The Lantern-Lit City

by Vista McDowall

  "Answer me, Druam!" King Henrik roared. "Are these allegations true?"

  The earl said nothing. Alex rose up onto his toes, his eyes anxiously searching for his brother. Cara said quietly, "Go to him. Get the king to safety. Sandu, find your fellow Protectors, have them open the servants' doors and direct the courtiers to safety. I'll face Mavian."

  Before they could move, though, the hum in the air rose to a fevered whine, the floor shuddering underneath. More than one noble fell to the quaking ground or clapped their hands to their ears against the high-pitched noise. Mavian's voice rose again. "Let him reveal himself. The darkness will not let him hold back for long!"

  The black rift behind Mavian widened farther, its edges frayed, blurring the space between dark and light. Black tendrils snuck out, reaching for prey. The nobles screamed and tried to run, but were pressed too tightly together. From within the blackness, shapes formed. Prowlers, their eyes red and teeth glistening, emerged one by one, spreading out behind Mavian. Though they drooled and whimpered, they did not attack.

  Ladies screamed and lords shouted for help. Here and there in the crowd, Protectors threw off their masks and borrowed robes, running to place themselves between the prowlers and nobles. Alex dashed to the king and his brother, Sandu ran to his captain, and Cara pushed her way toward Mavian. All around her, nobles cried out and trampled each other to escape. Those on the dance floor fled to the terrace and out into the gardens.

  Still more prowlers appeared. Mavian moved easily between them down the steps, his attention on Druam. Even as she ran, Cara could see the earl in her periphery. He knelt in the place his wife had vanished, his fingers brushing the floor. Protectors surrounded the king and pulled him to the terrace seconds before more black voids opened in front of the glass doors. Prowlers crept from those, too. They halted a few feet from their prey, waiting.

  Cara skidded to a stop, still some ways from Mavian. All around her, nobles clutched at each other and called for help. The musicians had abandoned their instruments on the dais.

  Mavian reached the hall's marble floor, his eyes sweeping the room disdainfully. "Pity some didn't wait to see the show." He stopped just before the Protectors, who raised their weapons against him, and laughed. "Clever Druam. Won't you at least fight, rather than let these brave souls die? Prowlers versus Protectors, all of them trained animals. Me against you and your scholarly brother, all men touched by death."

  Her palms sweating on her hilt, Cara dared a glance at Alex. He stood in front of Druam. As she watched, the earl slowly lifted his head and said, "I raised you, Mavian. I cared for you."

  Mavian's hands twitched. "You refused to share your secrets with me. You denied the knowledge which I craved. You have had centuries to craft your world, and still your people suffer. I tried to gain your favor, but you held it from me. So now I will take my birthright with the very magic you wished to hide from me."

  "I wished only to protect you, Mavian. You are young, and in time...in time I would have trusted you. Xandro would tell you the price of knowledge gained too soon. Perhaps I wronged you, but I love you like my own son."

  "Shh," Mavian held a finger to his lips. "Your lies and wheedling have served you long enough. The time for speeches is over. We both have our loyal men, we both have our gifts from Autorus, so let us dance with death and see who emerges victorious."

  Then he uttered words in a harsh tongue, words that prickled Cara's skin and stirred the beast within her belly. His prowlers leapt forward, hungry and howling. The Protectors raised their weapons to meet them, some crying out in shock and pain as their blood spilled to the white marble floors. In the melee of red cloaks, sobbing nobles, shining swords, and yellow fangs, Cara lost sight of Sandu. She swung at the closest prowler that stood between her and Mavian. It fell, screeching, but two more took its place.

  The prowlers lunged at her. Skipping back, Cara thrust her sword point at one. It yelped and jumped back with a new wound in its chest. Black droplets ran down the blade and pooled over Cara's fists. The other prowler clawed at Cara, its talons ripping through her dress and digging painfully into her skin. Cara shoved her weapon at it, driving it back. It slipped on the smooth floor and exposed its neck for just a moment. That moment was all Cara needed to shear its head from its body. The injured prowler hesitated a moment, then lunged again. Cara waited for the arc of its leap to reach her, then stepped aside and casually swept the blade into its throat. Its momentum tore the sword from her grasp. Cara retrieved it, then whirled to see where Mavian had gone.

