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

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The Vampire Queen Saga: Books 1-3: (The Vampire Queen Saga Boxset) Page 74

by William Stacey


  Owen shaded his eyes from the sun as he estimated the distance until they reached the rim of the mountain, still high above them. When he saw Lady Danika and Gali, both struggling along, helping the other, he wondered how much longer either of them could keep going.

  He paused, remaining in place and listening to their rear once more. Just over an hour ago, he had heard the first sign of their pursuers—a man’s shout carried unnaturally far by a sudden wind. His gaze went from the woods behind them, to the two women, to a natural switchback and thickly wooded gully to their front.

  They’re going to catch us, he realized.

  The terrain sloped steeply on the mountainside of the gully. I’d wager there’s another deep ravine just on the other side of that slope. Just before the switchback, the ground funneled in and became much more restricting. Thick bushes and boulders lined the slopes of the gully, providing cover from casual observation—especially if someone was following a trail. He thought back to the tactics discussions he had held with Keep-Captain Awde, using their impromptu sessions to work through this particular problem.

  “All right, Owen,” he said softly to himself. “If Keep-Captain Awde was here right now, how would the conversation go? Start with the problem,” Owen answered himself. “Lay it all out.”

  Okay, we’re not only outnumbered, we’re blind and handicapped by our wounded. But Galas only needs to catch up to us.

  “Okay, what happens when he does?”

  He felt the crushing certainty of the answer.

  They take us in the rear while we’re strung out. It’s inevitable now. As people start screaming and dying, panic spreads up the line. Some, like Kora and Fioni, will turn and try to fight, but it’ll be too late. They’ll be overwhelmed. Then the others will break, bolting ahead or trying to slip away down the side of the mountain.

  “And?”

  And Galas’s men hunt down the stragglers one by one.

  “It’ll be a slaughter.”

  Yes.

  “So what can be done?”

  We can ambush Galas here. This is as perfect a killing ground as any I’ve ever seen.

  “How?”

  The slope—a small party remains behind, hiding in the bush at the top of the slope. They can push boulders down the slope, use the crossbows. At this range, shooting from elevation at a massed foe below… they can’t miss.

  “But the missiles.”

  Doesn’t matter. There’s more than enough to bloody them, force them to slow down.

  He saw the ambush unfold in his imagination, heard the screaming of the wounded, and pictured the confusion and anger among the enemy as the missiles savaged them.

  “Okay, how long do we have?”

  Not long. He estimated their slow rate of march then guessed at how long it would take a hundred healthy men, rested and well fed, to catch up to them. At best, we have an hour or two.

  “All right, so the ambush goes as you plan—not that that ever happens—but what then? To what end?”

  Buy time for the others to find better ground.

  “Is that it? Is that all we can accomplish?”

  Yes.

  “Okay, Owen,” he said, nodding to himself. “Does Fioni understand this?”

  Resignation and hopelessness swept through him as he shook his head. No. She’s a raider, a pirate, not a soldier. She’ll never understand, not until it’s too late.

  “So convince her.”

  I can’t. She doesn’t trust me anymore, not after Rolf and the others.

  “And what happens if you don’t convince her?”

  He ran his hands over his face, wiping the sweat away, knowing with absolute certainty that his assessment was correct. Everybody dies.

  “Everybody dies,” he repeated.

  He took off running along the trail.

  He had to convince Fioni.

  #

  He caught up to Fioni just before the switchback cutting along the mountain’s slope. Fioni had called another halt, waiting while the stragglers caught up. She, Kora, and Erik knelt in conversation, their heads closely together under the shade of a small copse of trees. Several dozen paces behind them was a large wagon-sized deadfall, a collection of fallen trees, broken branches, and pieces of bushes caught up against the rocks of the switchback behind it. At his approach, they all looked up at him. Ekkie, who had been lying nearby, lifted her large head and growled at him, still no doubt sensing Fioni’s mood. Fioni reached out and scratched behind Ekkie’s ears. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

  He took a deep breath and then set about explaining why and how they needed to set up an ambush here. When he was done, he simply stressed one point. “They’re going to catch us, Fioni. I’m certain of that.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying,” said Kora, raising an eyebrow at Fioni.

