Cold Blooded

by Jackson Lear

  “Thank you.”

  “Yeah, sure. Anything else you plan on measuring while I’m here?”

  “Torunn? I need to borrow Ithka for a moment.”

  Adalyn kept one eye on me and the other on the bodies. “This is getting weird.”

  Sure enough, three sets of bite marks were smaller than both Adalyn and Ithka’s. Potentially nine vampires. Three youngsters who probably didn’t have much strength in them but they didn’t need it if they were fast. The remaining six belonged to adults. I found only one puncture wound on the necks, that one belonging to the woman. The man’s throat was untouched. Perhaps there was a hierarchy among the vampires – the leader got the neck, drank their fill, and told everyone else to leave the neck of the man alone. A waste, clearly, but maybe that was intentional to keep everyone else in line.

  I pulled Saskia over to see if she could offer any insight into the victims. She remained locked in a state of nausea, eyelids half open, groaning, not responding to any external stimuli.

  “She’s turning,” whispered Jarmella.

  “We have time.”

  I looked to the northerners. “Does anyone know of any children vampires in the area?”

  The buxom woman nodded and regaled us in broken Isparian with a horror story. If children in Vasslehün wandered off they were abducted. Sometimes the parents went mad and wandered off as well to find them. Sometimes they were set upon by vampires and the parents later hunted and turned their own kids so they could stay together as a happy family. Sometimes it was the kids who turned their parents. Either way it seemed like it was merely a tale with no solid details.

  “Korla,” muttered one of the northerners.

  I nodded with them. “Korla.” Turned to the vanguard. “They died a month ago. The only footprints here are ours and there’s no obvious sign of any vampire being nearby.”

  Gaynun searched the surrounding area with his seeing rod.

  “Anything?” asked Jarmella.

  “Maybe. Two blobs are moving along our tracks a few miles back. Might be Magnus and Ivar.”

  “Do you see bows or packs on them?”

  “From this distance and in this light I see blobs.”

  Jarmella said: “All right. Everyone? If you haven’t done so already, start charging your best attack spell. We’re gonna need them.”

  The northerners formed a quick huddle. Started pointing this way and that. Lots of whispering. Impossible to make out from this distance were it not for Menrihk looking fairly obvious with his hand planted against his ear and a bronze wire pointed at our guides.

  “They’re talking about food. A little about vampires.”

  The archers twirled their bows, peering across the flat stretch of mountain which may actually allow us to catch our breath.

  “Nothing about us?” asked Jarmella.

  “Nothing pleasant. A couple of ‘fuck ‘em’s, I think. I don’t know. Lindum was the translator.”

  “I can have a go,” said Odalis, stepping up.

  Jarmella held back a yawn as the long hours drained her.

  “I grew up near Lietsmar,” said Odalis.

  “So did Menrihk.”

  “No harm in trying,” said Odalis.

  Jarmella’s yawn finally came out. “You each have five minutes to prove your worth. Odalis first.”

  Disgruntled at losing his new job, Menrihk passed the listening wire to Odalis.

  All four northern archers set off at a quick pace, one pair moving north, the other east.

  I turned to Jarmella. “I need a favor.”

  She arched an eyebrow. Practically asleep on her feet, waiting for me to get on with it.

  “The people we’re with know Agnarr better than we do. I don’t expect them to explicitly tell me where he went last night or what he had planned for us but some of them might be in on it. I need your help to find out who we should distrust.”

  She spied me carefully.

  “Who of them we should distrust.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Who’s your best hunter?”

  “Dalo.”

  “Someone who doesn’t have a broken leg.”

  “You really want to show up Agnarr’s people by sending some of ours to hunt in the dark?”

  “Can our people do it?”

  Jarmella paused, half relieved that we might be able to have to cooked meat that night, half frustrated that we still had fifty miles of climbing up and down a mountain to go. “Leif? Arvid? It’s competition time. You are to come back with the exact same number of animals as the northern hunters.”

  Leif and Arvid stared back at Jarmella. “How are we going to know their exact number?”

  “I don’t know. Cheat if you have to.”

  “All right, but …”

  “No ‘but’s. Just make it happen.”

  The two archers didn’t seem all that confident, yet with a quick nod they set off to claim our dinner.

  “Any more favors?” asked Jarmella.

  The four northern hunters returned carrying three hares and looked pretty pleased with themselves. It wasn’t anywhere near enough food to feed all of us or even all of them but even so it was damn impressive. Then Leif and Arvid ballsed it up by returning with a goat. Members of the vanguard practically cheered. The northerners sat in a quiet glare, muttering to themselves about the southerners using trickery to prove their worth.

  “I said the exact same number,” whispered Jarmella.

  “We tried. We caught this thing in ten minutes and had to wait for them to catch up. It took them an hour to actually land something and by then every crunch in the snow sounded like a vampire sneaking up on us. We can put it back if you like.”

  “No, just … skin it, spit it, you know the drill.”

  I lifted the goat’s head before they could carry the whole thing away. Noticed a tingle of static energy ripple through the creature’s fur. One of them must’ve stunned the goat from afar to give the other a perfect shot with the bow. Not exactly a waste of magic but an expensive hunt nonetheless.