  Mavian retreated up the steps, a few Protectors advancing on him. Raising his hand, he called yet more prowlers from the rift. The Protectors fell back, set upon by the feral horde. Mavian smiled and directed his attention back to Alex and Druam. The brothers, like Cara, fought their way through the prowlers.

  The way between Cara and the stairs suddenly opened. She sprinted forward, her feet slipping on the blood-soaked tiles. Somehow she kept her balance and gained the steps. She paused to catch her breath, glancing over the battle.

  The hall, which only minutes before had been filled with music and laughter, now shook with screams and the clanging of metal. Protectors worked in pairs, standing back-to-back against the onslaught of prowlers. Defenseless courtiers either huddled by the walls or lay dead on the floor, while some lords joined the fray, their masks discarded. Despite the soldiers' efforts, for every prowler that lay dead on the floor, three more fought tooth and claw. It seemed that Mavian had a never-ending army of the undead.

  Alex and Druam pushed forward, their blades soaked in blood. They made it to the bottom of the steps, then stopped. Cara returned her eyes to Mavian, feeling her resolve weaken.

  A series of black tentacles crept from the void, surrounding Mavian like a writhing wall. He paid no heed to them. In his hands, he rolled and crafted some new dark magic in a ball of shimmering energy. Behind him, a man stepped from the rift, still dressed in Masque finery. The man held a long rapier in one hand and a curved dagger in the other. Mavian nodded his head in acknowledgement of the other, but did not raise his eyes from his work.

  Edging over to Alex and Druam, Cara murmured, "Who's the newcomer?"

  Alex's eyes narrowed. "Sir Chadron, Egil Rask's nephew. Gods help us if Rask is in with Mavian."

  "It may be just the nephew, not the uncle," Druam said. "I don't care to dwell–"

  "Look out!" Cara yelled, grabbing Alex and pulling him aside.

  The black ball of energy curved toward them, fizzing and letting forth flashes of electric heat. It hit the ground and exploded in dark magic. All three were flung apart, their bodies flying through the air before landing painfully on the hard floor. The steps where the magic had hit were gone, leaving a crater of jagged stone. For a moment, the world went silent, then Cara's ears buzzed.

  Cara pushed herself back to her feet. She'd landed the closest to Mavian, but still he paid her no mind. He moved his hands around him, circling his body with strings of dark, crackling energy drawn from the rift. Sir Chadron advanced down the steps toward Alex, who lay prone on the ground. Cara could not see Druam; he must have been thrown back into the melee below.

  Just as Cara moved to help Alex, she heard Sandu shouting, "Cara!" Whipping around, she tried to pick him out from the mass of Protectors and prowlers. There! He was backed against a pillar, three prowlers on him. Cara looked between him and Alex. Alex had regained his feet, but Chadron drove him back.

  "Vecking hells," Cara muttered. She ran at Sandu, ducking Protectors' flailing blades and striking at any prowler in her path. One of the prowlers had jumped up on Sandu, its weight carrying him to the floor. Using her momentum, Cara swept past another, her blade easily beheading it. A prowler leapt at her, its claws digging into her back. She could feel its cold breath on her neck. Cara tried to thrust her weapon at it, but couldn't quite reach. From the corner of her eye, she saw a pillar. With all her strength, she slammed backwards, thrusting herself and the prowler that s
traddled her against the pillar. Its claws loosened for a second, then gripped her skin. Again Cara threw herself into the pillar. The creature's hold went slack, and with one hand, Cara dragged it over her shoulder and threw it onto the floor. It stared up at her, dazed. Cara lopped off its head.

  Sandu was still trapped under a clawing, biting prowler. His movements were sluggish, his hands scraping feebly at the creature, his axe lying uselessly beside him. The beast rises within her. About time. Cara let it overwhelm her. Her nails turned to talons, her sight sharpened, and the smell of blood turned wonderfully sweet. She kicked the prowler from Sandu's chest. It scrabbled at the marble floor in confusion, trying to back away from this new threat. She killed it.

  Sandu moaned. His red cloak was spattered with blood and gashes decorated his chest and arms. Sweat fell into open cuts on his cheeks and forehead. With gentle strength, Cara pulled him beyond the pillar to a dark alcove, away from the fighting. Leaving him there, she returned to the battle, the beast within her begging for blood.

