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

by William Stacey

  The northern woman—with Fioni no doubt pulling her strings—was lying about Serina Greywynne. Galas was certain of that. He was far too clever to believe in ghost stories. But to get the sword, the northerners must have broken the Islanders’ taboos. That act must have been what drove them to rebel, to attack the Wolfrey fort. They’ll hang for that. The king doesn’t need to send a large army to—

  And then a thought stopped him in his tracks, sent a chill down his spine.

  What if it’s not a lie?

  What if Serina is alive?

  His heart hammered beneath his ring mail as he considered this. She had been a powerful necromancer in life—gifted with the ability to communicate with, and even control, the dead. If anyone could cheat death, surely it would have been her—a necromancer and a blood fiend. According to the legends, blood fiends were immortal. Now, a new thought danced in his head, taunting him—what if I could live forever?

  I have to find out if it’s the truth.

  He started walking again, moving faster now. Galas’s long-dead father had been a drunken monster, but he had also known the truth of Serina’s rebellion and had imparted that knowledge onto Galas—the Waveborn clan, led by Yarl Serl Raven-Eye, had betrayed Serina, joining with Stron and his northern army. If Serina truly lived, she’d remember that insult—she’d consider all Waveborn an enemy. She might even kill Galas on sight. After all, he would.

  The guards on duty at the town’s gatehouse didn’t say a word as he brushed past them, turning toward his camp.

  He considered his odds as he walked. When Galas had sailed in with his Kur’teshi allies, he had lied to Taios, telling him that he and his men were all at Taios’s disposal to help raid Daenipor. Taios’s desire to raid the Hishtari city was legendary. Even Taios’s father, who had been yarl before him, had tried unsuccessfully several times to raid Daenipor’s impregnable Rose Palace. With his two ships, Blood Raven and Thunder Killer, Galas commanded just over a hundred and twenty warriors—not the smartest of fighters, perhaps, but capable enough. The Kur’teshi mercenaries in the Storm Monkey Company gave him the use of another two hundred men—and many of the mercenaries carried their signature Kur’teshi crossbows, powerful enough to punch through both shield and armor. Fioni had, at best, sixty or seventy warriors on Fen Wolf, and Taios’s House-Herd numbered only a dozen or so men. With enough time, Taios could easily draw upon at least another three- to four-hundred fighters, and likely many more, especially once word spread to the outlying islands and other clans that Taios had the men to raid Daenipor. The old yarl was well regarded as a warrior—entirely undeserved in Galas’s mind, but there was no doubt that other clans, especially the nearby Windhelm clan, would join him on a raid. All Taios needed was two or three days to pull his force together.

  He wasn’t going to get it.

  Fioni’s crew would be a problem. Even outnumbered, they’d interfere. But he had plans for them. Not only would they not get in his way, most of them would also survive so they could swear allegiance to Galas. He’d need every warrior he could get once he was yarl. He had no intention of raiding Daenipor—the city was too well defended—but he was going to sack every small settlement he could along both the Hishtari and kingdom coastlines. He’d become a true yarl, a pirate king in his own right.

  His gaze drifted to the separate camp of the Kur’teshi mercenaries. He hated dealing with foreigners, but he had no choice. He needed to kill Taios and capture Fioni as quickly as possible, and the Storm Monkey Company was his secret weapon. Galas’s gaze drifted to Shield-Breaker, his uncle’s longhouse. A smile curled the corners of his mouth as he stared at the longhouse. Taios’s own silver hoard was going to pay the mercenaries—a rich jest, worthy of a song.

  He approached his two longships, their high prows pulled up onto the grass. Blood Raven was larger than Thunder Killer and could hold more warriors, but Thunder Killer, at half its length, was a much faster vessel—maybe even as fast as Fioni’s Fen Wolf. Ullyn Tangle-Beard, his second-in-command, a lanky, ugly man with a straggly black beard and a perpetual scowl, stood beside Thunder Killer’s prow.

  At Galas’s approach, Ullyn inclined his head. “How did it go with your uncle? Is your cousin—”

  “She’s with him now. I expect she’ll be there all night.”

