by Rosie Scott
The vampire was intelligent enough to know why I tried leading it back to camp. It refused to flee since it hungered for my blood, but it also refused to follow me into an obvious trap.
“Fine,” I muttered, lifting an arm to wipe at my forehead when it itched. The blood that splattered over my face earlier had dried, but perspiration from a long fight now trickled from my pores despite the frigid weather. I stalked back over to the vampire, gripping my scythe with both hands and directing my minions to scatter from the foe's right side. “Don't like the fire?” I asked as I neared, and it tilted its head like it could understand me. “I'll fucking drag you to it.”
Silver reflected starlight and firelight in streaks of orange and white as my scythe flew into the vampire's upper leg. While my sharpened hearing picked up on the fracture of its femur, the leg stayed stable as the creature's heightened cries sliced painfully into my eardrums until it felt like they'd shatter. I jerked on the weapon repeatedly, hoping to break through the bone. Without keeping my foe still with a boot I couldn't put enough force on the break, however. I certainly wouldn't kick the vampire again when it used my leg to throw me earlier. I tugged the handle of the scythe outward, and the curved blade rolled out of the wound's embrace. I backed up a few steps, using the strength of my high combined with the momentum of a running start to swing the weapon at the break a second time.
Crack!
The vampire tumbled forward. I skirted its fall and jerked my scythe from its disabling break. I was so close to my foe that its remaining arm was within my life shield, rendering the protection useless. The creature grabbed my right boot, and when it tugged, I crashed to the ground beside it. Though the fall rattled me, my need for survival sharpened my focus. As the vampire reached out futilely for the tender flesh of my neck like it could smell the blood pumping through it, I stomped the heel of my boot into its skull. Once, twice, three times. Finally, the bone shattered, sinking in just above the brow. I expected the injury to disable the creature, but it only hissed and glared at me with hatred. Blood escaped its right eye like a tear, proof of internal trauma, but it acted no worse for wear.
I muttered a frustrated curse and backed away from the vampire as my minions swarmed it, desperate to protect me. I glanced at the near campfire when I stood. I couldn't drag the vampire into it easily without lighting myself on fire, but the gurgles and hisses of my minions reminded me that I always had eager volunteers.
I turned back to the vampire. It swiped this way and that at my corpses as they broke open new wounds in its flesh until it was as holey as wire mesh. An obscene amount of blood covered the entire mountain path like an entire army had fallen in the area. I nearly questioned my methods of fighting the vampire until I realized that wearing it down had worked.
Over its entire body, moist gray flesh finally dulled and wrinkled with the loss of blood and energy. Its skin crusted from dehydration, loose flakes separating and floating in puddles of blood. The vampire reached out desperately toward the only corpse left that it hadn't drained, but its movements were fatigued.
Blood slowly dripped off the tip of my scythe from the mess of torn tissue that caked near the blade's tang. I took a step back from the vampire and mentally willed my minions to drag it to its demise.
The corpses complied, ignoring the vampire's angered wailing protests. Crusted skin flakes and shredded chunks of gray tissue sloughed off over stone as it neared the fire. My minions backed into the flames first, and the overwhelming stench of charring flesh dominated the air, reminiscent of roasting pork. As dwarven bodies bubbled and melted from the heat, the corpses invited the vampire to their flaming destructive party.
Hollowed screams distorted as the vampire's flesh darkened and cracked like dehydrated earth before the sounds ceased altogether. Smoke billowed out from the area, followed promptly by an explosion of ash. The odor of sulfur rose to prominence just as my burning minions collapsed in the pile of their victim's ash. All around the blaze, corpses fell in piles of loose bones in withering skin as I dispelled them.
A cloud of ash floated over the path's barrier, carrying all evidence of the vampire off the mountain and dispersing it in windy bursts over the valley far below. Across the valley, a soft pink glow was visible over the next shadowed peak over, proving that my battle with the vampire had lasted through most of the night.
