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

by William Stacey

  Aegrism searched the corpses nearby, one of the intact crossbows over his shoulder, several of the iron-tipped wooden bolts clutched in his large hand. Along the trail at the base of the slope, his men continued their search for survivors of the ambush. Fioni’s attack had been surprisingly effective, and corpses of Hishtari soldiers littered the ground before the switchback. Miraculously, a handful of the guppies had escaped injury and sat grouped together on the trail below with their wounded. Others probably still fled through the woods, wild eyed, with shit running down their legs. When Serina had first brought Dey and his men aboard Iron Beard, Galas had thought it a mistake, assuming the inept empire soldiers would only get in his way, but he had to admit now that he had been wrong: if nothing else, Dey’s headlong charge had sprung Fioni’s trap, sparing his own men.

  Near the bottom of the slope, a half dozen of his men formed a circle around Kory’ander Dey. Galas whistled a Fenyir shanty as he made his way back down the steep slope, Aegrism trailing along behind him. As he came nearer, he saw some of his men stamp the ground near the still-thrashing Dey. Galas shuddered. What a way to go. The once-handsome nobleman’s face was now swollen and red, oozing pus from numerous small punctures. His eyes were unfocused. “Help...help me,” Dey whispered through blue lips now swollen to twice their size.

  One of the spiders scuttled closer to Galas’s boot, and he stomped it repeatedly in disgust, leaving a wet smear on the bottom of his boot that he wiped against the grass before squinting up at the sun. “How many hours, do you reckon, until sunset?”

  Aegrism sniffed, wiped the back of his hand against his nose. “This far north... four, five hours.”

  “It was a good ambush site,” Galas admitted, glancing toward the trail cutting around the rocks and up the mountain. “It’ll be several hours at least before we catch up to the Dain woman.”

  Dey lifted a hand out to Galas, his fingers trembling. “Yarl... Yarl Galas,” he mumbled. “She’ll...reward you... help.”

  Galas held his hand out to one of his men standing nearby, leaning on a spear. The warrior upended the weapon and handed it to Galas, who then cautiously moved closer to Dey.

  Dey’s eyes widened in understanding, and he shook his head. “She’ll... be... angry.”

  Galas sighed happily, feeling immense satisfaction warm his nuts. “I doubt it. You’re seeing things all skewed, Moon Lord of Daenipor. You see, despite my advice—and Serina’s instructions—you took charge, unfortunately leading your men into a trap, which is true enough. By the time my men and I could come to your rescue, it was far too late, which isn’t quite as true but does make for a far more satisfying story, don’t you think?”

  Dey shook his head.

  Without taking his eyes from Dey, Galas said, “Kill the others.”

  Aegrism turned away to carry out Galas’s orders. Moments later, the Hishtari soldiers began to scream. Galas grinned as he thrust the spear into Dey’s groin, skewering his genitals. Dey, still paralyzed, could only howl like a tortured dog. Galas saw the nervous glances his men exchanged; several unconsciously stroked their manhood in sympathy. He smirked. Lessons were important. Galas thrust the spearhead repeatedly into Dey’s genitals, shredding his tiny eel. Eventually, Galas grew bored with the mewling noises Dey was making and stabbed him in the throat, finishing him. He’d have preferred to leave him to suffer, but he couldn’t take the chance that he might somehow live long enough to tell on him to Serina.

  He was about to turn away when he saw something flash in the sun on Dey’s corpse. Plastered against his side by goo and webs was a small red gem about the size of his thumb. Using the spear’s tip, he pried the object free, dragging it toward him. He wiped it clean, revealing what had to be a blood gem like the one on Taios’s sword. He had always admired that sword and, just for a moment, considered sending men to search the base of the cliff to recover it from Fioni’s corpse, but then discarded the idea. There was no time for such things.

  He still had to kill the others and capture the Dain woman.

