by Amy Cross
“What?” I ask, with a hint of frustration. “I don't get it, what am I supposed to be looking at? I don't know what world you come from, but in this world we communicate with words!”
Again I wait, but of course he gives no answer.
“Can't you just tell me?” I continue. “I'm not a mind-reader.”
As I wait for him to speak, the rain starts to fall even more heavily. I never thought that was possible.
“There is one,” he says finally, his voice heavy and scratched with old age. “Close.”
“One what?” I ask.
“One of them.” He pauses, his empty eye-sockets watching the darkness. “A vampire scout was sent several days ago to check on rumors of spider activity in this area. He spent much time searching in all the wrong places, but finally he strayed a little too close to one of the nesting grounds near the fifteenth ridge, and he had to be eliminated. Unfortunately, the process was not quite completed and now he's trying to drag his ravaged carcass back to his friends at Gothos so he can report on our presence.” He pauses again, and this time I can hear the rasping sound of his breath. “I would prefer not to be the one who kills him. I try to exert myself as little as possible these days, so...”
Suddenly he turns to me, his empty sockets seeming larger than ever.
“I thought you would enjoy the privilege instead.”
“A vampire?” I ask.
He smiles. “A vampire.”
“How far away is he?” I continue, feeling a knot of anticipation in my chest. I've waited for a moment like this.
“Can't you sense him already?” he asks.
Turning again, I look out at the darkness. Just as I'm about to tell him that I can't sense anything out here at all, I realize that there is a presence, albeit one that's faint, one I wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been brought to my attention. If it's a vampire, he must be far away or weak, or...
“Dying,” I whisper. “He's dying.”
“Mortally wounded,” Skellig replies, unable to stifle a smile that bares small, sharp teeth. “Not an easy thing to do to a vampire, but nevertheless, he has only a day or two left. He most likely wouldn't make it back to Gothos to report anyway, but... I would prefer to make certain. I do so hate leaving loose ends.”
“You want me to kill him?” I ask.
“You've never killed a vampire before, have you?”
“I...” Taking a deep breath, I realize that this is a challenge I must face. A challenge and a privilege.
“Your father will be very proud,” he continues. “I shall report to him when you are done. If I were to tell him that you had killed a vampire, some of his concerns would no doubt be calmed.”
“What concerns?” I ask, shocked by the idea that Father is still worried.
“He has yet to see proof that you are strong enough for the challenges ahead.”
“But I've done so much since leaving New York,” I point out. “I thought by now I'd proved myself to him!”
“You thought wrong.”
Feeling a flash of anger, I get to my feet, stepping out of the shelter into the rain. I'm drenched after just a couple of seconds. “I'll kill the vampire,” I mutter darkly. “Not only that, but I'll save his skull and drink wine from it tonight. Then we'll see what Father thinks about my strength and readiness. I'll find that foul vampire and torture him slowly, it'll be practice for when I get my hands on Abby Hart. I'll peel away the wretch's soul and feast on every moment of misery until -”
Suddenly I feel something cold being pressed into my right hand, and I look down to see that Skellig has given me a small, dented dagger. I've seen him carrying it before; on the hilt, there are markings that clearly belong to a language, but which are unlike any letters I've encountered before.
“A simple execution will be enough,” he says calmly, looking up at me with those dark, empty eye sockets. “Not every act has to be a performance, Emilia. Not every killing requires a speech beforehand.”
“But my father -”
“Will no doubt be happy to know that you've killed a vampire for the first time. Keep it simple.”
I examine the dagger for a moment, before realizing that he's right. “It should have been Abby Hart,” I say finally. “My first vampire kill, I mean. That's why I've been delaying this moment, I was hoping that I'd get another chance. I should have slaughtered her after what she did to Keller.”
“Be patient.”
“You should have seen the look on her face when I saw her at Jagadoon,” I continue. “All sunburned and dusty, and leaner than before after training for so long. There was hatred in her eyes when she looked at me, but also fear. I can use that fear against her. I can torture her and -”
“Stop,” he says firmly. “Again, Emilia, you talk when you should be acting. Keller clearly did not teach you well.”
“Keller was the greatest teacher I could have had,” I reply, bristling at the criticism.
“He was a traditionalist,” Skellig replies. “He taught you some useful things, but it is good that I am now in charge of your development. Your father was wise to ask me for this help. I can correct the mistakes that Keller made with your education.”
I pause for a moment, wanting to defend Keller's memory but feeling as if I'd merely be showing weakness. “Are you sure you don't want to be the one who kills this vampire tonight?” I ask finally. “That way, I can still wait and have Abby as my first victim.”
“Do your job,” he says darkly. “Your have your orders.”
“And Father will be pleased with me?” I ask.
He nods.
“Does he... Does he ever say anything else about me? He isn't really losing faith in me, is he? I rode all the way out to Jagadoon and I walked back, he must have noticed that.”
“He did.”
“So he's... I mean, he's proud of me, isn't he?”
“You have the dagger,” he replies. “Go kill the vampire. This is one of the final rites of passage you must face, before your training is complete.”