  “What do you know of such things, Northman?” asked Erik. “I thought you were a knight, not a scout.”

  “I’ve followed your plans too many times now,” snapped Fioni coldly. “People die following your plans.”

  Kora advanced on her. “Fenya’s tits, Fioni! You’re being a walrus’s ass. People die no matter what. No one’s plans can change that—not yours and not his!”

  “I’m not wrong about this, Fioni,” he insisted. “They’re coming. If we don’t slow them down with the crossbows…”

  She cupped her hands over her face, groaning softly and shaking her head. “Owen… even if you’re right, I can’t risk the crossbows. They’re the only real advantage I’ll have when we finally fight back.”

  He dropped down in front of her, took her hands, and held them while he stared into her face. “Fioni,” he said softly. “If we don’t use the crossbows now, there won’t be another fight.”

  She ripped her hands free from him, stood up abruptly, and spun away, her shoulders trembling. “Here we go again, Sir Owen Toscovar, the mighty kingdom knight who knows everything.”

  He climbed to his feet and reached a hand out toward her shoulder but let it hover over her instead. “Fioni…”

  She spun on him, her voice angry. “Whoever stays behind to carry out this ambush will almost certainly die.”

  “They may be able to… slip away down the other side of the cliff—while Galas’s men are climbing the slope. Maybe meet back up again with the others later on.”

  She snorted in derision, her eyes flashing. “Do you really believe that?”

  “We have no choice,” he said weakly. “It needs be done.”

  “And who am I going to ask to do such a thing?” she demanded. “You? You’re the soldier. It’s your plan—again! Will you do this thing that needs be done?”

  His cheeks burned, his arms hung at his side, and his throat felt thick as he spoke. “I... I can’t. You know that. I can’t.”

  “Can’t what? Leave your precious noblewoman?”

  “I’m bound to protect her,” Owen said weakly.

  “Fioni!” snapped Kora, stepping between them and jabbing Fioni in the chest with her finger. “Owen can no more abandon his oath than Rolf or the others could throw away theirs. I know what’s really happening here, and you’re drifting before the storm.”

  “Don’t you tell me what—”

  Kora shook her head. “Stop acting like a girl with her first blood.”

  Ekkie began to snarl, the fur rising on her hackles. Owen watched the animal with trepidation. The wolfhound weighed more than a hundred pounds and could easily kill a man. Yet the dog was facing away from him, toward the deadfall, her haunches trembling. The sun, overhead now, cast shadows across the two arguing women. A sudden coldness hit his core as his gaze swept down Fioni’s body, to the longsword sheathed to her waist and the blood gem embedded in its hilt that seemed to be softly glowing in the shade.

  “You don’t lecture me,” Fioni snapped at Kora. “I’m Fen Wolf’s master, not you. If Vory was alive—”

  Kora barked in laughter. “He’d put you over his knee and heat your
butt with his palm. Besides, Fen Wolf’s gone. You can’t even master your emotions.”

  Owen stepped forward, between the two women, who glared at him now. “Something’s wrong—”

  Ekkie lunged forward, jarring all three of them aside as a nightmarishly large spider—its bloated orange-and-purple body as big as Ekkie—exploded from the tall grass behind them. Ekkie and the spider collided in a frenzy of fang and gnashing mandibles. Owen recovered first, whipping his sword free and rushing forward, but in the mad, chaotic battle between spider and dog, he was unable to strike without hitting Ekkie. The spider chattered in fury, an inhuman screech that sent a chill down his spine. As he moved around them, one of the spider’s three-foot-long legs whipped out, almost striking him. He swept to the side, pivoted on his hips, and cut down hard, severing the spider’s shiny black leg at the joint. Pale-blue blood sprayed through the air. Erik joined him, his fighting axe held at the ready as the other man looked for his own opportunity to strike. But then the spider managed to pin Ekkie with two long legs. Before Owen and Erik could take a step to help, the spider buried its fangs in the wolfhound’s chest. Ekkie’s yelp was heart wrenching.

  “No!” Fioni screamed, throwing herself atop the spider, thrusting her sword into one of its huge eyes.

