She ran her palm over his smooth cheek. “You will take your soldiers aboard Hard Stone. Master Galvin will take you to the shoreline and wait for you while you hunt our enemies. Follow the ghouls. Capture those who were on the Fist of Wodor. If the niece of Stron is with them, you will take her alive. The others you can do with as you please.”
“My queen,” said Galas, stepping forward, alarm in his eyes. “Fioni might be among them. She’s the great-granddaughter of Serl Raven-Eye. I need her to legitimize my rule.”
“No, you don’t, Yarl Galas. All you need is my support.”
Galas, his lips trembling, nodded. “Yes… yes, my queen.”
“But you have served me well, so if this Fioni is among those we hunt, you are welcome to her.”
“Thank you, my queen,” said Galas.
Dey stumbled forward. “My queen, I don’t have enough soldiers to fight the Red Wolf and her warriors. After her attack upon the Rose Palace, I have only several score, not enough to—”
She raised her hand, cutting him off. “With my ghouls, you have more than enough for a handful of warriors. Hunt them down, capture them if you can, but bring me both the niece of Stron and Sight-Bringer. I must have that blade back, where it can’t threaten my kind. It can’t harm me, but fifty years ago, Stron used it to butcher my childes.” Her gaze swept all three of them. “Do you all understand?”
“Yes, my queen,” they parroted.
“Hurry,” Serina said, glancing to the east. “The dawn comes sooner than you might think.”
She turned away from them, staring out at the open sea where her childe Dilan pursued the other ship. She felt his presence through the connection they shared as master blood fiend and childe. Bring me the niece of Stron. Kill the others.
She felt his thoughts in a moment, sensed his bloodlust. Yes, Mother.
Chapter 10
Owen
Owen and Fioni came up onto the headland last, joining Rolf and the others. In the east, the sky was beginning to lighten, but the night was still dark, and rain continued to patter around them. Owen watched the path along the sunken ledge. The closest of the ghouls was still several hundred yards away. “What are we going to do, Fioni?”
“We have the height advantage here,” Fioni said, but she sounded uncertain, as if she was trying to convince herself. “They have to come at us one or two at a time. With the crossbows, we can—”
Owen shook his head. “Did you not hear me? They’re ghouls. Crossbows won’t even slow them down. You need to cut them to pieces or burn them.”
Her eyes wild, she rounded on him. “How do you know?”
“Because I fought them once already—from behind the walls of Stron’s Watch, and we barely held then. You can’t hold them here. They’ll just pull you off the cliff with them.”
Rolf glared over the edge of the cliff at the two ships below. “Fioni, that other ship looks like—”
“Hard Stone,” answered Fioni. “Yarl Vengir’s ship.”
“He betrayed us?” Rolf asked with incredulity. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“He said himself he’d have no choice but to bend knee if Serina came,” Fioni said bitterly.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Owen. “We need to move down the headland, to the forest at the base of the cliffs. If we go east, we’ll lose the ghouls in the hinterland.”
“If we go east, we’ll move away from the beach. Kora will come back for us when she can, but she’ll never find us if we move away from the coast.”
“If we stay here, we die,” Owen insisted.
“This isn’t our land, Northman,” Rolf said. “Any Hishtari settlements we come across will treat us as enemies.”
The closest ghoul was now less than fifty feet away on the trail below, moving steadily forward. Others followed along closely behind on the narrow trail. As the first ghoul came closer, within the light of their torch, Fioni stiffened in alarm. “Oh gods,” she whispered, anguish in her voice. “He didn’t betray us.”
The ghoul was Yarl Vengir Flat-Nose, his dead black eyes shining in the torchlight as he stumbled closer.
Fioni spun about, hurrying down the sloping headland, speaking loudly over her shoulder as she went. “We head for the woods,” she said. “You’d better be right about this, Owen.”
Owen and the others hurried after her.
