Cold Blooded

by Jackson Lear

  “And now we are potentially running for our lives because you called attention to us.”

  “No question there.”

  “I thought you were the type who prefers to sneak through the shadows.”

  “I am.”

  “So why stand in the full light of day and declare yourself to an enemy who outnumbers you? We still had our guide.”

  “Because we need sailors.”

  “It won’t do us any good if they catch us before we reach the mountain,” said Jarmella. “The only reason Draegor’s cavalry would take a chance at coming after us is because they think our numbers are worse than they actually are. That’s not a good thing. They will blunder into a fight because they are confident of winning and will soon find themselves in a desperate situation because we outnumber them. You need to always give your enemy a way out unless you intend to slaughter them completely. If they have no hope of escaping they will fight to the death instead of fighting to scare us off. We’ve already lost twelve people since this whole mess began. We can’t lose any more.”

  “I know. So I gambled. The northerners were about to desert us and that would’ve forced us the long way around.”

  “The safer way around.”

  “Nothing is safe this far north.”

  “Everyone here is injured! Even you. You took a dagger through the chest and I doubt you can fight well with that wrist of yours. Half of us are limping with fresh stitches. The other half were trampled, bashed, knocked over, or kicked into the air by a rampaging vampire. They can’t breathe properly and you’re asking them to climb a mountain?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s insane. What about the raiders here with us? What happens when we’re halfway up the mountain and they turn on us?”

  “How many of them can you yourself take on?”

  Jarmella stumbled beside me. “Honestly? One and a half, but I was saving that spell for a special occasion.”

  “Then as long as we’re helping them enough they won’t want to turn on us.”

  “They don’t need to turn on us. They just need to get tired and discouraged like before, only they’ll leave us to fend for ourselves in a worse situation than down here and you won’t have any enemy riders to scare them into following you. The northerners will just disband and head back home anyway.”

  Bloody hell. All day it’s been threats of desertion and mutiny and one ball ache after another. “I don’t suppose Zara told you what’s up there?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Why? What are we about to walk into?”

  “If Zara or Loken didn’t tell you then there’s a good reason for it.”

  “Because we never intended to go up the mountain. What’s up there?”

  I checked over my shoulder to see who was in ear’s shot, then whispered. “The rest of Razoz’s friends.”

  Jarmella’s face turned in on itself. “We’re going another way.”

  “Easy. You and I each have a trophy from a dead vampire. One of us with a vampire sword? That’s a fluke. But two? That means we know how to deal with them. They know a lot about the locals but they don’t know much about us. Our allies are in a lot more danger without the vanguard. Without you and that sword we wouldn’t be able to scare off even a single vampire, but at least with you here they will think twice about attacking us.”

  “For fuck’s sake. You know we were perfectly fine getting to Ice Bridge on our own. You should’ve left us behind.”

  “I couldn’t. I’m a member of General Kasera’s house.”

  “We’re going another way. We’ll just have to endure a ransom to get Loken and Berik back as soon as we can.”

  Gaynun – one hundred yards behind – called out a cry to get our attention. He and Menrihk were back up a tree again, both focused to the south and firing off one desperate signal after another.

  Riders. And they were coming straight for us.

  “What does that mean?” asked Torunn.

  “It means they’re faster than us and we’re fucked,” said Jarmella. “Ivar! Magnus! Find a position and hold the line!” With a quick nod the two archers headed back the way we came, shoulders high and heads low, both ready for combat.

  Jarmella stared back at me, agonizing over several bad options – stay and fight and lose a lot of people; risk being enveloped by the rest of Draegor’s riders for taking the long way around and lose a lot of people; or scale the death trap of a snowy mountain and lose a lot of people.

  Adalyn prodded her into making a decision. “Jarmella?!”

  Jarmella shouted in return. “We’re going over the mountain! Everyone grab what you can and run like hell!” She sent me one last glare as she ran passed. “You’re responsible for anyone who dies up there.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  We ducked and weaved and ran through the thinning trees, onto an open stretch of land twenty yards across and up an incline that was getting steeper with every footfall. The injured staggered first, gasping a, “I can’t keep running.” Those carrying the stretchers failed next. Others took their place, still racing to beat Draegor’s cavalry as they rushed towards us.

  A horn blasted from behind, over and over to frighten anyone in the rider’s wake. A slaughter was coming, that much seemed certain, and the only thing stopping fifty of those bastards from reaching us were two imperial archers on a suicide mission.

  The sun set to our rear, the light snuffed out completely by the surrounding mountain peaks. The afternoon sky seemed to disappear almost in a blink, our vision shifting to shades of grey while the frenzied beasts of war chased after us still with a little light to guide their way.

  “To the left!” shouted Jarmella. The vanguard veered off the road. The northerners stumbled in surprise, unsure of what the hell was going on and if this was our last stand. Not quite. It was the final set of climbable trees before the mountain took over.

  “Gaynun, Menrihk – up!”

  The two spotters climbed, wrapped their legs around the trunks and locked their ankles, searching for any sign of movement.

