There was shouting and the sound of several men or objects moving above. Unbeknownst to the former councillor, Athan and Keiran were in the dining hall, several of the castle sentries running to try and open the door.
He opened his eyes and slowly broke into a grin. His simple magic had worked. The bars near the center of his drawing were heavily bearded in rust, and there were jagged, gaping holes in the iron. He wasn’t certain how long it had taken him to do, but he didn’t care. The results looked good enough.
Peirte sat on the ground and started to kick his feet against the bars, being rewarded with the two most severely corroded breaking away. The space left open was sufficient for him to worm his thin frame through, though he was scratched badly in the process. Free, he moved quickly to the base of the stairs and looked up. The sentry on duty was missing, and the door above was ajar.
Once up the stairs, he scanned the corridor. There was no one around, the guards were still all trying to get into the dining hall to separate Keiran and Athan. Peirte put his back to the wall and hastily moved off, winding his way through the castle until he got to the door to his room.
The lock on it was still intact, indicating that no one had yet searched his quarters and invaded his privacy. It was only a matter of time before they did. Once Keiran and the others saw what he owned, most of it undoubtedly would be dragged out and burned. It would be a shame, he thought, to lose all of it, but he would take what he could before fleeing. Some of his collection was just too valuable to abandon.
Peirte dressed back into his own clothes and set about opening his cabinets and taking out his most prized items. The pile of things he wanted to take was shoved into a large bag he could travel with. His best books, a few potions, amulets, and other assorted items were crammed into the bag until it was unable to hold anything else. It ended up being nearly too heavy for him to carry comfortably, but he’d find a way. He’d be damned if he was going to start back at nothing.
In the back of the last cabinet he opened, sat the bottle which held the demon. It was glowing wildly, as the entity inside responded to all the emotion between the two vampires in the room below. Against his better judgement, he picked up the bottle with both hands and brought it up to his face, debating with himself. The containment seal was still drawn out on the floor. Even though the demon had fought against being put back into the vessel, he considered releasing her again.
Perhaps she could be used against the vampire yet. Peirte felt he honestly had nothing to lose in trying. Revenge was the only thing left that would please him, as his chance at seizing power was almost certainly gone. This would only be to stop Keiran from becoming king, and to keep the vampire from gaining any more power.
Peirte had himself deluded into thinking he was truly on the side of noble righteousness with it. He would never admit that it was nothing more than petty jealousy.
It was only a matter of time before someone noticed he wasn’t in his cell, and this would be the first place they’d come looking. This had to be taken care of fast.
He went to the center of the room and set the bottle down in the middle of the containment seal like before. A cold sweat broke across his skin, as he wrenched the cork from the bottle. It tipped over of its own accord, and the demon spilled out as a white vapor. She quickly formed up into the humanoid female shape, Peirte stepping back.
She eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want of me this time?”
“I want the prince killed. Tear his heart out to make sure that he stays dead this time. I won’t have another failure!”
She cocked her head to the side, farther than a normal human would have been able to do. Her eyes nearly glowed as the events downstairs continued to filter up through the floor, exciting her. “He died, he was assassinated. It was not my failure. Still, killing him will feel good again. Maybe even better.”
Peirte whimpered at the prospect, remembering what he’d felt via the demon the last time. Part of him ached to experience those feelings again, even though he was stuck in such a dire predicament. “Then do it. Kill the bastard! Make him suffer!”
“Vampires can be hard to kill. Weakening him first would be best. I will watch him to find an opportunity and do it,” she replied. “What will be my reward for this?”
Peirte knew that summoned demons didn’t generally barter for their services. The magic was supposed to be enough to keep them in servitude. This one was too strong, and seemed to be getting only more adept at going outside of the rules that should have governed her—or he wasn’t skilled enough to keep a demon like her in submission anymore. Peirte didn’t want to admit that the latter was the most likely the case.
“Your freedom,” he answered.
She hissed and stared at him, a thin trail of black fluid running from one of the corners of her mouth. The demon’s motions were becoming jerky and spasmodic; the hate riddled interactions of the vampires below toying with the scant amount of rationality the creature possessed. Freedom was all that she desired, however. “Accepted.”
Peirte was disturbed by the demon’s inelegant motions, and he wished she would simply fade from the room to go about the task she was given. He looked back toward the door, paranoia getting the best of him. When he faced forward again, the demon was right in front of him, standing in what should have been a safe area within the seal. Her breath was rancid and humid, making his eyes water. He felt an electric shock of fear run the length of his spine. There was nothing to keep the beast from killing him outright if she so desired.
She looked him in the eyes and offered an evil smile. The demon ran a clawed hand up his chest and perched it beneath his chin. She knew she could easily kill him and then go about her business. However, Peirte had broken one of the cardinal rules of demon evocation. He’d made a deal instead of maintaining control. He was damned, and she decided that she would wait until she was done with the vampire, and then make Peirte her next victim.
The demon dropped her hand away and spun around, kicking the bottle with a hoof across the floor. It shattered when it hit, fragments scattering everywhere. There was no way for her to be held anymore.