  Our two camps got to work on a pair of enclosed fires, our side by digging a hole and surrounding it with packs, the northerners by stomping on the snow to compact it and building a narrow trench to push the wind in, through, and away from the fire. Jarmella looked on, gave the order to re-set the logs and replicate the northern approach. The troops grumbled. Did it anyway.

  An hour later I offered half of a goat steaks to the famished northerners, targeting the six who had aided us in carrying our injured on stretchers. “Thank you for your help.” They shared it around. I waved to an empty space on the ground. “May I?” Was given permission to sit. Waited until the guilt of polishing off three hares between them became an issue. Ithka was elected to apologize to the vanguard for having nothing to bring them as a peace offering.

  We sat in silence while they ate, them no doubt wondering what I wanted from them, me waiting to see if any of them were going to press me for southern secrets.

  The blacksmith was the first to approach. His foul attitude from Faersrock had faded but was far from gone. He stood still in front of me with his hands by his side, waiting patiently. I waved him to the spot next to me. He sat. Thumped his chest. “Yahnson.”

  “Raike.” He nodded to Razoz’s sword. Held one hand out. I gave him a moment to consider the consequences of him trying to use it against me. Before I handed it over I gestured between us. “In Faersrock with Anka you …”

  He dipped his head and tried to fumble along with a lot of hand movements, but he didn’t make it ten seconds before becoming flustered. “Torunn!”

  Torunn ambled over. “Aye?” He listened. “He’s not apologizing.”

  “Good.”

  That seemed to surprise them both.

  “I was being a dick and you were busy.”

  Torunn hesitated before translating. Again they were both surprised. Someone else interjected. “He wants to know why you’re bringing the
vampire with you.”

  “Because my people need to learn how vampires work. How long it takes to transform, what it looks like, what it sounds like, and how to kill them.”

  “They killed one already.”

  “I expect they’ll need to kill more before we reach Ice Bridge.”

  Nervous looks passed between them.

  “She’s a problem,” said Yahnson, through Torunn.

  “She will be, yes. But she’ll also be able to see in the dark and hear better than any of us. She’ll know if people are hiding behind trees. She’ll find tracks that we can’t see and she will be able to find a safe path because of how the animals behave in the distance.”

  Torunn shook his head. “Why would she help you?”

  “Because this will be exciting for her and she will be eager to see what she can do with her new powers.”

  That unnerved the northerners. I unsheathed my new sword. Held it out to Yahnson. Kept my grip loose over my blade. Braced myself to both fire off a spell and be hit by one as well. The blacksmith inspected the vampire sword with great care. Muttered with surprise.

  I smiled in response. “Yeah. Korla.”

  The northerners chuckled. Yahnson returned the sword. Nodded with approval.

  “He said it’s lighter than he expected.”

  “Is it magical?”

  They shook their heads. Shame.

  “You know what ‘korla’ means?” asked Torunn.

  “Pretty much. You guys say it a lot.”

  “Well … aye. Draegor is a korla. Mother of my wife is a korla. Agnarr is sometimes a korla. Sea is definitely a korla.”

  “And you never say it to their faces?”

  “You can try, but never call mother of your wife a korla in front of your wife. Very bad.”

  “Even if she deserves it?”

  “If she deserves being called a korla, you deserve punch in face. You might forget punch. She won’t forget you calling her a korla.”

  “Got it.”

  They settled. Munched on some goat. It was an agony staying still as the hours slipped away from us. We had already lost more time than we could afford and couldn’t waste any more, not if we hoped to ambush Draegor’s cavalry before they reached thousands of their allies. Unfortunately I was burdened with two groups of volunteers who were already at their limit.

  Another northerner came over. Buxom. She was missing her bottom two front teeth. Spoke decent Isparian, even with her lisp. “You have wife?”

  “No, thank you. You’re very nice, though, but no.”

  “Why not? You very handsome man. You should have wife.”

  “Maybe one day.”

  “Of course one day! Wives are good. Keep you warm inside and out.” She got a few murmurs, the kind of ‘give it a rest.’ She fired back with a quick, ‘fuck you, I’m talking here.’ The pestering started to get too much so with a lengthy, ‘aye aye aye, I’m going,’ she held out one hand. “Stassa.” She pointed to the wilderness beside us. “You want to …?”

  I smiled back at her. “Why me?”

  “You kill Draegor.”

  “He was dead when I found him.”

  “Aye, you say that. Your Lady Kasera say that. Torunn say you kill Draegor.”

  Torunn shrugged it off. I had to shake my head at Stassa. “Next time.”

  Stassa blew out a long, disappointed sigh and retreated back to the other side of the fire, shaking her hips a little more prominently than usual and getting some catcalls as a result. She sat, jostled her breasts and seemed to snap back at the fellas surrounding her, saying: ‘This is as close to them as you will ever get.’ She finished it up with a decent wink back my way.

  Yahnson leaned over. Torunn translated. “You do not want a wife where you are from?”

  “Finding the right one can be hard.”

  “How can you not find a woman? Mine lived across the road. Very easy to find. She said I should marry her so I did. There. Wife.”

