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 83

by William Stacey


  “Denyr’s staff,” Fioni said softly. “Danika was right, and I was wrong. Denyr must have hidden the jewel case with Serina’s heart in the tower and left his staff upright as a clue. I’m sorry, Father. I was going to betray my promise.”

  “Let’s find Danika—and Serina’s heart. We can still finish this.”

  He led her onto the courtyard, past the broken fountains and among the statues of a long-dead race, whose oversized feline eyes even now seemed to follow their path. Fioni stood before one of the statues, staring up at it. Behind them, near the entrance to the courtyard, Owen thought he heard something. He spun about, staring into the darkness but seeing nothing.

  “What?” she whispered.

  “I thought I heard something, a creaking noise.”

  He listened for several moments, but the night was eerily silent.

  “A tree branch in the wind,” she finally offered.

  There was no wind, nor had there been since they had passed through the Mouth of the Gods. A nagging familiarity tugged at him. He knew that sound, but he was so tired, he wasn’t thinking clearly. Then his eyes widened in surprise when he saw a soft glow coming from the gem in Fioni’s sword. There’s another blood gem nearby! At that exact moment, his thinking clarified, and he realized what he had heard—the sound of someone spanning a crossbow’s arms.

  He threw himself atop Fioni, bringing her crashing down as a wooden bolt exploded into shards against the marble statue where she had been standing a moment before. They scurried behind the ruins of a waist-high stone fountain as another bolt cracked over their heads, winging off into the night. They huddled together behind the fountain when a mocking voice called out from the other side of the broken archway, “Are you still alive, cousin?” Galas asked.

  “Come find out!” she yelled back.

  Galas laughed in response. “I’m glad,” he called out, his voice echoing across the courtyard. “This is the way it should end, don’t you think, just you and I?”

  Owen peered around the stone, searching for Galas. There, near some rubble just beyond the archway, a soft red glow shone. “He must have a blood gem,” he whispered, “although I can’t imagine where he found one.”

  “How many?” she asked, peering around his shoulder.

  “I don’t know. But if we can see him, he can see us—get back!”

  Another bolt smashed into shards against the stones behind which they hid.

  “Well,” he said. “There’s at least one other with the crossbow.”

  “Come, Fioni!” Galas called out. “This has gone on entirely too long. Let’s you and I settle this, man against… well, woman. Have the same courage your lover Talin had—before he cried for his life. What say you?”

  “He’s trying to draw you out,” Owen warned. “The moment you step out, the one with the crossbow will shoot you.”

  “I know,” she answered in anger.

  Owen turned around, scanning the courtyard and its high walls. There, he noted with excitement, a portion of the wall has collapsed, enough to slip through. “Keep their attention,” he whispered. “I’ll slip around behind them, try and get the one with the crossbow.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I’m always careful,” he said, lowering himself to his belly and sliding forward.

  Fioni, keeping below the rim of the fountain, yelled out to Galas. “Okay, I agree! Let’s you and I settle this between us.”

  “Good. Come out, and let’s get this over with!” he yelled back.

  She laughed harshly. “You think me an idiot? The moment I stand, your man will put a bolt through my face.”

  Owen slid closer to the wall, expecting a bolt through his spine at any moment.

  “Not true!” Galas yelled. “You have my word.”

  This time, Fioni’s laugh was genuine, and when Galas spoke again, fury laced his voice. “Come out, cousin. The queen’s coming, you know—and she wants you. For the blood we share, I’ll give you a quick death. Tell her you gave me no choice.”

  Fioni snorted. “I thought you wanted to marry me and give me babies. You shouldn’t play with a woman’s affections, cousin. It hurts my feelings—you kin-killing sea-snake!”

  Owen slipped sideways through the crack, holding his axe one-handed. Just for a moment, he became stuck, but he wrenched himself through, slipping onto the weed-covered cobblestones on the other side. He crouched, his eyes searching the dark rubble and listening for any sign they had seen or heard him.

  “I like that,” yelled Galas, his voice distorted over the wall. “Sea-Snake, a much better name-gift than Gilt-Mane, don’t you think? I’ve never liked my name-gift; it has no style, no originality.”

