The Vampire Queen Saga: Books 1-3: (The Vampire Queen Saga Boxset)

by William Stacey

  “You call me Fioni. Fioni Ice-Bound, and yes, I’m the master of this lovely ship, the Fen Wolf. And you have the honor of being the guest of the Waveborn clan.”

  “I… thank you, Fioni,” Danika said as she considered the other woman.

  Unlike most of the other raiders, she wore a fine dark-green linen tunic with tight leather breeches and calf-high eel-skin boots trimmed with fur. Her nose was pert and freckled but with a noticeable bump where it had obviously once been broken and badly healed. Her eyes, bright green, flashed like the sun on the waves. Tall and proud, her sun-bronzed arms toned with muscle, her short red hair flapping in the wind, Fioni Ice-Bound was undeniably stunningly beautiful. But it was a wild, dangerous beauty. She reminded Danika of the wolf’s head atop the prow, a predator. Put her in a silk gown, though, with makeup and her hair grown long and coifed… she’d turn eyes in King’s Hold easily enough.

  Fioni stared past Danika at the three fishing boats. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m the Lady Danika—”

  “I know who you are. I saw you and your brother in Port Ollechta less than two months ago. I asked why you’re here. Why are they chasing you?”

  Danika’s gaze flicked toward the three boats filled with angry Islanders. “I ask for sanctuary,” Danika blurted out, “for myself and my… knight, Sir Owen of Toscovar. Please, there will be a reward for helping us. You can become rich.”

  Fioni raised an eyebrow. “Your knight, is it? Well, I’m already rich. I have a fine ship and a brave crew. What more do I need?”

  Vory moved to lean over the gunwale and spit into the water as he glared at the fishing boats. “What’s got the toads all riled up?”

  Danika’s mouth was dry, her heartbeat racing. Once again, she heard Modwyn’s mocking voice, his filthy promises. “Fioni, please. The king will reward you for bringing us to King’s Hold. You’ll have a fortune.”

  Fioni turned to face her, her eyes hard. “Tell me now. What do they want?”

  Danika met the other woman’s eyes, her lips open as her mind raced to consider her answer. No lies came to her. Exhausted, she had run as far as she could, so she decided to tell the truth. “Me,” she said. “And this.” She reached behind her cloak and pulled out the hilt of Sight-Bringer, handing it to Fioni.

  Fioni’s eyes widened as she stared at the Illthori relic.

  Vory towered over her shoulder from behind, staring at the broken sword blade. “What in the name of Wodor’s hairy balls is that?”

  Fioni tentatively reached out and gripped the hilt. The moment her fingers touched it, she jerked upright, as if she had just been prodded with something sharp. Her eyes grew large as she brought the broken blade up to her eyes. “Gods help us. What is this?”

  “Fioni, please,” pleaded Danika. “Sanctuary?”

  Fioni lowered the blade and watched the approaching fishing boats, now within bowshot range. “What happened on this island? What have you people done?”

  “Please. Help me or kill me. But don’t give me to them.” Her voice broke at the end, her desperation and terror breaking through.

  One of the Islanders, a large dark-haired and bearded man with a ruddy face, leaned out over the hull of the largest fishing boat. Modwyn stood just behind him, looking triumphant. “Greetings, cousins,” the dark-haired man called out. “We welcome you, Fioni Ice-Bound, the famous Red Wolf.”

  Fioni thrust the broken blade in her belt, out of sight behind her back, and turned her attention to the Islanders. “Cousins, is it, Galvin? What do you lot want?”

  Modwyn pushed past the bearded man, his face red with anger. “That woman belongs to us, and we want her back.”

  “Am I supposed to care what you want, mainlander?”

  Modwyn’s eyes narrowed. “She’s a criminal and a murderer.”

  “He’s lying,” said Danika. “He’s the murderer. He slaughtered my brother, his own liege-lord.”

  Kora placed her hand on Danika’s forearm and shook her head, silencing her. Danika glared at Modwyn, wishing she had had the courage to kill the slimy pig when she had the chance.