  “Nothing but trees,” said Gaynun.

  “The mountain then. What can you see?”

  “I’m … not much of a mountain climber. There are trees, boulders, steep slopes … evidence of a couple of rockslides.”

  “Torunn, is this the pass?”

  Torunn staggered over, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Aye, this is one of the ways up.”

  For his sake he better not tell us that there were a dozen ones closer to Faersrock.

  The horn blasted again, a quick double burst in a repeating pattern.

  “What does that mean?” asked Jarmella.

  “They know where we are,” said Torunn.

  Ithka hurried back to us, scurrying to the trees alongside the path while pointing to the mountain. Torunn quizzed him.

  “He’s found the way up. It’s still clear.”

  Jarmella furrowed her eyebrows, maintaining a stern gaze for as long as possible. “If we walk along the coast, how long will it take us to reach Ice Bridge?”

  “Five days,” said Torunn.

  “You said it was five days this morning.”

  “Aye. You’ve been slow and we’ve gone away from fjord.”

  “How long will it take us if we go over the mountain?”

  “Three days.”

  “Is there anything to eat up there?”

  “Goats. Birds. Hares.”

  The cavalry horn blasted again. Everyone was still struggling to catch their breath.

  “Gods damn it,” muttered Jarmella. “Right. Up we go.”

  I’ve climbed stairs before. I’ve climbed up the side of buildings. I’ve been up trees and hauled myself along ropes suspended between two distant towers and had to wade through mud that sapped more of my strength than I ever thought was possible. But this … holy shit, it was awful. The way up Ithka had found began by us squeezing between two boulders which h
ad fallen from the top of the mountain. A couple of the larger men and one buxom woman couldn’t fit between them. We threw rope over the house-sized rocks and pulled these northerners up, burning more time than we desired but at least gaining a reasonable defense against the cavalry. Not so much of a defense against acrobatic vampires.

  The gravel-like pebbles left behind had compacted over time and gave us something to steady our grip. We hauled ourselves up along tree roots that jutted out of the ground as the trees themselves grew at a forty five degree angle. To our left and right were tufts of grass and thistles which became invisible in the failing light. Just about everyone had called for a lantern, right up until another blast from the cavalry horn forced us to climb up the side of the mountain in darkness, afraid of being spotted by the enemy below. How the hell Magnus and Ivar were going to find us was anyone’s guess.

  For once the vanguard were outpacing the northerners, their youthful bodies and regimented exercise beating the aging haggards easily. It was a sobering indication of what I faced in ten, certainly twenty years.

  Jarmella dropped to one knee. Searched the base of the mountain. “Menrihk?”

  “I don’t hear them.”

  Behind us, everyone else collapsed onto their backs, gasping for breath.

  “Two minutes, okay?” murmured Jarmella. “And rotate on the stretchers. Gaynun? Anything happening with the riders?”

  “No,” in more of a wheeze than spoken word.

  “When did you last check?”

  Gaynun grunted, rolled over, lifted the seeing rod to one eye. “Nothing’s happening with the riders.”

  Saskia started to murmur. “…mella …?”

  Jarmella staggered over. “I’m here.”

  “Please …”

  Jarmella rested her hand on Saskia’s forehead. “She’s freezing.”

  “Boiling …” Saskia said.

  Jarmella looked to me. “Give me your hand.”

  I held it out. Jarmella pressed the wrap of sapphire poison against Saskia. Saskia pulled back, retreating like she had been swabbed with lemon juice on an open cut.

  “She still has a pulse,” said Jarmella.

  “Vampires do. It’s slow and deathly faint but you do sometimes feel it. The young ones beat faster.”

  “She still feels human.”

  Saskia snapped at my hand. I yanked it back, unwilling to find out what would happen to me if I was bitten by something that had yet to completely turn.

  “We should kill her,” whispered Jarmella.

  “If we have any hope of getting Loken or Berik then we need the blood of a vampire to bring us back from the brink of death. We’re going to lose a lot of people if we don’t have her with us.”

  “She’s slowing us down.”

  I was in no mood to argue.

  “Fine. It’s your turn on her stretcher. You fall behind, it’s your fault. Vanguard? Time’s up.”

  The following two hours were about as pleasant as southern fever. Waves of heat and shivering cold killed our energy. Limbs turned numb. The scattering snowfall clouded our vision. You could see everyone’s breath hanging in the air. Everyone except for Saskia’s. She gasped and shuddered, jolting from side to side from a violent nightmare while Kilmur and I carried her. Kilmur had volunteered to help me. How kind of him.

  “Sir?”

  “Conserve your strength, Kilmur. You’re gonna need it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He conserved it for all of five minutes.

  “Is it true you and your company hunted down four vampires in Galinnia out of revenge?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you also saved Miss Kasera’s life from a mercenary ambush team in Torne?”

  “More or less.”

  “And that you also dined privately with Governor Gustali in his own mansion?”

  “I did.”

  Kilmur shook his head in bewilderment. “I know it’s not common, sir, but could I shake your hand?”