  “Well, good, then—that’s what we’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? Although I’m not sure you ever really needed her. The other clans will respect your strength if you kill Taios.”

  “Maybe,” Galas said, lowering his voice. “But maybe they’ll call me kin-slayer and band against me. What then?”

  “Kill them.”

  “I can’t kill everyone.”

  Ullyn frowned and raised an eyebrow, as if to ask, “Why not?”

  “I’ll deal with my cousin, but I need you to do something for me.”

  “Of course. What would you have?”

  “Take twenty men, enough to sail Thunder Killer. Leave me your best fighters.”

  Ullyn’s face reflected his puzzlement. “Why?”

  “I need you to sail west.”

  “I don’t understand. Why do you need my best men?”

  “Because we’re going to do this tonight.”

  Ullyn stared in surprise. “Tonight? But you’ll need me. You’ll need every man to take Shield-Breaker.”

  “No, I won’t. My uncle isn’t as clever as he thinks he is. He has rats in his hall. By sunrise, he’ll be dead and I’ll be the new yarl, and my dear cousin Fioni will be beneath me, naked and in tears, but tears or no, she’ll bear my children just the same. Once I put a baby in her, the other clans will have to accept me and forget how I became yarl.”

  “She’ll never forgive you, not after you kill—”

  “You think I care what she thinks? The great-granddaughter of the legendary Serl Raven-Eye will give me legitimacy among the other clans, even if I have to keep her in chains.” Galas rubbed his chin and smirked. “Maybe I’ll keep her in chains anyway.”

  “But… what of me? If I’m not here, I’ll lose my share of the plunder.”

  Galas scowled. “No, of course you won’t. You’ll just lose your chance to help in the killing.” He reached forward and gripped Ullyn’s shoulder. “But there will be plenty of other opportunities for killing. Things are going to be different now. We’re going to take what we want from both the kingdom and the empire.”

  Ullyn smiled, exposing his yellow teeth. “Why west?”

  “I need you in Port Eaton, as quickly as Thunder Killer can take you.”

  “Greywynne Island? Why?”

  “I’m told the Islanders are rebelling again. I need to know if this is true or not, especially given my plans to become yarl.”

  “And if they are?”

  “Make nice, pretend we’re all brothers, but most importantly, assess the situation and then report back.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  Galas considered the other man for several long moments. “No. Sail now.”

  Ullyn nodded and began to bark orders to nearby men. Galas remained where he was, watching. He needed to stay here, to make sure none of the men who had accompanied him to his uncle’s hall said anything stupid to Ullyn about Serina Greywynne or blood fiends.

  The last thing he wanted was for Ullyn to sail to the far side of the world.

  Chapter 6

  Danika

  Danika, with Owen and Fioni behind her, followed Yarl Taios from his hall, up the stairs to a private but spacious room dominated by a large, beautifully crafted oak desk. She stood in place for a moment, examining the room—a study filled with bookshelves and an odd assortment of nautical-themed instruments. A large map sat upon the desk with the corners held in place by various weights. Taios brushed the weights aside and quickly rolled up the map, but not before Danika saw a detailed drawing of a walled city—Daenipor, she was certain of it. Her family did much business with the Hishtari city that lay at the far end of the shipping lines. Until day
s ago, the Dains had administered the only island with a deep-water port in the entire Promiscuous Sea. Greywynne Island was a habitual stopover for the Hishtari merchant ships travelling from Daenipor to Port Ollechta. Although she had never visited the Empire of Hishtar, she knew it well enough—especially exotic Daenipor with its handsome young Moon Lord, Kory’ander Dey.

  Why was Yarl Taios studying Daenipor so intently?

  Taios threw open the shutters, filling the musty chamber with fresh air and light. The sun was setting, giving them a magnificent view of the town, the river, and the ships—as well as Galas’s camp with his Kur’teshi mercenaries.

  Fioni dragged a wooden chair near the window and sat herself down, tipping back on two of the chair’s legs so that she leaned against the wall. She watched her father wordlessly, the trace of a smile upon her lips.