  Chapter 39

  Owen

  Owen lay next to Fioni amid a massive pile of pine needles and broken branches. He felt as though a wild stallion had just run him down, but when he flexed his fingers and toes, he found everything still moved. He pushed himself up into a seated position and waited until his vision stopped spinning. Lying atop his legs, Fioni groaned in pain. Blood ran freely down her scalp, soaking her neck. “Can you move?” he asked, holding her against him, running his hands over her body, looking for broken limbs.

  “I can move,” she mumbled. “I just don’t want to.”

  He helped her into a seated position. When she tentatively brought her fingertips to her scalp, she winced in pain. He gently pried back her hair, softly probing her scalp. “It’s not that bad,” he said. “Head wounds always bleed a lot at first.”

  “Hurts,” she said.

  He used his dagger to cut away a portion of his padded gambeson beneath Vory’s ring-mail coat and then pressed it against the cut on her scalp. “Don’t be such a guppy,” he said.

  She snorted, frowning at him. Then she bent back, staring up into the thick pine branches above them that obscured the cliff they had just jumped from. “How did you know?”

  He helped her to her feet, holding onto her as she stumbled against him. He watched her face with concern, but after a few moments, she was capable of standing on her own. “Know what?”

  “That the pine tree branches would break our fall, slow us down.”

  “I didn’t,” he admitted, staring in wonder at the pile of needles and tree limbs lying about. They had hit the branches within the first few seconds, snapping through them, each one slowing their fall. “But we’d have died for sure if we didn’t try. I think our armor helped protect us, as well.”

  She groaned, rubbing one of her buttocks. “I’m so tired of falling from heights with you, Owen.”

  “No more. I promise.”

  Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him long and hard, his body stiffening in surprise, before she just as abruptly pulled away again, leaving him standing there in confusion. “I can’t believe you actually touched that foul thing. How did you know the spiders would hurt him?”

  “I didn’t,” he admitted. “But I know Serina… changes her servants, somehow. When I saw Dey dodge the crossbow bolts, I knew I couldn’t fight him any more than I could Modwyn.”

  She pulled the wad of cloth away from her forehead. “The bleeding is slowing already.”

  They took stock of their belongings. Both were armed with sword and dagger. She had flint and stone. He carried a small skin of water and some dried fish, but she had only her flask of flame-rot, and that was half-empty. They finished the water and fish, wolfing both down. He scanned the terrain around them as they ate. The forested ravine they had fallen into cut into the roots of the mountain. “You’re the woodsman. What do you think?”

  He considered the mountain. “If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll find a path back up to the trail, or even another way up the mountain.”

  He felt her eyes on his back. “What is she to you really?” she asked softly. “I need the truth.”

  Turning, he met her gaze, and then struggled to explain how he felt, not truly understanding it himself. “I don’t know. She’s all I have left of Wolfrey and home. I’d be lying if I told you I had no feelings for her, but it’s not like with you. She needs me, but so did you—and I couldn’t let you die.”

  Her face softened, and she rushed forward, embracing him. “Let’s go find my uncle and the others. Everything else we can work out later.”

  They slipped through the forested roots of the mountain.

  Chapter 40

  Danika

  Danika followed the others up the path cut along the side of the mountain. At regular intervals, they came across the remains of smooth stone platforms where the trail cut back, zigzagging along the mountainside. In addition, the path they trudged
along was now lined with cut stones and irregular but clearly built steps, removing any doubt that this path was unnatural. Someone had built it, albeit hundreds of years ago. With each step now, Danika’s leg muscles burned. She paused, her chest heaving with exertion as she took in the view of the magnificent primal forests far beneath her, and the shadow cast by the mountain as the sun moved west. It has to be late afternoon already, she agonized, but we still haven’t reached the summit.

  When she heard the tinkling of running water cascading over stones, her thirst peaked, and she pushed herself on, catching up to the others taking a rest break alongside a stream that had cut through the path, leaving a gap several feet wide. The others made way for her, and she fell to her knees before the stream, cupped her hands in the cold water, and drank greedily.