  The spider shrieked and bucked, releasing Ekkie and ripping the sword from Fioni’s hands. It spun about in circles, screeching and pounding the ground with its remaining legs. Erik stomped on one of the legs, immobilizing the spider as he buried his axe in its bloated body. Several crew members armed with spears began stabbing it repeatedly, and soon it ceased all movement. Blue spider blood coated their spearheads, dripping in gooey drabs like thick gravy.

  “Is everyone all right?” Erik asked breathlessly.

  Lady Danika hurried over, her face ashen. “Father Craftsman, help us. That’s a nell spider.”

  Fioni knelt next to Ekkie. Kora took one of the spears, hooked it around the crossguard of Wave’s Kiss, and pulled Fioni’s sword free. The gem embedded in the hilt continued to glow softly.

  “Be careful,” Owen said, staring at the gem. “There may be more.”

  Using his sword point, he brushed aside the tall grass where the spider had been hiding, revealing the opening in the deadfall wedged against the rocks. No, not a deadfall, he realized as he came closer and saw the web silk interwoven among the branches and tree trunks of the opening—a nest. We were talking right in front of its nest. Sweat ran down his spine as he bent over, peering into the opening. There’s something there, he realized.

  “Gods, Northman,” said Erik in disgust behind him. “I’m sorry I ever doubted the size of your balls, but don’t get any closer.”

  Owen waited while Erik, holding one of the bloody spears, used its point to push aside the webs around the opening, exposing the interior of the nest and revealing the pillow-shaped milky-white egg sac the size of a man’s head that sat cocooned by webs within it. Owen’s revulsion grew when he saw the movement within the sac: dozens of baby spiders. And, from deep within the sac, came a soft, pulsing red glow. He stared in confusion at it.

  “It’s another blood gem,” Lady Danika said from just behind him. He hadn’t realized she was there.

  “My lady, please. Go back. What if there’s more?”

  “There won’t be. Nell spiders kill anything that comes near their nests—including other nell spiders. That’s why the blood gems are so hard to harvest.”

  He didn’t argue with her but stared in revulsion at the egg sac. “How do you know?”

  “Kalishni’coor. He liked to brag. The gems glow when near one another, but what they really do is store occult power, allowing sorcerers to cast powerful spells. This is how Serina removed her heart. But according to Kalishni’coor, the gems are only harvested in the Fallow Desert.”

  Erik spun his spear upside down and drove it into the dirt. “And here as well, it would seem.”

  “Indeed,” said Lady Danika softly.

  “Well… now we know the mystery of the wolf,” said Erik.

  Owen shook his head, still staring at the egg sac in revulsion. The spiders within it were clearly only partially formed, no larger than his fist. “No. The wound was far too large for a spider bite. There’s something else on this island, something we haven’t seen yet.”

  “I’m beginning to hate this place,” said Erik.

  “What I don’t understand,” said Owen softly, trying to peer past the moving spiders within the sac, “is how the nell spiders get the gems within their eggs.”

  “I don’t think that’s it,” said Lady Danika.

  Owen inhaled deeply, suddenly understanding. “They’re not gems at all! They’re like pearls in an oyster. The spiders lay them as part of their egg sac.”

  Kora joined them, her face white. “Gods, that’s revolting.”

  “How is Ekkie?” Lady Danika asked.

  Kora shook her head. “Dying.”

  #

  Fioni knelt with the wolfhound, holding her head in her lap. The wolfhound whined, clearly in agony. Kora knelt beside Fioni, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and placed her cheek next to hers. “Let her go, sister.”

  “I understand,” said Fioni softly, her voice breaking as she stroked the dog’s head. She held her hand out, and Kora handed her a long knife. Placing the point over the dog’s heart, Fioni softly spoke into her large ear. “Know that you were loved.” Her hand tensed.

  “Wait!” said Owen, reaching out and catching her wrist.

  Emotion surged in Fioni’s face. “She doesn’t need to suffer.”