  Fioni addressed Modwyn. “You’re not one of us, mainlander, so you don’t know our ways. I’m surprised Galvin hasn’t already explained this to you. I’ve taken this woman and her man as ‘salvage.’ The sea gave them to me, so they’re mine to do with as I choose.”

  The bearded Islander standing beside Modwyn, this Galvin, said something to Modwyn, holding tight to the physician’s arm. Modwyn, his face dark with anger, looked as if he wanted to scream but only nodded. How much authority does Modwyn hold with these people?

  Galvin, a pained smile upon his face, raised his palms. “Come now, Fioni. We’ve known each other all our lives. We respect your right of salvage, of course. But we need this woman to face justice for her crimes. We’ll pay you for her—a fair price. You’ve done much business with us, Fioni, as has your father before you. You and your clan have grown rich plundering the merchant vessels that dock at our port. Let’s not forget that we too are Fenyir.”

  Fioni snorted. “Fenyir, are you? I have no idea what you and yours call yourselves now, Galvin,” said Fioni bitterly, “but by all the gods, you’re not Fenyir—not anymore. You’re little better than mainlanders now.”

  Galvin’s face darkened in anger. “Things have changed, Fioni. You’re making a mistake—a mistake your entire clan will pay the price for. Give us the woman! Give us the sword!”

  “Are you threatening me, Galvin?” Fioni asked, her voice laced with steel.

  “We’ll pay you for her,” Modwyn blurted out.

  “How much?” Fioni asked.

  Her crew began to call out large sums of silver, each seemingly trying to come up with more than the one before. Fioni waved them silent.

  Modwyn faltered for a moment, his eyes darting about. “As much as you want. Just come back with us to Greywynne Island. My queen will reward you.”

  “He’s lying,” said Danika. “She’ll kill you all.”

  Fioni looked to Danika, her eyes narrowed. “His queen? What queen?”

  “Serina Greywynne,” said Danika softly.

  Fioni’s face reflected her shock. “What nonsense is this?”

  “Something’s put shit in their breeches,” said Vory. “You can see it in their ugly toad faces. They might actually fight us.” At this, a sly smile crept upon Vory’s features.

  Fioni snorted. “They’re not that stupid.”

  “They might be,” said Kora. “But consider also, we provision in Port Eaton. Common sense says we should listen to them.”

  “I’d rather be dipped in sheep’s blood and thrown into the water as shark chum than give a woman to these toads,” Fioni said with finality.

  Kora smiled and kissed Fioni on the cheek. “And that’s why we love you, Red Wolf.”

  Tears welled in Danika’s eyes, and she feared her knees would buckle as relief flooded through her. Thank the Craftsman!

  Vory’s voice was soft, barely a whisper. “Your father—”

  “Wouldn’t do it either,” snapped Fioni. “And you know that, Vory. That’s why you served him for so many years. That’s why you serve me. Common sense be damned!”

  “Aye,” said Vory as he ran a thumb over the edge of his battle-axe. “Common sense is overrated. Well, if it comes to it, I get to kill Galvin.”

  Fioni leaned over the hull of her longship and raised her voice. “I’ve considered your kind offer but can’t accept it. I’ve taken this woman and her knight as salvage. They’re mine, and you can all go fuck yourselves.”

  Galvin gripped Modwyn’s forearm, pulled him close, and whispered into his ear. Danika saw the rage in the physician’s face. Good. Choke on it, you slimy pig.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Galvin yelled back, his hand still on Modwyn’s forearm.

  “Listen to me carefully, Galvin,” Fioni said. “I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. And the barrels you make are shit. T
hey’re always falling apart. Go pound sand!”

  Galvin glared at her for several moments, his face grim.

  Modwyn leaned out over the hull of the fishing boat. “I’ll pass your message on to my queen, woman. But I don’t think you’ll like her response.”

  “Go away,” said Fioni. “Before I ram and sink all of your little boats and make you swim back to her—whoever she truly is.”

  The three fishing boats began to heave to and adjust their sails to return to Port Eaton. Danika faced Fioni. “Will you take me to King’s Hold now?”

  “No,” said Fioni. “We sail northeast.” She abruptly turned and began to make her way through the crowded longship, slipping past her crew.

  “Northeast?” said Danika. “What’s northeast?”