#
Fioni led them east down the headland, moving at a quick pace. The ground became rockier, more treacherous, but the sky began to lighten, improving their visibility and helping them stay ahead of their pursuers. The ghouls were still coming, Owen knew. He had seen them only minutes ago, spread out in a line across the headland, forestalling any attempt they might have made to get around them and return to the beach. They’re driving us inland, pushing us north, he realized. Why?
Fioni led the others down a stony gully and into the thick forest. On this side of the cliffs, the woods were much drier, the branches cracking and breaking noisily underfoot, causing Owen to grimace. The Fenyir were wonderful mariners but poor woodsmen. He slipped back, dropping behind a tree and watching the gully they had just traversed. He still held Sight-Bringer, letting its magic flow through him. Far faster than he had expected, he saw the first of the ghouls coming down the gully—an old woman wearing a torn dress, revealing skin the color of burned wood. Another ghoul shoved through the trees on her left, and then two more on her right. And then he saw something he truly had not expected: men, living men—coming from the north where the beach lay—followed the line of ghouls. He stared at the men in disbelief. There were at least a dozen of them, all wearing the heavy red-and-blue cloth gambesons and animal masks of Hishtari soldiers.
What is happening here?
One of the soldiers bent down with a lit torch and examined the ground Owen and the others had just traversed. A tracker, he realized. They have a tracker.
Another man, wearing a thick dark cloak, stood behind the tracker, asking him something. The tracker, in turn, pointed in Owen’s direction, and Owen felt a surge of panic but forced himself to relax. They couldn’t possibly see him in the dark at this distance. Owen stared at the man in the dark cloak, feeling a certainty he had seen him somewhere before. And then he remembered where—the throne room of the Rose Palace. The man in the cloak was Kory’ander Dey, the Moon Lord of Daenipor.
And now he’s serving Serina.
The last time Owen had seen Dey, Fioni had thrown a spear through his leg. The man hadn’t even been able to stand, yet here he was, leading the hunt for them. Something had changed, he knew, something he needed to figure out—quickly.
Bent over and moving with all the stealth he could manage, Owen slipped away, hurrying to catch back up to the others. At least now, we know why the ghouls were driving us north. They were pushing us toward the Hishtari soldiers. The knowledge wasn’t the least bit comforting.
Chapter 11
Kory’ander Dey
Kory’ander Dey slipped through the woods, a jeweled scimitar in his grip. Once, he had been weak and thin, as befitted nobility, but now he was outpacing his soldiers. What had Serina done to him?
And why did he need to please her so badly?
While one of his men, a former hunter, examined the ground, the rest, several dozen, watched the ghouls, their eyes wide with terror. Even after days at sea with the ghouls in Iron Beard’s hold, the men remained terrified of them, and Serina. Nor did they understand why they sailed with Fenyir pirates. But what they liked or didn’t like was of no interest to Dey. They were his to do as he commanded. The hunter looked up. “They’re not that far ahead, Moon Lord. Perhaps a dozen men.”
“We must go faster,” Dey snapped. “I want to catch them before sunrise.” After that, Serina had told him, when she went to sleep, the ghouls would only act on her last command. Without her will driving them, they’d become near-mindless creations of dead flesh.
Another guardsman, a captain, pushed his way past the other soldiers, sw
eat coating his face. His name was Kor’islim, Dey knew. He came from a lesser but still noble family. Kor’islim stared at the backs of the ghouls as they moved forward in a line, entering the woods. “Moon Lord, now is our chance. There is a large village only some hours’ march to the south. There will be men there. We can find help.”
Dey stared at him in confusion. “What do I care for some dirty village?”
“Moon Lord.” Kor’islim’s dark eyes darted to the other soldiers watching. “What are we doing here? Why do we serve our enemy? And these dead things are an abomination. Worse, that—that Fenyir woman they call queen—she is a monster. We must flee.”
At the mention of the queen, Dey’s pulse began to pound behind his eyes. “Captain, do you question my orders?” he said slowly, softly.
“What? No. No, of course not, Moon Lord. It’s just that—”
“The queen wants those we hunt. So I want those we hunt.”
“What queen? Not our queen. Just another Fenyir she-bitch. I don’t understand why we’re here.”