  A hand fell upon her shoulder. “Go slow,” Kora said. “You’ll cramp.”

  With considerable effort, she pushed herself away from the water, wiped her mouth with the back of a filthy arm. “We should keep going.”

  “We’ve time for a break. I sent back two of our fastest runners to watch for sign of Galas. They’ve yet to report back.”

  Danika remembered passing them now, a young man and woman, both unarmed. She had thought that odd at first, but now she understood why: so they could run faster. “Do you think… Can Owen, Fioni, and the others…”

  Kora’s frown deepened as she sat back against the rocks. “I think… maybe, we need to focus on ourselves, on finding Fioni’s uncle. Otherwise—”

  “Otherwise, their sacrifice will have been wasted.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes. At this height, the wind blew over the Godswall, caressing her sweaty face and sending her long hair flapping. “How do we know Denyr even made it this far?”

  “We don’t, but what choice do we have?”

  The wind gusted, whistling softly, the only response.

  #

  Not long after that, they came upon the black stone pyramid and the white statue built atop it. The pyramid, identical to the one they had found in the ruins of the Illthori fort beneath the atoll, was four sided, with a narrow, flat top. Built entirely from an unrecognizable seamless black stone, it sat atop one of the switchback platforms built along the mountainside, giving it a commanding view of the path and the surrounding terrain. Danika stood next to Kora, staring in mounting unease at the statue, placed upon the pyramid like a pedestal. A woman, but not human, with the same catlike features and bizarre beastlike legs as the Illthori corpses they had found underground. She faced the forest below, her arms outstretched, as if to say, “All of this is my domain.”

  “Well,” said Kora softly. “Now we know Serl and Denyr came this far at least.”

  Danika bit her lip and nodded in agreement. Iron Beard’s strange figurehead was clearly modeled on this statue, as was the white stone woman on Sight-Bringer’s hilt. Was she an Illthori, or one of their gods? The answer, Danika suspected, would remain a mystery. What was clear, though, was that Serl had been here, and had been so inspired by this strange statue that he had it replicated in wood on the prow of his prized vessel.

  The rest of the crew edged farther away, keeping their distance, whispering prayers or gripping the Wodor hammers that hung from their necks. It was the pyramid, Danika knew, not the statue, that they found so disquieting. The structure was identical to the one they had found beneath the ruins, but infinitely more... disturbing. Despite the unseasonable warmth, frost coated its dark stone sides. She could feel the chill from where she stood. More than ten feet tall, and half as wide at its base, its sides sloped upward to the narrow flat summit upon which stood the statue. Large double doors, made of the same black stone but bound with rust-free steel and equally coated in frost, faced the trail, with the strange Illthori glyphs running around the outer seam of the doors.

  “What is it, and why here?” Danika wondered.

  Kora shook her head.

  “First we find an Illthori fort, now this… I understand none of this.”

  “This island was once home to our gods,” said Kora. “Our myths said nothing of the Illthori. Could they have been servants?”

  “Those markings are like the ones on the portal I activated with Sight-Bringer.”

  Kora turned to face her with wide eyes. “Activated? What do you mean?”

  “When I touched Sight-Bringer to them, they began to glow. That’s when the portal opened. Do you think…”

  Kora glared at her in disbelief. “No. No, I do not think,” she said quickly but firmly. “Whatever its purpose once was, it has sat here for hundreds of years. Leave the damned thing be. It gives me shivers just looking at it.”

  “There are mysteries here,” Danika said, staring up at the statue. “The small folk say that Sight-Bringer—as well as the rod and the crown—were gifts from our creator, Father Craftsman, but this isn’t true, at least not in the sense that they literally came from the hand of our deity. All three were found almost a century ago by children playing in a half-submerged cave along the coast—a coast that sits perhaps two weeks’ sail to the west.”

  “They all possess magical powers, don’t they?”