  “I think, cousin, that after tonight, you’ll no longer need a name.”

  Keeping low, he began to slide along the wall, making his way along it to the entrance where Galas and his archer hid. He walked on the outer edge of his boot, slowly rolling his foot forward so it made no noise. When the lightning flared once more, it exposed the tall bald man with the crossbow standing only paces away, also sneaking along the wall, coming toward him.

  Both men stared at one another in shock.

  Chapter 58

  Danika

  A set of broken stone steps wound its way up the six-sided tower, with a tangle of thick vines snaking their way over the steps, up the walls, and out the wide cracks filled with starlight. Had it not been for the cracks in the walls and Sight-Bringer’s magic, Danika would have been blind, tripping over the poisonous vines. She saw just enough to make her way up the steps, avoiding the vines. Thick spiderwebs stretched from wall to wall, glistening in the moonlight. High above, she could see a large gap in the tower’s walls where the top had broken away, leaning precariously at an angle.

  When she reached a landing partially blocked by fallen stone, she sat and rested, dizzy with exhaustion and pain. Then she heard angry voices from the courtyard below, including a woman’s. Fioni! she realized. It’s Fioni. Is Owen with her?

  Hope surged through her. She didn’t have to do this all by herself after all. A moment later, she recognized the other voice, Galas Gilt-Mane, and her hope vanished, replaced by terror. If Galas was here, so was Serina. She jumped upright, rushing on to the tower’s summit, pushing through the spiderwebs, letting them trail behind her.

  She reached the summit, where the final section of tower hung at an angle. Staring about her in mounting fear, she saw the landing was empty. Only broken stones lay about. The jewel case wasn’t here after all. Her despair drove her to her knees. No. How is this happening? It has to be here. Why else would Denyr have left his staff like that?

  The obvious, chilling answer was that he hadn’t, that someone or something had played a cruel joke on her. Tears ran down her cheeks in her frustration, and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing with the unfairness of it all.

  When she opened her eyes again, she noticed the soft red glow coming from a pouch attached to her belt. She stared at it in confusion for a moment, before realizing what it was—the blood gem they had found beneath the Illthori fort on the atoll. With her hands burned, all she could manage was to pull the pouch away and upend it, spilling the glowing blood gem onto the stones.

  She stared about her in confusion, before seeing a slim crack of red light slipping through an opening at the very end of the tower, where the top portion hung at an angle.

  Leaving the blood gem, she staggered upright again and cautiously pulled herself over the rubble, climbing up the broken section of the tower on hands and knees, Sight-Bringer still tied to her palm. At any moment, she expected the tower to fall away under her weight, but the vines that snaked around it must have been holding it in place. The higher she scampered up its length, the more clearly she saw the red glow coming from an opening at the very top. Once, stairs must have reached all the way here. She pulled herself up through the opening, groaning with the effort, and found herself within a final enclosed chamber of the tower, mostly i
n ruins now, with thick spiderwebs stretching across its length, looking like crimson curtains in the glow.

  And there, only feet away from her, sitting atop a mound of broken stone, was a golden jewel case a foot wide and half again as tall. Although it was covered in dust, she saw it was stunningly beautiful, etched with a woman’s naked form across its front.

  She stared at it in wide-eyed disbelief.

  Denyr had been here. Thank the Craftsman!

  But the case was closed, its latch secured. The glow she had seen wasn’t coming from the jewel case and its treasure of blood gems, she realized in sudden confusion, but from the round shape covered in spiderwebs that sat just behind the case. Peering at it in the darkness, she felt her skin crawl with sudden revulsion, recognizing it as another nell spider egg a moment before she heard the scrambling of arachnid legs and the angry hissing above her.