  He shook his head, his eyes locked on hers. “I think… maybe she’s not dying.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  He leaned in closer, placing his nose over the bloody puncture wounds in the dog’s chest, and inhaled deeply. Instantly, a wave of nausea swept over him, and he swayed dizzily. Kora caught his arm, holding him upright. When the nausea passed, they were all staring at him in confusion. “There’s poison in the wound,” he mumbled. “But it might be like the Marsh Tick Queen’s poison that Modwyn used.”

  Confusion flitted over Fioni’s face. “I don’t—”

  “Modwyn soaked face masks with poison from the Marsh Tick Queen we killed, told us it would protect us from ‘foul vapors,’ but it only made us sick and helpless while he woke Serina. It paralyzed Keep-Captain Awde and Lord Palin, put them into a sleep-like state, but I never trusted Modwyn, so I pulled my mask free. It still made me sick, though. Maybe… the spider’s poison works the same way. If we can drain the wound, Ekkie might live.”

  Fioni’s gaze darted about and met the gaze of Kora, who said, “It’s worth a try.”

  Together with Kora and Gali helping, they pressed pieces of cloth against the bite marks while Owen gently kneaded the fur around the wounds, trying to coax the poison out. But after only a few minutes, Ekkie ceased moving, and her eyes closed.

  “Gods, no,” whispered Fioni.

  He looked up at Lady Danika. “My lady, may I borrow Sight-Bringer?”

  She handed him the sword. With its magic coursing through him, he placed his ear against Ekkie’s chest. The dog’s heart throbbed slowly but clearly, and he exhaled, handing the broken sword back to the noblewoman. “She’s alive, but barely.”

  “Will… will she wake?” Fioni asked.

  He bit his upper lip and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Thank you, Owen,” Fioni said softly. “We’ll build a stretcher.”

  Owen stood up and looked back down the ravine in the direction they had come. “We’ve been distracted too long already. We have to mount the ambush—right now!”

  “Whoever stays behind will almost certainly die,” Fioni said miserably.

  “Everybody dies, Fioni,” said Kora. “This is destiny. I’ll stay. If I can find two or three volunteers, I’ll ruin Galas’s day.”

  Fioni reached out and cupped Kora’s cheek with her palm and then shook her head.
“Take Ekkie and the northerners. Find my uncle.”

  “Don’t be a goose,” said Kora. “You’re Fen Wolf’s master and daughter of the yarl. You need to lead the crew.”

  Fioni shook her head. “You said it yourself. Fen Wolf is gone. My father is dead, and I suspect the gods always intended the line of Serl to end on this island. Save as many of the crew as you can.”

  “Fioni, this is—”

  “Destiny—my destiny—yours is somewhere else, Kora Far-Sails. Go. Find four volunteers, but hurry. Owen’s right. We’re running out of time.”

  “I’ll stay,” said Erik. “And, as luck would have it, there are still three more Windhelm clansmen. She’s right, Kora. If this isn’t fate, I don’t know what is.”

  “Are you sure, Erik?” Fioni asked.

  “We owe you our lives, Fioni Ice-Bound. Because of you, we can die as free Fenyir warriors, not oar slaves. We’re sure.”

  His men clustered behind him, their faces solemn as they nodded in agreement.

  “Fioni,” said Kora, anguish in her voice. “This isn’t…”

  “You’re wasting time you don’t have, Kora,” said Fioni, embracing her friend hard. “If you love me, obey me. Go now!”

  Owen stood silently watching them, unable to meet Fioni’s eyes. He pointed to the rocks and bushes atop the slope, where Fioni and the others could easily hide while Galas’s men became bunched up in the narrow, confining space before the switchback. “Wait until they actually cluster here. Then take your time with your shots and—”

  Fioni gripped Owen by the collar of his ring mail, pulled him against her, and kissed him hard. He stood motionless, too stunned to move. Then she buried her face in his neck. “Go tell your grandmother how to suck fish bones, Owen Northman. I’m the daughter of Yarl Taios Oak-Heart, and I know how to die.”

  His throat constricted, he couldn’t say anything as she spun away from him. In moments, Erik and his men had taken possession of the remaining crossbows and bolts. While the others made an impromptu stretcher for Ekkie with two spears and a blanket, Lady Danika stepped up next to Owen, held his hand, and peered sadly into his face.

 

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