Some of the soldiers began to bob their heads and mutter in agreement. Dey’s gaze swept over all of them before returning to the captain. “You will not speak of her that way,” he said through clenched teeth. He began to squeeze the hilt of his scimitar so tightly, the bones in his hand creaked, sending pain running up his forearm.
“Moon Lord,” Kor’islim said forcefully, drawing strength from the support of the other soldiers. “We must—”
“Must?” Dey shrieked as he lunged forward. Before the other man could move, Dey thrust his scimitar through his right eye so forcefully that the weapon’s point exited the back of the man’s skull. Still standing, the captain turned his left eye inward, so that it seemed to stare cross-eyed at the blade through his head. Dey yanked his blade free—pulling Kor’islim’s impaled eye with it—and his body fell, his legs jerking. The other soldiers stumbled back, staring at Dey, their faces white. Joy rushed through Dey. He flicked his scimitar, casting away the bloody chunk of eyeball. “Those we now hunt attacked us, raiding the Rose Palace itself—an act to shame your ancestors! Now, they flee from us, hiding in our own land, seeking to avoid justice for their crimes.” He pointed his scimitar at their faces, turning in place as he addressed them. “Know this—the Fenyir are not the only warriors in this land. We Hishtari are more than a match for anyone. Your ancestors know this. They are watching you now, judging you. This coward”—he hawked and spat upon the corpse—”was an insult to his ancestors. Do you wish to be like him?”
The soldiers stared at the corpse in silence.
“Good then,” said Dey, wondering just how strong and fast he was now. “Let’s go kill some Fenyir.”
Chapter 12
Owen
The ghouls pushed them east, always farther into the hinterland and away from the shoreline. Twice now, Fioni had tried to lead them around the line of ghouls in an attempt to sneak past them and head back to the beach. Each time, though, the ghouls had seen them within minutes and—seemingly moving as a single entity—had begun to converge upon them, once again forcing them east. Owen glanced at the horizon, now turning red. The sun would be up within an hour or two, maybe a bit less. Would the ghouls turn back then, as they had when they attacked Stron’s Watch? Maybe, but for some reason, he doubted it. Some of the men wanted to try fighting their way through the line of ghouls, but Owen had talked them out of such a desperate course of action, describing what a ghoul could do to a man. We may have no choice soon, Owen mused, wishing he wielded an intact Sight-Bringer once again instead of the broken shard it now was.
The forest around them was eerily devoid of animal life, frightened off, no doubt, by the unholy presence of the ghouls. Wind whistled through the trees, blowing against their sweaty faces. Their progress became more difficult, the forest floor strangely thick with underbrush and fallen trees. Even the air carried the rot of decaying leaves and wood. Something was...off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Then, as the shadows began to recede, he now saw that they had somehow blundered into a small valley; that was why the wind was howling, it was blowing in from the east, captured by the valley’s steep sides. “Fioni,” he called out.
She and the others paused, turning to look back.
“We’re in the mouth of a valley. We need to go back—now!”
She looked about her and then swore bitterly when she realized he was right. She moved to slip past, intent on leading the others back out.
“Quickly,” Rolf urged, “before the ghouls cut us—”
“Wait,” said Owen, grabbing her forearm. “Do we still have any of the straw we used on the harpy nest?”
Her eyes narrowed, and then she glanced about her, at the high, sloping, tree-lined valley and the thick, dry underbrush caught in it. She took a sudden deep breath and turned to Rolf in excitement. “Well?”
“Four bundles,” Rolf answered after conversing with the others. “We used the rest on the nest.”
“Is that enough?” she asked Owen. “You’re the woodsman.”
Bending down, Owen broke off some of the underbrush and cracked it between thumb and forefinger. “The underbrush is dryer than I’d expect this late in the year—and thicker. The valley’s walls must shelter it from the weather. With the wind blowing through the way it is, it’ll only take a small fire to become a death trap. I’m amazed it hasn’t gone up yet from a lightning strike.”
“What do you recommend?” Fioni asked Owen. “We’re running out of time.”