  “Getting married was really that easy?”

  “Well … not first night,” muttered Yahnson.

  “First time problems?”

  “No, I had done that many times. And with her. But getting married here, your first night … you know.”

  “I don’t know, actually.”

  Yahnson gestured to Torunn in a ‘you tell him’ move. “The, uh … m-mothers of wife and husband need to be there that night to make sure it’s … uh …” Torunn did the finger in the hole trick. Chuckles rang through the circle of spectators.

  “Consummated?”

  “Aye. So if you call the mother of your wife a korla it can be a problem because she has seen you … uh … disappointing her daughter.”

  “And this happens to everyone?”

  “Everyone.”

  “Is it lucky then if their mother is dead?”

  “No. We find new mother for that night. Or father.”

  “Wait, you mean there’s a chance that I’d have to have sex with my new wife in front of her mother or father?”

  “Yes. Otherwise you are not married.”

  “There are fur rugs over the top of us, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “So all they’ll really see are our shoulders.”

  “And your faces.”

  “Oh.”

  “And they might be talking to each other while you’re doing it.”

  “Right.”

  “And you keep going until both of you are not disappointed.”

  “With my mother and her mother talking beside me?”

  “Yes. So very lucky if their mothers are still alive but not their fathers.”

  I needed a deep breath to get the visual out of my head. “You have interesting customs up here.”

  He grinned again. “You have children?”

  “No. People who pay protection money have wives and children. People who collect do not.”

  It took him a moment to connect everything together. “You are a black market man?”

  “Mercenary.”

  “Mercenaries can have wives.”

  “Of course. And then they pay protection money so that nothing happens to them.”

  “No one in your people was married?”

  “Some were, and many times. They lived nearby in their own place. They’d come in and complain about their wives and kids and soon all their stories sounded like the stories of merchants and traders and tailors and everyone else.”

  “Maybe they’re happy.”

  “Maybe.”

  Yahnson cocked his head to one side. “You don’t want a family?”

  “I’ve heard the complaints.”

  “Yes, there are complaints. There’s also lots of laughter.”

  “I was a complaint. And I didn’t grow up with laughter.”

  “So you will drink, gamble, fight, steal, and kill until you die?”

  I shrugged it off. “I’m a simple man.”

  “No, that sounds complicated.”

  “You left out ‘women.’”

  He spread his arms out wide with a big ol’ grin. “Well, of course you’re going to have women! And then you find one you think about more often than you should and hope she thinks about you as well, then you get married and be like everyone else.”

  The heat in my veins began to rise. “I’m starting to understand the meaning of ‘korla.’”

  He clapped me on the shoulder. “Good. Use it wisely.”

  The conversation fell into a lull. The fire popped. I looked back to Torunn. “Is it true about Draegor’s witch?”

  A chill fell among them all. “You saw her.”

  “I did. Is she really that scary?”

  He grumbled back at me. “She doesn’t sleep. She speaks with dead more than living. She drinks blood and knows who is where and what they say.”

  “Sounds like a lot of bullshit. She sleeps. She eats. She shits. She probably plays with herself as well. How come we didn’t hear about her until now?”
<
br />   Whispers filled the crowd. “Every king has a witch. Every southerner is drunk on wine. Every harvest is worse than last. People saw her in Brilskeep, knew she was witch, but this was first time she proved it.”

  “Would she become queen?”

  “Don’t know. If she’s smart, yes. But not today.”

  “Why not today?”

  “We have history here. Terrible king rises, is overthrown, and new king lasts one year because they are weak. They were strong enough to kill last king, not strong enough to stop war among nobles. Soon: new king. Then: another new king. Eventually: new king who is strong enough to scare nobles into not killing him.”

  “Why doesn’t the first new king kill the nobles who would betray him?”

  “Then he is a tyrant who needs to be betrayed.”

  “Then hopefully Agnarr does it right.” I was met with quite a lot of careful stares. “We did come here to help him become the new king. And thank you for being able to help us make that happen.”

  “Aye,” muttered Torunn. “Aye.”

  I waited to see if anyone was brave enough to follow on. Brave or stupid. Either way. No one spoke. “We should get going.”

  No one wanted to but we did start to get a move on, breaking down the fires and smothering the flames with dirt and a fine layer of snow. Unfortunately for us the gentle fire had ruined our night vision and we were at least half an hour away from getting it back fully.

  I stumbled back to Jarmella, Menrihk, and Gaynun. No Odalis in sight. “Anything?”

  “Something,” muttered Menrihk. “Might be a concern … not quite bad news, just a …”

  “Spit it out.”

  “Well, when you said we came to help Agnarr become the new king there were a couple of snorts … kinda like chuckling. They didn’t say anything until you were gone.”

  “What did they say?”

  “‘Idiots. All of them.’”

  Gaynun added: “And some of them had a look. A uh … I’m pretty sure they believe that Agnarr doesn’t want to become king.”

  I looked to Menrihk with his listening rod. “That’s what I got too. It’s not a definite yes, but right now … yeah.”

  “His crew were ambushed, though,” said Jarmella.

  “That’s what they said.”