  Chapter 59

  Owen

  The man Owen faced was as tall as he was, with a thick plaited beard and bald tattooed head. As he raised his crossbow into his shoulder, Owen did the only thing he could: he threw his axe and charged. The weapon, a long-hafted fighting axe, was meant to be used with two hands, not as a missile—but Fioni’s gods must have been watching, because the handle of the axe cracked into the crossbow. The bolt flashed past Owen’s ear as he collided into the man, bearing them both to the stones. Owen tried to knee him in the groin, but the other man turned his hip, so Owen struck only muscle. The man hammered a powerful blow at Owen’s ribs, and Owen felt something give, followed immediately by a lance of agony burning through his side. The man followed up by grasping at Owen’s neck, trying to drive his thumbs into his windpipe. Rather than trying to pull away, Owen drove forward, ramming his forehead into the man’s nose, feeling a satisfying crunch. The man howled in pain, releasing his grip, and Owen chopped down with the edge of both hands at the nerves on either side of the man’s thick neck, abruptly cutting off his scream. The man’s mouth and eyes opened wide in shock, and Owen braced his forearm under the man’s chin while grasping the back of his head with his other hand. Owen grunted as he threw all his weight back, dragging the man’s head forward against his forearm, hyperextending his neck, and crushing his windpipe. A surprised, pain-filled grunt slipped past the man’s lips. Breathless, Owen staggered to his feet, retrieved his fighting axe, and finished the man with a single blow to his forehead. As he wrenched his axe free, he heard the scrambling boot-steps of others, and a moment later, two more warriors ran at him, moonlight glinting off their weapons.

  Chapter 60

  Galas

  After his last two warriors had sped off to help Aegrism, Galas glared in the direction of the red glow emanating from behind the ruins where Fioni had taken cover in the courtyard. Bitch must have sent her knight around to do the same thing Aegrism was trying, he realized. Gripping his sword hilt so tightly his knuckles cracked, he ground his teeth. This voyage was nothing but whale-shit. He had lost three ships now: his lovely Blood Raven, Thunder Killer, and Hard Stone. But, as galling as that was, after this disaster of a night, he no longer even had enough men to sail Iron Beard. He was going to die here, marooned. It’s all Fioni’s fault. Everything is that cunt’s fault. The queen’s orders be damned. I’m going to kill her.

  That was when he saw the red glow coming from the leather pouch on his belt. He had been so occupied earlier with the sudden glow coming from the gem on the hilt of Fioni’s sword as he and his men had crept closer that he hadn’t even seen his pouch glowing. He stared at it in confusion now and then slowly drew it open, revealing the bright blood gem he had taken from Dey’s corpse. His gaze darted back to the glow behind the rubble where Fioni hid. It appeared as though the two blood gems… glowed when in proximity. He gazed in wonder at the gem. “Fioni!” he called out. “Did you know the stones did… this?”

  Then he heard the clash of steel upon steel coming from where he had sent Aegrism earlier. He stroked the black fish carving around his neck and considered his options. Fioni is still hiding behind the rubble—unless she’s clever enough to have left her sword behind—but she’d never do that, not Wave’s Kiss. No, it’s just that damned fool knight. He turned and stared off into the darkness, where a man’s sudden shriek of agony cut through the night. He inhaled deeply, his thoughts racing. That bastard knight is a good fighter. I doubt he’s good enough to best Aegrism and two others, but… if he does, then I’ll be outnumbered. He was the finest swordsman he knew, and although he was certain he could beat Fioni, he was less certain he could fight her and that knight. I should go help them, and then we can come back and deal with Fioni. His mind made up, Galas rose—

  And saw Fioni standing before him, not five paces away. How—

  She pulled her hand away from where she had cupped it around the red gem on the hilt of her sword, letting its radiance shine, turning her hard eyes red, reminding him of Serina. “Come, cousin,” she said coldly. “Let us finally embrace.”

  Galas scrambled back as Fioni attacked.

  Chapter 61

  Danika

  Danika fell back, thrusting Sight-Bringer before her, as the nell spider, the size of a dog, smashed into her, driving the sword’s broken blade deep into its tooth-filled maw, swallowing both blade and hilt, clamping shut over Danika’s hand, and driving its fangs deep into her forearm. The spider shrieked in agony, the broken tip of Sight-Bringer having burst out the back of its bristly-haired head, and violently threw itself away from her, tearing the sword from her grip despite the cloth she had wrapped around it. Still shrieking, the spider spun about, drumming its legs against the stone floor in a pain-filled cadence, cocooning itself in spiderwebs it tore free of the walls.

