by C. L. Werner
Behind them, Ithilweil and Ulgrin hung back, understanding that any adversaries who made it past Brunner and Corbus would be their problem.
Corbus was the first to reach their enemies. The vampire’s blade flashed in the moonlight as the monster drove it with hideous force through the neck of his enemy’s horse, slashing deep into the animal’s flesh and removing the hand gripping its reins. The fury of the stroke caused the dying animal to topple, pitching over the side of the bridge and carrying its screaming rider into the abyss. The vampire did not delay for even a second in considering his enemy’s death, but leapt from his saddle, crashing down upon the stonework of the span. Corbus snarled up at the approaching riders, licking blood from the slaughtered horse from his face and hands. The riders paused in their approach, horrified by the ghastly sight. Even Brunner hesitated, seeing first hand how very close the vampire had been to losing control of his bloodlust during their long ride through the Massif Orcal. Now the monster acted without restraint, glorying in his bloodthirsty assault.
One attacker was not as timid about fighting the vampire, however, and Brunner urged Fiend forward to block the man’s attack. If anyone on the bridge would cross swords with Thierswind, it would be Brunner. Drakesmalice crashed against Thierswind’s sword of blackened steel, a metal cry not heard for many years. The knight tried to batter away the bounty hunter’s stroke, but found that the angle of his attack was ill-suited to such a parry.
‘You should have hunted easier prey,’ Thierswind snarled. ‘This one belongs to the viscount.’ The knight slashed down at Brunner, but found Drakesmalice once again between his blow and his target.
‘Leave it to de Chegney to send a jackal like yourself to steal another man’s property,’ the bounty hunter snarled back. He returned Thierswind’s attack with one of his own, the edge of Drakesmalice deflected by the knight’s thick armour.
Thierswind snorted disdainfully at the bounty hunter. ‘You face your death, scavenger. I’ve put fifty men in their graves, one more will not trouble me.’
‘How many of those were women and children?’ Brunner retorted, his blade lashing out once more. Thierswind allowed it to glance from his vambrace, snarling back at his antagonist. Good, the bounty hunter thought. Puncture that pompous arrogance of yours and you throw all your skill and training right out the window. Nice to see that some things never change.
Rudol watched as the battle on the bridge unfolded. Brunner seemed to have picked up a rather motley group of allies. The two hanging back were a dwarf and some woman, one with more than a little touch of the power about her. The armoured warrior who had ridden forward with Brunner was amazing, a whirling engine of slaughter and destruction. Rudol had seen men work some incredible feats when gripped by the juice of Crimson Shade, but the bounty hunter’s ally put even such impressive moments of brutality to shame. His first stroke had nearly decapitated a horse, and since then he had accounted for another of Thierswind’s men, ripping the soldier from his saddle and tearing out his throat with his teeth. Thierswind himself was beset by the bounty hunter, seemingly unable to deal the man a deciding blow while Brunner managed to land minor strikes against the knight’s legs and arms. It was an old trick that the knight should have recognised, a tactic designed to sap the strength from his limbs, but Thierswind seemed lost in some mindless frenzy.
Rudol smiled. It was about time he ended the show anyway. The outcome of the battle was inconsequential, no one would be leaving the bridge alive in any event. The outcast celestial wizard began to draw the power into his body, feeling the magic energy writhing through his veins. Yes, indeed, it was time to end this.
‘Get a firm grip on his horse,’ Rudol ordered the only soldier remaining on his side of the chasm. The man-at-arms dutifully strengthened his hold on the reins of Gobineau’s animal. Then the wizard raised a claw-like hand, gesturing toward the bridge. In response to the words of power whispering from his mouth, a fierce gale howled across the span. Rudol watched as men and beasts struggled against the gale, fighting to retain their footing upon the narrow strip of stonework. The first to fail in the struggle was one of Thierswind’s men. Toppling from his saddle, the wretch fell screaming into the chasm, his cry strangely distorted by the shrieking tempest. The others seemed to have better sense, dismounting as the wind began to grow. Rudol could see the animals racing for the far side of the span, abandoning their masters to the sorcerous storm. One of the animals crashed against the woman he had noticed earlier, causing them both to fall onto the edge of the bridge. Inhumanly nimble, the woman just managed to grab hold of the horse’s reins as she was pushed off the bridge, hanging above the abyss. A valiant effort, but it would not avail her. The storm was going to grow much worse before it expended itself.