Peirte stood paralyzed with fear, as she turned around back toward him. There was a sickness in his stomach, the realization of what he’d done sinking in. He’d been warned not to mess with demons that were too powerful, lest they turn the tables on him. He instantly regretted not having been more humble or sensible in his evocation, but there was little he could do now.
Besides, if he could still cost the filthy vampire his life, then it was worth it.
She moved closer to him but vanished from sight before making contact. A heated blast of energy passed through Peirte, making him gasp. He relaxed for a moment after assuring himself she was gone.
There wasn’t much time for him to stand around and dwell on what was going to happen. Finding a way out of the castle was his next priority. Peirte hung his rarely used sword from his hip, slung his bag over his shoulder, and then moved to the door. The way was clear and he moved out, determined to get into the forest and out of the reach of the castle guards.
…or Keiran.
Peirte had to admit, he was more afraid of facing the vampire again than just about anything else. The prince had crossed some sort of line and seemed completely capable of killing him without remorse. It was not something Peirte wanted to test out. For all of his evil and trouble causing over the years, he’d never been physically confronted by anyone before that afternoon. When Keiran had grabbed him by the throat, Peirte had known real fear for the first time in his life. No, he didn’t want to get anywhere near the vampire again if he could avoid it. The demon would take care of the vampire for him. All he had to do was escape and watch.
* * *
Keiran had been trying to sleep, but it wasn’t coming easily. The fight with Athan had left him feeling weak and thirsty. There was no strength left in him. He felt horrible, perhaps even worse than he had before ever taking human blood. The i
njuries from his confrontation with the other vampire weren’t getting any better. He had a concussion from the impact on the floor, which gave him a migraine of epic proportions. When he tried to open his eyes, the world seemed insufferably bright, and his stomach seemed to be on the verge of nausea.
There was a knock at his door. Keiran groaned and sat up, looking over. “Come in.”
Jerris and Corina both entered, locking the door behind them. Corina’s left shoulder was bulky under her dress from the wrapping the medic had placed. The pair of them seemed upset and acted like they had something to tell him.
Keiran stared at the two through squinted eyes. “What? I was almost asleep. It’s been a pretty bad day, you know.”
The woman sighed and stepped forward, wringing her hands together. “It’s about to get a lot worse, Keir. Peirte has escaped.”
“Please tell me that’s not true.”
“It’s not a joke,” Jerris said. “My father and all the other guards are scouring the castle and grounds, but we’ve found nothing. I went down to see him after I brought you up, taking the gold we’d gotten in town. Figured I’d get that addressed since you weren’t up for it. I found the bars to his cell broken. The sentry tasked with watching the dungeon left his post when we were trying to get into the dining hall. No one saw Peirte get out or where he’d gone.”
Keiran remained on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe Athan had intentionally created the distraction. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to believe, and he didn’t feel like he was up to dealing with any of it. His thoughts seemed fogged, and his mood was bottomed out.
“That scrawny bastard broke the bars? How the hell did he do that?” Keiran asked, not really wanting an answer. It didn’t matter, ultimately.
Jerris shrugged. “It gets better. We went to his room to search it and found the door open. I think you should come with us and have a look at what was inside.”
The prince was pretty sure he didn’t want to go see what was inside. He pulled himself up from the bed without a word and trudged over to the bathroom, disappearing inside. Keiran washed his face to try and wake himself up, and to clean up from his fight. It was a mediocre job at best, but he wasn’t too worried about his appearance. It was good enough to go look at Peirte’s room.
Corina and Jerris stepped into the corridor to wait.
The guard forced up a smile. “He took that really well.”
“He’s not happy. There’s no excuse for this, and I don’t think Keiran is feeling at all well. The man needs blood again, I fear. I’ll have to arrange something,” she said.
Jerris didn’t want to think about the second part of her statement. The idea of drinking blood made him woozy. “Well, my father’s already screamed the sentry that left his post deaf about it. He’s been promptly demoted, I assure you. Peirte’s probably long gone, anyway. I can’t imagine that he’d be stupid enough to hang around.”
Corina just shook her head and rolled her eyes. She wasn’t so sure.
Keiran came out and they move down to the former councillor’s room. The door was wide open, the interior illuminated by the late afternoon sun. Jerris had stationed two sentries at the door, to make sure that no one entered or removed anything.
The prince had never bothered to wonder what was inside Peirte’s room, but what he saw inside was not what he’d expected. The vampire stepped within, Corina and Jerris hesitating in the doorway. He looked around, his senses overloaded almost instantly.
The room stank from all the assorted potions and chemicals Peirte had accumulated. It was dismally cluttered with his remaining books, preserved specimens, and a multitude of completely unrecognizable items. The floor was still covered in the maddeningly intricate demon containment seal, and the walls had drawings from floor to ceiling. His eyes scanned the words written all over the place. They were in the old language, and he knew what it all meant.
“Dear God, Peirte, what have you gotten into?” Keiran said to himself.
Jerris leaned into the room a little. “We were guessing that he was doing some sort of magic. What do you think, Keir?”