A leeching high still coursed through my veins, giving me the energy I surely hadn't obtained from a full night's rest. A chilly breeze whistled over the path, teasing the flames of the campfire and picking up some body heat that hitched rides with my sweat. Before me, the dwarven corpses set the scene for a horrific murder. I could only imagine how it would look to an outsider who didn't know a vampire and necromancer were present for this fight.
I wouldn't be there for their discovery. I'd kept my identity and crimes a secret, for all witnesses were dead. But my clothes were now bathed in blood, and I couldn't expect to enter Brognel looking like this. Eavesdropping on the conversations of travelers over the past weeks taught me that the Cel Mountains were spotted with hot springs. Before finishing the trek to Brognel, I'd find one to bathe in and clean all my gear.
I looted the miner corpses, grabbed my satchel, and left the campsite and road behind me before the rising sun could bring the earliest travelers with it. I couldn't help but feel a surge of loneliness throughout the morning as I traveled. Over the course of one battle, I'd bested an immensely strong and fearsome creature and honed my skills with the scythe, but I had no one with which to share these accomplishments. I succeeded at pushing the depressing thoughts from my mind and finally found a hot spring to bathe in. As time wore on and my high faded, the pain from battle exertion settled in; the spring's embrace not only washed all blood from my body and gear, but the heat calmed the protests of my muscles. The hot spring was so overwhelmingly soothing that I spent most the day soaking in it. Because why not? I had no one to answer to, and waiting to return to the path where the bloody campsite likely crawled with investigators would keep suspicion further from me.
Spending the day at the springs gave me time to think, however, and my mind went back to loneliness. It was an emotion I hadn't felt often until entering Sera, and I'd dwelled in it ever since. Perhaps it was a simple case of not knowing what I had until it was gone. I thought of Kai. I wondered how she was and how much she knew about my crimes. I would have given anything just to know what she thought of me now. It wasn't like it mattered; Kai's opinion couldn't change my situation even if she remained open-minded to it. Yet, somehow, the idea of having her support—even silently—gave me a surge of hope and motivation. I pulled her note out of my satchel sitting on the border of the spring and read it with longing. Somehow, even though it was old and irrelevant to my life now, reading it gave me a certain calmness I could get nowhere else.
Stay realistic. Pessimism overrode hope to settle me back into reality, and I folded the note back up and put it away in its protective pocket. It was childish to think I would ever see Kai again, let alone that she would support me now. Necromancy was only one of my crimes; at this point, I'd also killed dwarven miners and members of the prestigious Twelve. Not only did the Twelve report to Kai's father, but Bjorn was responsible for training them. And if Kai loved anyone, she adored Bjorn. I'd never learned the full extent of their relationship, but I realized in Sera that they meant the world to each other. By killing soldiers who worked closely with Bjorn, I'd secured my place as Kai's enemy.
Kai's enemy. Just the thought of being against her clenched my heart and soured my stomach. But realistically, it was likely that I would one day have to fight her. After all, Sirius called her the greatest asset of war that existed, and the Chairel Army was the mightiest in the world; he would no doubt use her in his army. It was possible that he'd send Kai to hunt me down in the future. With skill superior to most mages and willpower that put most to shame, Kai would not only be a fantastic pick to kill me if other pursuers failed, she would likely g
ive me my greatest challenge. Just the tinges of fear pricked my heart at the thought of fighting her. If it came to that, would I be able to kill her?
I set my jaw and forced my mind to clear. When it stubbornly refused to stay quiet, I grabbed my recently washed clothes from the satchel sitting on the rock nearby and set about washing them again. I'd cleaned them so well the first time that the bloodstains were barely visible as tints of rust in creamy fabric, but I scrubbed them all over again anyway. As my body soaked in the heat of the springs, my mind took solace in the comfort of denial.
Fourteen
Two days and nights passed before I left the hot springs behind me and retraced my steps back to the road. The campsite was within view when I re-entered the path, but no evidence of the fight remained. Two dwarves chattered nearby, but I couldn't ascertain their conversation. I feigned disinterest in the scene and headed north.