  Time slowed down. A Protector's sword arced gracefully toward a jumping prowler. Cara could see the red of the creature's eyes, the hairs on the Protector's arm. She, however, moved quickly, her own attacks untouched by the world's pace. To the rest, she must seem a blur, a whirlwind of death. The hall was muffled now, the noise that clamored within it no more than a fly in her ear. Death was her song, her blade her dance. Prowlers fell around her, too slow to realize what had killed them. Protectors straightened and looked around, bewildered, but she did not stop.

  Mavian's eyes were finally drawn to her. Cara grinned. She would reach him, tear him limb from limb, before he could stop her. She took the steps two at a time, her path finally, thankfully clear, and–

  "Argh!" Alex cried.

  Cara turned her head to look. Alex fell to his knees, Sir Chadron's curved dagger sticking from his stomach. He met her gaze, then collapsed backwards.

  "No!" Cara cried.

  The dark lightning coiled around Mavian struck Cara. It moved faster even than she, though Cara could see its individual strands of blue, purple, and black as they raced at her heart. She could not stop her mad run, could not prevent it from hitting her, but she twisted from it. The pain that hit her felt like a cannonball charged with energy. It burned her ribs where it struck and sent jolts of electricity into each nerve in her body. Bright lights flashed in Cara's vision. She screamed, but no sound came out.

  The beast retreated back inside her before she hit the floor. Her limp body rolled down the steps, white smoke drifting from her pores. The muffled world sprang back to loud life, each clang and screech invading her head with a noise ten times worse than normal.

  For a moment, Cara was sure she was dead.

  But black tentacles curled around her, their dreadful suckers gripping her skin. She opened her eyes, saw that she was being carried up and toward Mavian. Her head felt stuck in place, but she strained her periphery to see Alex.

  He lay on the marble stairs, his eyes staring up, each breath harsher than the last. She watched in agony, unable to help, as Sir Chadron raised his rapier for the final blow.

  Then Druam, his features twisted in his fampir form, came between predator and victim. He engaged Chadron in battle.

  Cara's head twisted violently away from the fight. Still entrapped by the tentacles, she stared into Mavian's hard eyes. He regarded her with hatred.

  "You tried to keep her from me," he said. Cara spat at him. He wiped the drop off. "You were so easy to toy with, blundering through the court like a child. No wonder Renna wanted to leave Kell behind her."

  "She never would have left had you not spelled her."

  Mavian's expression darkened. "Renna chose me, as I chose her. Your quest was thankless and worthless. But, perhaps, I can use you in some way to bring her back."

  He drew a strange knife. Its blade had a channel formed into it leading to the handle, which was made of clear glass. Drawing near to her, Mavian raised it and made a small cut in her neck. Cara struggled in vain, but his magic held her tight. After a moment, he stepped back, the glass handle filled with her dark red blood.

  "Now, I have a surprise for you. Do you remember him from that night in the swamp? I hope you haven't forgotten dear Merick." Mavian grinned cruelly.

  The black tentacles grasped Cara's head, forcing her to look past Mavian. Her heart dropped into her boots. Merick stood there, but it was not truly Merick. His eyes were blank, his jaw slack. He held a dark blade in one hand and his shirt lay open, showing a rotting scar. His skin was pale and blue, but he was not a prowler. He was an entirely different horror.

  "A happy reunion!" Mavian exclaimed. He uttered a harsh word, releasing Cara from the tentacles. Merick advanced on her, his black blade rising. Cara backed away. I'm dreaming. This is all a bad dream. Merick wouldn't have beat me or broken my leg. It's not true!

  Merick spoke in a harsh, grating, horridly taunting voice. "Cari! Remember your lessons, Cari." He swung at her, his blade crashing onto the sword that had once been his. Cara's hands shook from the impact. She stumbled away, down the staircase toward Druam and Chadron's duel.

  "Pull back!" she heard a Protector shout. "Reform our position!"

  Daring a glance, Cara saw that many of the Protectors had fallen. They struggled to gather together as prowlers broke their ranks. She couldn't spare any more thoughts for them, though, for Merick growled again as she barely evaded his strong attack.

  "Please, Merick, this isn't you!" she cried. "Come back to me, Merick!"