He turned to face them. “Peirte has been summoning demons.”
Corina and Jerris stared on in disbelief. There was an ingrained fear of such things amongst Tordanians, and for very good reason.
Keiran looked around the room again. “I knew he was bad, I never would have guessed this, though. Jerris, I think we know what that deer really was, and what left those hoof marks in the blood back at Maris. How did he go from being a priest to this?”
“That’s what ripped out the assassin’s throat?” Jerris asked.
“Aye.”
Corina shook her head and retreated away from the room. “Keiran, you get out of there right now! We must have all of this burned at once.”
“I’m not going to disagree with that,” he replied.
Keiran strode from the room, closing the door behind him. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of Peirte dealing with that sort of magic at all. It explained a lot, though. How long the former councillor had been involved in it, and how much control he actually had over the entities, Keiran could only guess. Unfortunately, if Peirte was good enough with the things, he could very well still be a threat even if he’d left the castle.
They needed to find him, regardless.
“We need to have the search expanded immediately. I want hounds out in the forest, and alert the sheriff in town, so he can start a search there was well. If he’s got a demon strong enough to kill under his control, we’ve got to take him out. There is no other option.” Keiran locked gazes with his guard.
“Aye, I’ll get to it.” Jerris gave Keiran a salute, and then he looked over to one of the sentries outside the door. Since he had to go take care of things, he ordered the man to stay at Keiran’s side until he returned. He wouldn’t allow Keiran to go unescorted while the madman was on the loose.
Corina looked up at the prince as he drifted off into thought, her eyes drawn to the gash that still remained on his temple. She edged closer, rising up on her toes to get a better look.
Keiran snapped to and gave her a sidelong glance, a brow quirking. “I’m fine, Corina, and I don’t think you have the ability to fix that with the power of your mind.”
She huffed and stepped back. “I think you need blood, and I think you need it now in order to heal up from that. You don’t look so good, Keir, and your eye—I’ve never seen something like that.”
He’d not looked in the mirror since the fight and was sure he didn’t want to after that comment. She was right, though. The simple mention of blood made him feel pangs of need, and his stomach actually ached. The inspection of Peirte’s room had been a momentary distraction, but it was rushing back in. How he could have gone from the notion of dreading human blood to needing it so intensely wasn’t sitting well for him.
“I do. What I had before has obviously worn off,” he admitted.
“Let’s get you to the dining hall and I’ll see if the medic has any bloodlettings to do. At the very least, you can eat something. You haven’t since you arrived home,” she said.
Corina grabbed Keiran’s left hand and started to pull him along, not waiting for his response. The sentry Jerris had assigned to follow going along with them. They went down stairs, and she let go of him, heading off to go consult with the medic. She asked Keiran to go wait in the dining hall, but he wasn’t feeling particularly agreeable.
He felt he needed to go check in on the situation with the search. The moment she disappeared from view, Keiran waved the sentry to go with him, and he turned and headed out into the courtyard. There were men everywhere, some on horses, others not. Everything was being torn apart and searched. Several groups of guards were moving in and out of the castle gates. There was certainly some sort of organization in the chaos, but Keiran couldn’t make it out.
Kanan was in the midst of it all, his deep voice boomi
ng out orders. He was sitting on his horse to give him a better vantage point over the crowd. He was ready to head out and into the forest with the dog handlers, but spotted Keiran and rode over.
“I would feel a lot better if you were holed up somewhere with Jerris under lock and key, My Lord,” he said, inspecting the prince. The sight of him being accompanied by one untrained castle sentry did little to ease his nerves.
“I know, but I have reason to believe that being locked up and away wouldn’t be any real protection from whatever Peirte has gotten involved in,” he said quietly.
Kanan tipped his head forward. “Aye, Jerris told me. Peirte’s been summoning. Still, I don’t like you exposed.”
The prince gave a weak shrug, not seeing what difference it made. He let a moment of silence lapse, his mind not focusing very well. Thanks to his concussion and waning energy, he wasn’t acutely picking up on much of the emotion around him. Still, he could sense traces of it due to the number of people around, and it was distracting.
“Kanan,” he said, “you have to find him. We’ve no other options left. He’s going to have to be killed on sight, lest he use his demons against anyone.”
“I have no problem with that order.”
“Aye, good enough. At least Athan’s carriage is gone. I presume it left?” Keiran asked.
The elder guard nodded. “Gone, departed. He wasn’t in it when it left, but it turned around and moved through the gates around the time you were freed from the dining hall.”
“There’s no chance that Peirte was in it, was there?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “There were guards in the courtyard. Had Peirte gone near it, he would have been spotted. I was assured by those around that when it moved through the gates, it was empty.”
“Well, that’s one bit of good news.” With that, Keiran turned and went back into the castle.
He made his way to the dining hall and ordered the sentry shadowing him to remain outside the door, or what was left of it, anyway. The table had been pulled back into place and the chairs arranged. Glass and dried wine still marred the floor, however. Keiran dropped himself into his chair and closed his eyes, wishing his head would quit hurting.
The Phoenix Prince Page 21