The wizard looked aside at his remaining lackey and his prisoner. ‘Come along,’ he said. ‘There is nothing more to be done here, and much to be done on the other side of the hill.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
The unnatural wind continued to howl across the ancient bridge. Brunner had forsaken the saddle to crouch against the stonework, presenting the clawing tempest the smallest target. Through eyes tearing with the effort of staying open under the snapping gale, the bounty hunter took stock of his situation. The only horse he could see still on the bridge was one a dozen yards behind him, lying prone upon its side. The other animals were even now galloping away into the shelter of the narrow valleys. Brunner could see Ulgrin Baleaxe crouched low in the saddle of his mule, trying vainly to turn the frightened animal about before dwarf and steed vanished down one of the valleys. On the bridge itself, he could see the bodies of two of Thierswind’s men slowly being rolled by the gale, the broken soldiers sliding inexorably toward the edge of the span. Of their killer, there was no sign. The vampire knight Sir Corbus had vanished as completely as dew on a warm summers morn.
One other form stirred upon the bridge, however. Brunner could see the armoured shape of Sir Thierswind struggling to his feet. So intent upon punishing the bounty hunter for his caustic insults was the arrogant knight that he tempted even the sorcerous windstorm called down by Rudol’s foul magic. The steel-clad warrior swayed unsteadily as the wind clutched at him, but, with slow, faltering steps, he began to make his way forward.
Brunner watched Thierswind advance, drawing his pistol as the knight drew closer. The knight paused for an instant as he noted the motion, then uttered a snarl of contempt, raising his sword and striding forward once more.
Firearms were rare in Bretonnia, and its warrior nobility despised them as being unworthy of their profession even more so than the longbow. Brunner had profited greatly in the past by the lack of knowledge Bretonnians often displayed toward foreign weapons. No doubt Thierswind reasoned that a gun was no different from a bow, that its shot would be cast aside by the tremendous wind just as an archer’s arrow would be diverted from its mark. The bounty hunter smiled. Over a long distance, the knight’s assumption might have proved correct, but with every step he took toward his enemy, the chances of the bullet going astray diminished considerably.
Thierswind glared down at Brunner, the knight’s body swaying in the gale. He lifted his blade, intending to end the life of this miserable commoner vermin that had dared to insult his honour and that of his lord. He could see the bounty killer lifting his crude pistol and snorted contemptuously. If the man expected him to show fear before that toy of his, then he was sorely mistaken. If he’d had any confidence that the weapon could have stopped the knight, he would have used it long before now. Thierswind took another tottering step forward and prepared to deal the coup de grace to his prone adversary.
The familiar crack and roar of the pistol was lost in the howling gale. The acrid black smoke of the discharge was blown back into Brunner’s face, forcing him to shut his eyes against the foulsmelling smog. When he opened them again, Thierswind had slumped to his knees, hands clutching at the gory wound smoking at the centre of his belly. The knight was no longer able to resist the wind,
but fell to his side, sliding remorselessly toward the edge. Desperately, he clutched at the lip of the span with one hand while the other tried to hold his injury closed. Brunner slowly rose to his own feet, his body buffeted by the clawing tempest. Step by careful step, the bounty hunter made his way to the knight’s side. He lifted Drakesmalice, displaying it to the wounded knight, waiting until he saw Thierswind’s eyes widen with recognition.
‘When you get to the gates of Morr,’ Brunner shouted above the shrieking wind, ‘be sure to prepare a place for your master!’ With a savage downward stroke, he brought the edge of Drakesmalice slashing into Thierswind’s hand. Such was the strength of the blow that the armoured digits were severed, tumbling away over the edge of the chasm. Thierswind screamed in horror as he lost his grip and his body began to slowly slide across the bridge once more. The sound of the doomed knight begging the bounty hunter to save him struggled to oppose the howling winds and the cold hate that filled the eyes of the bounty hunter. In the past, pleas for mercy had gone unheard by Thierswind, now his own fell upon deaf ears.