  But the undead Merick didn't care for her pleas. He pushed her back, ruthless and cruel. This was not her Merick.

  "Look out!" Druam shouted behind her. Cara whirled, dodging another of Merick's attacks as Chadron moved backwards into the space she had occupied. Chadron raised his rapier against Druam, but Merick's swing carried too far, slicing Chadron's hand from his wrist. He screamed, falling, but Merick did not falter. Cara scrambled away until she and Druam stood side by side. Chadron staggered up the steps, holding his bleeding stump to his chest. Behind him, Mavian's smug grin turned to a sneer.

  "Destroy them!" he shouted to Merick.

  "I'm with you," Druam said to Cara. He panted, his fampir features contorting in anger. "Stay with me. This man is not who you knew; he is only a mindless construction of underworld magics. Some foul new invention of Mavian's."

  Merick's eyes flickered with darkness, his scarred smile twisting his cheeks. He raised his blade, lunging–

  A tsunami of air crashed into them, sending them all stumbling. Cara picked herself up. Druam was dazed beside her, and their enemies reeled. Across the hall, an old man leaned on a cane. He was dressed in long robes, his arms raised as he chanted in a rumbling voice. With each syllable, a dart of white light flew from the man's hands, striking a prowler down.

  "It's a vecking wizard!" Chadron shouted. "We have to retreat, Mavian!"

  "The battle is ours! The Protectors and younger Strilu have fallen–"

  "The tides have turned. We must leave while we still can."

  For a second, it seemed as if Mavian would stay. Then he called out, "Return to me, my creature!" Without hesitating, with no emotion, Merick turned and raced back to the portal. Mavian and Chadron disappeared into the black void. As soon as they vanished, all the rifts in the hall popped shut. Cara blinked at the sudden brightness and shielded her eyes with a hand. Druam's face returned to human form. He panted, and Cara saw that he, too, had been injured during the fight: cuts and bruises decorated his cheeks and hands, and there was a large gash on his shoulder.

  Throwing down his sword, Druam shouted, "Damn! Come back, coward! Vecking hells."

  "Alex..." Cara said. She looked over the carnage, but didn't see him. "Is he alive?"

  "Damn," Druam swore again. "We need to find him. He needs blood."

  As they trudged down the steps, the few remaining Protectors stood back in astonishment as the old man killed the last prowlers with his whi
te magic. Nobles crept up the terrace, their terrified faces shining in the candlelight. The once-pure-white marble was stained red and brown, and the corpses of nobles, Protectors, and prowlers littered the dancing floor. The smell of coppery blood, sweat, and shit had replaced that of perfume. The air – once lifted with lilting music – was now filled by the clank of armor as Protectors looked through the desecration for survivors.

  "Good. You're alive."

  Cara and Druam both jumped and twisted to see the wizard standing behind them, frowning. His white hair and beard were immaculately trimmed. He glanced at Druam, then focused on Cara. "I was worried I might be too late. Come on, then, we've much to do."

  "Who are you?" Cara asked. After all that had happened, she just wanted to find Alex. Find Alex, get Sandu, and rest.

  The old man, however, had different ideas. He grabbed Cara's arm and dragged her up the steps. She pulled back, and Druam came between them. "The maid asked a question," Druam said.

  Grumbling, the old man said, "Laris Stanthorpe. Head of the Peddler's Guild. I've business with the maid, and I'll be damned if a plain earl stops me."

  One of the Protectors stepped forward. "Shall we deter him, Earl Seastone?"

  Laris sighed and shoved his hands into opposite sleeves. "Go ahead, try and stop me. Want to end up like those prowlers?"

  "Enough," Cara said. She looked at Druam. "Chadron's blade...will it do permanent harm to Alex?"

  "I don't know. That blade was poisoned with garlic. Mavian knows more about us than we'd like."

  "And gods know if Sandu made it through." Turning to Laris, Cara tried not to look so small and exhausted. "Look, Master Stanthorpe, I don't know why you want me. Frankly, I don't really care right now. But we're all vecking tired. I'm going to see if my friends are safe, and then, after I've rested...then we can talk. Fine? But if you try and take me now, I'm going to fight. One of us will probably die. Sure, you may be a wizard, but I'm sulpari, and I'm done."