by Jess Lebow
A sudden chill ran down Ryder's spine. "You're not going to have me locked up again, are you?" He didn't struggle or try to get away. Whatever she wanted to do to him, he was going to let it happen.
Giselle laughed. "Oh," she said, "what a good idea. I could keep you here as my personal love slave." She smiled then lay down on him, pressing her breasts against his chest. "Then you couldn't feel guilty. It wouldn't be your choice."
"Would I have to live in that dirty, rusted cage? I don't think I would like that very much."
Giselle shook her head. "No. You could stay up here. Of course, I'd have to make you work for your keep."
"I have one question." He sat up and, in one fluid motion, turned to his side, lifting Giselle off the ground and into the air as he got to his feet. Holding her in his arms, he stepped forward until her back was pressed against the stone wall. "Would this work—" He interrupted himself by kissing Giselle— "require any heavy lifting?"
Giselle's face was flushed. Ryder could feel her heart pounding through her chest as he pressed his skin against hers. "I think it might," she said.
Ryder nodded, kissing her neck. "Just checking."
* * * *
Inside the closed, private room, Samira helped Liam unbuckle his armor, placing it piece by piece back on the rack in the corner. Underneath, his long woven shirt was stained in places with blotches of blood and sweat.
"Oh, Liam," said Samira, taking off his ruined undershirt to reveal several recently scabbed wounds and a pair of massive bruises on his shoulder and chest. She cringed as she ran the tips of her fingers over the blackened skin. "Do they hurt?"
All Liam could feel was the soft caress of her fingers. He shook his head. "No."
Going to the chest of drawers, Samira retrieved a wet cloth from the washbasin. "Lie down on the bed," she said.
Liam did as he was told. As he lay down on the soft linen, he realized how exhausted he was.
Samira stood with her back to him now, dipping the cloth in the washbasin. The back of her gown came down low, exposing everything from her shoulder blades to the small of her back.
She wrung out the cloth and came back, smiling when she saw that his eyes were open. Sitting down beside him, she ran the cool cloth over his wounds. Liam closed his eyes and followed her motions over his body.
"So what are you going to do about Purdun's offer?" asked Samira after a short silence.
Liam shrugged. "I just can't help thinking that Purdun might be right."
"Right about what?" asked Samira.
Liam sat up a little. "When I talked to him the first time, he told me that the Crimson Awl were being manipulated by an outside source. He said that we were being used to a greater end."
"Used? By whom?"
A bolt of realization struck Liam. "By a vampire."
"A vampire?" Samira laughed, running the cloth down his arm. "The vampires haven't been seen in Erlkazar for years. The Crusaders dealt with them during the revolution."
"We fought vampires today."
Samira dropped the cloth, gripping Liam's hand.
"There's something else too, something that has been bothering me."
She gave his hand a squeeze. "What?"
"Do you remember when Montauk and his thugs came by the field to take me to talk to the Council?"
"Yes," she said. "I was so worried about you."
"They took me to the old druid's circle. But when I got there, there was a group of strangers there. Most of them were wearing cloaks. I couldn't see their faces, but I'm pretty sure I had never seen them before."
Samira frowned. "But I thought you knew everyone in the Awl."
Liam nodded. "Me too. I mean, I do. And that's what bothers me." He shook his head, remembering back to that day. "When Purdun's troops arrived, things got pretty crazy. Still, I could see the strangers leaving the druid's circle." His eyes met Samira's. "As they walked away, I could have sworn several of them transformed into wolves."
"Wolves?"
Liam nodded. "I know it sounds strange, but... I saw it. With my own eyes."
Samira ran her hand along his arm. "But what does it mean?"
Liam took a deep breath. "I think it means Purdun was right. Someone has infiltrated the Awl and is manipulating the Council."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," said Liam. He turned away from her for a moment, then turned back. "What do you think?"