Brunner sank down to his knees, his body swaying and rocking in the wind and watched as Thierswind at last fell into the abyss, his final scream drowned out in the shrieking gale.
The windstorm at last dissipated and Brunner rose to his feet. Except for the fallen horse he had noticed earlier, the bridge had been cleared by the wizard’s magic. Brunner turned his eyes toward the far side of the chasm. It was fortunate indeed that Rudol had not tarried to ensure the potency of his sorcery. The bounty hunter was determined that the wizard would not get the chance to try again.
Just as he began to sprint toward the far side, a cry sounded from behind him. Brunner turned and raced to the source of the sound. He leaned over the crippled horse and gazed down into the chasm. Below, the reins of the animal wrapped about her arm, Ithilweil swayed in the lingering breeze. The elf’s face was even paler than usual, and the arm wrapped within the coils of the leather reins was twisted, either broken or dislodged from its socket by the sorcerous gale. Brunner returned Drakesmalice to its sheath and began to slowly, carefully pull Ithilweil upward. The elf did not cry out, but Brunner saw her face contort with pain as pressure was put on her damaged arm. Yet once she was safely back on the bridge, her thoughts were not concerned with her own injuries.
‘The wizard,’ she gasped as Brunner set her down against the fallen horse. ‘Did you get him?’
Brunner shook his head. ‘No, he escaped over the hill just after the storm started,’ he told her. ‘Ulgrin’s mule got away from him, took him back into the valley. I don’t know what happened to Corbus.’
Ithilweil seemed to digest this information for a moment, then turned her penetrating eyes back on Brunner. ‘You must take me to the wizard. We have to stop him before it is too late.’ She reached upward with her uninjured arm. Brunner accepted it and lifted her to her feet, letting her lean on him for support.
‘How do you know it isn’t too late already?’ the bounty hunter cautioned her. The elf’s answer was a grim one.
‘Because we are still alive.’
The wizard stood in the bowl-like depression that lay sprawled beyond the hill, glorying at the awesome sight lying before him. He had seen the dragon from a distance and so knew what to expect in theory. But he had failed to appreciate the true enormity of the creature, the immense power that emanated from its body even in sleep. The crimson scales were as thick as armour plate, the claws that tipped each of the monster’s feet looked capable of tearing apart mountains. Rudol stared intently at the reptilian face, the long snout with its rows of jagged fangs, the leathery lids concealing the wyrm’s ancient eyes. A sound like a bellows rasped through the reptile’s flared nostrils as the dragon slumbered.
Rudol looked down at the crescent of ivory clutched in his hand. The fools in Altdorf would regret their mistake. He would make them pay, level their puerile institution and cast their charred corpses into an open pit while the entire city watched. He would show them who was the great wizard and who was the frightened fool. Rudol turned his eyes back toward his remaining companions: Gobineau and the soldier he’d kept to guard the man.
‘You stand at the crossroads of history,’ Rudol told them. ‘You stand witness to the moment when Rudol claims his destiny!’ The wizard’s triumphant cackle was diminished as he saw the powerful warrior in the crimson armour emerge from the rocks behind Gobineau.
Rudol’s confidence began to waver as he recalled the ferocious power the knight had displayed when butchering Thierswind’s men. With a speed that was almost beyond belief, the vampire sprung forward, falling upon the last soldier like a lion pouncing upon a goat. The doomed man managed a single cry of horror as the vampire gorged himself on the soldier’s blood.
Rudol turned, lifting the Fell Fang to his lips. Whatever unholy force gave such strength and ferocity to the red knight, it was about to be consumed by an even greater power.
Ithilweil and Brunner rounded the hill just in time to see Corbus pounce upon Rudol’s sole surviving guard. As the vampire attacked, Brunner could see Gobineau running for the far side of the bowllike depression, striving to put as much ground between himself and the vampire as possible. Then the bounty hunter’s attention became riveted on the immense reptilian shape sprawled about the base of the depression. While he watched, the dragon’s claws began to flex, the steady breathing became uneven, and Malok began to stir.
