Cold Blooded

by Jackson Lear

  “Why?”

  “Because he had two dicks.”

  Adalyn glanced up at me. “You what?”

  “Yeah. You see that vampire up there on the right? You’re going to have to kill her now.” We were one hundred yards out. I flashed a signal behind me, hoping that Jarmella would pass it on to Dalo.

  “Er …”

  “Yank her off the wall. Do it now.”

  Adalyn’s breathing shook. “I …”

  “You’re the only one who can do it and you’re going to have to act before she realizes why you’ve suddenly become very nervous.”

  The vampire shifted her head to one side, breathing us in as a moment of caution rippled through her chest and shoulders.

  Adalyn shot her hand out and wrenched the vampire by the head from ninety yards away. The vampire scrambled, landed smack onto the gravel ten yards from the wall and sprung into the air again – the defensive enchantments catapulting her forward. I raced in. She squirmed to right herself, hitting the next line of enchantments. Her legs launched up first, the rest of her body flopping over from the imbalance and then flew another twenty yards towards me. Landed.

  Dalo’s arrow sailed past me, slamming into the vampire’s shoulder. The creature hissed, disorientated from three strikes into the ground and looked up just in time.

  I sliced through her head just as she pulled back, the extra length on my sword cleaving four inches through her forehead. She stared back – dazed from the attack – tried to grab me with one hand but her vision was off and the arrow impeded her full movement. I swung back, lopping off her fingers and lunged forward. A jet of blood flew to the side. Her head and body no longer connected.

  Dalo’s next arrow found its mark on the first bowman. Right through the ear and into his skull. He stumbled back, losing balance. Dropped.

  Jarmella hurried next to me. “Is everyone okay?”

  “Fine. There was a third person.”

  “I got him. I don’t think he’s dead, but …”

  We all stared at the closed gate forty yards away. Somewhere in that vicinity were the keys to unlocking the swivel posts that would get us and the rest of the vanguard inside.

  Jarmella looked to me. “Now what?”

  I drew in a deep breath, seriously considered going through the frigid water before dismissing it completely. “Adalyn? You’re up.”

  “Okay. What am I doing?”

  “You’re going to run towards the gate. When its defenses launch you into the air Jarmella will push you forward. Before you hit the ground Odeh will push you up again, getting you onto that wall.” I was met with a round of bewildered silence. I handed her the looped length of rope. Tied it around her chest. “You need to hook this onto one of those spikes before you fall. I suggest you drink a lot of vampire blood before you make the leap.”

  “But it’s …”

  “I know. Congratulations.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because you’re the lightest. Blood. Drink it. You have ten seconds to reach that wall.”

  She gulped, started shaking immediately, and with panic absolutely frying her senses and the frenzy of vampire blood taking her over Adalyn drew in a deep breath, bounced up and down for what I could only assume was a prayer for good luck, and bounded forward.

  She shrieked the moment her body was catapulted up, the surprise too much for her. Jarmella staggered back in surprise, having to nearly catch Adalyn before she blasted her forward. Odeh did the same then both mages had to slow Adalyn in the air before she slammed against the wall.

  Adalyn had completely forgotten about using the rope – not her fault since squeezers needed a hell of a lot of practice and sizeable balls to do the job Adalyn had just been dumped with. I targeted the looped rope, sapping a lot of energy with the unplanned spell and managed to propel it up and over one of the wooden spikes lining the wall. Adalyn landed, bouncing off the wall and froze, her grip shaky but the rest of her unmoving.

  “Is she dead?” murmured Odeh.

  The birthday girl swung one uneven arm up, then another, hauling herself an inch at a time until she reached the top of the wall, rolled to a stop, and flopped one hand onto her stomach while she caught her breath.

  “She needs to move quicker,” said Jarmella.

  Adalyn huffed, rolled onto her side, and managed to sit up.

  “Much quicker than that …”

  She drew her sword, slipped between the spikes, and dropped out of sight.

  Torunn stared behind us. “Korla.”