Owen bit his upper lip and looked about him, excitement beginning to course through him. “There,” he said, pointing to a streambed near the valley’s entrance. Thick brush lay collected within the bed and along its banks. “We hide there. The ghouls funnel in after us, and then we burn them.”
Fioni shook her head. “They’ll see us.”
“Not if someone draws their attention, leads them away,” Owen said. “They’re ghouls, mindless corpses. If they see someone—”
“It might work, Fioni,” Rolf said.
“What then?” Fioni asked.
“The same person who leads them farther into the valley can set the fire-bundles.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Fioni, surprise in her eyes. “It’s your plan; you’re the only woodsman here. Only you can set the fires and get away.”
A lump formed in his throat. He shook his head, answering her in a wooden, distant voice. “I… I can’t, Fioni. I have to get back to Lady Danika. Somebody else needs to volunteer.”
“Owen,” she said, a surprised, pleading tone in her voice.
He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. He felt the heat of her stare, but he had no choice. His loyalty was to Lady Danika, and he had let her down once already, abandoning her to torture. He couldn’t keep his promise to see her safely home if he died in this forest—and without knowing for certain if there was another way out of this valley, he just couldn’t take that chance.
“It’s all right, Northman,” Rolf said softly, kindly. “I understand. It’s not your place, anyway. I’ll do it.”
Fioni glared at Owen while shaking her head. “No. You’re too old to run from ghouls, Rolf. Give me the straw-bundles. I’ll do it.”
Rolf snorted loudly. “You’re right about one thing, Fioni Ice-Bound: I am too old to be running through the woods. So instead, I’m going to stay here and burn some ghouls. Don’t worry. I’ll catch up.”
Fioni grabbed his forearm. “Rolf.”
Rolf patted her hand, grinning at her and exposing a gap in his front teeth. “Go on. Let me do this little thing for you.”
She stood there, indecision on her features, then rushed forward and hugged Rolf fiercely. “Light the damned fires, but then run! Catch up to us at the beach. We need you.”
He threw the sack containing the pitch-soaked straw over his shoulder. “Get moving.” He turned and began to run farther into the valley.
Owen led the others to the streambed,
where they quickly hid themselves, lying on their bellies in the underbrush. The sounds of the ghouls crashing through the woods grew closer. Fioni made a point of not looking at Owen, and he could feel her resentment roiling from her. She’s furious, but I had no choice. I can’t let Lady Danika down, not again. I have to get back to her. The stench of dead, rotting flesh wafted over him a moment before he saw the first ghoul, a dead girl no more than fifteen or sixteen with one of her arms hanging only by a string of sinew. As she stumbled forward, the arm spun one way and then the other. More ghouls followed, and soon there were dozens bunched together, funneled into the valley’s entrance. As they came alongside the streambed, Owen felt his heartbeat race. All they need do is look this way…
Then, farther ahead, Rolf appeared, waving his arms and screaming obscenities at the ghouls. He turned and disappeared into the trees, and the ghouls fixated on him, marching right past the streambed. Soon, a long stream of ghouls slipped past, all focused ahead of them. Then they saw the Hishtari soldiers, including the young Moon Lord, Kory’ander Dey. The soldiers loped along behind the ghouls. One of them dropped down onto the trail, only about thirty feet away from them, peering at the ground. The other soldiers, Dey included, ran ahead of him, following the ghouls. The tracker stood, turned about, and stared back in their direction, his face registering his uncertainty. He opened his mouth, as if to yell, when Fioni popped up on one knee, a crossbow in her shoulder, and released her bolt. It hit him in the forehead, shattering the back of his skull as it went clear through it. His corpse flew back through the air, smashing into a tree trunk, staining it with his blood and brains. In the trees ahead, the other Hishtari soldiers carried on, oblivious to what had just happened. Fioni lowered her crossbow and faced Asger, Rolf’s second-in-command. “Let’s go.”
Asger turned to the others. “Quickly—and quietly,” he whispered.
The Vampire Queen Saga: Books 1-3: (The Vampire Queen Saga Boxset) Page 61