  “My hands are kinda busy right now.”

  “I know, but when we stop – could I?”

  “That depends. Berik is still in Brilskeep. He’s either dead or a prisoner. There’s a good chance the vampires aren’t there right now so we have some time to get him back before the cavalry we’re hunting returns with Loken – who will likely be turned into a vampire before the end of autumn and will surely know that we left Berik behind and that we might be trying to get him back. So my question is: What do you think we should do about Berik?”

  Judging by the lengthy silence and unsure tone, he seemed like he was desperately trying to find the answer I wanted to hear instead of saying what he truly believed. It was made all the worse because we were within ear shot of most of the vanguard. “We should rescue him.”

  “How?”

  “If we reach Ice Bridge in time we can ambush the cavalry and go in disguise back to Brilskeep. We capture any of the new guards we come across, question them quickly to find out if Berik is still alive and where he’s being held, and force them to take us to him.”

  “Is that what you would do or what you think I would do?”

  “… It’s what I would do.”

  “Language barrier aside, how many of us or our guides can ride horses well enough to pass for members of Draegor’s cavalry?”

  He fell quiet with that question. “What would you do, sir?”

  Several heads turned my way. “I’d like to find out who the new king is before figuring that out. And uncover whose been fucking with us.”

  Kilmur glanced around. “Someone’s been fucking with us?”

  “We were ambushed by a vampire, taunted by a seer who wasn’t found during a full castle raid, aided by a mercenary queen, and abandoned by a would-be king in the middle of his own town. Someone’s up to no good and have been using us to further some kind of plan of their own. I’d like to find out who and what it is.”

  Saskia hissed again, my wraps far too close to her head but she was too weak to do anything about it.

  “Loken’s dead, isn’t he, sir?”

  “Conserve your strength. We’re all going to have a rougher time than him.”

  Ithka came back with a message. “Torunn, uh … path … head.”

  “Torunn says there’s a path ahead?”

  Ithka gave me a quick nod. “Torunn says path head.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Torunn says vampire … membee.”

  “Maybe?”

  Jarmella staggered forward like her lungs were about to collapse. “Raike. Go up ahead and kill any vampire that comes our way. Odalis. Take Raike’s position with the stretcher. Wilbur. How much of their language do you understand?”

  “A few words.”

  “A few words out of everything they say?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go with Raike. Keep listening to whatever the northerners are saying in case it’s different to what we’re being told.”

  We followed Ithka to the front of the pack and enjoyed ten minutes of peace and quiet.

  “Sir?”

  “Unless you saw something that warrants a sword being drawn, knock it off.” Wilbur fell quiet. I silently thanked every god out there.

  Three days had passed since we were kidnapped. At best we had three more to go. I had to wonder if there was a new king already, and if they had just called for every raider in the land to immediately set sail for their ancient lands and reclaim it for the glory of his new kingdom.

  “Sir?”

  I stopped. Traced Wilbur’s point north of here.

  “Is that what you were talking about?”

  “Yeah. That qualifies.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jarmella lit a lantern, holding it at arm’s reach to illuminate the two bodies hanging from a tree. Naked, twisting slowly in the wind, the rope gnawing and cracking, the snow piled up on their shoulders. Their skin had shrunk, pulled inwards like they had been sucked of all fluids. Bite marks on their femo
ral artery, arms, wrists, and neck. Each puncture wound was surrounded by a dark green spread of decay, a toxin which must’ve helped to paralyze the man and woman.

  I looked to Torunn. “Does anyone know them?”

  He shook his head. Some of the northerners gestured with religious motions, took a deep breath, and let the bodies be.

  Jarmella pointed her chin towards the couple. “Adalyn?”

  “They’re … dead?”

  “Yeah, we need more than that.”

  “By vampires.”

  I trekked forward. Sword out, just in case. There was no need to check the bodies for any warmth. Even from twenty yards away it was obvious that they had been dead for at least a month. Up close I got a better idea of how many vampires had attacked them and how it happened. Scratches from nails raked across their bodies, a frenzy of ripping the clothes off these two as fast as they could. The woman’s arm looked broken at the elbow and wrist, her forehead banged up. Something slammed into her back, knocking her down as she ran. The man had taken a heavy impact against his shoulder. Also probably running. Also probably knocked over. Five sets of bite marks on him. Four on her. Canine marks closer to each other on three of the arms. I measured the marks with a finger against my own teeth. Got the feeling that three sets of teeth belonged to children.

  I called Adalyn over. “Can you open your mouth? I need to measure the distance of your teeth compared to these wounds?”

  “What? Why me?”

  “Because you’re little and have a sense of humor.”

  “So you’re just going to stick your finger in my mouth and measure my teeth?”

  “The distance between them, yes. Open up.”

  She glanced back to the crowd watching us. “I just want to make it clear that as far as foreplay goes this is … different.” She opened her mouth. Stared at the twisting bodies in case they jumped at her. And might’ve been tempted to snap at my finger.