  Taios closed the door to the hallway and then pulled out another chair for Danika. “My lady of Wolfrey.”

  “Thank you,” she said as she sat down.

  Owen stood in place for several moments, but Danika met his eye and indicated a second chair nearby, and he stiffly sat himself, clearly not happy doing so. He’s behaving like a guard, not a knight. Danika linked her fingers together on her lap and forced herself to be calm, although her thoughts bounced about her skull like caged butterflies. She was in a very difficult situation here, one she didn’t understand. That lack of knowledge could be fatal. Owen’s behavior was less than helpful.

  Just behind Taios, a beautiful coat of burnished ring mail, as fine as any her father had ever owned, sat upon a wooden T-frame, with a sheathed sword hanging from its burnished leather belt wrapped around the neck of the frame. The handle of the sword was elaborately worked sharkskin, with a bright-red jewel of a type she had never seen before embedded into the pommel. A wooden round-shield, painted bright orange with a green tree in its center, rested against the base of the T-frame. Armor and blade fit for a king.

  What surprised Danika most of all, though, was the battered copy of Furlundin’s Cultural Relevancies of the Mysterious East that sat upon the edge of the desk, a single red ribbon within it acting as a bookmark. She watched Yarl Taois’s ruddy, heavyset face with his thick jowls as he eased himself noisily into his chair on the other side of the desk. Be very careful, Danika. Not only can he read, he reads complex political works. Why am I so surprised? The answer came to her in a moment. Because I’ve always believed the Fenyir to be uneducated savages, nothing more than pirates.

  What else am I wrong about?

  A circular wooden object, obviously a nautical instrument of some kind, sat on the table in front of Owen. A single needlelike metal peg was set in the center of the object, with odd runes carved into the wood around it. Owen leaned forward, trailing his fingers over it, a look of wonder on his face, like a little boy. He has no subterfuge at all. He wears his emotions on his face for the world to see.

  “It’s a sun compass, Sir…Owen, is it?” said Taios.

  Owen hesitated for a moment. “Just…Owen, please.”

  Taios chewed his inner lip as he considered the young man before continuing. “This compass, Owen, was a gift from a Hishtari merchant.”

  Fioni snorted, looking away out the window when her father glared at her.

  “Well…I’m sure the merchant would have made a gift of it, had I given him the chance,” Taios continued. “This compass allows one to navigate the desert. Works somewhat less well on the water but still useful at times.”

  Taios carefully placed the hilt of Sight-Bringer on the table. He picked up a small wooden pipe carved in the shape of a whale before looking about him, as if he had lost something. Before he could rise, Fioni jumped up, picked up a small cast-iron fire-pot sitting against the wall, and brought it to her father. He smiled at her as he poked about inside the fire-pot with his thick fingers before pulling out a still-partially burning ember, which he then used to light his pipe. The sweet smell of pipe smoke wafted through the room.

  Taios sat there, watching Danika for long moments before finally speaking. “Lady Danika, how old are you?”

  “Father, it’s not polite to ask a lady her age,” Fioni said, although the smile on her face said she didn’t care at all.

  “Pfft.” Taios waved his pipe at her. “I meant no offense.”

  “None taken, Yarl Taios Oak-Heart,” said Danika.

  “Just Taios,” he said. “There’s none here to impress.”

  “Taios,” Danika repeated. “I’m twenty-five, and please, call me Danika.”

  “I love spending time with friends,” Fioni said, leaning back against the wall in her chair again.

  “The same age as you, Fioni,” Taios said.

  Fioni shrugged. “Why does this matter?”

  Taios frowned at her. “It doesn’t, girl. I’m establishing some facts, gathering perspective. Knowing someone’s age helps you understand their experience of the world. In this case, I need to understand what she knows of the Blood Queen.”

  “My family knows her very well,” said Danika. “Our history is entwined.”

  “Aye,” Taios said. “We all know of the bad blood between the Greywynnes and the Dains, but do you really know who she was… who she is? Do you understand her family’s importance to these islands?”