Only three days after reaching the path again, dark clouds collected overhead, and a blizzard assaulted the peaks. It felt absurd to experience such weather in late-High Star, but I pulled my hood up over my head and didn't complain. Rapidly swirling snowflakes cut into my exposed skin like tiny knives, and my pace slowed to a crawl as I was forced to walk into the winds. I watched my boots, one step at a time, trying to keep from looking into the storm. Only when I heard a muted murmuring did I glance up just in time to see Brognel.
Brognel's placement in the northern range of the Cel Mountains kept it secluded and far out of the way of passersby. Thus, it was rarely spoken about other than in passing from those who visited it, which tended to be traders going by Thornwell or mercenaries in Sera. Perhaps this was why I had expected little of the settlement other than a place to rest and trade. Though Brognel was not one of Chairel's major cities, it impressed me with its size and extravagant greeting.
The final bridge to Brognel was a magnificent structure of stone and iron that stretched from the mountainside path of one peak to the face of another. Snow flurries danced across paved stone and twirled in puffs of temporary clouds over and through ornately designed iron railings that allowed glimpses to the depths of the valley below. A trader cart pushed by a few bundled dwarves creaked ahead, its wheels leaving thin impressions in the gathered snow until the winds swept away the evidence. The traders nodded at me in greeting, and we passed each other without words.
At the far end of the bridge, falling snow melted in the heat of rising billows of smoke from multiple chimneys that created tiny clouds above clusters of dwarven architecture. The peak of the mountain was a pyramid above businesses and homes stacked like blocks around both sides of a massive tunnel likely leading to Brognel's underground neighborhoods. Covered outdoor stone staircases and bridges offered avenues of travel for people looking to shop and move between buildings without getting caught in finicky weather.
Despite the ongoing blizzard, dwarves congregated in the town square settled between the outermost shops. At first, I took this as a sign that the town was on high alert for danger, possibly connected to me or the bloody campsite. However, as I neared it became obvious that harsh weather simply didn't faze the dwarves. Conversations filtered through falling snow and howling winds about the mines, mercenary work, and two particularly jovial dwarves exchanged pleasantries and asked about each other's kids. It was as if the heavens attempted to punish Brognel with a beating and the dwarves didn't notice.
My greatest concern in Brognel was ensuring word hadn't made it here of my crimes, and I saw no evidence that it had. I'd witnessed no griffons in the skies ever since fighting the Twelve near Thornwell, and I hoped Sirius's admission that my necromancy was to be kept under wraps meant no messages would make it here at all. Nonetheless, I kept an eye out for posted signs with my face or name and regarded each civilian with a healthy dose of suspicion.
The citizens regarded my presence in Brognel with little more than a passing curiosity. I was not the only non-dwarf in the town, for human and Celdic mercenaries intermingled with dwarven comrades and supervisors, looking far more affected by the frigid weather than the locals. These mercenaries were bundled in thick cloaks, coats, and heavy hoods while the dwarves collected lost snowflakes in unruly beards and eyebrows. Though my pale face hid within the shadows of a hood, my clothes were thin and I didn't have enough layers to protect me properly from the weather. If anyone stared at me at all, it was because I was under-dressed.
One store caught my interest along the edge of the town square. Maude's Fittings, it boasted from a stone plaque beside its door. A large window to the right of the entrance showcased a variety of clothing on carved wooden mannequins. Some mannequins were short and stocky, while others were in the taller, more limber shapes of humans and elves. I headed there, convinced they'd have something in my size.
A warm blast of air assaulted my face as I walked through the door with the sound of a jingling bell. A dwarven woman with a head full of frizzy copper hair glanced up from behind a counter. The counter was set up to be level for humans and elves to trade, so the employee's height confused me. Most dwarves stood between three and five feet tall, but this woman seemed to be the height of a human since she could lean on the taller counter.