Samira smiled at him. "Well, I don't think you need to solve all of Ahlarkham's problems tonight." She reached up and pulled out the sticks holding her hair in a pile atop her head, letting it fall down over her shoulders. Several of the flowers and tiny gemstones toppled out onto the floor.
Then she stood up and slipped the gown off her shoulders, letting it slide to the floor as well. Samira stood before Liam. The candle on the chest of drawers behind her lit Samira's naked body in a soft orange-yellow outline.
Liam admired the exquisite woman before him, a warm sensation spreading up his spine. It had been a long time. He had always wanted this, but Samira was his brother's wife.
Samira knelt on the edge of the bed and leaned over him.
Liam placed his calloused hand along the side of her face. He felt like such a brute, his rough, broken hide alongside Samira's smooth, soft skin. He pulled the hand away, but she reached out and pulled it back, placing it again where it had been.
Liam looked away, but Samira grabbed his chin and turned him to face her.
"Ryder is gone," said Samira. "Nothing either of us can do will bring him back."
"I know that," replied Liam.
"It's time we started living our lives for ourselves," she said.
"But..."
Samira moved his hand down her shoulder and across her chest.
"But nothing, Liam," she said. She leaned down and kissed him.
The aches and pains in his battered body were instantly replaced with a feeling of euphoria.
"I've seen how you've looked at me, Liam," said Samira, pulling away slightly. "I've secretly looked at you too."
Whatever worries Liam had in the world were swept away by those few words. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down on top of him and squeezing her to him.
"I've always loved you," he said, somehow now not afraid to tell her about the feelings he had been holding back for so many years.
"I know," she said as she moved her hand along the side of his body and down his leg. "I know."
* * * *
Ryder stood beside the giant basin, slipping his shirt back over his head.
Giselle was also getting dressed. She watched Ryder as he put his clothes back on. "If you didn't have a wife back in Duhlnarim, would you stay here?"
Ryder took a deep breath and shook his head. "There are other things in Duhlnarim that I must attend to."
"What is so important in that backwater village of yours? The farm?"
"No," said Ryder. "I have unfinished business with the Baron Purdun," he said.
"The man who put you in chains?"
Ryder nodded. "The man who holds all of Duhlnarim in chains."
"So you wish to return to get your revenge?" asked Giselle.
"No," said Ryder. "I return to free the people from the tyranny of a cruel and evil man."
A sad smile came across Giselle's face. "Well, Ryder of Duhlnarim, I can't let you leave the Broken Spear."
"But—"
She cut his objection off short. "So I guess the Broken Spear will have to go with you."
She turned and headed out of the tower. "Get a good night's sleep. We'll leave in the morning."
Chapter 20
The baron's personal herald burst into the sitting room, obviously upset. Lord Purdun looked up from the map he was studying.
"My lord," blurted the herald, not waiting to be acknowledged by the baron—an obvious breach of courtly etiquette, "there are men here looking for you."
Lord Purdun stood up, cal
mly adjusting his shirt and pantaloons. "There is no need to be so excited, Master Beverly," said the baron. "As you are aware, there are visitors to Zerith Hold every day."
The herald continued to barge into the room, coming right up to the baron, causing Liam to step in front of the lord. The half-giant guards came out of their corners as well, but Purdun raised his hand, and everyone stopped in their place.
"My lord," continued the frantic herald, "these men are from Klarsamryn. These are the King's Magistrates." Master Beverly swallowed. "They are here to put you in chains."
"What?" shouted Purdun. Then he quickly composed himself. "Well, good. Finally we will be able to communicate directly with Llorbauth."
He smiled and nodded as he looked at Liam, but the baron's newest bodyguard thought he could see significant worry in the man's eyes.
"Master Beverly, show the King's Magistrates in, won't you?"
The herald looked from the baron to Liam, then back to the baron. "But, my lord, they are here to imprison you. You must flee."
Purdun placed his hands behind his back, and nodded. "I thank you for your concern, Master Beverly, but I assure you there is no reason to be alarmed. Now please, let them in."