***
It doesn't take long to find the miserable wretch.
Barely twenty paces from the oak tree, in the middle of a clearing with rain pouring down all around, a dark, hooded figure is crawling through the mud, dragging his shattered body ever onward. He hasn't noticed me yet, not even as I step up behind him, and finally I stop and watch as he digs his hands into the mud and hauls himself a little further. He lets out a pained cry, trailing not only his remaining leg but also the section of spinal column that has been drawn from his back and left dangling. Looking down at my boots for a moment, I see that there's blood on the fabric. In fact, there's blood everywhere, soaking into the mud. This creature is so close to death, I'm surprised he can still move.
Good.
The death of a vampire should always be celebrated.
And then suddenly he stops, as if he senses me. After a moment he turns his head a little, and I see that his face has been split down the middle, cracking the skull and revealing glistening red meat within. One of his eyes is clearly ruined but the other remains intact, along with most of his mouth, and there's a kind of handsome, striking nobility to his soul that immediately strikes nausea into my gut. There's a part of me that thinks no creature should be reduced to such a miserable state, but I know that sentiment is misplaced; I must savor every moment of this idiot's misery.
“Going somewhere?” I ask, smiling as I step over him.
He keeps his eyes fixed on me.
He knows he can't fight back.
He knows what I am. A spider, and his executioner.
“So let me guess,” I say after a moment, raising my voice so I can be heard over the sound of so much rain. “A few days ago, perhaps a couple of weeks back, you set out from some vampire staging post, perhaps from Gothos itself, filled with confidence and determined to play your part in this conflict. You planned to track down some spiders, observe them for a while, and then report back. Play your par
t in the build-up to war, except... Except it didn't work out that way. You got noticed, and now you're in this mess.”
He stares up at me.
He's waiting to die.
“We don't usually bother killing vampire scouts,” I continue, crouching down in front of him. “There's no point, it'd be a waste of our energy and there's no harm in letting you run around exhausting yourselves, but on this occasion you got a little too close for comfort. We can't go making things too easy for you, can we?” Smiling, I hold the dagger up for him to see. “They say this blade is made from one of the few remaining slivers of metal recovered from Karakh. That's what my master told me, anyway. I just thought you'd like to see the weapon that is going to end your miserable life and -”
“Do it!” he hisses.
I open my mouth to reply, but for a moment I'm struck by the hatred in his eyes.
“Get it over with,” he continues, as blood runs from him mouth. “It's enough that I have to die. Don't torture me by making me listen to your pathetic threats. I'm not interested in anything you have to say!”
“I'm not threatening you,” I tell him. “I'm merely telling you how things will be.”
“You'll never find Karakh,” he spits back at me. “That much is certain, it's written in the Book of Gothos itself. You can search for all eternity, but you'll never even come close.”
“We're already close,” I sneer.
“I've seen...” He gasps, as if the pain is too much. “I've seen your forces massing beyond the Navarian ridge. I've seen the pathetic little army you've spent six months building.” Slowly, a smile spreads across his face. “It's nothing. Whatever you're planning, you don't have the resources to pull it off. You don't even have any allies. When the true nature of the spiders' return becomes apparent, don't you think other races will mass to join the vampires in our fight against you? You'll be ground into the dust before you get a chance to fight back.”
“Is that what your leaders have told you?” I ask. “Have they tried to make you brave, by filling your heads with stories of victory?” I press the dagger's blade against the side of his face. “Tell me your name. I want to know who I'm killing, so I can sing about it later.”
“My name is Ferran,” he says firmly, “and I am -”
“That's enough,” I continue, driving the dagger through his remaining good eye and into his brain, and then twisting the blade around before pulling it out.
He slumps down, but of course a simple wound to the head is not enough to kill a vampire. If I transformed to my spider form, I could finish him off by filling his body with venom, but then there'd be all the hassle of returning to my humanoid form for the journey ahead. Instead, I take a vial of venom from around my neck and unscrew the lid, before tipping the black liquid into the crack in the vampire's head. The venom immediately starts to burn through his flesh, but that's just superficial damage. The real damage comes as the venom spreads through his body and reaches his heart, which will now be burned away until there's nothing left.
That's how to end a vampire's life.
Taking a step back, with the dagger still in my right hand, I watch as the wretch's body starts to tremble, with violent, loud hisses hinting at the violence of the venom searing his heart. He turns slightly and reaches out, as if he still thinks he can crawl away, but more blood is sloughing from his corpse now and I have no doubt that the venom is doing its job perfectly. A moment later, I spot flames rippling through his torso, but there's too much rain for the wretch to burn properly. I can't help but feel sorry for him, really; when a vampire dies, he should at least be given a chance to shine bright, but out here in the storm and the mud he has no chance. This poor specimen is more of a damp squib. His body keeps trying to ignite, but the rain overwhelms him.
Finally he falls still, his body little more than a pile of ash and sludge now, with just a few pieces of bone remaining. All things considered, his was probably the most pathetic vampire death in history. Taking a step forward, I grind the heel of my boot into what's left of his face, pressing his ashes into the rain-soaked mud.