Ithilweil stabbed a slender finger at the black-cloaked source of the dragon’s discomfort. Rudol had lifted the Fell Fang to his lips, urging Malok from his slumber.
‘You must stop him!’ the elf shouted needlessly.
Brunner cast one last look at the fleeing Gobineau, then began racing toward the wizard, Drakesmalice clutched in his hand. Ithilweil watched the bounty hunter hasten to put an end to Rudol’s magic, then forced herself to enter the trance-like state that would allow her own magic to play its part in the conflict. It was madness, what she was contemplating, even the most powerful mages in Ulthuan would have found what she was going to try difficult, if not impossible. To try and influence the will of a dragon, to disorient and confuse a mind so ancient, was a thing on such a scale as she had never dared imagine before. But she also knew that if she failed, then all of them would be dead in a matter of seconds.
Rudol laughed as he watched Malok stir, removing the Fell Fang from his lips and shouting triumphantly at the mammoth beast. ‘Yes! Yes! Awaken my pet! Hear your master’s call!’ The massive shape contorted its body in a long, serpentine stretch, then swung its head around to face the wizard. The leathery eyelids slid open, the huge yellow orbs behind them staring intently at the cackling conjurer. The dragon’s long tongue slid from between its jaws, tasting the air and the scent of the sorcerer. Rudol gloried in the moment as the dragon became aware of its new master. Then he turned around, glaring back at the hill. The red knight had cast aside the carcass of the soldier and was now rushing down the hill, his pale face streaked in blood. Behind him, Rudol could also see the bounty hunter, Brunner, likewise charging down the hill. Still further distant was the slender figure of the young woman from the bridge, wisps of magical power billowing about her as she worked some spell of her own.
The wizard’s lip curled in contempt. ‘Kill them, Malok!’ he cried. ‘Kill! Kill! Kill them all!’ His voice swelled with the fury and outrage that filled him. These vermin thought to come between himself and his destiny; now they would become the first victims of his new power.
Ahead of him, Brunner could see the mammoth reptile begin to move, its head swinging about to regard Rudol with serpentine eyes. The bounty hunter could feel terror gnaw at his stomach as he watched Malok sluggishly stir into motion, but another emotion overwhelmed his fear and lent a new speed to his legs. His mind became clouded with darkling thoughts of the future. His eyes shifted their focus from Malok to the red-armoured Sir Corbus, the knight’s sword clenched in his mailed fist. During the long nights riding
toward the Massif Orcal, the vampire had repeated over and again his intentions, the dream that relentlessly drove him onward: to drink the dragon’s blood and purge his body of the loathsome thirst that plagued him.
Brunner redoubled his efforts, lunging toward the vampire. Drakesmalice flashed toward the knight’s back, striking the monster in the small of his back. It was a telling stroke, but the sturdy armour worn by Corbus held and instead of sinking into undead flesh, Brunner’s sword merely scraped across the steel plates. Corbus spun about, dropping to his haunches, his broken face snarling up at the bounty hunter like some feral beast.
‘He’s no good to me dead,’ Brunner hissed at Corbus, his longsword slashing at the vampire’s face.
Corbus raised his own blade, blocking the bounty hunter’s blow.
‘Treacherous maggot!’ the vampire roared as he repelled Brunner’s attack.
‘My word is only as good as who I give it to,’ the bounty hunter responded. The mangled visage of Corbus seemed to glow with the fury boiling up within him. But the vampire was not so lost to his anger that he did not notice Brunner’s other hand swinging around. With incredible speed, the undead knight sprang backwards, beyond the cloud of salt the bounty hunter hurled at him.
Corbus hissed at his enemy, every muscle in his body coiling for the next attack. The bounty hunter had used his last trick, now he would become the last victim of the unholy thirst raging through the vampire’s veins, the last supper before Corbus claimed his redemption. He tensed his body, like a tiger preparing to pounce.
Just as the vampire leaped, a gigantic crimson claw smashed into the ground before him, throwing Corbus back as the earth exploded beneath the dragon’s strength. Brunner leapt from beneath the dragon’s other claw as the monster brought its leg crashing down upon him. Broken fragments of rock pelted the bounty hunter as he rolled away from the reptile’s assault.