The herald was slow in backing up. He grabbed the baron's hand and kissed it several times. "It has been a pleasure to serve you, my lord." Then he turned around and, taking a look back, hesitantly walked out of the room.
When the herald was gone, the half-giant guards returned to their spots in the corners of the room.
The baron took a deep breath. "Liam," he said, "stay close. I don't know what all of this is about, but I do not intend to be taken from Zerith Hold in chains."
The grim possibilities of what might happen in the next few moments gripped Liam. He nodded, touching the hilt of his enchanted long sword, just to remind himself that it was there, waiting for him if need be.
The two men stood in silence for what seemed a very long time. Liam could feel his heart beat in his chest. He didn't know what was going to happen. The uncertainty unnerved him. He'd rather know he was about to fight an entire tribe of goblins with only a rolling pin and a rock than face the unknowable next few moments.
When the herald finally knocked on the door, the sound startled Liam, sending a shot of adrenaline through his veins.
"My most excellent Lord Purdun, Baron of Ahlarkham, Ruler of Duhlnarim, and purveyor of all that can be seen from the Deepwash to the borders of Tanistan..."
Liam had heard the herald present visitors to Lord Purdun before, but never had he been so elaborate or long-winded.
"I present to you King Korox's Magistrates," finished Master Beverly.
Through the door came six highly polished soldiers. Each of them wore a helm and heavy plate mail, painted white, with the red entwined twin-wyvern crest of King Korox on their chests.
Typically, as Liam had learned not only as a guard but also as an invited guest, visitors to the baron's private sitting room were not allowed to carry weapons. The King's Magistrates were an exception to this rule. They were the strong right arm of Llorbauth, the policing force for the entire kingdom of Erlkazar. The Magistrates could be judge, jury, and executioner. They were the enforcers of the kingdom's laws, and they answered to the king alone.
From what Liam understood, there were almost as many Magistrates as there were soldiers in the King's army. The fact that Korox had sent only six to talk to Purdun meant either that he didn't expect any trouble, or that these were extremely dangerous men.
"Welcome to Zerith Hold," said Lord Purdun. "To what do I owe the pleasure of having six of the King's Magistrates in my personal chambers?"
A man on the end stepped forward and doffed his helm. He was a rugged-looking man with a jet black goatee and long black hair pulled back in a ponytail.
"Lord Purdun, I am Magistrate Olivio." He put his helm under his arm and bowed. "We are here under order of the king to take you back to Llorbauth."
Baron Purdun stood up straight. "And may I ask why the king would need to send the Magistrates to collect me?"
"The king has heard that the good people of Ahlarkham are up in arms. He has sent us to collect you so that he may avoid another Elestam," explained the Magistrate.
"Another Elestam? The king is worried that the people hate me so much that they will revolt and eventually secede from the country?"
Olivio nodded. "Yes. That is what the king would like to avoid."
"That's preposterous," said Purdun. "The king should know that the situation in Ahlarkham is nothing like it was in Elestam."
"I beg the baron's pardon," argued the Magistrate, "but the king understands that the vampires have returned."
This gave Purdun pause. "Yes," he said after a moment, "we have seen vampires recently, but—" He placed his hand on Liam's shoulder—"my men have them and the local rabble under control."
Magistrate Olivio bowed again. "While I'm sure your men are quite capable of taking care of any threat that plagues your barony," he looked Liam up and down, "that does not change the fact that the king wants us to bring you to him." The Magistrate took a step forward. "So you can come with us peacefully, or we can use other means."
Purdun shook his head. "This must be part of her plan."
"Excuse me?" said the Magistrate.
"Nothing." Lord Purdun shook him off. "With all due respect, Magistrate, you don't understand. If you remove me from the barony, then there will be no one here to lead the fight against the vampires. If the king is truly worried about the reappearance of the undead causing a major peasant uprising and a secession of the barony from Erlkazar, then surely he wants me here to direct the effort to fight them off."