“Ferran,” I mutter with a frown. “Ferran? That's not a particularly strong name. Oh well, I guess I shouldn't be too picky. I'm sure my second kill will be more worthy.”
With that, I leave the still-smoldering corpse in the mud and turn, walking away through the rain, heading back to the oak tree where Skellig is waiting to tell me I did a good job, and that my father will be proud.
I'm good at killing vampires. Some might even say that I have a talent. But Ferran was already injured, so in my mind his death doesn't really count. Abby Hart can still be my first proper victory.
Emilia
“No!” I shout, hurrying after Skellig as he makes his way along the dirt road a few minutes later. “I want to go after Abby!”
“What you want is none of my concern,” he replies, not even turning to look back at me. “Keller trained you well, but you still have much to learn. You will head to the ridge and wait with the others until your orders arrive. I am merely relaying the decision that has been passed down by your own father, Emilia.”
“Abby Hart is mine!” I hiss.
“You will head to the ridge -”
“I deserve her!” I tell him, hurrying past and stopping in front of him to block his path. The storm has begun to move away now, with just a few spots of cold rain falling as sunlight spreads through the forest. Still, my clothes are soaked, with cold fabric clinging to my human form. “After everything that has happened,” I continue, trembling with rage at the idea that this opportunity could be taken away from me, “I've earned the right to end Abby Hart's life myself! She must have left Jagadoon by now, so I can go and find her and I can finish her off. It won't even take that long!”
“Are you challenging my authority?” he asks.
“I'm reminding you of the truth!” I wait for him to admit that I'm right, but his empty eye sockets merely stare back at me with unblinking calm. “She's mine,” I continue finally. “I held back from killing her when I had the chance in New York, it was agony but I managed to control myself and Keller promised me that I'd be given another opportunity soon!”
“He was right, but the time has not yet arrived. Emilia, you must go to the ridge and wait with the others.”
“I'm sick of waiting!”
“Emilia -”
“Where's Karakh?” I ask. “Are you really any closer to finding it, or is that just another lie that's told to make us feel that we're making progress?”
“Karakh will be ours before the twelfth sun has set,” he says calmly. “That fact is written in the -”
“Don't tell me what's written in the Book of Karakh,” I snap, trying to hold back but unable to keep from letting my frustration show. “I'm sick of prophecies and all this talk of fate, and I'm tired of always being told to be patient. We've spent so long waiting for our chance to return, so why don't we just go and finish the vampires off right now? We're strong enough, we're more than ready, and if we wait any longer we'll be giving them a chance to regroup and come up with a strategy.”
“All of this has been considered.”
“Then why -”
“Your place for now is in the ranks,” he continues, interrupting me. “There is no shame in standing shoulder-to-shoulder with your peers.”
“My peers?” I stare at him for a moment, filled with revulsion. “What are you talking about?” I hiss. “I'm more than just a soldier, I'm the daughter of one of the greatest spiders who ever lived! In case it slipped your mind, my father is waiting for us to recover Karakh so we can bring him back from the other side of the void, and I'm pretty damn certain we wouldn't have made it this far if it wasn't for my work! I'm so much more than just another grunt in the army!”
“You have done very well, Emilia,” he says, still sounding calm and in control, “but others can take charge for now. You have lessons to learn, you are not -”
“I'm special!” I hiss.
“You make mistakes!” he replies, stepping toward me with a flash of anger in his eyes. “I see it, the others see it, your father sees it... You have potential, but you're nowhere near the level of achievement that was expected of you!”
“I just killed my first vampire!”
“Slowly! I heard you, Emilia. You stood over him and you gloated.”
“I had to learn his name!”
“No, you had to kill him, and that was all. His name was completely immaterial. You should have walked over to him, driven the dagger into his back, poured venom into his heart, and then walked away. Every second that you wasted grandstanding and taunting him was another second that proved your gross immaturity.”
“No, I...” Pausing for a moment, I realize that he's serious, and that maybe he has a point. “I wanted him to know his death was in vain,” I stammer. “I didn't want him to die thinking he'd contributed to some greater cause.”
“Your father sees such behavior as a sign of weakness,” he replies. “You don't dare go against your father's word, do you?”
“My father...” Taking a deep breath, I realize that I need to be careful. “My father barely knows me,” I continue finally. “He hears reports from you, and from the others, and he dips into my mind sometimes but... He doesn't see me on a day to day basis, he doesn't know what I'm really like.”
“He sees more than you realize,” Skellig replies, “and he is gravely concerned. You should be thankful that you have no living siblings, or by now you would have been replaced in your father's esteem. Fortunately for your sake, he persists in hoping that you will measure up to his expectations. For now, at least. When his doubts grow, I tell him to have faith in you. I hope that is not a mistake on my part.”
I want to argue with him, but I know he has the authority to punish me further.
“You will spend some time in the ranks,” he continues, as if the matter is settled, “and perhaps there you will learn how to control yourself a little better. This ignominy will not last forever. A day or two, perhaps, just long enough for you to learn your place. There will be another chance for you to prove yourself, Emilia -”