  Danika remained silent for several moments, watching Taios, and then shook her head. “I’ve read a great deal of her and her family’s past, but I somehow suspect there’s much I don’t understand and perhaps much that I do know that is… wrong.”

  Smoke drifted about Taios’s large head. “First sensible thing anyone’s yet said this day.”

  “Father…”

  Taios scowled at his daughter. “Oh, be quiet for once. Listen and learn.” He pointed his pipe at Sight-Bringer. “You say you used the sword against her?”

  Danika inclined her head.

  “You actually stabbed her with it?”

  “We did.”

  “Where?”

  “Through the heart,” Owen joined the conversation.

  Taios looked to him now. “Are you sure, Owen?”

  “My friend Dilan drove the blade all the way through her chest, right where her heart is, but… it didn’t work. It didn’t do anything except make her angry.”

  Taios sighed, sitting back heavily in his chair, a look of profound weariness on his lined face. “That’s because you didn’t stab her in the heart.”

  Owen sat forward. “Dilan’s strike was good. He rammed that blade all the way through her black heart.”

  “No, he didn’t.” Taios shook his head. “Nor is Serina’s heart black. It’s as red as yours or mine.”

  The chamber was silent—the only sound was the rhythmic chopping of firewood, drifting in through the open window from the yard below.

  Danika opened her mouth, paused. “What…?”

  Taios glanced down at the broken sword. “Tell me what has happened on that island. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”

  Danika watched him for several long moments and then composed herself. “It began with my father’s deathbed confession to a traitor in my family. I wasn’t present, and the traitor is a liar, so I can’t vouch for his words—and in fact, I’d distrust every word that’s ever spewed from his mouth.”

  “I understand,” Taios said.

  “According to the traitor—and my father—the official history of the battle in the Great Crypt was all wrong. The sword Sight-Bringer didn’t shatter in Serina’s chest after Stron killed her. Instead, it was buried intact in the cave-in. Belion, Stron’s battle mage—”

  “I know who Belion was,” said Taios. “I saw him as a child.”

  Danika inclined her head. “Belion broke his staff, and the resulting magical conflagration was what brought down the entrance to the Great Crypt. My father…my father…”

  “He fled, didn’t he?” Taios asked.

  “Yes,” answered Danika.

  “Please, go on.”

 
Danika closed her eyes and composed herself. “We—my brother and I as well as a force of men—went to Greywynne Island, and we…we excavated the Great Crypt, inadvertently freeing her. The traitor did all the rest.”

  Fioni sat forward, her chair legs slamming onto the wooden floor. “What could possibly possess you to—”

  Taios raised his hand, silencing her. “Don’t be so quick to judge, daughter. We all thought Serina was dead—even those of us who should have known better.” He puffed from his pipe, exhaling smoke through his nostrils. “I think, maybe, we all just wanted her to be dead, wanted to believe her unholy war was over. Please continue…Danika.”

  Her face red with shame, Danika began from the beginning, detailing her father’s deathbed confession and Modwyn’s deceit. She explained how her brother—upon discovering that the legendary sword Sight-Bringer had not been destroyed—fell for Modwyn’s trap, mounting an expedition to Greywynne Fortress to open up the catacombs and dig out the collapsed entrance to the Great Crypt, Serina’s former throne room. She faltered, her voice breaking, when she explained how Modwyn had murdered her brother, Palin, and used his blood to awaken Serina. She paused and looked to Owen, who then took over the story, explaining how Modwyn’s poison had failed to incapacitate him and how he had found the legendary sword driven through the chest of the long-dead Stron. In contrast to the official history, Serina had killed Stron. Owen then told how he had fled with the sword, later linking up with his friend Dilan, who had escaped the carnage following Serina’s attack upon the Wolfrey expedition. Together, the two men had escaped across the island’s interior, pursued by hunters loyal to Serina. When he got to the part where the two men had reached Stron’s Watch, the Dain-family fort, Danika took over the tale again, describing Serina’s ghoul-driven attack upon the fort, the desperate siege to beat back the undead, and then the ill-fated attempt to storm out from the fort and kill Serina while she slept in the town’s alehouse.