  The first of Draegor’s rider appeared, not at a gallop but at a gentle canter. Calm now that Ice Bridge was in sight. That was going to screw any chance the ambush team had of tripping them up. Somewhere in that mess was Lieutenant Loken and a few prisoners from Faersrock. Hopefully Odalis was quick on his feet and would get them moving fast enough to injure them. And hopefully Adalyn would get this stupid gate open in time.

  Jarmella turned her back against the cavalry and stared at the locked gate in front of us. “Shiiiiiit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

  “We’ll be fine. They’ve been riding for five days straight.”

  “And we haven’t done something similar?”

  Odeh piped in. “We can always swim for it.”

  I checked the wrap around my injured wrist. It still hurt when I moved it too much but with all of the vampire blood I’d consumed over the last few days I was sure that it was closer to fully healed than not. Then again, it was still broken.

  The next rider appeared behind us. Still no ambush from Odalis. Still no Adalyn either. Maybe I would have to use that wrist sooner than expected.

  Odeh edged towards the water. Torunn turned towards the trees and the mountain.

  “Nobody move,” I said.

  A cataclysmic WHUMF! of flame scorched the road beyond us, engulfing the rear half of Draegor’s cavalry as the fireball consumed everything in a staggering burst. The rest of the cavalry charged forward, panicked, some horses running freely in every direction despite their reins being yanked. Five riders at the front were shunted off their saddles, their horses galloping away, the riders landing awkwardly on their backs and being trampled by the remainder of the cavalry who quickly became wise to the tripwire at chest level. Another ten horses ran at full speed into the second tripwire, hitting their knees and bucking the two trees on each side. The rods broke. Ten horses collapsed. More riders galloped past, pelted with arrow after arrow while shouting out the obvious – “We’re under attack!”

  The whumf from the road behind us turned out to be less of a prolonged fireball and more of a burst of light and heat. It scorched people. It sizzled horses. Several riders lost control and fell, but most of them survived the blast.

  Sailors in the harbor glanced up. Cries from the whole town spread. Panic and bewilderment rippled outwards like a tidal wave.

  The fortress gate swung open with Adalyn heaving from the other side, her sword shaking as blood dripped to the ground.

  We were in business.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Six of us stormed Ice Bridge: Dalo hobbling on his broken leg while loosing arrow after arrow into oncoming watchmen; Jarmella, Adalyn, and Odeh shouting fake words like they were spells to spook the watchmen into cowering; while the rest of the vanguard and northerners hauled ass to reach us in time.

  Arrows sang from the trees, striking horsemen and beast alike. A vicious shriek ripped through the air. A clash of blades sliced through Odalis’ defensive line. Another shriek and howl as Lieutenant Loken – wrists bound with iron manacles – tossed one of the wounded bodies five feet into the air, wiped the blood from his mouth, and charged into the fray with his new found vampiric strength.

  “That might be a problem,” muttered Jarmella.

  “Add it to the list.”

  An office door burst open, a bleary-eyed and stinking drunk captain of the night shift charging forward with his sword drawn. Torunn swung his ax into the captain’s arm, slic
ing six inches down, drew back, swung into the captain’s head.

  Odeh and I went door to door, securing the immediate area and finding a grand total of six people present that day – three of whom had been killed before Adalyn had even scaled the wall, three more falling from Dalo and Torunn’s quick work. Behind one door lay several corked jars with rags stuffed into the necks. A recent defensive measure against an all out assault. I popped one. Sniffed. Probably looked like an idiot as I smiled.

  Ewen and Elgrid were the first through the gate. “Loken’s a vampire!”

  “Which makes rescuing him less of an issue and killing him more. Everyone grab a jar. It’s time to burn Draegor’s fleet to the bottom of the lake.”

  We hustled, the archers taking out as many of the Vasslehün raiders as they could as men and women hustled from their ships and thumped across the wooden docks with cries of bloody murder running through the air. Some had magic on their side, others were just as sharp with their bows as we were. And behind them all stood the towering castle of Brilskeep.