  “Yarl Taios Oak-Heart,” said Kora. “Our leader. Fioni’s father. He’ll decide what to do with you.”

  Chapter 3

  Owen

  In his dream, the ground seemed to move beneath Owen, to rise and fall with regularity. The wind shrieked, cracking and flapping. Slowly, he realized he wasn’t dreaming—the ground was moving.

  He lay upon a ship’s deck, and it rose and fell with the waves.

  He came awake with a start when he realized his wrists were tightly bound behind his back. His throat was raw, burned by seawater, and his head pounded as though it had been kicked by a horse. He blinked rapidly, but the bright sun above him was blinding. Then a shadow moved before him, shading him. He felt hands gently pulling on his shoulders, helping him into a seated position, putting his back against the hull of the ship. As his vision adjusted, he saw Lady Danika kneeling before him, concern in her big brown eyes.

  Memory of their predicament came crashing down upon him: they were prisoners aboard the Fenyir longship.

  The ship’s mast towered over him. Its huge square sail, striped yellow and red, crackled as the wind filled it, propelling the ship with a speed and grace that Owen—who had only ever sailed on the ponderous merchant hulk that had brought them to Greywynne Island—found exhilarating. The longship’s deck, nearly twice as wide as a man and more than fifty feet in length, rose up high at the bow and stern. The crew, men and women, packed the ship’s deck, sitting on benches and sea chests, laughing and chatting. Two men sat an arm’s length away, staring at a wooden board game of dice and pegs that they held on their knees between them. One moved a peg and barked out a short laugh, turning to see if anyone was watching. When he saw Owen, he winked. All down the hull, a net of walrus-skin ropes fanned out, rising up to the bright sail. The ropes creaked under the strain of holding back the wind-filled sail.

  “How do you feel?” she asked him.

  “Like I’m going to throw up.”

  “Try not to.”

  He grunted, desperate for some water.

  “You should have listened to me. If you hadn’t resisted—”

  “I’m a soldier, my lady. Fighting is what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Owen… do you have a problem following my orders?”

  Forcing his back against the hull, he scooted up into more of a seated position. “You’re the last of your family. I owe you my allegiance now, my lady.”

  “That’s not what I asked you, Owen.”

  He looked about. If he could get free, perhaps they could jump overboard, swim to land. Where was land? Could he overpower one of the crew, take a hostage?

  “Owen, our position here is very dangerous.”

  He pushed himself up onto his knees, straining to get to his feet. Lady Danika helped him up, making sure the hull of the ship was against his back. Several of the crew glanced in his direction but then went back about their business, apparently unconcerned. All around them, he saw nothing but blue water, but there had to be land nearby. Merchant ships travelling between Port Ollechta and the Hishtari city of Daenipor used the Fenyir Island chain to navigate; sailing within sight of the islands was the only way to navigate the wide Promiscuous Sea. If he and Lady Danika could get to one of the smaller, uninhabited islands, perhaps they could survive on their own, wait for another merchant vessel to sail past, and then—

  “Owen, are you listening to me?”

  Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion… or was it anger? “Of course, my lady.”

  “Pay attention, then. We need help, or we’ll never get back to the kingdom. And we have to get back. Someone needs to warn the king.”

  He lowered his voice to a whisper, his eyes darting to the crew who sat nearby. “My lady, these are Fenyir raiders, pirates—barbarians. They won’t help us. At best, they’ll ransom you, but they’ll probably kill me when they realize no one will pay a ransom for me.”

  “I don’t care if they ransom me,” she said. “In fact, I’m counting on it. And I’ve told them you’re a knight. They won’t kill you.”

  “I’m no—”

  “It doesn’t matter, Owen. If necessary, I’ll pay your ransom myself. What matters is that we get home and warn the king. The longer it takes us to do that, the more time Serina will have to build her undead army in secret. She’ll create more blood fiends. She’ll do to others what she did to Brice—to Keep-Captain Awde. She’ll become unstoppable.”

  “She’s already unstoppable. Sight-Bringer did nothing.”