“Hail,” she greeted, her hazel eyes moving over my satchel and weapons until they stuck on the scythe in my hand. I felt a pang of panic wondering if she'd connected the weapon with the deaths at the campsite. “Welcome to Maude's Fittins,” she went on in her heavy accent, still staring at my weapon. “Yer here to buy? Not cause any trouble, I hope?”
I stopped in the entryway of her shop with hesitation. “I need clothing. I can leave my weapon at the door.”
“Which one?” she asked with an uncertain laugh. “Ya carry at least three, from what I see.”
“The scythe is my own.”
“And ya openly carry it like that in the middle'a town?”
My eyes widened as I realized my mistake. “I don't mean to. That's part of why I'm here in Brognel. I just traded for this weapon from some traders on my way here, but I have no sheath for it.”
“If ya think you'll find a sheath for a scythe, ya shouldn't be wielding it,” she commented, raising an eyebrow.
“I understand I'll have to get something specially made,” I replied. “If you could recommend someone, I'd be grateful.”
The dwarf finally met my gaze and sighed. “Aye, I'd recommend Beshil at Rock Hard Weapons and Gear underground.”
It was my turn to stare at her. Some silence went by before she asked abruptly, “What?”
“I'd prefer it if you gave me a recommendation for a real location.”
She snorted in amusement. “Nah, that's the name of it. Beshil's pervy, but he knows what he's doin'.” She glanced off to the side with a twinkle in her eye and murmured, “In more ways than one.”
A smirk raised my lips, and I asked, “Are you Maude?”
“Aye,” she replied, looking back to me and motioning to the rest of her store. “And these are my fittins.”
“I'm beginning to learn that dwarves don't bullshit with the names of their businesses.”
Maude grinned. “Aye. Ya here to buy?”
“If you take trade rather than coin.”
“That ain't no problem,” Maude agreed. “Find what ya want and we'll sort it out. Most of the stuff that might fit ya is near the front.”
“Thank you,” I offered. I wandered over to the section with taller clothing. Movement in my peripheral vision caused me to glance up just to see Maude disappear. I frowned for a moment before all three feet of her reappeared at the end of the counter as she walked out to the main floor. I looked away to hide my inner amusement; Maude wasn't as tall as a human. She'd simply been sitting on a high stool.
Maude feigned interest in refolding clothing on shelves near the entryway of her shop, though I knew she likely kept an eye on me to ensure I wouldn't steal. I wondered how often she dealt with thieves and felt distaste at the idea that someone would steal from a place so willin
g to trade. Then I thought of the various lives I'd taken and realized I couldn't judge the morals of others.
“Are ya here alone?” Maude asked as I fingered the thick black fabric of a long cloak.
“Temporarily, yes,” I replied vaguely.
“Tourism? Work?”
“A bit of both. Work calls me elsewhere, but I need supplies and had time to kill. I figured I'd visit Brognel since I never have before and I've heard the traders are reasonable.” There was quite a bit of truth in that statement, but what surprised me most was how talkative I was with a total stranger. I reminded myself to be cautious, but I thirsted for social interaction.
“I promise to be reasonable, then,” Maude replied with a chuckle. “I'm glad ya stopped by my store, don't get me wrong, but I don't know how ya lasted this long without proper clothes.”
“Well, that's why I'm here,” I mused lightheartedly, and Maude smiled with agreement.
I set my gear on the floor to try on the black cloak that caught my eye, and Maude watched from across the store. “I was hopin' ya'd pick that up,” she mused as I checked its fit.
“Because it's the most expensive item here?” I questioned, and she laughed.
“Nah, because I made it so long ago and nobody's ever bought it. It's just takin' up space. Few are tall enough to wear it. Are ya elven?” Maude tried to glance at my ears even though they hid in my hood.
“No,” I lied. “Human.”
“Ah. Looks good on ya,” Maude complimented. “Black suits ya.”
“Thank you.” I pulled the cloak off and folded it length-wise before draping it over my arm.