  An arrow slammed into an upturned rowboat right in front of us. We dropped, the thump thump of more arrows never leaving our ears.

  “Torunn! Find us a boat!”

  Torunn scanned the row of vessels nearest to us. “That one.”

  “Something closer.”

  “That’s the only one big enough.”

  The vanguard were into the fortress. Odeh secured the swivel posts, keeping the gate open and waiting for Odalis and the others to make it through.

  The cavalry thundered behind us – the gate open yet the defenses still engaged. Some riders realized it just in time. Most failed. Shrieks, cries, gasps, and howls erupted from horses and riders alike as Ice Bridge’s fortress catapulted its own people ten feet into the air and hurled them back, head over heels. Bodies crumpled to the ground. Horses squished their riders. Axes and swords flew freely and pelted everyone in their wake. Riders trampled, horses tumbled, and the last of our archers picked off the surviving few to free the last of the Faersrock prisoners.

  “I’m-m telling you, it’s that one,” pointed Torunn.

  “Fine. That’s our ship. Is everyone ready?”

  It was pretty much a collective ‘no’ but no one dared to say it. Agnarr squirmed in his restraints. The rest of us would just have to make sure he was going to keep up.

  “Go!”

  We charged into the hail of arrows, past the short row of buildings, ropes and netting, hurrying onto the heavy wooden docks as sailors and raiders alike turned in confusion at the explosions from behind the wall and the inland attack which had caught them completely off guard. Behind us, Odalis and Wilbur wrangled horses free, desperate to reach us in time before we set sail.

  Ewen and Elgrid threw the first jars of fire. Smoke and flames scorched the main sail of two ships, the wind batting at the flames and threatening to put them out. Knives, daggers, and axes came to people’s hands but they were too late. Our archers got to swift work, one arrow in the eye of a northern captain, another through his first-mate’s neck. Jars flew, arrows sailed, and enemies swarmed as we thumped, bashed, and blasted our way along the wooden docks to the big bastard of a ship at the far end of the pier.

  A distant horn cried out. Another met its call. A drum sounded across the city, reaching as far as Brilskeep. We’re under attack. Everyone to arms. Turn every ship around to defend us.

  Six of Ice Bridge’s sailors were waiting for us in our chosen ship, hiding on the deck until they realized that we were coming straight for them. Gilmero, Kilmur, and Yahnson leapt on board, swinging and slicing and jabbing and thrusting, Gilmero taking a sword to the gut, but we were forty strong and the defenders had just six.

  “Torunn! Get her ready.”

  Odalis, Wilbur, Ivar, and Magnus galloped towards us, Odeh hustling after opening and closing the swivel posts to let them through.

  “Cover them!”

  An arrow found its mark, skewering Torunn in his chest. His eyes turned marble-white, instantly realizing that this was the end. Another pierced Adalyn’s arm. Yahnson caught Torunn as he fell. Told him it would be okay, that help was on its way. The rest of the northerners scrambled to the oars.

  Our cavalry reached the end of the pier, their attackers confused at recognizing the beasts of war but not why their riders seemed to be helping us escape. Odalis and Wilbur hurried with a writhing body slung over their shoulders, scrambling with uneven footing after running for their lives. “Take him!”

  Loken hissed at his restraints, his mouth gagged and blood flecked across his face and fingertips. He bled from three arrow wounds in his chest. I pushed Torunn’s mouth to Loken’s chest but his eyes were already gone. I wiped the inside of Torunn’s mouth with a finger’s worth of blood, and another, hoping it would trickle through his body and work its magic. If only he had been hit five seconds later, or Loken had reached us sooner.

  His hand flopped to the side. Dead.

  We were moving. I was still on the boat and we were moving. Brilskeep and Desdola were both practically in reach.

  Hands shot out towards Odeh, mouth wide, breathing heavy, desperation blinding him as we set sail.

  “JUMP!” shouted Jarmella.