"Your logic is impeccable, my lord," said Olivio, a twinge of impatience entering his voice, "but I'm afraid I have my orders."
Purdun walked back and forth across the floor, shaking his head. The tension in the room grew as the man pondered the situation.
Stay calm, Liam, he said to himself. Wait for the baron's orders. The conflict was nearly unbearable.
Finally Purdun stopped his pacing, and he turned on Magistrate Olivio. "You go back to Llorbauth and tell my brother-in-law that instead of sending his Magistrates, he should be sending his army to help me defend my barony against an outside threat."
Magistrate Olivio visibly bristled. "I'm afraid I can't do that." Placing his helm back on his head, he said, "This is your last chance to come peacefully. If you refuse, we will have no choice but to use force."
All six Magistrates drew their swords at the same time, filling the room with the high-pitched ring of steel sliding against steel.
In a flash, the four half-giant guards were standing in a circle around Purdun. Just as fast, Liam had his weapon in hand.
"You're making a huge mistake," said the baron. He waved his hands before him, and the air began to crackle with arcane energy.
"No," said Olivio, "it is you who is making the mistake."
* * * *
Montauk breezed down the staircase leading deep into Shyressa's tomb. The thick dust that had covered the stone steps was no longer present—it had been carried away by the feet of vampire spawn over the past few months.
At the bottom, he stepped through the archway and into the vampire's den. The sarcophagi that had dominated the room were gone, replaced with row upon row of kneeling spawn, their heads bowed in supplication to the glorious vision before them. On the dais in the middle of the room stood Shyressa. She was glamoured in her favorite image—one of a striking young woman with long dark hair and porcelain skin.
Shyressa stood before the kneeling throng, her hands raised in the air. Between them, over her head, floated a large box. Beams of pale white energy radiated out from the box, reaching out to touch each and every one of the kneeling vampire spawn.
Carved in the middle of the box were the twin entwined figures—the twisted runes—that Montauk had come to adore since his induction into the secretive organ
ization. The man stood looking on, enjoying the sight before him. So many unsuspecting people worked for the Twisted Rune. Only a few had the privilege of knowing what sort of work they were doing. Many died for the cause never understanding their larger purpose in the puzzle. Not Montauk. He had been kept in the know from the very beginning. Shyressa was good to him, and he felt he had served her well.
It had all been worth it, of course. He was now the head of the Crimson Awl. Soon he would be the baron of Ahlarkham. He smiled. Some time after that he may even be King of Erlkazar. And after that, Shyressa had promised to help him achieve immortality. The thought brought a smile to his lips.
It was glorious to be a part of something so powerful.
The box Shyressa held over her head stopped glowing, and she lowered it. The vampire spawn kneeling on the floor began to stir, and the Rune Mistress lowered her eyes to the human waiting in the archway.
"Montauk," she said, her voice sounding sleepy and lethargic. "Come to me, my pet." She waved for him to approach her on the dais.
The vampire spawn hissed as they parted before Montauk. The floor cleared quickly, allowing the human passage through the crowded room. Approaching the dais, he climbed up the steps and knelt before his mistress.
She offered him her hand, and he kissed the back of it. Though it appeared to be the soft, supple skin of a beautiful young woman, against his lips it felt like cold, lifeless flesh.
"What news, Montauk?" asked Shyressa, pulling back her hand.
"Everything goes as planned," said the human, getting up from his knees. "Lord Purdun has backed himself into a corner, and the king's enforcers are in Duhlnarim as we speak."
Montauk rubbed his hands together, excited at the proposition of his plans all falling into place. "The King's Magistrates will put Purdun in chains and take control of Zerith Hold. They'll see for themselves how your vampires attack the peasants, and the king will have no choice but to side with the Crimson Awl. Wanting to avoid the same fate as Elestam, which he himself helped to topple, Korox will lock Purdun away for good and institute me as the Baron of Ahlarkham."
"The pieces are in motion. Soon the entire country of Erlkazar will be ours to command," purred the vampire. "You've done well."