  “We can’t just—”

  “What are the two of you going on about?” said a rough-looking blond woman with tattoos of dolphins on both of her temples. Owen’s gaze flicked to the double short swords she wore crossed over her back. Catching him looking, she raised an eyebrow. “So what’s in your head, my pretty pony? Gonna slip out of your ropes, overpower the helpless woman, and take her swords?”

  Owen shook his head and glanced away.

  “Kora, is it?” Lady Danika asked. “We won’t cause any trouble. You have my word.”

  Kora snorted and ran a rough palm over Owen’s cheek, smiling at him as if he were a handsome pet. “Oh, I know you’ll be no trouble, but this one…he’s nothing but trouble—all wrapped up in a pretty skin with blond hair and muscles.”

  Owen’s face heated. He probably outweighed her by more than fifty pounds, but she didn’t seem at all concerned. In the north, women didn’t fight, didn’t wear swords—but this wasn’t the north. He bit his lip, showing restraint for one of the few times in his life.

  Kora patted Owen’s cheek before turning back to Lady Danika. “Fioni says if he’s willing to promise not to try anything stupid, she’ll let you both move about the ship.”

  “We promise,” Lady Danika said quickly.

  Kora shook her head. “He needs to say the words for himself. This isn’t your kingdom. A man or woman makes their own promises out at sea, and lives or dies by their word.”

  “This man is bound in service to my family,” Lady Danika said. “My word—”

  “Is a fart in the wind on Fen Wolf. He makes the promise, or he stays tied up.”

  Owen cleared his throat. “I promise I won’t try to escape or cause trouble.”

  Kora held his eye for several long moments. “Know this, pretty one—if you break your word, I’ll gut you myself and toss your still-warm corpse into Orkinus’s feast-hall.”

  “I don’t know who Orkinus is, but I’ll keep my word.”

  “See that you do.”

  Turning him about, she undid his bonds. Needle-pricks of pain coursed through his forearms as he massaged them. Kora handed him a waterskin, from which he drank greedily.

  “Who are you people?” Lady Danika asked.

  “Waveborn,” Kora answered. “You’ve met our ship’s master, Fioni Ice-Bound—the Red Wolf.” She motioned with her head to the platform at the rear of the longship, where a young red-haired woman stood with her hand resting lightly on the tiller of the steering board as she conversed with the large bearded man that Owen had fought earlier. She couldn’t have been much older than he was, but despite her age, she carried herself with an aura of confidence. A godless heathen she may have been, she was also a breat
htaking beauty. Her green eyes flashed, and she laughed at something the large man said. At that moment, she became aware that Owen was staring at her, and she looked back brazenly before he looked away quickly, his face heating.

  “Now, the big ugly one beside Fioni—the one you put into the water—is Vory Eel-Gifted,” said Kora, undisguised amusement in her voice. “He’s first mate aboard Fen Wolf, just below Fioni. I’m the oar-master. Vory’s not as nice as I am. And he bears grudges. If you want to get on his good side, though, ask him how he earned his name gift. He’s very proud of it and likes to whip it out and show it off. It is impressive, I must admit. And if you start anything, he might use it to beat you senseless.”

  “I’ve already given you my word,” Owen said. “I won’t cause trouble.”

  “See that you don’t.” Kora turned and walked away, leaving Owen and Lady Danika to themselves, or as close to it as they could get on the longship.

  The air carried a chill, a promise of the winter to come, and he shivered. His gambeson, the thickly padded under-tunic he wore beneath his armor, was gone, and now he wore only a light shirt. Owen stretched his shoulders as he considered the vessel and its crew, making a quick head count. He was surprised to see sixty-five men and women aboard the longship. Unlike him, the crew wore wool tunics with fur cloaks for warmth. Some of the fur cloaks were sealskin, which would have cost a small fortune in the north. Many of their axes and spears, he noted with interest, lay within close reach.

  He smiled. They’re not as clever as they think they are.

  “Owen, what are you thinking of doing?” Lady Danika asked him.

  “What?” He saw she was watching him warily.

  “You’ve just given your word.”

  He lowered his voice to a whisper. “My lady, I have a responsibility to you that outweighs everything else.”

  “Owen, I’m the last of my family. My father and brother are dead. The only responsibility that matters now is my responsibility to warn the kingdom.”