  Odeh leapt. Jarmella flung him forward, crashing into her and Odalis. Odeh glanced up, plopped his sweaty lips onto Jarmella’s cheek, and rolled to safety.

  “That’s everyone!” shouted Jarmella, as she wiped a tear from the side of her face. “Raike?”

  “To Orkust!” I bellowed, dragging Loken to the back of the ship – out of direct sight of the Vasslehün bowmen, and dumped him next to Agnarr.

  “Get me the fuck away from him!” cried the would-be king.

  Three longboats in the harbor had started to turn around, heading towards us. The drums of war continued to sound. Ships were aflame and half of Brilskeep’s cavalry had been taken out by their own defenses. Raiders scrambled for the harbor, desperate to reach the farther ships in time. The first-mates were already barking orders, waving their crew to hurry up if they knew what was good for them. Blood lust was in the air and there was no better target than Kasera’s own people.

  Our sails unfurled, everyone to an oar, and into the black shored Dead Lake we sailed, away from the fortress city with the sun setting in the east, away from Brilskeep with Desdola watching our every move, and into the frozen night with a dozen warships closing in on us.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Agnarr’s people were all experienced sailors but they weren’t an established crew. They didn’t have the shorthand needed for quick commands, some were tripping over each other as they tried to fill their preferred position instead of the right position, and for the most part it seemed like there were too many captains and not enough sailors.

  I whistled. They largely ignored me. “Yahnson?”

  The old guy lumbered over. “Aye?”

  I pulled Menrihk over to translate. “I want you to shout at these guys right now. ‘Everyone, listen up. There are too many of us on board. Whoever doesn’t get their shit together is going to swim. Our mages are ready to throw you over.’”

  Menrihk stumbled through the language. Yahnson squinted. Nodded. Bellowed. Added in a couple of ‘korlas’ for good measure.

  “Who can’t swim?”

  Menrihk translated. A couple of them raised their hands. I chose the surliest looking guy with an even mix of gray and brown in his beard. “Have many years have you sailed for?”

  “Since I was a boy.”

  “How many raids have you been on?”

  “Ten? Twelve?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Hilgar.”

  “You’re in charge. We’re going to Orkust. Put everyone where they need to be.”

  Jarmella said, “The soldiers will help. Where do they need to go?”

  Hilgar started barking commands to some of the disgruntled faces, pushing them to the oars and sails.

  “Cavalry onto the o
ars at the front, infantry next, mages third, archers fourth. Move.” Jarmella turned to me. “Sir?”

  “I’ll help.”

  “You might be best up here, keeping watch. If they get close enough for a vampire to jump over we’ll need someone who can respond quickly.”

  “I could use a mage close by to knock them into the water if they try that.”

  A distant horn broke across the lake. Two lanterns shimmered within the cold fog to our rear, moving independently of each other. The horns sounded from one ship to another, a series of pre-determined blasts and wails.

  “What are they saying?” I asked.

  “We’re the enemy,” said Yahnson, gnarling one eye as the spray of salt water stung our faces.

  We lurched forward, two men to an oar as we picked up speed, but the ships behind us were lighter, faster, and their crews well-rested.

  Another set of horns sounded from behind. The rest of Draegor’s former fleet were closing in.

  Jarmella turned one of the auroch horns over in her hand. “They’re going to catch us.”

  “I know. We could use more of that spell you used on Saskia.”

  “Charging more than one between rests is as dangerous as it gets.”

  “You can do it, right?”

  “Of course, but … there’s no guarantee it will work as intended. And it may do me just as much harm as whoever I target.” She searched the lake behind us. “We’re too heavy. It’s slowing us down.”

  “We’re keeping Loken.”

  “He’s dead weight.”

  “They’re going to catch us whether we’re one person down or not.”

  “And if he breaks free?”

  Loken rattled his chains and growled from behind his gag.

  I asked, “How well do you know Commander Lavarta?”

  “Not very well. He welcomed us to his fort in Anglaterra, he’s spoken to us formally, and I can recognize him and his voice, but I’ve never served with him. Why?”