  “Scholars claim that everything the Illthori created was magical, but I’ve always thought they were only guessing. I really don’t know, either. While the sword has power over the undead and enhances the wielder’s senses, the other two are equally wondrous, if not more so. The rod can control the weather. This is why the harvests are so bountiful in King’s Hold, why the king is so wealthy. The crown is said to bring insight to those who wear it, which certainly hasn’t hurt his long rule.”

  “Is that true?”

  Danika shrugged. “The seasons are beautiful in King’s Hold.”

  “And the Raven’s-Eye lets one find the sun.”

  “Indeed,” said Lady Danika softly. “Do you think Serl found it here?”

  “I don’t think so. I think he had it long before he sailed here.”

  Danika snorted. “Perhaps he found it in a cave as well. We should keep moving,” she said, glancing up at the sky, which was now much lower on the western horizon.

  “Do you know what I don’t understand?” Kora asked, peering at the black pyramid. “You said the rod controls the weather and the crown gives wisdom, but why create a sword with power over the undead?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Serina became a blood fiend through ritual sacrifice to the Dark Shark, one of our gods, not your Father Craftsman, not some long-forgotten Illthori deity. What possible reason could they have had for such a weapon?”

  Before Danika could answer, they heard one of the crew cry out in excitement and point back down the path where a young man ran toward them—one of the two scouts Kora had left to watch Galas. The young man was lean and fit, with unusually dark hair for a Fenyir. Kora moved to meet him, and Danika followed closely behind. Sweat drenched the young man, plastering his long dark hair to his face. Kora handed him a waterskin, from which he drank. When he was done, she conversed briefly with him. Her face tight, she turned and addressed the crew. “Galas and his men are coming.”

  #

  Now, the pace Kora set was almost more than Danika could bear. Fortunately, they had been closer to the summit than she had realized. Kora led them over the rim, coming out on a path that led between two sheer rock faces, carved out of the mountain, wide enough for two wagons. A gateway, Danika realized, but to where? As the others passed through the opening, they began to point and cry out excitedly. When she too crossed under the shadow of the gateway, she immediately understood why: The mountain, shaped like a bowl, was hollow in its interior. Its rim, much like the Godswall, sheltered the remains of an ancient stone city. In the center of the city, rising above all the other ruins, casting a long shadow in the setting sun, was an impossibly large green pyramid. Steps built into one side led up to a flat summit crowned by still-standing stone pillars. Despite the Fenyir legends about Torin Island being the “
Gateway to the Gods,” she knew in a moment that those myths were false. This island had never been home to the Fenyir gods.

  It was an Illthori city.

  The first anyone had ever seen.

  Chapter 41

  Owen

  The forested ravine cut into the side of the mountain like a wedge, leading Owen and Fioni deeper into its shadow. Just ahead, partially obscured by trees, Owen saw a dark form, a structure of some kind. Although dusk was falling, the structure seemed unnaturally wreathed in shadows, as if it leached the surrounding light. Owen glanced at Fioni and saw the same apprehension on her face that he felt. She drew her sword, and he did the same. Together, they stalked closer, moving around the trees for a better view: it was another of the black pyramids, identical to the broken one they had found beneath the ruins, but this one was intact still, with steel-bound double doors covered in a layer of frost.

  “I don’t like this,” whispered Fioni. When she spoke, he could see her breath before her face.

  More of the bizarre Illthori runes had been etched into the frame of the stone running around the doors. The ground before the doors had been trampled smooth; someone had been here recently. Edging closer, he trailed his fingers over the barely discernible seam between the two doors, snatching his fingers back immediately. It was like touching ice.

  “Owen!” she whispered sharply.

  She held her sword upside down, its hilt before her eyes. Once again, a soft red glow emanated from the blood gem. His fear spiked, and he spun about, looking in all directions for a threat, expecting another giant spider to launch itself at them.

  The forest was silent and dark with the growing shadows.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. She moved away from him and the pyramid, and as she did, the glow in the gem faded. White-faced, she looked from him to the pyramid. When she stepped closer again, the glow returned.