  Danika scrambled back, grasping at her hand as the spider thrashed and convulsed. Then the spider drew back into a corner, beneath some rubble, and curled its legs beneath it. Moments later, it ceased moving entirely, blood pooling around its web-wrapped form.

  Danika squeezed her forearm, breathing deeply as waves of pain coursed through her. Without Sight-Bringer’s magic, the chamber was now much darker, the chest barely discernible in the red glow. Terrified that the egg might hatch more of the spiders, she scrambled past the jewel case and kicked it, sending it sliding across the floor and through a wide crack to plummet through the air and crash against the stones at the base of the tower. The tower was plunged once again into darkness. Her fear spiked when the fingertips of her right hand became numb. She stared in shock at her hand, feeling blood dripping down her arm. Vertigo swept over her when she tried to rise, sending her crashing back down again to her knees. She shook her head, overcome by dizziness as the numbness spread up her arm. Father Craftsman, no, I’ve been poisoned—just like Ekkie!

  “Move. Finish this,” she mumbled.

  Gritting her teeth, she crawled toward the chest, barely visible now in the starlight slipping through the cracks. Each inch she moved seemed so hard, nearly impossible. She should lie down and rest, she knew, just for a moment or two… until the dizziness passed.

  She closed her eyes.

  Chapter 62

  Owen

  The two warriors came at Owen, timing their attacks so that the closest thrust a long leaf-bladed spear at him while the other followed up with shield and axe. Instead of meeting their attacks, Owen dropped down on one knee, the spear’s head scoring off the armor of his shoulder as he swung the fighting axe one-handed in a low vertical arc that cut the spearman’s leading leg away at the knee, sending him tumbling. The axe-man cut down at Owen’s overextended axe, hitting it on the shaft and ripping it from his fingers. Rolling away, his ribs on fire, Owen heard the man’s axe whistle through the air and slam into the stones, sending sparks arcing into the night. Owen scrambled to his feet. The axe-man, taking his time now against an unarmed opponent, paused, readying himself behind his shield for what Owen knew would be the killing blow. Time slowed as both men stared at one another, taking their measure. Then the man whose leg Owen had just
cut away began to howl in agony, and the axe-man’s eyes darted from Owen to his comrade.

  Owen charged, kicking the bottom of the man’s shield so that its iron-rimmed edge flew up, smashing into his jaw and sending him staggering back. Owen followed up with a palm strike into the man’s now-unprotected nose, knocking him onto his back. Owen ripped his shield free, breaking the straps and lifting it above his head with both hands. The man’s eyes widened in alarm just before Owen rammed the shield edge into his face, caving it in. He brought it down repeatedly, shattering his entire head like a melon.

  Dropping the gore-covered shield, he picked up the fallen spear and, with a single thrust, killed the other man, silencing his screams. The discarded Kur’teshi crossbow lay nearby, beside a single remaining iron-tipped wooden bolt. Owen let the spear fall as he reached for the crossbow instead. Now, he heard the ringing clash of sword upon sword.

  Fioni!

  Chapter 63

  Fioni

  Galas moved from the rear guard to sweep his sword up and at Fioni’s head. She caught his attack with a hanging guard, her blade dangling over her face, before smoothly transitioning into a lunge, sliding forward and shoving her sword point into his face, aiming for the openings in his speckled helm, hoping that even if she missed, her blade’s tip might slide along the metal grooves and dig into his eye. But Galas was already disengaging, skipping back out of the way.

  Instead of pressing the attack, she slid into a middle-guard position, holding her sword hilt with both hands near her stomach as they circled one another, their breathing wild, their faces drenched in sweat. In the space of less than a minute, they had already come at one another with half a dozen quick exchanges. So far, neither had been able to slip past the other’s sword. For all his many faults, Galas was a superb swordsman, and he flashed his teeth at her now, but she saw the trace of spittle that ran from the corner of his mouth into his flawlessly maintained beard. “Getting tired, cousin?” he asked.

 

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