready to drop it onto me. I caught his wrist and ax-hand, wrestling it into a locked position as I kicked once more. He released my hair to protect his face. I found his flail. Whammed him in the side of the head with it. He shuddered, rolling away from me as I rolled after him, striking him in the shoulder, hip, then knee with haphazard strikes.

  He launched himself back to his feet – still blindingly fast with the vampire blood dulling the pain. I hurled a bottle of southern wine at him, and another, then a bowl, a cup, a tankard, all to no avail as he collected his ax and thundered towards me. I smashed two more bottles on the ground in front of me and scrambled out of there. He slipped on the wine – barely an inch but enough to throw off his balance.

  I ran, straight for the corridor, wanting out of this fight as much as possible. Draegor barreled after me, building up speed despite a cacophony of wounds. I latched onto the corridor doorway as I ran past, yanking myself to a stop.

  Draegor stormed forward, expecting me to be at least ten feet from where I actually was.

  I spun back, dropped, and scythed my blade across his stomach. He dropped his ax towards me. I knocked my elbow against the strike, feeling a lightning bolt of agony numb my forearm in an instant as I scrambled back.

  Draegor was blocking the corridor. But he was also moving slower. Lumbering. Like he had finally drunk one too many gulps of wine and could no longer see straight. He grunted, clutching his gut as he slumped one foot forward. I kept my distance. Checked the crimson mark left behind on my blade. Four inches.

  I lingered, waiting fo
r Draegor to lose his strength before making another move, but I couldn’t stay forever.

  Draegor swung as I reached him. It tore his wound open more, causing him to hiss and grimace with the pain. I ducked out of his grasp and drove my blade into the side of his knee. Twisted. He crashed against the wall and slipped to the ground, practically flopping on top of me. He grabbed onto my shoulder, a vice-like grip as he tried to pull himself towards me, opening his mouth like a lunatic about to bite my face off.

  He jolted to a stop, his eyes frozen wide with rage. Then they faded, losing focus as his fingers flexed, releasing their grip.

  I pushed him off me, drew my blade from the back of his neck, skewered him again in the throat just to be sure. Twisted. Flicked up. Draegor’s body slackened on the cold castle floor, the pool of blood finding a path through the cracks and tile edges.

  I dragged myself to my feet. Any other human would’ve gone down in no time at all, but this fucker was higher than anyone I had ever seen before. High but still fully functioning. I padded his waist. Found an embroidered skin. Sniffed it. Gagged. Swigged. Gagged a little more but forced it back down. He had nice gloves. Now they were my nice gloves.

  I took the purses of silver from the mercenaries. All were fully loaded like they had just been handsomely paid. I wanted to kick the stuffed Vasslehün bear over for good measure but I was out of time. I downed more of the king’s blood wine, took one last look at my foe, and hobbled out of there before our longboat sailed off without me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I limped down the stairs outside the main building of the castle, my arm bleeding, my ribs aching, my lungs about to burst. It wasn’t hard to find the choke point or the vanguard in all of this mess. They were pinned into a courtyard, surrounded on three sides by cubs and mercenaries, all hurling spells, bottles of shattering liquid or Galinnean Fire, and pelting the troops with arrows and chunks of rock.